“A woman named Anna Dale,” Lisa said. “It’s one of those Depression-era murals. You know how, during the Depression, the government hired artists to paint murals for public buildings?”
I nodded, though my knowledge of those WPA-type programs was sketchy at best.
“This mural was supposed to be for the Edenton Post Office. But Anna Dale went crazy or something—I can’t remember exactly what my father told me. She lost her mind while she was working on it, thus the finished product was never installed. My father’s owned it for decades and he wants—wanted—to hang it in the foyer of the gallery. And he said it has to be in place by the date the gallery opens.”
“August fifth,” Andrea said in case I hadn’t heard the date the first time. I most definitely had.
“That’s not even two months from now,” I said.
Lisa let out a long, anxious-sounding breath. “Exactly,” she said. “Which is why you need to start on it immediately.”
“What kind of shape is it in?” I asked.
Lisa shrugged. “I haven’t actually seen it. It’s been rolled up in a corner of my father’s studio closet all these years—it’s a massive thing—and I don’t know what condition it’s in. It must be salvageable, though, if he expected you to fix it.”
I tried to imagine what nearly seventy years would do to a huge canvas stuffed in a closet. What Lisa needed was a professional restoration company, not a novice artist. But what I needed was my freedom.
“Would I be paid?” I looked at Andrea. “If I have to pay restitution to—”
“My father left fifty thousand for the project,” Lisa interrupted.
“For the whole gallery?”
“No,” Lisa said. “For you. For you to restore the mural. Fifty K, plus another several thousand for any supplies you need.”
Fifty thousand dollars? Incredible. Even if I’d gotten my degree, I doubted I could have found a job that would pay me that much in a year’s time, much less for two months’ work. Two months’ work I had no idea how to do. I tried to keep my self-doubt from showing on my face. Uniquely qualified? Not hardly.
“This is your ‘get out of jail free’ card, Morgan.” Andrea leaned forward, her red lips forming the words slowly and clearly. “If you hold up your end of the bargain—finishing your work—quality work—on the mural by the fifth of August—you’ll be out on parole and will never have to set foot in this place again. If I were you, I’d start reading up on restoration.”
I looked toward the doorway of the small room. I imagined walking through it and down the hallway to the front entrance and freedom. I imagined twirling in circles outside, my arms stretched wide to take in the fresh air. I didn’t think I’d ever be completely free of this place, though. I’d always carry my prison with me. I felt that imaginary prison closing around me even as I sat there, even as I imagined walking out the front door.
Still, I would rather an imaginary prison than this hideous real one.
“I’ll do it,” I said finally, sitting back.
How I would do it, I had no idea.
Chapter 2
ANNA
December 4, 1939
Edenton, North Carolina
From the United States Treasury Department, Section of Fine Arts
Special 48-States Mural Competition
November 27, 1939
Dear Miss Anna Dale,
The Section of Fine Arts is pleased to inform you that you are one of the winning artists in the 48-States Mural Competition. Your sketch for the proposed mural to adorn the Bordentown, New Jersey, Post Office received many positive comments from the judges. Unfortunately, a different artist has been awarded the Bordentown Post Office, but the judges were sufficiently impressed with your work that they would like you to undertake the creation of the mural for the post office in Edenton, North Carolina. This will require that you send us a sketch for the Edenton assignment as soon as possible. Once you receive the Section’s approval on the sketch, you can begin the actual work on the (full size) cartoon and, finally, the mural itself. The size of the Edenton mural will be 12′ by 6′. The project is to be completed by June 3, 1940.
It is suggested that artists become familiar with the geographic area surrounding their assigned post office and make a special effort to select appropriate subject matter. The following subjects are suggested: Local History, Local Industries, Local Flora and Fauna, and Local Pursuits. Since the location of Edenton, North Carolina, was not your first choice and you are therefore most likely not familiar with the town, it is strongly suggested you make a visit there as soon as possible.
The payment for the mural will be $720, one third payable on the approval of your sketch, one third payable on the approval of your cartoon, one third payable upon installation of the final mural. Out of this amount, you will pay for your supplies, models if needed, any travel, and all costs related to the installation of the mural.
Sincerely,
Edward Rowan, Art Administrator, Section of Fine Arts
Anna arrived in Edenton for her planned three-day visit late on the afternoon of December 4. She could have taken the overnight train, but at the last minute she decided to drive. The ’32 navy blue Ford V8 still held her mother’s scent—the spicy patchouli fragrance of the Tabu perfume she’d loved—and Anna needed that comfort as she set out on this new, very adult venture. Her first paying job. Her first time away from home. Her first everything, really.
The car skidded on a patch of ice as she turned onto Broad Street in the fading sunlight, and for a moment she was certain her introduction to the town would consist of slamming into a row of parked cars, but she managed to get the Ford under control. As soon as she did, she found herself behind a cart drawn by a horse, or perhaps a mule. She couldn’t get a good look at the animal and wasn’t sure she’d know one from the other anyway. She didn’t see many of either in her hometown of Plainfield, New Jersey.
She slowed down, thinking she should get a good look at the little town that would be the subject of her mural. When she’d viewed Edenton in the atlas, it had been a watery-looking place, nothing more than a speck surrounded by a bay and a river. Even on the map, it had looked strangely foreign to her, and she’d closed the atlas with a worried sigh.
She hadn’t expected to win the competition, and the timing could not have been worse. She’d just buried her mother. Her best friend. The one person in the world whose love and nurturing Anna could always count on. But she couldn’t turn down work, not with jobs so impossible to find. Not when her mother was no longer around to bring in the sewing money that had paid for their food and expenses. No, she needed to be grateful for this opportunity, even if it meant she had to travel more than four hundred miles to “become familiar with the geographic area” she was to immortalize in the mural.
She’d never had any yearning to travel south of the Mason-Dixon line, and she was glad she’d only be here for a few days. The South seemed so backward to her. Segregated schools and ridiculous laws about keeping colored and white apart on buses and at water fountains and in restrooms. She’d had a few colored classmates at Plainfield High School and she’d counted a couple of the girls as friends. They’d been on the basketball team and in glee club together.