Page 14 of Call It Serendipity

“Actually…” I bite my lip and move over to join her on the sofa. “We talked about the fact that he’s the representative from the hotel chain—he literally is a Carpenter. His dad owns the company.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Oh Lucy, I’m sorry.” She hesitates, her gaze softening. “And yet, here you are. Back in the studio.”

“You think he’s my muse?” I scoff.

“I think I’m glad to see you at the easel again. However you got here.”

“Yeah.” I nod, looking back at the canvas with sketching across it. “I am too.”

I step back and press the paint brush handle to my chin, examining my progress. It’s nothing, really. A study of movement and light.

But it is paint.

On a canvas.

And it’s too early to be certain, but I feel in my core that I’m on the right track.

“Hey, Luce, I’m heading out to dinner with Levi. Want me to bring you something back?”

I look up to find Claire in my doorway, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Did you say dinner? What time is it?”

“Nearly six,” she replies, narrowing her eyes to study me. “Have you eaten today?”

I tip my head to the side and think about the breaks I took today. There were the trips downstairs for the second and third cups of coffee, but that’s it. “I had that croissant for breakfast,” I say sheepishly.

“Lucy.”

“Okay, okay.” I set my brush aside and hold up my hands. “I won’t wait for you to bring food back. I’ll go hit Dagwood’s.”

The sandwich shop just outside of town is fast, easy, and there aren’t even tables for crowds of people to linger at. It’s one of my favorite places.

“Good.” She steps to the side and I shuffle out of my studio. “Although don’t get me wrong, I am still really glad to see you getting back into your art.”

I flash her a weary smile. “It’s something.”

We move down the stairs together as she asks, “Did this help you firm up that fleeting feeling from this morning? Anything you can set as your theme?”

All exhibitions have a theme or style, which is exactly what Whitcombe Gallery is expecting of me. A series of paintings, four minimum, tied together with a uniform message.

“I’m right on the cusp of something pulling together for me, just not there yet.”

We swipe our car keys off the entryway table in unison, and she turns to me with bright eyes. “This is it this time, I can feel it.” The confidence in her voice buoys my heart. If she can have this much faith in me, maybe I can believe in myself as well.

Parting ways, she heads towards her car parked around back in the driveway, and I cross the street to where my Subaru Forester awaits. I climb into my dark red beauty and go to start it when I look down at my clothes. I’m still in my overalls and baby tee—no bra.

For a beat, I debate if I can go out in public like this.

Nobody will be able to see my chest with the way the front of the overalls comes up, though, and I really don’t feel like going back inside to change. “This will be fine,” I reason, throwing my hair up in a claw clip from the cupholder. “It’s just Dagwood’s.”

Decided, I pull away from the curb and drive the few minutes down the road to village limits. There, sitting at the corner of the last intersection out of town, is a tiny, all brick building nestled amongst mature pines. The gravel lot out front is completely empty—save for the one car over in the spot labeled for the employee. It would seem I’ve gotten luckier than usual.

Grabbing my tote from the passenger seat, I climb out and pause to lock my door. But as I do, there is the distinct rumble of another vehicle stopping beside me.