63 PORTRAIT by Susan E. Wigget
Veronica and her friend Edith entered a capacious studio containing many stools and easels and two bare tables surrounded by simple ladder-back chairs. Edith had persuaded Veronica to ask the renowned painter, Charles Harpring, for lessons. Now that she stood in the studio where he taught, she shook with nerves but at the same time relished the thought of painting here. Deep shelves supporting props lined one of the walls, while sketches and paintings by the students covered others. In the center of the room, a space was cleared away for sitters and for objects to paint: a Persian rug covered the floorboards, and a great overstuffed armchair stood next to a miniscule table holding a vase full of sunflowers. No students occupied the room, and Veronica concluded that Edith and she stood alone with the great artist himself, for a tall man stood with his back to them, as he gazed out the window. She felt glad she had persuaded Edith to accompany her, and she determined to not seem missish, despite how timid she actually felt. Now that they had arrived, she almost wished she had not acted on such a bold decision, but she edged slightly closer to Edith, glad to have her moral support. The door closed behind Veronica and Edith. The man at the window turned around to face them, while they still hovered in front of the door. He walked toward them at a leisurely pace, while Veronica stood still and grasped her handbag with both hands in front of her. He was close to forty years old, she estimated, about twice her age. She was surprised to see that he was handsome, with thick dark curls touching his shoulders and a somewhat square face ending in a cleft chin; his eyes were wide, dark, and candid. She had half expected him to have a balding
