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“Thank you. It never seems like work when I’m painting, but I’m gratified that people enjoy what I create. I’m Aislinn, by the way. Please, come back with me, and we’ll take care of the paperwork,” Aislinn said, waving her to the back room where a long table held stacks of photographs and frames. Two armchairs in a soft red plaid pattern were tucked next to a low table, and Aislinn gestured to them. “Have a seat while I grab the folder.”
Iris settled in, taking the time to study Aislinn while she sorted through a stack of files on a desk, and wondered what it was about these two women who ran this shop that interested her so. Were they also psychics like her? It wouldn’t be totally out of character, not with the crystals and the art, but nothing in the shop really screamed anything mystical. Well, Morgan had mentioned auras, hadn’t she? Her eyes trailed to the paintings at the front of the shop, those that were more abstract and done in a myriad of mixed colors.
“Are you on holiday then?” Aislinn asked, drawing Iris’s attention from the paintings.
“Something like that. Perhaps an extended stay.” Iris laughed. “I suppose I’ll call it a sabbatical of sorts.”
“Oh, what do you do for work?” Aislinn asked as she returned with a folder and a portable credit card machine. When she handed Iris the folder, Iris opened it to scan the itemized receipt, as well as the paperwork certifying the painting as an original work of art. Included was more information on the artist, and Iris’s eyes caught on the word aura again. “Do you actually see auras?”
“I do.” Aislinn smiled, settling into the chair next to Iris. She didn’t seem deterred by Iris’s blunt question nor the fact that Iris hadn’t answered her question about work. “It’s an ability that drives a lot of my creative work.”
“And not all auras are pretty, are they?” Iris asked, thinking of the violent painting she’d first noticed when she’d arrived yesterday.
“No, not all auras are pretty.” Aislinn sighed and toyed with a bracelet at her wrist. “While I wish we all could carry a lightness with us, some souls are more troubled than others.”
“That’s a magnanimous way to put it,” Iris said, digging in her purse for her credit card. Turning, she handed it to Aislinn, who squinted her eyes at the little credit card machine as she punched in the numbers.
“It’s not in my nature to be absolute about good or evil. Auras change as people grow and learn. Labeling someone in the absolute isn’t fair,” Aislinn scowled at the machine and then let out a relieved sigh when it began to print out the receipt. “There we go. Sure and this dreadful machine gives me problems more often than not.”
“Has that been a challenge for you? Seeing auras? Or having people question your abilities?” Iris found herself asking. Maybe she did feel more than a little lost right now, as normally she wouldn’t have asked such an intrusive question. She knew that if someone had asked the same of her, she would have been a bit annoyed.
“It has been, at times in my life, quite a challenge. People don’t like to accept things they can’t immediately understand. You get labeled as bad or evil, and that’s tough to hear, particularly when you want to put good into this world. Luckily, I’ve found a really strong support system here in Grace’s Cove.”
“Is that right?” Iris asked, hope blooming inside her.
“Yes.” Aislinn met her eyes. “And I think you will too.”
“Oh…I…” Iris said, catching on the meaning in Aislinn’s look. Bells sounded, signaling the arrival of someone to the shop, and Aislinn stood.
“Be right with you,” Aislinn called, poking her head through the door. Turning back, she walked to a neatly wrapped package on the table. “This is your painting. It’s triple wrapped in a waterproof layer, so you’ll be fine to carry it home. If it’s too large for you to manage, I can have it delivered.”
“Oh, right. I think I’ll manage. I’m stronger than I look,” Iris said, standing.
“I don’t doubt your strength.” Aislinn measured her with those all-seeing eyes of hers. “But I think you do.”
“It’s…it’s a work in progress,” Iris said, her voice soft.
“The painting you purchased?” Aislinn asked, shifting gears so quickly that Iris stumbled to keep up.
“Yes?”
“It’s of a cove that’s here. Go to it. It may have the answers you seek. It’s a nice drive from the village. Don’t.” Aislinn held up a finger, her voice sharp, and Iris’s eyebrows shot up. “And I repeat, don’t go into the cove. But visit it from the cliffs and see how you feel.”
“Um…sure. I’ll do that,” Iris said, though she thought it was unlikely she would anytime soon. Not until she could rent a car, at least.
“Come see me after you do,” Aislinn said and strode forward to hold the shop's front door open so Iris could muscle the painting through it. “It was nice meeting you, Iris. I look forward to getting to know you better.”
Her words held a note of finality as though they were already friends, and though it struck Iris as weird, it was also comforting. Her tone brooked no disagreement, and it didn’t leave a person wondering whether she’d be welcome in the shop again. Instead, it seemed to suggest that it was only a matter of time before Iris would be back for a cup of tea and a chat about the cove.
And maybe she would be. For now, Iris ducked her head against the soft sheets of rain that misted down from the gray sky and hurried up the street.
She couldn’t wait to see her painting on the wall.
Chapter 8
Kane placed his flowers on the table he’d dragged from the kitchen to the living room window that looked out over the harbor. While he’d originally thought he’d work in the spare bedroom, he found himself increasingly drawn to the main room with the beautiful view and the cozy fireplace.
Stories were shared around a fire. And so, Kane found himself lighting a small fire before he started writing for the second day in a row and, once more, the words flowed. Correlation was not causation, he reminded himself, but noted “build a fire” down as something new to add to his routine. Who was he to mess with what was actually working for once?
