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Maybe in the light of day, it won’t be so bad. Then I can move on from this whole episode. That would also mean I no longer need to stay at Cooper’s, and the thought makes me irrationally sad.
24
QUINN
I’ve always prided myself on being calm, cool, and collected. There are very few instances where I’ve not been able to maintain that state. Meeting Cooper for one and, apparently, walking back into my house after the break-in.
Sitting in my driveway, staring up at the beautiful house I now call home, I feel tears prick my eyes. I hate that this person has reduced me to a sniveling joke. They’ve obliterated my ability to stay cool under pressure, and that is the most frustrating part of this situation. Not only were they in my house and messed with my things, but they also messed with my mind. It’s wholly unacceptable that they’ve disrupted my ability to remain steady in the face of chaos.
Through a burst of anger, I get out of my car and head inside. I’m determined to put this episode behind me, and in order to do that, I have to buck up and take back my space.
Once I’m inside, I do a quick scan of my kitchen and living room, inventorying everything I see. Nothing appears out of order, and as the silence surrounds me, I’m comforted knowing it still feels like home. It’s still the place that has always welcomed me into its loving arms. The place my heart has held close since I was a little girl.
I walk through the house towards my studio with a little more confidence than I did when I first got into the house. I just have to keep remembering that this place is mine and no matter what happens it will always be mine.
Easier said than done, though, when I feel uneasiness snake down my spine walking into my studio.
My paintbrushes are still disorganized, and the drawers holding my paints are still askew. The uneasiness grows when I look down and see the gold flecks of Cooper’s eyes staring back at me. I never moved the painting back to its storage place, and it feels almost as if whoever did this is mocking me with the painting.
It sends a message saying,I see you. I’ve discovered your secrets and know who you are.
Shaking off the tendrils of fear, I take a deep breath and start reorganizing my things, putting away Cooper’s painting, fixing my brushes, and righting all of the wrongs I come across. It’s cathartic and aids me in making the space mine again.
Once everything is back in its place, I flip through some of my finished pieces, picking out my favorites to give to Trish. Before now, I’d never had the urge to sell my paintings. I created them for myself because I enjoyed doing it. It was never a hobby I wanted to make money on, so I never did anything with them.
Being in this place has inspired me to want to share them. After seeing the other artists’ work in Trish’s store, I decided it might be fun to see if anyone would want my paintings too. If they didn’t buy them, I would’ve been okay and found another way to earn money, but much to my delight— and Trish’s too, I’m sure— they’ve become really popular.
I choose three paintings to take with me and make a mental note to finish up a few more since my selection is dwindling. I love that I have a reason to spend all day painting now.
I walk back out of my studio after packaging up my work, and my gaze lands on the stairs. I didn’t finish cleaning after Cooper invited me over, and I know there’s still a mess up there. Having already spent an hour cleaning up my studio, I don’t have it in me to clean my bedroom too.
I know I would feel even worse while cleaning up there since it’s is supposed to be the place you feel the safest. The one place in your home that no one goes into without your permission. It’s where you have the most intimate moments, and knowing a stranger was in there, going through all of my things, just about sends me over the edge of panic.
Shaking my head, I walk past the stairs and back into the kitchen. Despite feeling like a chicken, I’m pretty proud of myself for coming back here alone in the first place. I completed the tasks I set for myself and plan to tackle the rest another day.
Once I’m outside and walking to my car, I feel the weight of that daunting task slide off my shoulders. I take another cleansing breath while I secure my paintings in the trunk of my car and then jump into the driver's seat.
My drive to Trish’s store is short, and I score a parking spot right in front. I grab my paintings and head inside, causing the bell over the door to ring. The store is pretty busy this afternoon which is nice to see.
I don’t see Trish anywhere, so I walk to the back where she keeps her inventory, set my paintings down, and head to her office. Peeking in, I see her sitting behind her desk reading over some paperwork.
The office is small but cheery, decorated in warm greys and blues. A leafy green plant sits in the corner, and a bookcase takes up part of another wall. I give a quick tap on her door, and she looks up and smiles at me.
“Hey there. Just dropping off some more paintings. How’s it going?” I ask.
“Hey, things are good. I sold your last one today, so perfect timing.”
“That’s great to hear. I should have a few more for you next week.”
“Perfect! Hey, do you have a minute to chat?” Trish asks.
“Of course,” I respond, walking into her office to sit.
“I have an opportunity I want to discuss with you,” she starts, and I nod my head for her to continue. “I bought the store next door and want to open it specifically for art. I’ve got several suppliers now and want to showcase their work better than how I’m currently able to. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in helping me out with both getting the store up and running and then managing it when it’s finished. I can’t run the whole project by myself, and you're the only person in town I'd trust to do it justice.”
I try to take in what Trish said through my shock. Is she really asking me to run her gallery? That would be an absolute dream. I already know she has a fantastic collection of artwork, and I could work with the local artists in the area. I’d have a stable income and wouldn’t have to rely on only my commissions. I don’t think I could’ve thought of anything more perfect for me.
“Really? You want me to help you run the store?” I ask, just to double-check I didn’t mishear her in my excitement.
