Page 1 of The Romance Adventure

The Romance Situation

Isla

CHAPTER 1

Stepping back, I admire my masterpiece—if only I could say the same about my life. Having added all the finishing touches, with a curly flourish, I sign my name in the lower right-hand corner using black paint.

Isla Pratt.

If my mother could see me now, I imagine she’d be proud. Then again, this mural is a little too big to hang on the refrigerator, not that she ever did anything like that.

I put away all my paints and supplies, fold the ladder, and pick up the drop cloth.

Gina, the owner of the Clip and Curl, lets out a loud and happy squeal and then rushes toward me with her arms wide open. “Oh, my hair dye! Isla, that is ah-may-zing. It gives me the zings.” She bunches up her hands under her chin, taking in the string of women in her family portrayed in sepia shades who styled hair before her, and from whom she inherited the shop. Various hair styling items, both vintage and modern, surround the mural in bold tones, making the piece pop.

“I envisioned a way to honor my mother, grandmother, and aunties. And you kicked it up ten notches. Thank you.”

Unable to hold back my smile, I say, “Glad you like it.”

She wraps me in a hug and says, “I love it. Free haircuts and whatever else you want for life.”

I tug on the bottom of my long, brown hair streaked blonde by the sun. “I could probably use a deep conditioner. The mural I did on the old Vanderkirk building on Rutledge Ave did a number on my hair.”

“You are a Charleston gem, leaving your mark all over this city.”

“Well, it’s a start. I really appreciate you trusting me with this.”

“My customers are going to love it. I’d ask you to leave me some of your cards, but this is one giant calling card. I have your contact info, so if anyone asks, I’ll pass it along.”

“Thanks, Gina.”

I gather up some of my supplies to bring out to my truck. After painting all day, I’m parched. Thirsty, I consider stopping at the new smoothie and juice bar a few streets over, where I recently painted a “frame” on the wall around their menu consisting of pineapples and other fruit.

Like Gina, they offered free beverages and baked goods, but I don’t want to impose or expect anything. Plus, I should save my money. It’s a new year and mural painting is my new business. Then again, I made a New Year’s resolution to drink more smoothies and less soda. More dreaming big and less living small. Most importantly, more single life and fewer bad boyfriends—that made the list when a bomb exploded in my life on New Year’s Eve—and not the confetti kind at the stroke of midnight.

My other resolution is to grow my business and paint a mural a week, unless it’s a huge project like the one on the old Vanderkirk building.

I’d like to paint more murals so I can make more money, giving me some stability. The last few months have been rocky.

Thinking about my favorite blend from the Smoothery, I decide I should probably go make sure the paint didn’t peel off the wall. But I’ll pay for my strawberry shortcake smoothie no matter what they say. I’m not a freeloader, even if my pocketbook begs for bargains.

Before I bring my last load of supplies to the truck, I tell Gina I’m headed over to the smoothie shop and ask if she’d like me to bring her back one.

“Mind company? I could use some fresh air. I was doing inventory and skipped lunch. Even though we’re closed on Mondays, that doesn’t mean I’m not working.”

“Well, you have the most loyal customers in town, so keep at it.”

“I have the women who came before me to thank. I only wish my sisters could be a part of it.”

Sudden sadness washes over me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know⁠—”

Gina waves her hand dismissively as we turn the corner onto Bull Street. “Tina and Lina are still alive and kicking—like a pair of old donkeys. They’re twins and always treated me like Cinderella—think they’re too good to wash hair and do dye jobs. Do you have any sisters?”

“One, Bean. Well, her real name is Robyn.” I explain how, when I was little, saying the letter R was tricky for me, so Bean it was—and it stuck.

“Sounds like the two of you are close.”

“We are, were. I’d like to be. But she’s in Florida and I’m here. We don’t see each other nearly as much as we should. We both got busy with life, I guess. I last saw her over the summer.”