Anna arrived alone and nervous at the warehouse that morning. She hadn’t been there since her initial visit with Mayor Sykes a month ago, and she was stunned by what she found. The floor—concrete—had been swept clean and sun gleamed through the tall, sparkling windows. Two space heaters sat in front of one of the closed garage doors along with two tall floor lamps, two stepladders, and several extension cords. The three long tables and four wooden chairs were still in place, and a few of the crates remained, piled up beneath one of the windows on the side wall. She truly owed the mayor for his help. Or, at least, she owed Benny, his custodian. She would have to bake them something.

She carried the rolls of cartoon paper into the warehouse along with a big metal bucket filled with most of the tools she’d need for the creation of the cartoon. She wouldn’t be able to do much with her supplies until her helpers arrived from Edenton High School that afternoon, but she felt a sense of satisfaction as she began to fill her new workspace. She was wearing her beloved slacks once again, and the freedom of them felt wonderful, although Miss Myrtle had gasped when she saw Anna in them that morning.

“You can’t go out of the house in those!” she’d said, pointing to the slacks.

“Well, I can’t wear a dress in the warehouse,” Anna’d responded. “Impossible to work in.”

Miss Myrtle had shaken her head, a look of worry on her face. “Well, don’t go anywhere else in them,” she’d said. It had sounded like a warning. Anna thought she and Miss Myrtle saw eye to eye on most things in life, but every once in a while, it was clear they were a hefty generation apart.

Anna plugged in the space heaters, setting them on either side of the area in front of the windowless wall at the front end of the building, nearest the door. They didn’t exactly make the space toasty, but the temperature was quite tolerable. Tolerable enough that she could take off her coat. Her heavy sweater beneath her smock was plenty warm enough.

Around noon, she ate the ham sandwich Freda had made for her, and as she was cleaning up after herself, the lumber arrived for the stretcher. She’d never seen so much wood in an art studio and felt instantly intimidated at the thought of putting the massive stretcher together. She eyed the man who stacked the wood in the center of the warehouse for her. He was a rugged, Nordic-looking blue-eyed blond who would be perfect for the lumberman in the mural.

“How would you feel about being the model for the lumberman in the mural I’m painting for the post office?” she asked as she stood near the growing stack of wood