Page 10 of Blank Canvas

In this one instance—tossing my name out to a prospective client—I make an exception.

Because, Shelly.

But god, I pray her meddling stops, and soon.

Another dose of crimson paints Shelly’s cheeks and heats my blood. I memorize the color. Stash it away for the next time I have a brush in my hand and canvas beneath the bristles.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” Her eyes pull me into her orbit and hold me steady. Her chest rises and falls in my periphery, over and over. Then she blinks and breaks the spell she cast. “I’ll be in the back.” She shifts her gaze to Elizabeth. “Let me know when the truck arrives.”

“Will do.”

Before another word is said, Shelly spins around and vanishes behind a wall of flowers. The second she disappears, I miss her presence, her energy, her aura. All things eidetic memory cannot replicate. At least the image of her is carved into my memory.

I blink a few times, shake myself back into reality, and look over at a smiling Elizabeth. Her smile speaks volumes, whereas her voice remains silent. The eye of an artist picks up on these small idiosyncrasies and uses them to convey deeper meaning in their work. As for now, I ignore the hidden message in her smile.

“Show me where you were thinking of placing the indoor mural,” I say to steer the moment back to business.

In a blink, Elizabeth transitions into proud businesswoman and owner. She guides me to a wall opposite the entrance. Several tin pails, large and small, occupy the floor space. Eucalyptus stems, wheat sprigs, grassy bundles, lush greenery, cattails, and more fill the taller baskets on the floor. On a short shelf behind them, shorter pails are filled with lavender, sprigged red berries, oblong fiery flowers, blue thistle, baby’s breath, fern stems, and wispy twigs with pink flowers that remind me of weeping willows and cherry blossoms. Off to the left, white and blush roses grow on a wooden ladder.

Visions of the meadow pop into my head. Various greens, hints of gold and brown, small splashes of violet and honey and berry, and subtle touches of white and indigo. With a slight shift of the pails, the illusion of a natural slate path in the mural will give patrons a feel of stepping into the meadow while shopping.

“It isn’t much to work with…”

I hold up a hand and shake my head. “No, it’s perfect.” Beside me, Elizabeth beams. “Do you mind if I shift things around? Obviously while I paint, but also for when the mural is finished.”

“Not at all. I trust your vision.”

Hearing those words never gets old. When a client trusts you to bring the art to life, it is the ultimate gift.

“Thank you.” I give her a sincere smile. “Also, a suggestion.” Her brows lift as she holds my gaze. “When I finish the touchups outside, you may want to invest in a small awning. Nothing extravagant. But something that will shade the mural from the midday sun. It’ll add years to the painting after I add the extra seal.”

“I will look into them immediately. Thank you for the tip.”

Elizabeth guides me back to the shop’s office. I don’t miss the opportunity to smile at Shelly as I pass. Her cheeks pinken again, then plump as she returns the smile. I don’t know what it is specifically about this woman, but she steals my attention when we exist in the same space. Her aura controls the room and sayslook at me, and I cannot help but oblige.

But I shouldn’t be caught looking at her like some creeper. So I shift my gaze and focus on the task at hand.

Elizabeth and I look over our schedules and coordinate—not as if my schedule is packed, but no one needs to be privy to such information. Minutes later, we both mark our calendars for the project to start in a few days. I give her a guesstimate of how long the entire project will take, mentally stretching the time frame longer than necessary.

Because, Shelly.

We walk out of the office and Elizabeth pats my shoulder. “Thank you again for doing this. Your art will add an elegant touch to the shop and make everyone’s visit more pleasant.”

I stop us near the table where Shelly studiously works on an arrangement, desperately trying not to make eye contact. But I need one last walk under the stars before I leave.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to bring you ladies drinks on the mornings I work. A token of my gratitude for the additional work.”

Elizabeth waves off the idea. “Not necessary.” Shelly peeks through the sunset-colored petals with a small smile on her face. I let her hypnotize me for three wobbly heartbeats.

“True, but I’d like to anyway. So, what is your beverage of choice?”

“Relentless,” Elizabeth mumbles, and I laugh. “If you insist, coffee. No cream or sugar.” She pats my shoulder again. “You’re too sweet, Devlyn.”

Shelly steps aside and out of the arrangement’s protection. And for two breaths, we don’t speak. I don’t know what it is, but this woman crosses my wires. Makes me forget how to function on a day-to-day level. For whatever reason, it doesn’t bother me in the way it would with anyone else.

“What about you?” I ask, desperate for more than just her eyes.

She swallows, then wipes her hands on her apron. “I’m more of a tea drinker.” She clears her throat. “Not sure where you’ll be going, but I’ll take any type of tea drink. With oat milk, if it comes with milk. If it doesn’t, no milk is okay too.” She purses her lips and attempts to hide a huff. Obviously upset with her slight rambling after being silent so long.

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