Read Online Missouri Loves Company (Rip Lane Book 1) by W.J. Costello - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: W.J. Costello
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CHAPTER 28
O N ONE OF my morning walks I stopped to talk to an oil painter. She stood behind an easel, one brush between her teeth, one brush in her hand. Her hair was bunched untidily atop her head. A kaleidoscope of colors dotted her rumpled blue smock.
“Good morning,” I said.
She took the brush from her mouth.
“Yes,” she said. “It is.”
“Your painting’s very nice.”
“It’s for sale.”
“Too big to hang in my RV.”
“I have smaller ones inside. Want to see them?”
Through the open door of her travel trailer I could see canvases of all sizes scattered about.
“You sell a lot of those?”
“Enough to make a living.”
“Good for you.”
“Want to buy one?”
“Persistent, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am. But not just persistent. I have other merits too.”
“I can see that.”
She smiled at me.
“I’m Nichole.”
“Rip.”
“I’d shake hands but mine’s got paint all over it.”
“You been doing this long?”
“Painting?”
“Making a living at it.”
“Nine years now.”
“How’d you get started?”
“I was diagnosed with cancer at the young age of thirty-one . . .”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. This is my eighth year in remission. So I’m doing good. Anyway I realized how short life was. I decided change was on the horizon. This little voice in my head kept telling me there must be more to life than just working all the time. Like traveling. Seeing the world. Painting places I see. It was always my dream but I never acted on it. I always kept putting it off until tomorrow. Until I was diagnosed with cancer. That’s when I realized my tomorrows were running out.”
Nichole paused thoughtfully.
“So I quit my corporate job, walked away from a great salary. Sold just about everything I owned. I gave up the traditional lifestyle and started to live my dream. I bought this trailer and began to travel across North America. That was nine years ago.”
“Nine years of living the dream,” I said.
“The decision to take that leap wasn’t easy,” Nichole said. “Going from a corporate salary to no salary at all was very terrifying. But the fear was outweighed by the excitement, the adventure, the journey. Eventually I was able to earn a mobile living by selling my paintings.”
“What was the best thing about leaving the corporate world to work for yourself?”
“Trading in pantyhose for sweatpants.”
I smiled at her.
“One thing I learned,” Nichole said, “is that you need multiple streams of income to fund a mobile lifestyle. That way you don’t have all your eggs in one basket, and the loss of one stream would not devastate you. After my first year on the road I developed several small income streams. Selling paintings is just one of them.”
I didn’t ask what the other streams were. I was afraid she might try to sell me something else besides a painting.
“You have any employees, Nichole?”
“I have a staff of two that help me make it through the day. Their names are Mr. Coffee and Dr. Pepper.”
“I’ve heard of them. They do good work.”
“Otherwise I have no employees. I try to keep my expenses down. It allows me to earn less, and therefore work less.”
“And play more.”
“Exactly. But it’s not all fun and games. Entrepreneurs have to put in a lot of hours to earn enough to live comfortably on the road. During my busy season my days are filled with routines and chores.”
“How many hours you work?”
“Half a day.”
“Only four hours?”
“Half a day for entrepreneurs means twelve hours.”
“Not much time left for playing.”
“That’s just during my busy season.”
“I see.”
“Are you thinking about starting your own business, Rip?”
“I am not. My retirement money is all I need. I live frugally.”
Nichole nodded. She did not ask about my career. Which was fine by me. I have no need to talk about myself. I’m content to just listen to
CHAPTER 28
O N ONE OF my morning walks I stopped to talk to an oil painter. She stood behind an easel, one brush between her teeth, one brush in her hand. Her hair was bunched untidily atop her head. A kaleidoscope of colors dotted her rumpled blue smock.
“Good morning,” I said.
She took the brush from her mouth.
“Yes,” she said. “It is.”
“Your painting’s very nice.”
“It’s for sale.”
“Too big to hang in my RV.”
“I have smaller ones inside. Want to see them?”
Through the open door of her travel trailer I could see canvases of all sizes scattered about.
“You sell a lot of those?”
“Enough to make a living.”
“Good for you.”
“Want to buy one?”
“Persistent, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am. But not just persistent. I have other merits too.”
“I can see that.”
She smiled at me.
“I’m Nichole.”
“Rip.”
“I’d shake hands but mine’s got paint all over it.”
“You been doing this long?”
“Painting?”
“Making a living at it.”
“Nine years now.”
“How’d you get started?”
“I was diagnosed with cancer at the young age of thirty-one . . .”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. This is my eighth year in remission. So I’m doing good. Anyway I realized how short life was. I decided change was on the horizon. This little voice in my head kept telling me there must be more to life than just working all the time. Like traveling. Seeing the world. Painting places I see. It was always my dream but I never acted on it. I always kept putting it off until tomorrow. Until I was diagnosed with cancer. That’s when I realized my tomorrows were running out.”
Nichole paused thoughtfully.
“So I quit my corporate job, walked away from a great salary. Sold just about everything I owned. I gave up the traditional lifestyle and started to live my dream. I bought this trailer and began to travel across North America. That was nine years ago.”
“Nine years of living the dream,” I said.
“The decision to take that leap wasn’t easy,” Nichole said. “Going from a corporate salary to no salary at all was very terrifying. But the fear was outweighed by the excitement, the adventure, the journey. Eventually I was able to earn a mobile living by selling my paintings.”
“What was the best thing about leaving the corporate world to work for yourself?”
“Trading in pantyhose for sweatpants.”
I smiled at her.
“One thing I learned,” Nichole said, “is that you need multiple streams of income to fund a mobile lifestyle. That way you don’t have all your eggs in one basket, and the loss of one stream would not devastate you. After my first year on the road I developed several small income streams. Selling paintings is just one of them.”
I didn’t ask what the other streams were. I was afraid she might try to sell me something else besides a painting.
“You have any employees, Nichole?”
“I have a staff of two that help me make it through the day. Their names are Mr. Coffee and Dr. Pepper.”
“I’ve heard of them. They do good work.”
“Otherwise I have no employees. I try to keep my expenses down. It allows me to earn less, and therefore work less.”
“And play more.”
“Exactly. But it’s not all fun and games. Entrepreneurs have to put in a lot of hours to earn enough to live comfortably on the road. During my busy season my days are filled with routines and chores.”
“How many hours you work?”
“Half a day.”
“Only four hours?”
“Half a day for entrepreneurs means twelve hours.”
“Not much time left for playing.”
“That’s just during my busy season.”
“I see.”
“Are you thinking about starting your own business, Rip?”
“I am not. My retirement money is all I need. I live frugally.”
Nichole nodded. She did not ask about my career. Which was fine by me. I have no need to talk about myself. I’m content to just listen to
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