The studio no longer felt like a borrowed corner of Sam's property.

With my order, I had them push a partition across the far end and fitted a narrow restroom behind it - not too much. A daybed. A small fridge. Hooks for clothes that were actually mine. The air still held turpentine and dust, but under it was the quieter smell of a room someone lived in on purpose. Light came through the high window in a clean strip across the floorboards. I stood in it with the opening dress held against me and watched the fabric take the afternoon.

Danielle turned in a slow circle, phone already up....