The stranger introduced himself as Everett Halloran—the developer whose name my father had mentioned before disappearing from dinner. The building in my drawing was one of Halloran’s historic properties, and he had been searching for an artist to create a series of architectural pieces for a new hotel project. He studied several more drawings, then asked what I charged. I admitted I had never sold work at that level. Instead of taking advantage of that, he gave me his curator’s card and offered to purchase three finished pieces immediately, subject to a simple written agreement.
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