Hannah sighed. “I’d like to have more time to paint, but that’s not an option at the moment. When I was younger, I wanted to be a professional artist. I completed an arts degree and exhibited in a few galleries. But when we were thinking about starting Perfect Staging, I had to decide what’s more important.”
“And your event staging company came out on top?”
“It had to. If we couldn’t commit one hundred percent of our time to making our business successful, we wouldn’t have survived our first year.”
Brett tilted his head to the side. “If you had the choice, would you prefer to be a full-time artist?”
Hannah had asked herself the same question many times. It wasn’t an easy question to answer, and she wasn’t sure she ever could. “I don’t know, but I enjoy working with Claire. We still run art workshops for children and we’re members of the Bozeman Art Collective. In a lot of ways, I’ve got the best of both worlds.” With the decorations safely stored in a box, she folded the table’s legs and rolled it toward the storage room. “What about you? Did you always want to work on a ranch?”
“I didn’t know what I wanted to do. But ranching has a way of seeping into your bones and becoming part of who you are. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else now.”
“I’m glad you found Pat and Ida. They’d be lost without you.”
“I’d be lost without them, too. I’d better find Pat. It was nice meeting you, Hannah.”
A pang of disappointment hit her chest. She could have talked to Brett all afternoon and still had questions for him. “It was great meeting you as well. Thanks for giving me a hand to tidy the room.”
“You’re welcome. Maybe I’ll see you around town some time.”
Hannah nodded. “I’d like that.”
Brett stuck his hands in his pockets. He glanced at the kitchen door, then back at Hannah. “I usually come into town once a week. Would you like to—”
A scream filled the room.
“That’s Claire,” Hannah said as she rushed toward the kitchen. She flung open the door and skidded to a stop.
Claire was standing on a chair, pointing at a cupboard. “There’s a mouse. A huge, hairy, brown mouse with long whiskers.”
Hannah grinned and walked across to the cupboard. “Are you sure it wasn’t a rat?”
Claire shuddered. “I don’t know. Just get rid of it.”
Brett passed Hannah a plastic container. “This might help.”
Claire closed her eyes. “I hate mice.”
“We can tell,” Hannah murmured as she knelt on the ground and peered into the cupboard. “Are you sure the mouse was huge?”
“It was enormous.”
“Hmm.”
Brett knelt beside her. She pointed to the dime-sized hole in the back of the cupboard. “He’s escaped.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Claire screeched.
“At least he’s not in the kitchen anymore,” Brett said, trying to be helpful.
Hannah knew that nothing short of a fumigation would make Claire stay in the kitchen. “Let’s go home. Brett and I have finished in the main room and the kitchen looks spotless.”
Claire peered at the floor.
Hannah held back a smile. Her sister was one of the bravest people she knew, but show her a mouse and she became hysterical. “If you make a run for the main room, the mouse won’t come anywhere near you. I’ll grab your coat and bag off the counter.”
Claire didn’t wait to be told twice. She jumped off the chair and sprinted past Brett.
He looked at the kitchen door, then back at Hannah. “She really doesn’t like mice, does she?”
