The weather was nice so after we left the diner I went into the drugstore to get a jumbo pack of condoms and Katrina sat on a bench soaking in the winter sunshine. I stood at the doorway of the shop and watched her for a moment. It felt real, what we had. As she was already a part of my life. I couldn’t really imagine life in these mountains without her any more. When she saw me she waved.

I walked up to her and she raised her face to mine and kissed me. Even though we were standing on the side of the street in a public place I wanted to lift her off her feet and take her right there.

She wanted to walk through town to Mitchell’s garage. The sunshine felt good after a long winter. Symbolically it felt like it was thawing me out from the inside. Piles of snow shoveled off the sidewalks and roads were waist high and melting making puddles everywhere. It was a dirty mess, but Katrina laughed and called it charming. We passed the tiny, one room shop that the owner insisted on calling an art gallery, but was more like a tacky gift shop for the tourists and Katrina stopped in front of the window.

“I love this painting. It’s so wild and colorful, but I actually recognize where this is. It’s from around here isn’t it? I could have sworn I passed it on my way here.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is. They’re all local artists’ pieces in there.”

“Really? Well, you should talk to them about your sculptures!”

I scowled. The last thing I wanted to do was sell my pieces. “Come on, let’s get to the garage.” I tugged at Katrina’s elbow, but we only made it about five feet.

“Hey, Cade.”

I turned around with a sigh. “Oh, hi, Paul.”

“I’m glad I caught you. You haven’t been in town in a while, have you? I got something to tell you. Come on in the shop, I want to show you something.”

“Oh, we’re in a bit of a hurry. I’ll drop in the next time I’m in town.”

“No, we aren’t,” Katrina said, and pulling out of my hand quickly followed Paul into his shop. Like she’d known him for years. I swear that woman did not meet a stranger. It was going to be very hard to live a hermit life with her around. Reluctantly I stepped through the doorway.

“Well, take a look around,” Paul was saying to Katrina. “If you see anything you like I can give you a special price.”

There were watercolor paintings of familiar local scenes, glossy black and white photographs of mountain wildflowers in the breeze, hand painted greeting cards with more mountains and flowers and the occasional totem animal. Nothing spectacular, and very far removed from anything I would ever have bought from a gallery.

“What’s up, Paul?”

He walked to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a fat envelope. “Here you go.”

I didn’t take the envelope. “What’s in it?”

“Your money. Eight hundred dollars. I sold your sculpture, Cade!”

I frowned. “What sculpture?”

He grinned triumphantly and strutted towards me. “The one Beau found outside your workroom. He told me you had trashed it. Said he didn’t want any money for it, but thought it was too nice to be just thrown out. He was sure I could sell it and he was right. In fact, I was hoping you’d be in town after the storm cleared so I could ask you for some more pieces to sell.”

At that moment, a phone rang from somewhere at the back of the shop and Paul pushed the envelope into my surprised hand, and disappeared through a low door, leaving Katrina and I alone.

“Wow! This is so great,” she gushed. “I’m really happy for you. Don’t you feel like celebrating?”

“Well, no, actually. It’s really no big deal selling to the tourists. Everyone knows it’s not actual art if you’re selling from a one room shop in the middle of nowhere.”

“Will you stop being such a damn snob? What the hell is the matter with you? You could be doing a lot worse than selling your art to people who are trying to capture their vacation memories in an object. And having a nice man like Paul to deal your pieces for you. You need to pull yourself together, mountain man. There is no shame in you carving beautiful sculptures for a living. You think you can only be a true artist if you’re having a show in some big city gallery. Be real, man. And stop being such a snob.”

If Katrina had met me two years ago her accusation of snobbery would have been actually true. Eight hundred dollars would have paid for a bunch of exotic flowers ordered from a specialist flower boutique. She would not have recognized me in my handmade Italian shoes and my $75,000 bespoke Westmancott suits. I was a different person then. And if I was honest, one who would not have even noticed someone like her.

Paul came back out. “Sorry about that. Just the wife checking up on me.” He rubbed his palms together. “Anyway, as I was saying, I get a steady stream of tourists in here, but the funny thing is I don’t think I’ve ever had as many people show interest in one of my pieces as they did yours. People seem to love them.” He made a face. “I kind of think I undersold it. I could have gotten a lot more. So if you have any other pieces that you would like to sell, just bring it in, or I could take a trip up to your place and have a look at what you have. I’ll take everything you have. Big or small. Whatever you have.” His eyes gleamed with the thought.

“Er … no. I don’t have any pieces for sale at the moment. If I do I’ll bring them down.” I grabbed Katrina’s hand and started to pull her towards the door. I raised the envelope up. “Thanks for this.”

He took a step towards us. “Are you sure I can’t come up? There might be something that you don’t think is good enough that might be sellable.”

“Nah. There’s nothing. I’ll see ya around.

“Paul, he’ll bring them as soon as possible. I’ll see to that!” Katrina said, as I dragged out of the door.

“What did you go and say that for?” I demanded.

“No reason,” she said and began to walk off down the road. I shook my head. Beau, better have a good explanation for his behavior.