Page 105 of Reckless

She just shrugged and didn’t answer. I took another piece of paper and put it in front of her. Then I stood up.

“I will go check if your uncle needs something.”

When they all left later that evening, I didn’t invite her to come the next day, leaving the decision to her, but I checked out their drawings. Hers were pretty good.

The next morning, Dana came knocking at my door. She was alone.

“Where is your little artist?” I asked.

“With my mother,” Dana cleared her throat. “I wondered if we could talk.”

I nodded and invited her in. She told me her story and I couldn’t help but feel bad about the time I spent in Amanda Reed’s company. Yes, it was fancy. Yes, the clients there were rich, successful people and it looked good on your resume that you worked with them, but working with someone like Dana was so much more rewarding. She could really turn her life around if she decided to make the effort.

We met every other day for weeks. By the end of week number three, I started to see the change. Both in Dana and in my bathroom.

The day her uncle finished up his work, Dana was nervous, and I suspected where all of it came from.

“Same time on tomorrow?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I can’t pay you.”

“Dana, do you want to be able to pay me? Not now. One day. In the future. Do you want to be able to afford something like that?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Don’t stop, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But the bathroom is finished.”

“I don’t care,” I said while she munched on her lip. “I really don’t. Don’t quit now. I know you can feel the change yourself.”

She kept silent for a few beats, then nodded.

“I will do something else for you then.”

“Sure. You can paint something on one of the walls in the office. That would be cool.”

“I have a better idea.”

That same week I moved out of my parents’ house into the storage room of my office and Dana became my first official client, even though she wasn’t a paying one.

A few days later someone knocked at my door.

“Hello,” I greeted the woman standing on the other side.

“Hi. Are you Hannah Spencer? I’m Jessica.”

We shook hands.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

“I met one of your clients in the park. Dana. Our kids played together. I’m divorced,” she winced at the last word. “I really want to start dating again, but I am terrified. Dana said you help her a lot. Can I book an appointment?”

“Yes, of course. Come in.”

In the following weeks, three more women called and asked for appointments. They all mentioned Dana.

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