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In the morning, the little downtown village feels like a magical fairyland. The leaves are turning amber and gold, all of the little shops and galleries smell like cinnamon and are decorated with twinkling strings of white lights. And although the locals here seem rather introverted, they are still very friendly.

One guy has a gallery filled with sculptures made out of dried wildflowers. Another older woman, who seems to be quite popular with the locals, has a shop full of miniature paintings that I absolutely adore. There are candle shops, crystal shops, and little cafés with delicious-smelling lattes. I made sure only to bring part of my extra hundred dollars and leave the rest of my paycheck at home or risk spending it on things that I don’t truly need.

While I am there, I stop into the same shop where I bought the paint when I first arrived.

“Morning!” the same guy calls out to me when I walk in.

“Good morning, Tom,” I say with a smile. I am already starting to feel like I fit in here.

“How did you like those paints?”

“Well, I started a new job this week and so I unfortunately haven’t had any time to use them yet, at least not much. But I plan to do some painting this weekend.”

“I’d love to see some of your work if you’d ever like to bring in a sample or two. If it’s good, I might even offer you a little space on the wall.”

“The wall?” I ask.

He gestures towards the wall at the back of the shop that is adorned with various pieces of artwork. It’s quite an assortment of different works and styles, definitely not all by the same artist.

“I offer that wall space to the local artists who don’t have their own gallery. They can have a spot on the blank wall to showcase a piece of work for sale here in my shop.”

I can see that there are a couple of blank spaces available right now. Boy would it be cool to be able to put one ofmypieces on there, and even cooler if someone wanted to buy it.

“That’s pretty awesome of you,” I say. “Giving artists a chance like that to show their work for free.”

He smiles and nods, and I can tell that Tom is a good and modest guy.

“So how do you like your new job? Where are you working?”

I tell him about the company I work for and what my role is in it. My explanation sounds rather naïve, considering I don’t actually know half of what goes on in Chad’s company.

“Well, I wouldn’t have taken you for an office worker,” he chuckles.

“Neither would I,” I say. “But it was the first job I got offered and I needed the money in order to fix up my house.”

I glance around the shop, and then out at the little downtown area just outside the window.

“Maybe one day I’ll have a gallery here,” I sigh. It was meant to be more of a thought inside my head, but it wound up coming out of my mouth instead.

Tom smiles. “If you set your mind to it, I’m sure you will.”

I like his positive energy. I like the positive, creative energy of this whole area, and I find myself quickly falling in love with the artsy, mountain environment here.

I resist the urge to buy anything else until I use what I have at home already, and then I head out to wander a little bit more before going back to work on the cottage.

On my way home, I drive slowly past Chad’s house. I wonder what he’s doing inside. I wonder what his daughter looks like and if she is as beautiful as her father is, and as her mother probably was. And I still wonder what the inside of his house looks like and if it has a claw-footed tub like mine.

Mostly though, I wonder what would drive a billionaire to a place like this. He’s either trying tobuildsomething or run away and disappear. I hope for his daughter’s sake it’s the first one.

When I get home, I try not to think about Chad anymore. Not only is he my bossbut alsomy neighbor, I have no desire to get wrapped up with anyone at all. This is my chance to find my true self here, to settle down in a place that I am quickly starting to love, and to work toward the goal of maybe one day having a piece of art on the wall in Tom’s shop.

With that aspiration in mind, I forgo working on the cottage tonight and reach for my new paints instead.

Chapter Four

Chad

It’s athousand percent weirdhaving my neighbor as my assistant at work. But since I don’t really know Seraphine on any sort of personal level, and since our houses aren’t even that close to each other, I decide that it doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters is that she can keep up with me and do the tasks that I ask her to do.

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