She picked up her clothes and headed for the house, where she took the world’s fastest shower, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, and transferred a few necessities into her pockets. On her way back outside, she glanced toward the gypsy caravan under the trees. He’d been the unselfish, audacious lover she’d always dreamed of. She didn’t regret a moment of last night, but now dreamtime was over.

She wheeled the smaller bike out of the barn and pedaled to the highway. Each hill felt like a mountain, and her lungs started burning long before she reached town. By the time she crossed the final summit and began the descent into Garrison, her legs had turned into overcooked spaghetti.

Nita Garrison, as it happened, was also an early riser. Blue stood in her cluttered kitchen and watched her poke at a toaster waffle. “I charge four hundred dollars for a three-by-three-foot canvas,” Blue said, “with a two-hundred-dollar deposit due today. Take it or leave it.”

“Chump change,” Nita said. “I was prepared to pay a lot more.”

“You also have to provide room and board while I’m working.” She pushed away memories of the gypsy caravan. “I need to know Tango better so I can capture his true personality.”

Tango opened one droopy lid and stared at her through a rheumy eye.

Nita whipped her head around so fast Blue was afraid she’d leave her wig behind. “You want to stay here? In my house?”

It was the last thing Blue wanted, but inevitable after what had happened. “It’s the best way for me to produce a quality painting.”

A diamond and ruby ring glittered on Nita’s gnarled finger as she pointed toward the stove. “Don’t think you can leave your mess all over the kitchen.”

“You can safely assume your kitchen will be better off with me here.”

Nita give her a calculated look that didn’t bode well. “Go get my pink sweater. It’s on my bed upstairs. And stay out of my jewelry. If you touch anything, I’ll know it.”

Blue drove a mental knife into Nita’s black heart and stomped through the old woman’s overly decorated living room to get to the second floor. She could polish off the portrait and be on the road in a week. She’d survived a lot worse than spending a few days with Nita Garrison. This was her fastest ticket out of town.