“It’s a full-sized—so twelve-by-six feet—black-and-white sketch of the mural,” she said. “It’s called a cartoon. I’ll take a photograph of it and send that off to the Section for their approval. And once they give me the go-ahead on that, I’ll begin the actual painting.”

“Whole lot of steps before you can even get goin’!” Mr. Arndt sounded disappointed about the length of time it would take to have her mural up on his post office wall.

“Yes, so you see it will take several months,” she said, “and I can’t afford to stay here all that time.”

“What about Miss Myrtle?” Mr. Arndt looked around the table at the other men.

The mayor nodded. “Good idea! I bet she’d be tickled pink to have company.” He turned to Anna. “Myrtle Simms is a widow, lives across from the railroad buildin’. Her girl Pauline just tied the knot and moved out, so she has space and was talkin’ about takin’ in a tenant. I bet she’d be happy to take you in for no cost to you atall, but she could surely use some rent money, given that big ol’ house of hers needs work.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that!” Her mind raced with the idea. She couldn’t stay in Edenton. She had nothing here with her, to begin with. Only two dresses, one pair of shoes, a couple of changes of underwear, and very little money. Worst of all, she had none of her painting supplies with her.

“It’s a right fine idea,” Billy Calhoun said.

“I’ll talk to Miss Myrtle ’bout it tomorrow and call you at the hotel with what she says,” Mr. Arndt said.

“I don’t have anything with me,” Anna said.

“Your family can send what you need down to you, can’t they?” the mayor asked. “And we have stores.” He smiled. “We ain’t some little backwater.”

I have no family, she thought, but kept her mouth shut. What was waiting for her at home in Plainfield? She had no beau. Her friends from high school and Van Emburgh were scattered to the wind. The house she’d shared with her mother felt painfully empty. She’d have to ask Aunt Alice to go to the house and pack some things for her and ship them down, but the Edenton men were right. It would be good to surround herself with the town she planned to paint.

“Is there studio space I can rent here?” she asked. “Someplace big enough for me to paint the mural? I’ll need quite a bit of room.”

The men fell silent, brows furrowed in thought. “I don’t know no studios,” Billy Calhoun said.

“Martin just paints in his attic,” the mayor said.