I step down off the stool. ‘Yes,’ I say, because it’s the easiest answer to give.
She hums, cocking her head from one side to the other. ‘I love this one.’ I make my way around the cashier desk as she studies my latest creation, an oil on canvas of a nearby valley that I painted last week. ‘It would look lovely on the wall of your café,’ I hint, not so subtly. ‘Well, when I have some spare cash, I might buy it from you.’
‘I’ll do you a special deal,’ I say as I follow her to the door and open it for her. She chuckles as she chucks my cheek. She’s always chuckling or smiling. She’s the sweetest lady. ‘See you later, Mrs Heaven.’
‘Bye-bye, Hannah.’
I head out into the sunshine with her and tuck my hands into my pockets, watching as she dips and collects up a candy wrapper. ‘I don’t know,’ she sighs, dropping it in a nearby bin. ‘Why do people insist on littering our lovely little town?’
She’s right. It truly is a lovely town. It’s almost a shame I can’t stay here forever. I breathe in the clean spring air and wedge the door open, then get back to unpacking.
By five o’clock, I’m done, and I stand gazing at the splashes of colour on every available space. It’s cluttered, a charming kind of messy, just as planned. Just how I always dreamed my own art shop would be. ‘Perfect.’
With celebrating my achievement in mind, I lock the shop door and head to the kitchenette to collect the bottle of wine I bought earlier, before I go upstairs to my apartment and chill out. Pulling open the mini fridge, I seize the bottle of cheap white . . . and nearly drop the damn thing when a loud crash has me jumping out of my skin.
I whirl around. What was that? ‘Hello?’ I call, blindly placing my bottle of wine on a nearby counter. No one answers, and I damn my pulse for thumping so hard. Edging toward the doorway that leads back into the shop, I swallow and gingerly peek around the corner.
No one.
I pass the till, scanning every corner of my shop, and stop moving when I see a pile of mini paint pots scattered across the floor, fallen from the shelf I just meticulously stacked. ‘Shit!’ My hand shoots out toward the wall, knocking a painting askew, my heart stopping in my chest.
Meow.
‘Jesus,’ I breathe as a monster tabby cat jumps onto the display table in the centre of the shop, knocking a few pots of brushes over. The clatters mingle with the pounding of blood in my ears, and I stagger back, my hand resting over my pumping heart. ‘Just a cat. It’s just a cat.’ I force my muscles to relax while I repeat the mantra over and over out loud. ‘Where did you come from?’ I exhale, just as an almighty bang sounds behind me.
I’m jumping out of my bloody skin again, more pots of brushes toppling on the table as the cat, obviously startled, too, jumps off and darts toward the door. I look across and see a woman on the other side, peeking in, her hand on the handle.
I’m safe, I tell myself. No one knows I’m here. No one knows I’m anywhere.
I hurry over and open the door for her, at the same time letting the huge tabby cat out. ‘Hi,’ I say as both our gazes follow the speedy getaway of the cat.
‘Sorry, did I frighten you?’
I laugh under my breath as I turn and dip to collect up the brushes scattered all over the floor. ‘The cat scared me more than you did,’ I say, scolding myself again for being so unreasonably jumpy.
The lady comes to join me on the floor, helping me. ‘That’s Timmy.’ She smiles at my frown as we both stand, both our hands full of various paintbrushes. ‘The cat,’ she confirms, nodding her head toward the door. ‘Belongs to Mrs Hatt. If a door’s open, he’ll invite himself in.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ I reply with a smile.
Resting the brushes on the table, she offers me her hand. ‘I’m Molly. I teach history at the local school.’ Off-loading my brushes, I shake her hand with a smile. ‘Well, I teach English and maths, too.’ She shrugs. ‘Small school.’
‘Nice to meet you, Molly. I’m Hannah.’
‘I’ve been meaning to come introduce myself since I saw you moving in a couple of weeks ago.’ Molly takes a peek around, looking impressed. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Great, thank you.’ I head for the shelves and collect up the paint pots that Timmy knocked off. ‘I showcased some of my work at a show yesterday, and my online shop is up and running now, too.’
‘Oh, good luck with that! There are some beautiful places around here to paint.’