Page 11 of Smooth As Whiskey

The entire time, I felt eyes on me, and when I looked over my shoulder at Irish, it was to see nothing but pride in his gaze.

Oh, Irish, why?

Why can’t you see what’s right in front of you?

Just as I thought that, Paisley came back into the living room, plopped on the couch, and then proceeded to show me all of her artwork.

And it was artwork.

Some of it I could make out, some of it I couldn’t, but I didn’t let it show that I couldn’t.

As I came across one picture, my breath caught. It was of a woman holding a child's hand with a rainbow in the background.

I looked at Paisley and asked, “Is this one spoken for?”

She scrunched her nose up, “What do you mean?”

I titled my head at it, “Well, most artists sell their work. So, have you already sold this one?”

She giggled, then shook her head, “No, I’m only seven.”

I gasped, “You're only seven? With talent like this? I’ve just met a masterful artist. Dang, girl.”

She giggled, then laughed.

Thankfully, I had some cash in my kit. I pulled it close and pulled the cash out and found a twenty and a ten, then I looked at Paisley and asked, “Would you take thirty dollars for this masterpiece?”

Her eyes went wide, her mouth fell open, and I couldn’t contain my chuckle.

She looked from her mom, then to me, then back to her mom, and asked, “Mommy?”

“Your first paying customer. You had your eye on that new doll. That’ll do it.” Her mom barely got the last word out when Paisley looked at me and said, “Sold.”

I grinned, then handed her the cash and said, “You have to sign it first. I want everyone to know who made this.”

She grinned, then signed her first name at the bottom corner of the page.

Then something happened. Shocked the shit out of me to be frank.

Irish moved in, then dropped to his haunches and asked, “Let me look through your artwork, too. I need something to brighten up the space above my toolbox.”

And that was how Irish had a one-of-a-kind drawing of a tree with a swing set hanging from it.

And that was also how Coal and Adeline both purchased artwork from Paisley.

Once I hugged Paisley and thanked her, I looked at Holly, “I work at Shear Salon, any time she needs something done with her hair or even your hair, y’all just call in and make an appointment with me, okay?”

She shook her head, “We can’t afford it.”

I smiled at her, “You're already affording it. That little girl already knows how much she’s loved. There’s not enough of that. And for the price of love, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make that person’s life easier.”

I tilted my head, “Tell you what, since my space at the salon looks a little drabby. My payment will be a new piece of never-before-seen artwork.”

She gaped, “Are you serious?”

“Totally,” I told her as I poured truth into that one word.

Twenty minutes later, in my bedroom, I curled into Irish and let the tears fall, “Explain to me how in the world within months, they had a shot for something they’ve never seen before, but they haven’t been able to cure cancer in children yet.”

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