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CHAPTER ONE
Charlotte Moore wasdesperateto sell her house. It justhad tohappen today.
Well, maybe not heractualhouse, but the oil portrait that she had lovingly painted of the art-deco building itself—the oil-on-canvas piece was what shehopedwould go home with a lucky buyer on this fine spring morning.
The bustling Central Market swap meet in the heart of New York City brimmed with energy. Vendors called out to passersby, their voices mingling with the sounds of laughter and conversation that filled the atmosphere from the crowded sidewalks. The intoxicating scent of street food wafted through the air, drawing crowds to the various food stands. Amid the colorful chaos, customers perused the eclectic assortment of wares on display — antiques, handmade crafts, vintage clothing, and more.
Charlotte was busy setting up her booth. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, wisps of hair framing her face as she concentrated on arranging her items. Each piece was a window into her soul, and she’d come a long way from finger-painting in Mrs. Gerald’s first-grade classroom all those years ago in Brooklyn. Her college years in art school had honed her natural passion, and she hoped thatsomeonetoday would see that shining through. She carefully placed each canvas on an easel or leaned it against the booth's tarp-like walls, ensuring the paintings had enough space to breathe and catch the eyes of potential buyers.
As Charlotte stepped back to survey her work, she felt both pride and anticipation. This was her chance to share her creations with the world and make a name for herself in the competitive art scene.
Do you really want to spend all day in the park, trying to hawk paintings on the street?
Daniel's negative tone still rang in her ears from this morning. Charlotte wished she could shake the echo of her husband’s haughty voice. It wasn’t as if he were doing anything new and exciting since Amelia had moved out.
"Your pieces are absolutely stunning," a woman commented as she stopped at Charlotte's booth, her eyes wide with admiration.
"Thank you," Charlotte replied warmly, turning, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I'm so glad you like them."
She watched as the woman moved from one painting to another, lingering on a particular piece that featured a serene city landscape bathed in the soft light of twilight. Moments like these that made all the late nights in her studio, the self-doubt, and the sacrifices worth it — knowing that her art could touch someone and bring them a moment of joy or contemplation.
"Would you like to know more about this piece?" Charlotte asked gently, not wanting to interrupt the woman's reverie but eager to engage with a potential customer.
"Please," the woman said, turning her curious gaze toward Charlotte. "It's absolutely captivating."
As Charlotte began to share the story behind the painting, she noticed another potential client approaching her booth. The newcomer took in her artwork, fingers tapping on the screen of his cell phone.
"Ah, this one's lovely," the older gentleman remarked, his fingers tracing the edge of a canvas depicting a tranquil lake at sunrise. "What inspired you to paint this?"
"Thank you," Charlotte beamed, her cheeks flushing with pride. "I wanted to capture the feeling of new beginnings. That moment just as the sun rises and illuminates the world."
The man nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still lingering on the painting. "You've captured it beautifully."
"Would you like me to hold this one for you while you continue browsing?" Charlotte offered, her pulse quickening at the possibility of a sale.
"Let me think about it," the man said, patting his pockets as if calculating his budget. "But I'll definitely consider it."
As he moved on, Charlotte turned to find the first woman gone. Disappointment spiked through her, but she tried to remain optimistic. Each kind word or nod of approval fueled her belief in her talent and the potential for her work to find its way into the hearts and homes of others.
As the day went on, Charlotte found herself conversing with customers, answering questions about her artistic process, and sharing anecdotes about the inspirations behind her creations. She passed out dozens of business cards and even had a deli owner from nearby ask if she painted murals. Each conversation left her feeling more invigorated and confident—and Daniel’s naysaying from this morning faded to nothing in her mind.
Charlotte could sense the possibility of a sale growing closer. In the early afternoon, she noticed a tall man in his mid-thirties making his way through the crowd. He carried himself with an air of quiet confidence, his dark eyes alight with curiosity as they darted from one piece of art to another.
"Hi, I'm Charlotte," she said as he approached her booth. "Is there anything specific that’s caught your eye?"
The man turned his attention to Charlotte and offered a small, polite smile. "Yes, actually, this one right here," he said, gesturing toward the painting depicting her house at dusk, where the sun cast long shadows on the grass and made slightly eerie hollows of the windows and doors.
"Ah, that's one of my favorites," Charlotte admitted, beaming at his interest. "It's my home. The tranquility and mystery of evenings has always been a source of inspiration for me."
"Remarkable," the man murmured, his eyes never leaving the painting. "You've managed to capture the essence of this moment so perfectly."
"Thank you," Charlotte replied, moved by his words. She could sense his genuine appreciation for her work, and it made her heart race with anticipation. What seemed like a simple interaction felt charged with possibility, as if it could be the start of something bigger—maybe a sale!
After a moment, the man pulled out his phone, turned so that the painting was at his back, and snapped a quick photo of himself standing by the painting. "I hope you don't mind me taking a picture, but I wanted to remember this piece. It truly is exceptional."
"Of course not," Charlotte said, flattered. "I'm glad you like it so much. If you were interested in b—"
"Oh, no, no,” he said, cutting her off. “But I have a lot of online followers who will love it. I get content, you get free exposure. Win-win.”
