The man behind the counter just raised his bushy silver brows, a smile playing on his lips as he added those items to her growing pile behind the register.
The man probably thought she was insane or having a breakdown.
But thoughts of the clerk fled as she loaded up on paint: oils, acrylics, and watercolors. Her favorite was oil. But while she was here and exploring who she wanted to be, it was time to experiment to her heart’s content. She wanted to try a few different pouring mediums, color pigments, and types of paint. Then she moved on to selecting canvas. The store had plenty of premade canvases that would get her started. It had been years since she had crafted her own frame and stretched canvas over it—not since she had apprenticed with a master in Italy.
Yet she wanted to do it, wanted the workspace where she could cut and mold the wooden frame.
By the time she’d finished shopping and taken stock of her haul, she knew there was no way it would all fit in her car. “You wouldn’t deliver by any chance, would you?”
The clerk was happily ringing up her purchases and grinned broadly. “Of course; I can schedule that for tomorrow. I don’t have the extra help today, though, if you need it all right away.”
“Tomorrow would be great. I just want to take the sketchbooks and pencils with me. The rest can be delivered. I’m staying at one of the cabins over at Silver Springs Ranch for the next few weeks.”
“It’s a lovely stretch of land. And with all this, you’ll be quite busy.”
She hid her wince when he gave her the total. It wasn’t every day she spent more than four thousand dollars on art supplies. But in her defense, she was starting from scratch. Master Renaud would tut and shake his head at her if he knew how many years it had been since she had picked up a paint brush.
That changed now.
5
Bianca left Archie’s Art Supply store with a miniscule portion of her shopping haul today, and realized she was famished. She stopped at a lovely café with outdoor seating. After an indulgent lunch filled with carbs, she headed to her car with her bags and loaded them in the boot. On the drive back, she visited the grocery store. Due to how tired she had been when she had arrived on Saturday night, she had only grabbed a few basics. This way, she would have things on hand to eat. Although there was a restaurant on the ranch grounds that she had yet to try. Perhaps she should do that for dinner tonight. There was a liquor store right next to the grocer. She bought more wine and a few bottles of scotch, rather pleased with their selection.
There was even an American brand of whiskey she chose to add to the bunch that was from Meath Irish Distillery right there in Colorado.
Basically, by the time she had finished shopping in Winter Park, she had done her part and contributed to the local economy. Thank heavens she could afford it.
When she arrived back at the ranch, she stopped by the main hotel and went inside. She wanted to use the spare bedroom in the cabin as an art studio during her stay. But that meant having the furniture in the room moved out of the way.
At the registration counter, Jessica, the petite, brunette clerk Bianca had met when she checked in Saturday, was there, and smiled. “Miss Peabody, how are you enjoying your stay so far?”
“Great, I had a lovely afternoon in the shops in Winter Park. I was wondering… would there be a way to move the furniture out of the spare bedroom?”
Tilting her head, Jessica grimaced. “I’m not sure. Is there something you don’t like about the cabin? Perhaps we can see if there’s another one that would suit you better.”
“Oh no, the cabin is great. It’s just, I was hoping to turn the spare room into a bit of an art studio while I’m here. And I didn’t know if it would be possible to move the bed—and perhaps the dresser out of the way.”
“Let me make a quick call,” Jessica said, and picked up the phone with a pensive expression.
Not a minute later, a stunning woman in a simple black suit and killer set of heels appeared at the counter.
“Miss Peabody, I’m Amber Anderson, the owner of Silver Springs Ranch,” she said, and extended a hand.
She accepted and shook her hand. “Bianca, please.”
“Bianca, I was hoping to meet you at some point, since you’ve rented the cabin for the next five weeks. We don’t normally have guests stay longer than a week or two. Now, Jessica tells me that you want some furniture moved in the spare bedroom?”
Bianca twisted her hands. “Yes. If it’s not too much trouble. I was going to turn it into a bit of an art studio while I’m here. I have drop cloths and everything to protect the hardwood floor. And will even put a bigger deposit down to cover the room. That way, if anything should end up damaged, the deposit would cover it for you.”
Amber studied her for a moment. “I think we can accommodate you. When would you need the items moved?”
“Well, I’m having a bunch of supplies delivered tomorrow from Archie’s Art Supplies. There’s no huge rush. If it takes a few days, that’s all right,” Bianca said, although her platitudes were bullshit. She fancied having the space made available as soon as possible—mainly because she feared the bubbling font of need coursing through her to pick up a paint brush and splash color onto canvas again, would flee.
Bianca’s emotions walked on a tightrope: one wrong move, and she would tumble into darkness for all eternity.
“Let me see what I can do to get those items moved for you tonight. Just the bed and dresser in the room, yes?” Amber asked, for confirmation.
“Yes, the nightstands with the lights can stay. I hate to be an imposition and would be happy to pay for moving them out and then back in,” Bianca said.
Amber held up a hand. “How about you tip the movers for their trouble tonight, since it will be outside their normal duties? I’ll add a two-hundred-dollar deposit onto your account—of which you will get back fifty percent at the end of your stay—to help cover the cost of manpower moving the furniture back in. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes, more than. I love your shoes by the way. Louboutins?” Bianca nodded at the black leather heels with sheer black mesh and silver spikes.
Amber quirked a brow. “Good eye. Let me make a few calls. I will get some of my guys over there by seven tonight. Does that work for you?”
“Absolutely. Thank you so much.”
“You should join me for lunch sometime while you’re here. If you can spot Louboutins that easily, I’m sure we have a lot in common.” Amber smiled.
“That would be nice.” It amazed Bianca that this confident businesswoman lived in the rustic mountains, and was extending an offer of possible friendship over a shared love of shoes.
“I’ll contact you later in the week and we’ll set something up.” Amber checked her watch. “If you don’t have movers there by seven, call my cell phone and I will get on the horn.” She jotted her number down on a business card and handed it over.
“I appreciate it. And will let you get back to work.”
As she strode out of the main building, Bianca felt good. Hell, she felt great, as if a two-ton elephant had been lifted from her shoulders.
The prospect of painting, the possibility of making a new friend—one who wasn’t aware of her societal status—even learning to ride on the Western saddle with the rough cowboy as her instructor, infused her entire system with an emotion she’d thought had long since fled her existence and vocabulary.