89Even though she was rattled by her husband's threats, Becca gathered her cleaning supplies and fresh linens and started on the cabins. Midway through the afternoon, as she was making a bed in Cabin 5, Gaby appeared.
“Can you take a moment and come with me?”
“Sure,” Becca answered. “Just let me wash my hands.”
“Meet me at the desk.”
A few minutes later, Becca opened the main door and faced a heavy-set woman with a sunburned face, hair twisted into an untidy bun.
“Is that her?” The woman stared.
Gaby eyed Becca, then reached up and wiped her own cheek.
“Oh!” Becca ran a hand down her face and rubbed away a smudge.
“Yes, ma'am. That's our painter.” Gaby grinned.
“Oh, no need to ma'am me, honey.” She turned to Becca. “I'd like to buy your paintings. What'll it take?”
“Really?”
“On
