“It’s easy for you to say. You grew up around here. They’ve known your brand of crazy for a long time. You’re old furniture now.”
Sage laughs. “That may be true, but if they’ve accepted my crazy, they’ll accept yours.”
“I’m not crazy.” I grab the Stanley knife and pick the right length for the blade before sliding it across the cardboard box filled with a paintbrush delivery.
He snorts. “Don’t worry, I’m an equal opportunity employer. Your crazy is welcome here.”
I shake my head and focus on the box until the sickeningly strong scent of lily of the valley hits me. I raise my head from the delivery note and find I’m eye to eye with my new nemesis.
“Good morning, Arlo. How are you today?” Mrs. Jenkins smiles at me like she’s set a trap and there’s no way out. She’s wearing an outfit that would put Jackie Kennedy to shame, complete with a hat and matching handbag.
“Good morning, Mrs. Jenkins. You look lovely today,” I say, trying to inject as much sincerity into my words as possible.
There’s no point. We both know neither of us means it, but we’ve been doing this dance since I was introduced to her at the first craft fair committee meeting six months ago.
“Oh, these old rags?” she says, dismissing my comment and then turning to Sage. “Is my order in? I’m awfully late to a meeting with the mayor.”
She walks around the store as if she owns the place. I take the brushes and go around the counter to the painting supplies room, walking past the wool yarn display and wondering if Sage would be okay with me losing a few knitting needles in Mrs. Jenkins’s back.
I'm sure that her’s and Mrs. Martin's influence is what's stopping me from getting the license to sell at the craft fair. If only I knew what I did wrong.
The day gets better, especially when the fabric dye I ordered for myself arrives. I’ve been planning a new piece, and the colors I have aren’t bright enough.
I’m so grateful to Fletcher for letting me rent the studio at the back of his place because there’s no way I could afford an actual apartment in town with the amount of money I spend on supplies.
I start putting the dye back in the box when a little girl comes up to the counter.
“Hi there, my name is Arlo. How can I help you today?” I ask, noticing a tall guy, probably her dad, stopping behind her.
“Hello, I’m Megan. I want lots of things, but my daddy says I have to pick one.” She looks up at her dad with her big brown eyes, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing when she sticks out her lower lip.
“Okay,” I say. “I think I can help you. What’s your favorite thing to do?”
She puts her hand on her chin and twists her lips as if she’s deep in thought. “Um…I like drawing, but I’m not very good at it, but I can paint inside the lines. And I like Play-doh. Oh, and I like bikes and bugs.”
I round the counter and crouch in front of her. “I think I have just the right thing for you.”
Megan’s dad clears his throat, and we both look up. He looks at Megan with a raised brow, and she huffs.
“Fine. I’m supposed to say that I’m messy.”
I put my hand next to my mouth as if I’m telling her a secret. “I’m a little messy too. It’s okay. Do you want to follow me?”
She nods, and I look up and see her dad smiling.
Damn, the guy is gorgeous. If I take a guess, I’d say he’s in his mid to late thirties. He doesn’t have a single gray hair, but he looks like he'll age well. His brown eyes match Megan’s, but she has a cute button nose, which I bet she gets from her mom.
They follow me to the section where we have the craft kits, and I pick the one I have in mind.
“This is a painting kit. You start by following the outline already marked on the board so you can see it better. That will help with your drawing skills. And then you use the small paint pots and brushes to make it beautiful. This one has a bike with some flowers and a butterfly.”
Megan’s smile is infectious, and she’s almost buzzing.
“Can we get it, Daddy? Pleeeease?”
“The paint is washable. We also sell smocks if you want to protect her clothes, but the paint will come out,” I say to reassure the dad.
“I guess we better also get one of those smock things,” he says.
