Color His World (The Haven #1)

Chapter 1

ONE

Phoebe

“You sure you don’t need another coffee, Phoebe?”

“Any more and all these lines are going to start blurring,” I called down from seven feet up.

I sat criss-cross applesauce on the paint splattered plank of my scaffolding I’d named Daisy. Mostly because all the metal bars and pipes had been painted in the happy flowers over the years. If I had to sit on it for up to twelve hours, it was going to be pretty.

And it was good practice.

My specialty had inadvertently become florals. I wasn’t mad about it.

I peered up at the leaves and branches I’d painted on the ceiling of Haven Café.

It was part of an overall tree that had quite literally sprouted in my mind the first time I’d seen the old, cracked mantel over the fireplace in the back of the café.

The funky tree had become so much more the longer I worked on it.

The last four mornings at o-dark-thirty had been an easy collaboration between me and Jenna Kay, one of the owners.

She needed to do inventory and since they opened at six-thirty in the morning and closed well after eight in the evening, the both of us had limited time to work without customers getting in the way.

My back was screaming, but my arm and hand were rock steady as I dragged my pink-paint-filled brush along the bark I was creating. I’d created a stamp of sorts to mimic the bark texture for an outline, but in the end I’d created my own thing.

Typical for my brain.

A crack in the sidewalk became a mouse face.

A knot in a plank of wood became a flower or a ghost’s face.

It was like laying in a field playing what does that cloud look like?

as a kid. Only now people paid me to do it on the walls of their businesses.

Of course, in the beginning I had to beg to do the painting.

But then one of my murals went viral and I couldn’t keep up with the requests.

Now I got to pick my jobs instead of begging for clients.

Though, to be fair, I was still bending over backward for them. Their happiness fed me almost as much as the increased stability of my bank account. A few more years and I might just be able to slow down.

For now, Jenna and her sister Marty saw my initial sketch and let me go wild.

My very favorite kind of job.

I rolled my shoulders and stretched as I leaned back. I knew I really should get down on the floor to make sure the tree wasn’t warped, with me being this close to the painting. But I knew myself—I wouldn’t want to climb back up.

Instead, I shoved my palette out of the way and stretched out on my scaffolding, crossing my paint-scarred boots at the ankle, and let my vision blur. It was the best way to see where I needed to add things.

My heart tripped at the details that peeked from the chaos of green.

At the flowers that peeked out of the leaves.

At the teapot I’d hidden in the branches.

At the French press that hung from a gnarled knot of a twisted limb.

At the fat robin’s-egg blue mug with the chipped lip that was turned upside down and caught between a split branch, coffee spilling out and turning into a rainbow.

All the illustrations had come alive in the nooks and crannies of the ancient plaster of the ceiling. Some would sand down all the imperfections for a fresh canvas, but I used them. It became bark or a squiggle.

“Did you fall asleep up there?”

I rolled onto my side and peered down at Jenna. “No. I was contemplating getting down to get away from my bird’s-eye view. But now you’re here. So, how’s it look?”

“Amazing. It’s a tree, but so much more than that. I can’t believe you can do all that.”

Pleased, I couldn’t stop smiling. “Well, I can’t believe you know the perfect espresso and cinnamon ratio. So, we’re all artists.”

She put her hands on her hips, her chin tipped up as her gaze darted around all the boughs I’d painted. “That’s sweet of you to say, but what I do is nothing like that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. We all have magic.”

Jenna laughed. “You make me believe it. How many more days do you think you need?”

“I think two more days should cover it.”

“Perfect. I’m going to do a deep clean of Bertie over there tomorrow.” She nodded to her espresso machine.

“You named it?” Delighted, I laughed out loud. “How did I not know that?”

Jenna pitched her voice down. “It’s usually a secret.”

“I love secrets.” I grinned and sat back up, then threw my leg over the side to the rungs of my ladder built into the unit. I gathered my materials toward the edge of the plank. “Can I steal some cling wrap?”

“Sure thing.” Jenna hurried over to the bakery case and came back with an industrial sized box.

“Oh, I need to get me some of this.” I hopped down the last few steps and reached up for my palette. Between the two of us we got the cling wrap over the paints.

Even though I didn’t need to scrimp and save for my supplies anymore, it was still ingrained in me not to waste.

“Next time I make an order, I’ll get you one.”

“Appreciate it. Will be a lifesaver in my studio.”

I glanced at the clock over the door. “Guess it was time to pack it in anyway.” I snapped the tops on my cups of paint and made sure they were secure before tucking them into my canvas bag.

“I finished up the book pages you wanted to hang over the reading area. I’ll be able to install them this Sunday. ”

“I’m so excited to see them.” Jenna clapped happily then linked her fingers together under her chin like a kid.

“I had a lot of fun with this project. Can I come in and take some photos for my website when I’m done?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll make a video you can use on your socials if you want.”

“Oh, really? That would be amazing. I suck at finding content other than building drink orders.”

“Believe me, those are masterpieces.”

Jenna grinned. “You’re really good for my ego. Do you want one to go?”

“No, I’m going to jitter my way home as it is.” I laughed. “I’ll just finish breaking down and get out of your hair.”

“Take your time. They’re talking about a storm, so it might be a slow day.” She disappeared behind the counter and through the doorway to the back kitchen.

It was February. It felt like we got another few inches of snow every other day.

I kicked up the locks on my scaffolding and collapsed it enough to prop it against the wall in the corner.

I didn’t have any other big projects going at the moment so that saved me from loading all the materials into my truck.

I peered out the big bay window. Good thing, it seemed that another few inches of snow had fallen while I’d been working.

Destiny Street was a blanket of white. It was just before six and only a handful of tracks marred the road.

The plows would be out soon enough, but for now the snow lured me out.

I grabbed my hoodie off the hook by the door.

“See you tomorrow, Jenna,” I called over my shoulder.

She jogged after me and met me at the door. “Stay safe out there.”

I hurried outside and twirled on my ancient Tims, tipping my head back to catch a few snowflakes. “It’s gorgeous.”

Jenna shook her head and rubbed her arms. “I can’t wait for spring.”

“It’ll be here soon enough.”

“Winter has been forever. Stay safe.” She waved and locked the door after me.

I kicked up the fluffy flakes that were rapidly growing on the sidewalk. My breath puffed out in wispy gray whorls as snow quickly stuck to my eyelashes and hair. It was breath-stealingly cold, but I loved it. Winter was one of my favorite seasons—good thing. We were getting it in spades this year.

But it was a few days shy of Valentine’s Day which meant spring was right around the corner. At least until Mother Nature proved us wrong. Lake effect storms always kept us on our toes.

I stopped by Dotty, my truck, and pulled out my broom to brush off the snow that had accumulated.

Destiny Street was still asleep when I pulled out, but the distant scrape of the plow was already making its way down the main drag of town. I left the radio off, enjoying the sound of snow under my tires and the quiet that only snow created.

The sky was starting to lighten with the iridescent orange of a good, long storm.

The closer I got to my turnoff, the heavier the flakes grew.

The blue sign for Providence Road was half hidden in thick, wet snow.

I skidded on the winding road that led to Providence Lake, pumping my brakes like the seasoned winter driver I was.

I’d inherited a patch of land right on the lake from my great-aunt Gert.

I’d been one of the few people in the family who hadn’t been scared off by her acid tongue.

Secretly, I’d loved finding a way around her mean to make her laugh.

When she died, I’d been shocked to learn she left me the wide expanse of lakefront property.

It had been worth a mint, and I was tempted to sell it when I was scraping by, living in a crappy apartment above Pete’s Pizza. But…my breath caught as I came around the bend. That view was exactly why I’d hung onto it.

It was a rocky cove with a ribbon of beach that disappeared beyond the trees. My little house started as a boxy modular home, but I’d slowly built it out over the last two years with a porch, solarium, and outdoor space until it looked like it had always been part of the lake.

I frowned at the ugly orange of a U-Haul truck blocking the road. Not even a pretty illustrations on the side. Just muddy streaks and rust.

Curiosity won out over annoyance as I got closer to my home.

I had a new neighbor.

He’d certainly picked a good day to move. My tire dipped into a groove in the road and rattled my teeth. “Shit,” I muttered as I wrenched the wheel to keep myself from slipping off the gravel road.

I parked under my portico that linked my house to my studio. Instead of going inside, I headed across the gravel road to the craggy Y that branched off to the stone cottage.

The Hendersons, an old couple who lived there for as long as I could remember, hadn’t been able to hack the winters on the lake any longer. I expected someone to snap up the house. Providence Lake properties were prime real estate these days, even in our sleepy town.

But there’d been no For Sale signs after they moved out and I’d been all alone on this part of the lake for nearly two years.

The annoyed grumble of male voices floated my way, the closer I got.

“What the hell is in this box?”

“Books.”

The voice was flat and deep, instantly urging me closer. Not wanting to be obvious I was nosy, I followed the path down to the beach. The sand shifted under my boots, crunching from the cold temperatures and mixture of snow. I couldn’t get a good look at my new neighbor over the stone wall.

I squeaked as water lapped over my boot.

A tall man turned and the wind off the water ruffled messy curls that stuck out from a winter cap. He wore a gray SFSU hoodie streaked with white and black paint with the sleeves pushed up showing off strong forearms speckled with paint. Our gazes locked.

My breath caught at the interesting angles of his face. Even from down the beach, I could tell his eyes were light. He squinted at me, annoyance settled on him like a cloak. His shoulders were broad, but stiff with…pain?

Silly thought.

But I picked up random vibes off people, so it didn’t surprise me.

He flexed his fingers, using his other hand to pop his knuckles.

I waved, but he turned away without acknowledging me.

Great first impression, Phoebe.

I tipped my head back, letting a few snowflakes dance across my face. I snorted as I did a little twirl. He probably thought I was a creeper.

I sighed and trudged up the path to my house. A shower and some sleep was in order.

Maybe the mystery man would be in a better mood after he got his stuff moved in. I knew firsthand what a pain in the butt it was to move.

One thing was for sure, he was pretty under the prickles.

I huffed out a laugh to myself when I pictured a porcupine in full defense mode. Maybe I’d add the little animal to my menagerie on my porch bench. I hadn’t drawn one of those yet.

Excited at the idea, I ran up my steps to get my acrylic markers.

The need for a nap fading with each step.