Triplets Make Five

Ten

Delilah

I took off before the morning sun, driving through the darkness of the dawn. The air was crisp and the night was clear, and my check in time at the cabin for the retreat was at ten o’clock in the morning. The luxury SUV that Preston had rented for me was more than I could have ever imagined. Heated seats. Bluetooth connectivity. Leather upholstery with hand-stitched patterns. It was a decadent car for a decadent trip I was going to be taking for three weeks in the most beautiful part of Pennsylvania. And as I drove through the Poconos, I was rendered speechless.

The scenery was beautiful. The mountains seemed to emerge from the horizon, encompassing the whole of me as I drove deeper into its caverns. The roads began to wind as the sun began to rise, casting an orange glow on the view in front of me. It was inspirational, this place. There were going to be so many things I wanted to paint and sketch so I could design them later on my laptop.

But when I got to the retreat, it was more than I could have ever bargained for.

When someone says the word ‘retreat’, it usually means a group setting will eventually be required. I expected some cabins, maybe some random people I would be meeting up with, maybe a little bit of rest and relaxation beside a lake. What I did not expect was a two-bedroom, two-bathroom, breathtaking log cabin all to myself. What I did not expect was a fully-stocked kitchen, a hot tub on my own private deck, and the most gorgeous view of the mountains in front of me. The high-vaulted ceilings and the roaring fireplace were welcoming as I dropped my bags in the middle of the living room.

But the surprises just kept on coming.

There was a lofted portion to the cabin I could access via a beautiful wooden staircase. I walked upstairs and found a beautiful pair of french double doors that opened up onto yet another balcony. But the loft area was filled with art products. There was an easel and different sized canvases. There were paints of all colors, glosses, and types. There were charcoal pencils and pens. Regular pencils and erasers. Artist pads I could carry around the resort with me and colored pencils to use as I wanted.

Anything I could have thought of that I would’ve needed to express myself was already stocked in the cabin’s loft.

I grabbed the double doors and threw them open, allowing the cool mountain air to grace my cheeks. I stepped onto the small balcony and sat down in the most comfortable patio chair I had ever felt. Tears sprang to my eyes as I watched the sun steadily rise over the mountain tops. They were covered with browns and greens, and at the very top of some of the highest peaks there were slight patches of white.

“Thank you, Preston,” I said with a whisper. “Thank you so much.”

I didn't have a bathing suit to use for the hot tub, but the ground-level patio was private. There were high privacy fences that blocked a neighbor from seeing me, even though there was no one occupying the cabins. There was no one in front of me and there was no one behind me. It was the off-season, so there was a good chance no one would be occupying the cabins on either side of me at least for the next few days.

So I went inside, closed the doors, shed my clothes, and went in search of a towel.

The night I experienced with Preston filled me with a renewed sense of vigor. I felt more confident than I had ever felt in my life, so I decided to make my first risky decision. I found a luxurious, fluffy bath towel in the fully-stocked bathroom that was easily the size of my apartment living room back home. I wrapped the towel around me and took a deep breath, then I made my way for the porch and out towards the hot tub. I looked for the dial on the outside of the deck that would control the timer for the bubbles, and as the hot tub roared to life my towel dropped to the concrete.

I stood there, clad in nothing but my skin as I took in the site in

front of me. Rolling green hills that led all the way to the base of some of the most majestic mountains this country had to offer. I descended into the hot tub, allowing the water to caress the nakedness of my skin. I sank down into the rolling bubbles and relaxed against the side, slipping into a cavern that was contoured to my body.

It was as if this entire cabin was styled just for me.

My mind was swirling with all of the things I would paint first. All of the beauty I had experienced just driving into these mountains. I closed my eyes and sank down to my neck in the hot water as the cool mountain air rushed over my face. I sighed, allowing all of the stress from work fade into the background as I enjoyed the first day of my three-week vacation.

When my skin was red from the water and I was sweating down my neck, I grabbed the towel waiting for me. I emerged from the water a completely different person, ready to take on the artistic world for the next three weeks. I wrapped the towel around me and made my way back into the house, opening the refrigerator to see what there was to drink. I smiled when I saw the flavored water. The same flavored water I had handed to Preston when we had lunch that day in his office.

I was right. He had tailored this entire cabin to my liking.

No matter what people thought about him, and no matter what I had first thought about him, he was not the man he appeared to be. This cabin and all it held was not the action of an airheaded playboy. This cabin, stocked with the best supplies any artist could want in their arsenal, was not done by the hands of a man who only wanted to screw around with women. This was done by the heart of a man who cared about everything he threw himself into. It didn't matter what persona he has painted for the media and it didn't matter what he had done to any other company before ours.

He could convince everyone else that he was a playboy, but he would never be able to convince me.

I grabbed an apple off the kitchen island and headed up the steps. I opened my bottle of water and drank it down, revitalizing my body and replenishing my energy stores. With the towel wrapped around me and my body drip-drying in the heat of the fire that was keeping this cabin comfortable, I sat down on a stool in front of the prepared easel. I started grabbing colors and squeezing them into a tray, my eyes dancing along the blank canvas. I could see the picture already jumping out at me. The orange glow of the mountains I was able to behold as I was driving here for this retreat.

My fingertips were tingling and the paint was calling to me. The canvas was springing to life right before my very eyes and my body was buzzing with excitement. It had been years since I had been able to focus on nothing but my art. Years since I had taken any sort of time for myself and cared about my well-being.

But this vacation was giving me a chance to do just that. To do nothing but paint, create, imagine, and rest.

I had no idea how I was going to repay Preston for his kindness, but I was determined to come up with something.

Eleven

Preston

Planning how I was going to get Delilah back out to dinner quickly turned into trying to figure out how I wasn’t going to fucking fire people while she was gone. Things were going to shit at work. The new design for the company logo was botched the first time we sent it over. Someone in the fucking graphic design department didn’t send the logo mockup in the right format. So when the sign company opened it up, the fucking colors had been inverted. The company ended up with this bullshit sign ten days later that had to be sent back and redone.

It took everything I had not to fire that man on the spot.