Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Rose

T he warm glow of Edison bulbs illuminates the cozy interior of Twisted Stitches , my best friend Heather’s boutique yarn shop. The scent of lavender and wool permeates the air, creating an atmosphere of comfort and creativity. I sit perched on a high stool at the counter, swirling a glass of Merlot while Heather finishes locking up.

“You’ve got to see this, Rose,” Heather calls, beckoning me toward the back of the shop. “I’ve just finished a new colorway that I think you’ll love. This dye lot turned out even better than I’d hoped.”

I slide off my stool, wine glass in hand, and follow Heather into her dyeing room. The space is a riot of color, with skeins of yarn in every hue imaginable hanging from racks and drying lines. Heather’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she holds up a skein of yarn that transitions from a rich burnt clay to a dusty rose, then deepens into a purple-tinged indigo.

“I based the colors on a New Mexico sunset! I’m calling it ‘Desert Twilight,’” Heather announces proudly. “What do you think?”

I lean in, examining the yarn closely. The colors perfectly mimic the breathtaking sunsets we often witness from Heather’s back porch.

“It’s gorgeous, Heather,” I reply, genuinely impressed. “You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Heather beams at the compliment. “Thanks! I’m planning to feature it in my next subscription box. I think it’ll be perfect for a shawl pattern I’ve been working on.”

“The subscription boxes!” I practically bounce in my seat. “Heather, I can’t get over how smart that is. Sending out all the materials for a monthly project, and then encouraging everyone to share their finished pieces and tips on social media. You’re a genius, you know that?”

Heather’s smile widens at my enthusiasm. “I’m so glad you think so! Setting it all up has been a lot of work, but seeing people share their creations online has been incredibly rewarding. It’s creating a real sense of community among crafters. It doesn’t hurt that it’s boosted sales as well.”

“For sure,” I say, nodding. “This isn’t just about the yarn – it’s about getting people together, and teaching them new things. Honestly, Heather, it’s amazing.”

Heather pauses, giving me a thoughtful look. “Actually, Rose, would you be interested in doing a commission? Maybe a painting or drawing of the New Mexico desert at sunset? Something our subscribers could hang up while they work on their shawls –like a mood inspiration. Something that captures the essence of the New Mexico desert using colors similar to the yarn. I’d love to include a postcard of your artwork in each box and feature it in the online tutorial.”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I will!” I grin, clasping her hand in mine. “Heather, I’d be honored to be part of your subscription box.”

“Really?” Heather brightens. “That’s fantastic! And obviously, I’ll pay you for the commission. It will be perfect – your art will inspire the knitters and give you a chance to showcase your talent to a new audience.”

As I look at the freshly dyed skein, ideas start forming in my mind. I can envision a piece that captures the warm glow of the desert sunset, mirroring the colors in Heather’s beautiful yarn. “This is going to be wonderful,” I say, feeling a surge of creative energy. I can’t wait to get started. “I’ll have to do it quickly, but I think I can get you a mockup before the end of the month.”

As we make our way back to the front of the shop, Heather’s rescue dog, a shaggy mutt named Purl, trots over to greet us. I scratch behind her ears, earning an appreciative tail wag.

“So, how are you doing, Rose?” Heather asks, settling back behind the counter. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

I sigh, taking a long sip of my wine before responding. “Honestly? I’m exhausted. It’s been nothing but work, work, work lately. I’ve worked hard to build my portfolio and expand my client base, but I feel like I’m burning out.”

Heather nods sympathetically. “You have been pushing yourself hard. Maybe it’s time for a break?”

“That’s just it,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I think I need more than just a break. I need a change of scenery. This heat, this endless desert… I’m craving something different. Something cool, maybe near the ocean. I haven’t been to the beach since I was a teenager.”

Purl pads over and rests her head on my knee. I smile down at her, grateful for the simple comfort.

“You know,” I continue, my voice taking on a dreamy quality, “Maris Richards’ work has always inspired me. Her watercolors of the Maine seascape are part of what inspired me to become an artist in the first place. I’ve never even actually seen the Atlantic in person. Maybe it’s time I did.”

Heather’s eyes light up. “Rose, that’s brilliant! You absolutely should take a vacation. You’ve worked so hard on your career; you deserve some fun. And hey, with your job, you can work from anywhere as long as you have good Wi-Fi, right? Why does it have to be in the desert?”

I feel a spark of excitement ignite in my chest. “You’re right. I could go somewhere else for a while, couldn’t I?”

“Absolutely!” Heather exclaims, already reaching for her laptop. “Come on, let’s look at some options right now.”

We huddle around the computer, scrolling through vacation rentals and travel sites. Purl, not wanting to be left out, props her front paws on the counter to peer at the screen.

“Oh, look at this!” Heather suddenly exclaims, pointing at a listing. “It’s a houseboat for rent in a place called Lublin Harbor. And there’s a discount for first-time visitors!”

As I lean closer, Heather reads the details aloud. “Scenic coastal town, guided water-based activities included for a week… Look at all the options you can choose from – fishing charter, kayaking, kiteboarding, sailboat trip, oyster farm tour… Rose, this sounds perfect for you!”

My eyes widen as she scrolls through the list of activities. “Bird watching, lighthouse tours, coastal foraging… oh, and look! The houseboat has all kinds of extra amenities – kayak, paddle board, fishing gear… They even have shipwreck diving – oh shoot, you need to be scuba certified. But look at all these beach activities…”

“It’s like it was made for you,” Heather says with a grin. “What’s the price like?”

My excitement dims slightly as I look at the rates but then brightens again. “You know what? If I work part-time while there, I could afford to stay for the week.”

Heather’s eyes light up with an idea. “Rose, why don’t you stay for two weeks? One week for all these amazing activities, and another just for you to relax and paint? You could use that time to work on the piece for my subscription box and create some new work inspired by the coast.”

I hesitate, considering the idea. “I don’t know, Heather. That seems like a long time to be away…”

“Come on, Rose,” Heather urges, her voice gentle but insistent. “You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a vacation and time to reconnect with your art without any pressure. Think about it – have fun for one week and then a whole extra week with nothing to do but paint and explore at your own pace. When was the last time you gave yourself that kind of freedom?”

I bite my lip, torn between practicality and the allure of what Heather’s suggesting. “It does sound amazing…”

“And…” Heather adds with a sly grin, “I bet if you email the owner and explain that you want a second week without any extra activities, they might give you a discount on the second week. It’s probably their off-season anyway.”

Purl chooses that moment to give a soft, encouraging bark as if adding her vote to Heather’s.

I laugh, shaking my head at Heather’s enthusiasm. “Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me. Two weeks it is.”

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, I fill out the booking form, adding a note about the potential extended stay. As I click the “Confirm Reservation” button, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I say, a mix of nervousness and exhilaration filling me.

Heather raises her wine glass in a toast. “To new adventures, ocean breezes, and two weeks of well-deserved rest and creativity!”

I clink my glass against Heather’s, a smile spreading across my face. “To Lublin Harbor!”

Within a minute, a confirmation email pings in my inbox.

A sudden thought strikes me when I open the email and stare at my booking confirmation. “Wait a minute,” I say, turning to Heather. “I wonder if Lublin Harbor is near Cape Vesna.”

Heather raises an eyebrow. “Cape what now?”

“Cape Vesna,” I repeat, pulling out my phone to check. After a quick search, my eyes widen. “Oh my god, it is! It’s really close to Lublin Harbor!”

“Hold on,” Heather says, looking confused. “I thought you said you’d never been to New England before. How do you know about this cape?”

I smile and pull up my sleeve to reveal the intricate tattoo on my shoulder. It’s a beautifully detailed lighthouse perched on a rocky cliff with waves crashing at its base. “This is the Cape Vesna lighthouse,” I explain. “It’s based on a painting by Maris Richards – the artist I mentioned earlier.”

“I’ve always loved this one,” Heather says softly, leaning in to study the tattoo. “Though I probably should’ve guessed it came from a painting – everything with you leads back to art somehow.”

I take a deep breath, memories washing over me. “I got it after my mom died,” I explain, my voice quiet. “It reminded me that there’s always light, even in the darkest times. The way Richards captured the lighthouse, standing strong against a storm… it just spoke to me, you know?”

Heather nods, understanding in her eyes. Then, they light up with an idea. “Hey, maybe you could try to find Maris Richards while you’re there! Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

I shake my head, smiling sadly. “I wish I could, but Richards died in the early sixties. Her work has been a huge inspiration to me, though. Just being able to see Cape Vesna and the lighthouse in person… it’s like a dream come true.”

Heather squeezes my hand. “Well, it looks like this trip was meant to be then.”

Looking back at the booking confirmation, I feel a sense of destiny settling over me. This trip to Lublin Harbor isn’t just about escaping the desert heat or finding new inspiration. It’s about connecting with a piece of my past, honoring my mother’s memory, and paying homage to an artist who’s shaped my career.

I find myself daydreaming about what awaits me in Lublin Harbor. I imagine myself sitting on the houseboat deck, sketchbook in hand, capturing the play of light on the waves. Or perhaps I’ll find inspiration in the rugged coastline, the weathered faces of local fishermen, or the vibrant marine life I hope to encounter. The possibilities seem endless.

“Whatever happens,” I murmur to Purl, “it’s bound to be an adventure.”