It's a romantic caper where a stolen masterpiece restores damaged reputations and salvages genuine love.
ARTY SMARTY
“Darn.” She must have missed the Lake Bluff sign while fiddling with knobs in the rust-bucket.
Instead of air, Claire Raffen found an eight-track player and a
cigarette lighter. On an eighty-degree Indian summer day, neither helped.
After Larry handed the VW key to her, she had driven out of the
museum’s underground parking lot and stifling heat enveloped her. She
tried, but couldn't reach to roll down the passenger-side
window for a cross breeze. Rolling down a window?
“This is worth it.” She
tugged her turtleneck away from her neck and swung her bobbed hair. After
this exhibit, I won’t have to play Lawrence Chambers’ indentured art servant
anymore.
She veered onto the exit. The bungee cords, to secure Coal
or Steam, scraped across the van’s cavernous belly. Driving east toward
Sinjin Reid’s studio, she flipped down the visor to cut the morning glare.
According to the GPS, Claire was only ten miles away from the reclusive
artist’s estate on Lake Michigan.
The prospect of meeting Sinjin reduced her to a giddy fan. He’s
an artist, not a teen idol. But his sculpture, donated to her
Steampunk exhibit, would save her debut opening and she hoped, her father's
reputation.
http://tinyurl.com/84alydd Lucky Agent Contest with Chuck Sambuchino at Writer's Digest.
