GINEVRA March 1916
The space was small and without much life to it, but in my eyes, I could see how full it would be, how lovely it could be.
For now, the stench of dried ale rose up from the stained wooden floor and dirt and mold discolored the two side brick walls.
I had taken the lease on the building only three doors down on Broadway from my father"s workshop mostly with my own money, and some from my husband. We had spent a merry night as he read a scolding note from his mother on the whole affair. As with Pearl and her gallery, it was my husband"s name upon the lease, it was my husband"s name that was attached to the business I would hopefully create; as an “invisible” person, I could not own my own business.
But hope alone did not make things happen.
“Molto bene,” I applauded m
