Cloe thought about that and the fact the artist she would be replacing was an older woman. She had a feeling the artist did her illustrations by hand.
“You know what I mean. For this project.”
“And for future ones. Once you get started in this business, you can make a living, if you find that’s what you want to do.”
Cloe felt excited at the possibilities. “I have a feeling it will be.”
For the next two hours, Powers showed Cloe a rundown of the process of illustrating. She did some quick sketches of animals, boxed them in, captioned them as you would a children’s book.
“Before you even get to this point, though, you’ll have a brief sent to you from the author via the publisher. You’ll collaborate with them throughout the process, things like which text goes on what page, whether a spread should be a full bleed that runs to the very edges of the page. Or you may be illustrating a series of smaller images, or it can be a combination throughout the book. The publisher will provide you with full-size guides with the text laid out in the position that they and the author want. All of this is subject to change as you work with the author.
“Next, you’ll be drawing these thumbnail sketches like I’ve shown you here. By doing this, you’re giving the author and the publisher leeway on the general layout and flow of the book. You’ll need to know your audience’s age because that dictates how much you’ll need to lead the child from text to text.”
Cloe scribbled down notes as Powers talked, including the need for feedback from the author, checking for continuity, and preparing the drawings for final traces that she’d put on layout paper. She would make full-size copies to send to her client, in this case Lindsey and her publisher.
“Once your traces are approved, you’re ready to start your final artwork, using watercolor paper that you stretch on boards. You’ll use a product that’s similar to carbon paper as you trace your artwork onto the paper. Then, it’s time for your watercolors. All through the process you’ll have numerous conversations with your client to ensure you’re both on the same page.” Powers smiled. “So to speak.”
Cloe kept her head down as she finished her notes. She looked up when Powers stopped talking.
“Still the diligent student, I see,” Powers said.
“Some habits never die.”
They chatted for a while longer. Powers was curious about Cloe’s life after graduation.
“I’ve not had a lot of luck in making it a career, Cindy. It’s mainly been hit and miss with sales in Nashville.”
Cindy motioned at her drawings. “This could be the beginning of something lucrative for you.”
For the first time since she finished her postgrad studies, Cloe felt a spark of optimism about her work. “I hope so.”
Cindy stood and came around her desk. She held out her hand again. As Cloe took it, she said, “Contact me at any point if you have questions.”
“Thanks, I will.” Cloe walked down the hall with a little bounce to her step.
* * *
Lindsey stacked the placemats on the table, set them out of the way, and lined up the wineglasses just so. The wine was still chilling in the refrigerator. A flurry of anticipation hit her stomach. Cloe would be over in a matter of minutes. She heard three distinct knocks on the front door. Make that now.
Lindsey almost stumbled over Fred when he rushed to the door. “Hey, dude. I’m glad to see her, too.” She grabbed his collar and, with the other hand, opened her door. Her eye level instantly hit Cloe’s tanned, toned legs, which looked delicious in the white shorts she was sporting. Lindsey’s gaze continued up Cloe’s body, pausing for a moment on her chest before reaching her face.
“Come on in,” Lindsey said as she tugged Fred back. “Geesh, give her some room, Fred.”
Fred had already rubbed up against Cloe’s legs and was whining for some pets.
Cloe patted his side. “Don’t scold him. We’re good buds, aren’t we, boy?”
Fred turned his head to look back at Lindsey as if to say, “So there!”
Lindsey held up her hands. “I know when I’m beat.” She brushed lips with Cloe. “I’m glad you came.” She spotted the messenger bag on Cloe’s other shoulder. “I take it you’re ready to work.”
“If you are,” Cloe said almost shyly.
“Let’s take this to the dining room table.”
Cloe set her bag down and pulled out her sketchpad and pencils.
Lindsey continued on to the kitchen. “I thought we could share a little wine.”
“Not too much for me,” Cloe said as she sat down. She tucked hair behind her right ear. “It seems one of us always has to be careful with the drinking since one of us is driving back home.”
Lindsey filled her glass halfway but only gave a splash to Cloe. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” She met Cloe’s eyes. She wondered if Cloe was thinking the same thing. That one night, one of them might be staying over. From the redness of Cloe’s cheeks, it was apparent she was on the same wavelength.
Cloe cleared her throat, “Yes. Well.” She laid out her pencils neatly next to her sketchpad, along with an eraser and a plastic container of colored pencils.
“Hang on a sec.” Lindsey left to get the notebook where she’d jotted down a story idea. She came back to the table and sat next to Cloe. “Since I thought we were going with Fred’s leap into the water from the boat, I came up with a few lines of text to go with your drawing.” She slid the notebook over to Cloe.
Cloe studied the lines and smiled. “This is what I was thinking, too.”
Lindsey returned the smile.
Cloe flipped the page of her sketchbook and showed Lindsey the boxed-in sketches she’d created. “I figured we would give your editor an idea of what I could do, not go into detail.” She motioned at her colored pencils. “Tonight, I’m using colored pencils to bring these drawings to life, just for brevity so you can get an idea of my work. For the real deal, I’ll work with watercolors to finish off the drawings you can send on to your publisher. Professor Powers told me I could go digital or old school. I hope it’s okay with you and with your publisher that I’m doing everything by hand. They can then scan what I produce.”
Lindsey took a sip of her wine. “That’s perfect. Shirley did everything by hand, as well.”
“I hoped that’d be the case.”
“Can I have your sketchpad for a sec?”
Cloe pushed it over to her.
“I see you left enough space for my text.” Lindsey grinned when she saw the other sketches Cloe had added. There were five boxes, which was what was needed for what Lindsey had written. She grabbed a regular pencil from Cloe’s stash and wrote down the text that went with the action.
“I forgot to ask,” Cloe said. “What age group are you geared toward?”
“My books are for kids three and up to eight or so. So, young, but not too young. They’re considered ‘picture books’ because of the age bracket. Your drawings will be perfect.”
Cloe ducked her head. “I hope so.”
Lindsey touched her arm to get her to look up. “You’re good, Cloe. Your artwork is going to make me look better.”
“Here’s hoping your editor and publisher think so.”
“No worries.” Lindsey finished with the text and nudged the pad back to Cloe. “There you go.”
Cloe laughed when she saw what Lindsey had written. “You’re good.”
“I’ve been known to be. Ohh, you mean at writing.”
“Stop. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. I like to keep you on your toes.” Lindsey watched Cloe work, amazed at how fast her pencil moved and how quickly she switched from one colored pencil to another.
Cloe paused in her work and peeked over at Lindsey. “Um, do you mind if I’m alone for a little bit.”
“Ah. You don’t like to have an audience while you work.”
“Sometimes it’s fine, but I want to get this right. I’ll color in
this one panel for you so you can have an idea of the color scheme I think will work.”
Lindsey stood up. “No problem. I’ll take my wine and Fred out to the front porch. Holler when you’re done.”
“Thanks for understanding,” Cloe said without raising her head.
Lindsey was about to tease her about poking her tongue out of the side of her mouth while she concentrated, but she managed to refrain.
“Come on, Fred. Let’s give Cloe some space.”
Fred trailed behind her as she made her way out front.
Cloe watched Lindsey and Fred leave, a little more at ease to continue her work. She blended light-brown spots into the drawing of Fred. It was a good rendition of the dog, a nice mixture of real-life drawing, with a little cartoon thrown in, like his eyes bulging out as he jumped into the water. She worked blues and greens into the drawing, thinking they would be great as the primary colors for the book, plus occasional splashes of red or orange to brighten a page.
She didn’t know how long she’d been working until Fred’s tongue touched her leg and made her jump. She looked down at him. “Did you come in to see how you’re going to be famous?” Of course, Lindsey was with him.
“Wow, Cloe. That looks fantastic. I love the colors.”
Cloe felt her face heat. Compliments usually embarrassed her, but Lindsey’s words affected her more than others. “I thought I’d add some of the warm colors—red, yellow, orange—throughout when needed.”
“I like it.”
Cloe glanced at the clock and did a double-take when she saw it was eleven. “Oh, my goodness. I had no idea it was so late.” She looked up at Lindsey apologetically. “I get lost in my work sometimes.”
“No need to apologize. What you’ve done here is proof enough you’re the right artist for the job.”
“You like the color scheme?”
“Yes.” Lindsey traced her finger above the drawing but didn’t touch Cloe’s work. “This is exactly how I pictured it.”
Cloe stared at Lindsey’s mouth and then raised her line of sight to Lindsey’s eyes. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad.” God, she was now incapable of speaking in more than one- or two-word sentences. If there was this much sexual tension between them now, what would it be like if they ever took it to the bedroom? Cloe’s heart rate sped up at the thought, and she missed what Lindsey had said. “Hmm?”
“I said I’m assuming you’ll do the other panels at home.”
“I’ll work on them tomorrow and can bring them tomorrow evening or Monday morning.”
“Why don’t you take your time tomorrow and bring them Monday when you deliver my grocery order?”
Cloe stood and closed her sketchpad. “I’ll do that.”
“You don’t have to leave yet.” It was Lindsey’s turn to stare at Cloe’s mouth.
Cloe licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry. “No, I think I should go.” She shoved her sketchpad and pencils into her messenger bag, noticing for the first time that her hands were trembling.
Lindsey moved behind her and encircled her waist. Lindsey whispered into her ear, “I’m not asking you to stay over.”
Cloe had to bite her tongue from saying, “Why not?” She turned in Lindsey’s arms, caught up in the blue of Lindsey’s eyes. “I know you’re not. But I’m afraid if I stay much longer, I’ll forget all about my vow of waiting.”
Lindsey caressed Cloe’s cheek with her fingertips. “Just know I’ll never rush you.”
Cloe couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed the back of Lindsey’s neck and pulled her in for a thorough, deep kiss that caused both of them to moan. She broke away just as quickly.
“On that note, I really, really need to leave.”
Lindsey placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Then I’ll see you Monday morning. Don’t worry about the time. I’ll be home all day until the evening.”
Cloe picked up her bag and headed toward the door. She felt Lindsey behind her. Cloe turned and gave her a soft smile. “Thanks for tonight and for reassuring me.”
“There was never a doubt about your talent. Text me when you get home.”
Chapter 11
Cloe flipped through the finished panels she’d painted with watercolor. “These look pretty good, if I do say so myself. And I do say so myself.” She laughed at her words. She needed to pump up her ego before heading over to Lindsey’s in the hope Lindsey felt the same way. She carefully placed the pages in her portfolio and left her apartment.
Cloe parked her truck in front of the store. “Hey, Mom,” she hollered as she entered. “Do you have—”
“It’s right here.”
Cloe let out a squeal, startled at the sound of her mother’s voice in the aisle right beside her.
“You sound like a little girl.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes. You do.”
Cloe sighed. “Whatever, Mom. You snuck up on me.”
“I did no such thing. I was standing here when you came in,” Fiona said with a smirk.
“Okay, okay. You didn’t sneak up on me, and I did indeed squeal like a little girl. Happy?”
“I am. I’m glad we got that out of the way.” Fiona pointed at the full crate by her feet. “Everything is in here. I don’t think I forgot anything. Oh, please tell Lindsey that we’re out of Oreos. We’ll be getting a shipment of cookies and snack products later this week. The Oreos will be on that order.”
“Oh, dear Lord. Lindsey might go into withdrawal.”
“I’m sure she’ll manage.”
Cloe thought, you have no idea how addicted she is to the things. Me, too, for that matter. She bent over to pick up the crate. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Wait.”
Cloe paused with her hip on the door. She gave her mom a questioning look.
“You never told me. How did your artwork turn out?”
Cloe grinned.
“Good, honey. I thought it must have since you volunteered to take over Lindsey’s food. Although, I don’t think I had to twist your arm anyway.”
“True. Hey, if you follow me to the truck, I can show you the mock-ups I did.”
Fiona brightened at the suggestion. “Tammy,” she shouted.
Tammy, the high schooler they hired for the summer, came around the corner. “Yes, Mrs. Parsons?”
“Tammy, I told you to please call me Fiona.”
Tammy ducked her head. “I know, Mrs.. . . Fiona. It’s just hard, you know?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it at some point this summer. Will you stay behind the counter while I go outside with Cloe?” Fiona glanced at a customer who entered the store. “In case they check out before I come back.”
“You got it.”
Fiona followed Cloe to her truck. Cloe set the crate in the back and pulled out her portfolio. She placed it on the hood and slipped out one of the panels.
“Cloe, this is wonderful. Look at the colors, and look at the expression on the dog’s face.” Fiona gave Cloe a one-armed hug as she continued to gaze at the artwork. “I’m so proud of you, honey. Lindsey will love this. Her publisher will, too, for that matter.”
“Thanks, Mom. I already showed Lindsey a color pencil drawing Saturday night. I worked on this, plus the other ones, all day yesterday. Actually, I didn’t finish up until fairly late last night.”
Fiona handed the page back to Cloe. “You’re such a perfectionist with your work. I’m sure you weren’t satisfied until you had them just right.”
“You know me too well.”
“I’m your mother.”
Cloe put the portfolio on the passenger seat and stepped into the truck.
“Tell Lindsey hello,” Fiona said as she shut the driver’s door. “Let me know what she says about the rest of your art.”
“Will do.”
* * *
Lindsey sat outside in her rocker, petting Fred while sipping her second cup of coffee. Normally, she stopped at one, but she was a little keyed up about Cl
oe coming over. She heard the truck before she saw it pull into her drive. She stood and waved.
Cloe jumped down from the truck, came around the front, and opened up the passenger side door to pull out what looked to be her portfolio. She walked over with a big grin on her face. From that expression, it was clear Cloe was pleased with her finished work.
Lindsey gave her a quick kiss. “Come on inside. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t drink the stuff.”
“Orange juice?”
“I’d love that. Thank you.”
Fred followed them inside where Cloe set her portfolio on the dining room table and took a seat. Lindsey set her coffee mug down across from Cloe and continued to the kitchen. She poured Cloe a glass of orange juice and carried it to the table.
“I’d say by the look on your face and the excitement I feel radiating off of you, you’re very happy with your artwork,” Lindsey said.
“The most important thing is what you think.” Cloe pulled out the pages. With only a glimpse of the bright colors, Lindsey could tell she would love them.
Lindsey lifted up the first sheet and couldn’t quit smiling. “This is perfect. Perfect. You carried over the idea from colored pencil to watercolor the way I envisioned.”
“You really do like them?”
“Cloe. Don’t you believe me? I can’t wait to work with you on the book, because I know Dunham is going to love your work.”
“Sorry. Sometimes I’m a little iffy on self-confidence.”
Lindsey set the paintings down and hugged her. “If you need reassurance, just ask. I’ll always tell you the truth, and the truth is you’re an amazing artist.” She pulled back and cupped Cloe’s face. “And an even more amazing woman. I’m so glad we met.” Lindsey traced Cloe’s bottom lip with her tongue. Cloe opened her mouth to allow her inside. They shared a long, passionate kiss.
Cloe whispered, “I could really get used to it if we share kisses like that each time you like one of my pieces.” She nipped Lindsey’s lower lip with her teeth before sharing another kiss. They pulled apart, both breathless.
Just a Touch Away Page 10