I’m not somebody who usually wears dresses, but I’m not exactly against them either. It’s just not practical to wear nice dresses when working with dozens of different, messy art supplies. On open houses, though? Professor Jenson makes it a requirement, which has me standing awkwardly by my wall even more awkward. I was allowed to opt for a long sleeve dress because it’s colder than the arctic outside, and the basement gallery isn’t helping. 

The turnout was greater than I thought it was going to be. The students brought their parents, or maybe it was the other way around? By the way the students are trailing aimlessly behind their moms and dads tells me they may have been dragged here against their will.

A short woman with long brown hair taps me gingerly on my left shoulder. “Hello Miss?”

“Ah yes?” I greet her.

She points to the painting of the cardinal hanging high on the wall. “Has anybody bought that painting yet?”

“I’m sorry,” I begin to apologize. “Somebody actually reserved that already. They should be here tonight to collect it.”

Her excitement morphed into a disappointed frown. “What a shame. My husband would have liked that one.” 

I direct her attention toward a different painting with some deer in it. “What about this one? It doesn’t have a cardinal in it but I’ve found people really like the deer too. If your husband likes animals I’m sure he would appreciate this one just as much.”

The woman inspects the painting for a few minutes before responding. “I think he would.” She nods. “He’s a hunter so I think he’d like this one too.” 

I take the painting from the wall along with the tag and direct her toward the kiosk in the middle of the gallery. “You just hand the tag to the woman standing at the kiosk and she’ll take care of your payment. I hope your husband likes it!” 

The woman scurries off to the kiosk.

“Well you’re quite the saleswoman.” A foreign voice states from behind me.

I turn to see Mr.Campbell standing about five feet to my right. “I mean when you grow up in an art gallery you learn to work with people. It’s not like I did much to convince her anyway.” I nod toward the painting. “Back for that? I’ll have you know I’ve already fought off a few people. Maybe I should hike up the price since it’s so popular.”

“Maybe you should.” He agrees. “I’d pay double the price for that even.”

“Wow. It must really be that symbolic to you.” I pluck the tag from the wall.

He stares at me as I take the painting from it’s hook. “Yeah it is. Many things have been reminding me of the past lately.”

“You know this is the second time I’ve met you and I have no idea who you are?” I hand him the tag and the painting.

He takes them. “I’m Porter. You can call me that or Mr. Campbell if you’d like. Either is ok. I’m the new club coordinator for the University. Professor Jenson asked me to visit the gallery because it’s technically considered a club.” 

“Ohhh. Makes sense. I just thought you were a mystery man of some sort. You kind of stand out with these suits you wear, and your British accent. Neither are exactly common around here.” 

“Yeah well. What can I say?” He looks down at his suit with pride. “Any occasion for me is an occasion to dress up. But what about you? Born with a natural talent are you? Runs in the family?”

I shake my head. “No, actually. I was just able to practice almost every day since my dad is also an artist. I’m actually adopted so it’s kind of impossible for my dad to have passed down his talents genetically. This is just the result of hard work I guess.”

“Adopted?” He questions. His attention perks.

“Yeah. When I was four. My parents adopted me when I was really young.” I observe the strange expression starting on his face. 

A split second passes and he returns to normal. “Sometimes it makes a painting even better when you know the effort that was put into it. I’ll make sure to take great care of it.” He nods in goodbye and heads to the kiosk to pay. 

That was…strange? What a weird interaction. I watch as he pays and exits the gallery. The new club coordinator, huh? I didn’t even know we were supposed to have one of those. I don’t have much time to contemplate the encounter with Mr. Campbell because more people are starting to gather at my wall inquiring about the paintings. Soon after I forget it even happened.