Color My World

  Color My World

  New Beginnings Series - Book Two

  by Laura Westbrook

  Text copyright © 2020 Laura Westbrook

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is licensed for personal enjoyment only and is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, places, or events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the author’s written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews. The people or person depicted on the cover are models, not related to any of the characters or actions, and don’t necessarily endorse or condone the book’s contents. Individuals pictured are used for illustrative purposes only.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  The farmers’ market had changed. They’d moved everything around since the last time Cassie had seen it, back when she’d still been a normal visitor. She bit her lip and glanced around, feeling the anxiety build in her stomach. Being a social butterfly didn’t help much when people needed to walk up to her booth first. Not that she’d felt like one lately.

  She’d been setting up since earlier that morning and she was confident she had everything ready. All her arrangements were as pretty, elegant, and professional as she could manage. Every painting was propped up and aimed at the right angle so that anyone approaching would have the full view of her wares.

  That said, it didn’t make the knot in her stomach any looser. She had no idea what to expect. She could be overrun with potential customers, or it might be a ghost town. She’d like to think it would be somewhere in the middle, but she had nothing to compare it to.

  “You’re new here,” a woman’s voice said from her right side. Cassie hadn’t heard her walk up. For a woman her age, she walked lightly. She had a worn but charming smile, and her hair was pulled up into a bun. Silver ringlets escaped, though, and she wore brightly colored clothing. There was a twinkle in her eye, something hidden just beneath the surface, and Cassie couldn’t help but smile in return. There was something welcoming about her.

  “Yes, I am. I’m Cassie. Pleased to meet you.”

  The woman shook her offered hand. “Adelaide. So, you sell art, hmm?”

  “I do. I’ve never sold my art before, but I’m hoping to do well with it.” She felt a surge of confidence. She was finally mingling with people in her new town. After the rollercoaster year she’d had, it was nice. The beginning of her fresh start.

  It had been so full of highs and lows that she barely knew where to start. She’d met her ex soon after her vacation to Hawaii with her friend Hanna. Once she’d returned home, she’d still felt wild and free and a little bit reckless, if she was being honest. Hanna had experienced love on their holiday, and Cassie hadn’t, which had made her feel left out and behind on life. Looking back, that was probably why she’d barreled head-first into her next relationship. It had all seemed so incredible at first, a whirlwind romance out of a novel…at least, that’s what she’d told herself in the beginning. He’d made her happy, and she’d told herself it was love.

  Unfortunately, things had soured quickly, leaving Cassie disappointed and hurt. She was determined to leave the bitter taste of her ex behind and experience a new life, a life where she was free to pursue her dreams and achieve her goals, where anything was possible and she was at the helm of her own destiny. It was a freeing feeling, and Cassie wasn’t ashamed to say that she’d jumped into her new life with both feet.

  Adelaide came around from her booth to see what Cassie had to offer. “Textiles, myself,” Adelaide said. “That’s what I sell. A little dull, but it’s decent side money. “These are nice. Just one tip, though.”

  “Okay?” Cassie hoped there wasn’t some unspoken farmers’ market code she’d broken.

  “Smile more.” Adelaide swatted a hand in the air. “Your work is great, but if you’re going to sit there looking like someone just died, you’re not going to get many takers on your work.”

  “Oh right.” Cassie let her gaze drop to her shoes—practical, sensible sneakers, as she knew she’d be on her feet for hours once the customers showed up. “I didn’t mean to frown. I’m just…concentrating. I’ve heard that if you do well on your first day, it’s a good indication of how others will be.”

  “Well, being welcoming is key, of course. Other than that, let your work speak for itself. And be engaging, but don’t push too hard for a sale. No one likes a pushy salesperson at a market.”

  Cassie hadn’t planned on pushing, but she nodded, grateful for the advice anyway. This woman seemed like she knew her way around.

  “Thank you,” Cassie said. “Really. I appreciate it.”

  “Good luck! I always welcome new artists, even if you are technically the competition.”

  “I thought you said you do—”

  “Right, but everyone here is competing for attention. If they spend that last fifteen minutes at your booth before going home, they won’t in front of someone else’s.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense. Well, since we’re next to each other, hopefully we’ll share that fifteen minutes.”

  “Here’s to hoping. I’m having an up month, and I want to keep it that way. Anyway, I’d better get back to it.”

  Advise aside, she distracted Cassie from her worries, giving her no more time to think about herself or her past, as the first group of people seemed to be trickling in.

  Keeping the advice in mind, Cassie decided she’d follow it to the letter. Her friends used to tell her that she was wild, bold, and fun to be around. Cassie thought “impulsive” might be more accurate, but she couldn’t change her tendencies now. It had gotten her into plenty of trouble, sure, but it had also brought her opportunities.

  And hopefully, this was one of them. She held her breath and hoped someone would fall in love with the art she’d poured her life into creating.

  She’d always been passionate about art for as long as she could remember. It had always been colors and light, the way the sun shone down in just the right spot, trickling through the leaves at dawn. Or how the stars sparkled as they danced above the shore. It was something words couldn’t do justice. The best she could hope for was to practice enough until she could capture the beautiful moments in life through a stroke of her brush, a touch of paint, and a bit of magic on canvas.

  Working for an art gallery had helped with some experience, but nothing replaced putting your work out there for the market to evaluate. Since moving to her new town, she’d put all her faith in her art. It was probably a stupid idea, but doing something this drastic was the only thing that excited her these days.

  She’d moved there because this town was known for its local art scene. It was still in North Carolina, but there was no chance of running into her ex in such a small, out-of-the-way town. She’d come for a fresh start and a clean break, but also for the opportunity she hoped she’d find.

  Sure, she had a part-time job to pay the basics, but she was hoping to rely more and more on her art, to where she could build her life around it. She knew that it was a long shot, but she figured if she didn’t do it now, she never would. She’d do whatever it took.

  She glanced at her watch. Nine o’ clock. She supposed it was a reasonable time, especially for people who did this every Saturday. It had been a struggle for her to get there by six, but the extra time to set things up had been worth it. Or it would be, once someone stopped by to appreciate it.

&n
bsp; The first few market goers who walked by glanced at her wares but didn’t stop. She bit her lip and crossed one foot over the other. She tried not to let it get to her. After all, she couldn’t expect everything to work out straight away. These things took time.

  Remembering Adelaide’s words, she fixed a smile on her face and tried to make sure it didn’t look too strained. After all, Adelaide had been working here for a while, if her rapport with her customers was anything to go by, then she probably knew what was best. Already, Adelaide had someone at her booth, asking about the handful of different red color samples she held in her hand. Maybe the customer was a regular, and maybe she wasn’t.

  The same woman who held the red samples set them down and moved next door to Cassie’s booth. Even as she turned her hips and started walking closer, Cassie’s stomach leaped into her throat. Maybe this was it. Her first visitor. She repeated in her mind all the talking points she’d prepared the night before for just this situation.

  “Hello,” the woman said.

  Cassie cleared her throat. “Hi there. How are you today?”

  “Fine.” The woman leaned closer to one of Cassie’s pieces, one of the mountain top series. Cassie was particularly proud of that line.

  “You’re new, right?”

  “Yes I am.” She swallowed. “Is it that obvious?”

  The woman looked up. “Pay it no mind. I just come here every weekend and haven’t seen you before. It seems like a new art stall opens up every month.”

  Cassie’s excitement bled away. She stared down at the toe of her shoe before dragging her eyes back up. That’s a lot of competition.

  “These are pretty good,” the woman said, pointing. “It’s a bit flowery for my taste, but I could see how someone might like it.”

  “Thanks.” Cassie stopped just short of adding a question mark on the end.

  The woman nodded as her response as she moved onto the next piece. “How long ago was this one made?”

  “Four years ago.”

  “Really? That long?”

  “I’ve…just started selling my work, actually. I’ve been saving up pieces for when I took the big leap, I guess.”

  “You should’ve started sooner,” the woman murmured as she angled to see the next painting in a new light. She seemed to aim it with a sunbeam, which Cassie hadn’t thought of before. One of many things she hadn’t thought of before today.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it takes time to refine things. You get feedback from clients and you see what type of your work sells. You could spend a lot of time on one series or method before realizing it’s not what people want.”

  Inside, Cassie winced. “That sounds like something I should’ve done.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just keep at it, and it’ll happen someday. You have promise.”

  “Thanks,” Cassie said again, only this time quieter.

  The woman glanced at a few more paintings, even going as far as thumbing the edge of one of the frames, but eventually, she walked away without another word, just like the next person, and the person after that, except most people didn’t say anything at all. It might have been Cassie’s imagination, but it seemed most of them didn’t want to make eye contact, as if doing so would raise Cassie’s hopes that they’d buy something. They were right.

  The plaza was filling up, although most people congregated to the food related booths and trucks. She wished she hadn’t set up so closely to the taco truck nearby. As soon as they had fired up the grill inside, her stomach started rumbling. She’d already eaten her granola bar and her packed turkey sandwich she’d brought with her, and it still wouldn’t stop. Her sandwich was a sad thing, just bread, turkey, a single slice of near-expired cheese, and some mayo, which wasn’t a fair fight compared to freshly-made tacos.

  She could’ve picked up an extra shift at the store today and made a little bit of money. It wouldn’t be much with her half-shifts, but more than she made there at the farmers’ market, and that wasn’t counting the supplies she had to buy to make it happen. A roll of tape here, folding tables there…it all added up. Like she’d done many times that week, she mentally added up what she had left in the savings account.

  “Hey Cassie!”

  Cassie jerked her head up. “Heather? What are you doing here?”

  Heather sauntered up and gave her a hug. “I didn’t want to miss your big day.”

  “That’s really nice of you. I just…didn’t know you’d come.”

  “I know you told me it wasn’t a big deal, but I thought I’d surprise you anyway. I like your setup. Very professional with the cards out.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been here for hours putting it all together.”

  “It shows. Have you sold anything yet?”

  Cassie exhaled. “No. Nothing yet.”

  “Well, cheer up. Someone will come around today. I just know it.”

  Changing the subject, Cassie said, “So, who’s manning the shop?”

  Heather waved her hand in the air. “The crew didn’t mind covering another station, so I said I was taking an extended lunch. It’s just a short drive over, so it’s no big deal.” She leaned over and squinted at a painting, not unlike the way Adelaide had. “Speaking of which, will you still visit the shop once you’re rich and famous?”

  Cassie gave a dry cough. “Buyers aren’t exactly lining up around my booth yet. I’ll probably be working at the shop for a long time. Someone’s got to sell those groceries, right boss?”

  “You betcha. Glad to hear we haven’t lost you yet.”

  “Who else would you pass the time with at work if not me?”

  “Any one of the other employees there, probably.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t like them as much as you like me.”

  Heather laughed. “That’s true. Most of them are pretty dull, but don’t tell them that.”

  “Our little secret.”

  It felt good to relax. Cassie had felt so pent up lately, and not just recently. The past year had been a rollercoaster of emotion. She hadn’t felt like her normal self for a while. Normally bubbly and the life of the party, Cassie had gotten quieter lately.

  “You’ll be a hit at some point. I don’t have an eye for art, but I’m sure it’s nice.”

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “I mean it. I wouldn’t hate it on my wall.”

  “Please, you don’t decorate your walls with anything. They’re as bare as when you moved in.”

  Heather shrugged. “I’m not a very good interior decorator. Sue me.” She patted Cassie’s shoulder. “Well, the day’s still young. I’m sure things will work out. Maybe it’s one of those things where you have to work a stall for a few weeks until people really get to know your stuff. Art buyers are probably fickle like that.”

  “Thanks, Heather.” Cassie had no idea who was right, but Heather’s words did help. Cassie didn’t have much else to go on, so it might as well be that.

  “Maybe I’ll buy one of your paintings. You never know.”

  “You don’t even like art. You’d rather have the bare paint of the walls. No, you don’t have to do that just to boost my numbers.” Or number. “But I appreciate it, though. You’re the best.”

  By the time Heather left, Cassie’s shoulders stood a little straighter. Even though she said Heather didn’t have to come, she was glad she came anyway. It made this whole ordeal a little more bearable. Cassie picked up one of her business cards and eventually flicked it back down onto the table. It landed crossing the wrong way on the stack. She didn’t fix it.

  Chapter Two

  The next hour or so passed in a daze, with people flitting in and out of the market booths on either side of Cassie’s. She had a few people wander in to look at her work, some lasting longer than others. She actually got some interest going, but still no buyers. She tried not to let that get in the way of mingling and doing some networking. She met the president of the bank in town, as
well as the person in charge of sanitation and water filtration. Wild stuff.

  Loosening up a bit and smiling more did seem to help. At the least, it kept people standing there longer, which was probably the goal. Or an accessory to it. People there were really nice. Most of their flavor was an interesting mixture of eclectic and yet still small town down-to-earth.

  She enjoyed the cool breeze that danced across the tent and through the trees. It teased her hair without threatening to tip over her paintings. The sun was warm across her legs, and she felt happy and content—something she hadn’t experienced much since the vacation in Hawaii.

  She turned her head just in time to spot a man walking toward her booth. For some reason, he stood out from the rest of the people milling around. He had dark hair—not quite black but definitely dark, like rich chocolate—and it was combed back perfectly. He could’ve gotten it cut and styled that day, but he didn’t look cocky about it. Just comfortable. And there was a sparkle in his brown eyes, a few shades more serious than blue. It offset his strong jawline perfectly.

  She wasn’t sure why her eyes were drawn to him so quickly. Maybe it was just his posture, his confidence. It could also be something about his clothes, as he seemed to fit his classic garments without trying. They didn’t feel forced or dragged out of a closet, selected because they were “appropriate” or “unobjectionable.” It felt like they’d be chosen, confidently.

  Of course, it could just be his smile. Seconds after she first saw him, he gazed her way and recognized her attention with a bit of a grin. It wasn’t flashy, but it was clearly aimed at her all the same, and it made her feel special—more important than just another booth at the farmers’ market. She took a quick breath as if remembering how.

  Then he was almost there, at her booth. She stood and quickly smoothed down the front of her long, cotton dress, hoping the flowery print would hide any creases. She suddenly wondered if she looked like a hobbyist instead of a professional artist. Should she have worn a suit? But it was warm, and that felt pretentious. No one else was wearing a jacket, not even him. He’d chosen a casual button-down paired with tan pants. There was no reason she wouldn’t be a perfect match for what he wore, just as she was, printed dress and all—a thought that made her even more confused and flustered.