Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Right?” I exclaim as I nod. “Didn’t I tell you it was beautiful?”
“This is worth getting eaten by a bear,” she murmurs appreciatively.
“Or a mountain lion,” I toss out.
Ann Marie’s head whips my way, and I grin at her. “Come on. Let’s eat some lunch.”
I brought my friend to this little jewel of a spot merely to share it with her. A wooded glen with a babbling brook running through, the banks are green with ferns and mountain laurels. As it curves around a sloping hill, it forms a small pool—not big enough for swimming, but certainly adequate to dip your feet in—from an outcropping of rock just above. It’s the perfect place to hang out and catch up after a busy week.
We amble down the path toward the creek, Ann Marie telling me about the latest at school. Teaching history to seventh graders is not for the faint of heart.
When we reach the rock, we plop down and I unload the essentials from my backpack. A small container of chicken salad I made this morning, two apples, and a bottle of moscato that’s still quite chilled since this little piece of wooded heaven is only about a twenty-minute hike from my backyard.
Ann Marie appraises the wine, and I show her the ingenuity of a twist-off cap. I take a drink and pass it to her. “Sorry… wasn’t about to carry wineglasses here.”
“And why bother with Solo cups when you can drink straight from the bottle, right?” She lifts the bubbly to her mouth and sips before handing it back to me.
I pull out napkins and two plastic forks. We eat the chicken salad from the tub and share the wine, and I know this won’t be the last time we do this.
“We could camp out here one night,” Ann Marie muses as she looks around. “We’ll get Hayley and Erica to come too.”
I snort at the image. “Talk about the blind leading the blind. It’s one thing to hike in the woods in broad daylight. It’s another to camp out here when it’s dark. We don’t even know how to make a fire, and if we ever figured it out, we’d probably burn the forest down.”
“Too true.” Ann Marie laughs. She picks up an apple and turns it over in her hand to inspect it before taking a bite. “So, what’s the status of the studio?”
I sigh, putting the bottle to my mouth and taking a strong pull. “I think I’ve finally made it through all the layers of red tape. I’ve got the general contractor coming out next week to go over the plans.”
Ann Marie squeals. “I’m so excited. You’re going to be living out your dream, and no one deserves it more.”
“I hope so.” I smile and intend it to come off as confident, but I’m a little afraid I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
It seemed like a silly pipe dream six months ago when I decided to use my inheritance to purchase this property and open an art studio next to the small two-bedroom cabin. Finding the land was easy, and both my parents had generous life insurance policies. Getting the property zoned for dual residential and commercial use took some time and elbow grease, but I finally managed it.
And now… it’s freaking scary to think that major construction will be starting by the end of the month. I have no choice but to make it or break it, but I know it’s what my mom and dad would have wanted me to do.
Ann Marie reaches for the bottle. “You thinking about them?”
I nod, glancing away to take in the forest. It looks like the woods Robin Hood might have ridden through. Trees spread apart, but with such large canopies, only a hint of dappled sunlight reaches the ground, covered in layers and layers of dead leaves. Pockets of lush green plants and bushes gather in hillside nooks, and squirrels scamper around looking for food. I’ve hiked through here and come across deer before, but I’m not sure who was more afraid, them or me.
It’s truly another world—and it’s why I’m so excited to open the studio because I gather so much inspiration from the tactile experiences. Now that I’m a true nature girl and have added hiking to my repertoire of artistic stimulation, I can’t wait to see where my creations go.
“Ugh, I have to pee,” Ann Marie announces. “What was it… like, twenty minutes to get out of here? What a pain in the ass to have to walk all the way back to use the bathroom.”
I bust out laughing, and Ann Marie tips her head. “What’s so funny?”
“You don’t go back to my house to use the toilet. You use the great outdoors.”
Ann Marie glances around with wild eyes before regarding me. “What? No way. I’m not peeing in public.”