An Irresistible Offer

My Saving Grace

“Five hundred?!” I blinked at the cheque bearing the measly amount that Joe, the owner of the exhibition centre I had exhibited at, handed me. "Five paintings and this is all I get?!"

I thought my day couldn't get any worse, but I guess, I was wrong. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Joe?!" I didn't mean to yell at the man either, given our past peaceful working relationship, but he'd chosen the worst time to screw me over. If this was what it was.

“I’m sorry Ann Marie, but that is all." He laid back in his recliner that was out of place in the tiny smoke filled office I was currently forced to endure. "You know how it is, you win some, you lose some. It's business. You are lucky you even got that much for an unknown artist."

I glared. I couldn't afford to lose some at the moment. "Don't give me that unknown artist b–" I took a moment to let myself breathe. As disappointing as the deal had been, I couldn't lose it. Especially not with the guy who'd given me some of the best opportunities that had bailed me out of some tough situations. "I thought you said they were beautiful." I sighed as I sank in the worn out seat I had abandoned during my protest.

"They were. I guess the buyers didn't just share the same sentiments and enthusiasm." Joe stated softly.

"Stingy enthusiastic buyers! You and I know it was a good buy." I scoffed at my on and off business partner, earning myself his friendly smile. A buyer insisting a painting was not worth what one was asking for was always a risk for someone like me who was unknown in the art world, but it still stung after putting in my all. Even with everything weighing me down, I had fought to clear my head and let inspiration flow with every stroke of my brush. "I just thought I'd have a better day today." I pouted.

"There is always tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" I sank further in the seat with a sigh. Somehow I highly doubted I would live long enough to see tomorrow. With everything in my life screaming for a piece of me, tomorrow seemed so out of my grasp.

"Drink?" Joe reached for the cabinet behind him and retrieved his prized bottle of Scotch. It was too early to drink and I was never one to indulge in alcohol, but with all the disappointment and pressure I was facing, it was tempting. "You look like you need it."

"Maybe a little." I mumbled reluctantly, making Joe let out a chuckle.

"It's not the end of the world, Ann Marie." Joe quoted himself as he handed me a glass. On any other day I would have gladly toasted to his words that were meant to cheer me up, but not today. Because with everything going on, it felt like it was really the end of the world. My world at least. "If I could do more to help–"

"Its okay Joe, I'll figure something out." I mustered a smile before I suffered pitiful looks from him. More than anything, I hated those. I had had enough of them the day I put my parents in the ground. Everyone who had come for the funeral had worn one for the pitiful lonely orphaned girl. And since then they still remained a painful reminder for the greatest loss in my life. I refused to be reminded of that today as I was already barely hanging on to my sanity.

"You always have." Joe raised a glass with more conviction than I felt.

"Yeah." I brought the glass to my lips and sipped. The stuff burned while tears pooled in my eyes. "How do you drink this stuff everyday?" I coughed, placing the glass down in an instant.

"It ain't that bad."

"For you maybe." I protested, deciding that I was no scotch girl…ever. Joe only laughed.

"What now?" I groaned as something vibrated in my pant's pocket before reaching for it reluctantly. One look at my phone and the sanity I was determined to hang on to almost evaporated.

"Are you going to get that?" Joe arched a brow at my phone when I just let it ring.

"Uh…yeah, sure." I said getting up. "I'll see you later." I mouthed to him before pressing the answer button and exiting the little office.

"Mrs Carter, hi, long time. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Aunt Liz hasn't been any trouble has she?" I answered as cheerfully as one who was neck in debt, owing the other person at the other end of the call could.

"Oh, you know Liz has always been a sweetheart since the first day she stepped through the doors to our home." I smiled at the obvious warmth in the older woman's voice, but quickly held my breath when it was followed by silence. "Even if she were, that would be no reason to trouble a young busy thing like you."

The consideration lodged a familiar lump in my throat. The fact that she and the people at the old age home would extend their care to me was simply overwhelming. "What can I do to help ease your burden. And do not dare say it's not a burden because I know how much you are doing for aunt Liz and…me."

A short silence ensued while I held my breath. I knew what I could do to help even before Mrs Carter, the owner of the home that had been my aunt Liz's perfect forever home could say anything.

"I wouldn't be calling if there was another way out, but with the notice of foreclosure from the bank, I'm forced to follow up on all our pending payments from our clients." If it was possible for her to sound anymore apologetic, I would ask the ground to swallow me before all the shame washed over me.

"It's alright. No need to apologize. I should be the one doing that for not making payments at the right time." I stared at the check from Joe that was miles from being enough to pay what I was owing. "May I have until the end of the week?" That would give me barely three days to make a p*****t I had failed to make for a few months now, but I was determined. I could also consider stopping my aunt's care and bringing her home with me, if only I had one to get back to.

"I guess we could hold on for that long. We still have until the end of the month before everything goes to hell." Mrs Carter chuckled, almost bitterly.

"I hope it doesn't." I smiled into the phone even as my mind raced in search of a solution to my dilemma.

"Me too, my dear. And I do hope you will opt to make the p*****t in person. Your aunt refuses to say it, but we all know she has missed you."

Guilt prickled. It may not have been intentional, but I still felt guilty for having missed the last couple of visits. "I'll make sure to do that."

"See you then, Ann Marie."

I stood staring at my phone as the screen darkened. "See you, Mrs Carter." Whether that would be with the money I owed or with a bag of apologies, I was not sure.

"I need a miracle." I sighed the moment I emerged from the office complex that housed Joe's office. "Even a tiny one?" I had given up my belief in miracles a long time ago. Long before I had to bury my parents, but even I knew it would take one for me to make the smallest of my problems to disappear.

"Really?" I huffed when a paper that had been carried by the wind slapped and stuck to my face. "Let's damp all the garbage on her too." I sneered at the heavens at what I assumed was their joke of an answer. But then something caught my attention. Written in big bold letters was a possible solution, no…the possible solution to my problems. My miracle.

Stuck on the window inside a coffee shop was an advert for an art exhibition for some local charity. My mind raced as I read the details.

"Rent a slot and exhibit your prized treasures. For every successful sale, fifteen percent will go towards our charity and in helping many in need."

Fifteen percent on top of what it would cost me to rent that spot? That was huge, but I could live with that. If what I would be selling fetched what it was worth, I would have enough left over for what I owed the home and my own debts. Plus I really hoped the cut for the charity would butter the powers that be and grant me success.

Ignoring that familiar voice asking if I was sure about what I was doing, I took out my note book and noted the details before looking back at the advert one last time.

In itself, I wouldn't have thought of the exhibition as my saving grace or chosen to risk the only amount of money I had, but a particular name belonging to a sought after prospective buyer was everything.

Alexander Harris.