Cover

Dedication

To my son and husband who are a constant distraction.

Without you this book would have been out two months ago.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

CHAPTER 1

Francisca

I sign my name in pink paint on the bottom left corner of my canvas, then set my paintbrush down and step back from my easel, wiping my hands on my paint-covered apron. Each layer of paint on the canvas is like a snapshot of the last six weeks of my life. I can tell what kind of mood I was in each time I picked up my brush to work, pinpointing when I was happy, sad or even bored just by the heaviness of the paint strokes.

Forcing myself to look past the details that will likely go unnoticed by everyone else, I take in the painting as a whole. With raised flower petals in muted pastel colors, along with butterflies and different types of bugs hidden in the greenery as a tiny treat for anyone stopping to take a longer look, it’s beautiful. I just hope that the woman who commissioned the four-foot by six-foot painting for her granddaughter loves it as much as I do.

“What do you think?” I look down at PJ, who is lying at my feet, and he lifts his head off his paws while his tail begins to wag. “I thought you’d say that.” I laugh, squatting down to rub his spotted pink belly when he rolls onto his back.

I jump when the buzzer for my studio sounds. I look over at the clock on the wall and let out a nearly silent curse. Like what often happens when I’m working, I lost track of time. The only good thing about today is that I can’t actually be late, since the meeting I scheduled is happening right here.

Quickly taking off my apron, I toss it toward my rolling chair, then lead PJ to his kennel, and he instantly goes inside to lie down. With him tucked away, I walk across the concrete floor and pull the heavy wooden door inward.

“Hey.” I smile at Phillip, who looks—as he often does—like he’s in a bad mood.

“Francisca.” He dips his chin. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” I step back, giving him room, then close the door behind him. I’ve known Phillip, my family’s attorney, my whole life, and he’s always been very… well, I guess the only way to describe him is “formal.” The only time I ever see him let his nonexistent hair down is at my parents' annual Christmas party. One evening a year, he drinks too much eggnog and becomes a whole different person, one who has an actual personality.

“This is where you work?”

“This is it.” I wave my hand out to encompass the entirety of the space as he scans the room.