“We can’t have that happen.” Abby climbed the porch steps, then stopped in front of the door. “My goal this week is to enjoy the process of creating art. I know it’s not the easiest thing to do, but it might help you come up with a new design.”
“I hope so.”
Sasha followed her into the foyer. Polished wood floors led into a large living room. A fireplace sat in the center of one wall. Bookshelves stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. Oil paintings depicting bears and other nature scenes decorated the walls. Sasha’s eyes widened.
“This place is amazing,” she said.
“Thank you,” a woman said as she bustled out from the kitchen. “I’m Madison. I hope you’re hungry. My baked eggplant stuffed with ricotta cheese is almost ready.”
“It smells like sin,” Sasha said.
“You have no idea,” Madison said. “I live to cook sinfully scrumptious dishes.”
“She’s come a long way with her culinary skills. I keep telling her that she should start a cooking blog.”
“Maybe one day, when I have free time.” Madison laughed.
“I’ll help Sasha get settled,” Abby said. “We’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Sounds good.”
After Madison disappeared back into the kitchen, Abby started up the stairs. Sasha followed. The warm, homey feel of the house continued to the second floor. Caramel-colored walls lined the hall. A polished wood floor reflected sunlight from a large picture.
“The other guests should be arriving shortly,” Abby said.
“I can’t wait to get started.”
“After lunch, you’ll have plenty of time to work on your project.” Abby opened one of the bedroom doors and let her inside.
A huge four-poster bed sat in the center of the room. A patchwork quilt in blue hues lay across the sheets. Above the bed, a painting depicting a grizzly bear in the forest hung on the wall. Her luggage sat piled near an antique mahogany dresser.
“This is beautiful,” Sasha said.
“Thank you. My sister-in-law Kate does most of the interior design. She’s passionate about color and light.”
“It shows.”
“I’ll let her know you like the room. She recently redesigned it,” Abby said. “Spare linens are in the closet. There’s an attached bath and plenty of space to stretch out. We just ask that you use a drop cloth if you’re going to work with clay in your room. You might be more comfortable in the art center. It’s adjacent to the barn.”
“No problem,” Sasha said. “I’ll move all of my supplies over there this afternoon.”
“Great. Take your time getting unpacked. Madison said the food will be ready soon, but there’s no rush.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure. I can’t wait to see your project. Are you starting something new or working with an existing piece?” Abby asked.
“A new one,” Sasha said.
“I love starting a new painting. All of the possibilities are laid out before me and I just have to choose which direction I want to go in.”
“Yeah,” Sasha said. She used to know exactly what she’d create when she looked at a piece of clay. Now, she had no idea.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Abby said. “If you need anything, just holler.”
“Sounds good.”
After Abby left the room, Sasha began unpacking. She set her laptop on the desk near the window and opened it. After connecting to the Wi-Fi, she checked her bank account balance.
“Ugh,” she grumbled.
If she didn’t finish the project this week, she’d have to find a different line of work and give up her dream of being a full-time artist.
* * *
Jack parked his black Ford F-150 between two other trucks next to a huge red barn. The property had a cutesy name—Curvy Bear Ranch—but the place screamed cowboy. He half-expected a man in leather chaps to walk bowlegged out of one of the fields. It seemed like an odd place to hold an artist’s retreat, but he lived for weird, new experiences.
He hopped out of the truck and grabbed a duffle bag full of metalworking tools. As he turned toward the ranch-style home, the front door opened. A six-foot-tall man with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache jogged down the steps. A second man followed behind him. The man’s wild, chocolate brown hair bounced in the wind.
“Mack Grant,” the first man said as he held out a hand.
“Jack Brock.” He shook the man’s hand.
“This is my brother, Logan,” Mack said as the second man walked up.
“Good to meet you,” Logan said.
“Same here.”