Mask on the Cruise Ship by Melanie Jackson Page B

Julie confessed, unlocking her stateroom door.
    A fat, squat gray safe sat against the wall. “Want to see the Raven again?” Julie invited. “After all, he’ll soon be at the Juneau Heritage Gallery, secured behind thick, unbreakable glass rigged with all kinds of alarms.”
    A moment later, peeling away bubble wrap, Julie revealed the Raven. Over his red-rimmed beak, his sharp black eyes were bright with mirth, as if at his own cleverness. I couldn’t help grinning back at him.
    Julie noticed and nodded in understanding. “As with any art, masks never stop giving pleasure to the beholder,” she said. “In fact, masks are part of a giving ceremony , if you will: the potlatch. That’s a meeting of the tribal chiefs and other high-ranking members — but they’re also feasts for everyone. Gifts abound. Dances, masks, songs and stories that celebrate the tribe, giving everyone a sense of belonging,” Julie finished, rather wistfully.
    She wrapped the Raven up again. “I’m afraid that’s where my relationship with Elaine is flawed. She never accepts that I have talent at painting. To her, there’s room for only one Hébert sister to be famous.”
    Dang it, Julie was off on that again. I was getting awfully tired of hearing about Elaine.
    â€œAnd I do love art,” Julie continued. “How about you, Dinah? Who’s your favorite artist?”
    I considered this. “Adams.”
    â€œAnsel?”
    â€œScott.”
    Julie smiled. “Perhaps you’d like to see one of my paintings before you go.” After locking up the Raven, she lifted a placemat-sized canvas off the top of her night table.
    I gasped. From the canvas, a madwoman leered out at me! Her eyes blazed. Her lips stretched way back from her gums. Her teeth loomed, huge, sharp and menacing, like knives.
    Julie patted the canvas proudly. “I still have to do some work on it. Can’t wait to show it to that dealer who was so interested in my work.” She pointed to the lower right-hand corner. “ ‘ Medusa , by Julie Hébert.’ Do you like it?”
    I gulped. Mother had told me fibs were okay, even desirable, to avoid offending people. “I — I, ” I began. The problem is, I find it unnatural to be anything except blunt.
    â€œYou’ve done interesting things with her hair,” I got out finally.
    Which was true. Julie had formed her subject’s black locks of hair into snakes.
    When I told Madge about it the next day, she shuddered. “Medusa was a character in Greek mythology. Snakes billowed out of her head, and everyone who made eye contact with her turned to stone.”
    â€œI guess that wrecked any chance of her getting beauty salon appointments,” I huffed and puffed.
    Along with a lot of other Empress Marie passengers, we’d taken the thirteen-mile bus trip from Juneau to the massive Mendenhall Glacier. Madge, however, had insisted on our leaving the rest of the group at the Visitors’ Center to hike up the West Glacier Trail for a better view. Like Jack, Madge had an annoying athletic streak.
    Jack would be taking a later bus to the glacier, when he got a break from work. Mother and Julie would be coming with him. First, though, they were escorting the Raven to the Juneau Heritage Gallery.
    Madge was still shunning Jack, though I didn’t see how she could keep on with it. I mean, what was one barfing episode between sweethearts?
    At the moment, Madge was thinking about Julie Hébert’s painting. “Too bad she doesn’t paint happier mythic characters. Like Persephone, who signifies spring. Or Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty.”
    â€œWeird,” I agreed, puffing.
    â€œDinah, please stop saying ‘weird’ so much. It’s annoying.”
    After a while we flopped down in a meadow shimmering with color. Madge figured out the plant names from the wildflower guidebook