I know it's been a while, so I won't make this too long.

Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, and favorites this story. It means a lot to me!

Giant, huge, mega thanks goes to Fran, Mr G and Me, and Monica03 for all of their help and support. I couldn't do this without them. (Any mistakes you see are my own.)

I don't own Twilight ... and this makes me a little bummed.

When the final bell rings on Friday, I'm out of the front doors and by Rose's car, my cell phone in hand.

Immediately, I dial Alice's number, tapping my foot against the pavement as I wait for her to answer. With each ring sounding in my ear, my foot pounds harder.

Alice, Edward, and Emmett haven't been to school in days. Apparently, Alice had one of her headaches during class and scared everyone to death by screaming hysterically.

If you listen to the rumors that are undoubtedly BS, she passed out in a heap shortly after, which prompted calls for ambulances, doctors, and Dr. Cullen himself to come and save the life of his only daughter.

The only part I might believe is Dr. C coming to get Alice, especially if she reacted the way everyone swears up and down she did. Everything else is a lie.

I've tried calling Alice many times since then, but she never answers the phone. I did get one short text from her two days ago, telling me she's okay.

That's it.

I'm okay.

While it's nice she texted me, it's not exactly reassuring since it was only a brief message.

Her voicemail picks up, her cheery voice filling my ear. I sigh, not bothering to leave a message and hang up, patting the device against my chin as I wonder whether Alice is truly well and what I should do to find out.

I suppose I could go over to her house, but I find it kind of rude to show up uninvited. On the other hand, what choice do I have? Alice isn't answering my calls or texts, save for the first one, and the other Cullens haven't been to school in days.

There's little I can do to help them, but maybe I can offer emotional support?

With my mind made up, I look over the crowd for Rose and Jasper, spotting them exiting the building together. Jasper is talking on his cell, and Rose follows closely behind, watching him closely, looking as if she wants to interrupt, but is refraining.

Once more, my foot beats against the concrete as I wait for them to reach me, anxious to get a move on to the Cullen place.

My phone vibrating in my hand makes me jump, and eagerly, I answer not bothering to look at the screen.

"Hello?"

"Bella," Edward's smooth voice comes through the speaker, sounding as if he's standing right next to me instead of through the device in my hand. I shiver, leaning against the car and mentally curse at my stupidity.

"How did you get my number?" I ask once I collect myself.

"Well, there are two possibilities. One, you called my cell phone from your cell while we were working on the project, and I saved it, or I stole it from Alice's phone."

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, shaking my head slowly. "I'm going with option number two. You're creepy."

"I never said I wasn't."

"I'm glad you're finally admitting it. How's Alice? Is she okay?"

"Didn't she send you a text?"

"Forgive me if I don't put too much trust in a text."

When he speaks, his voice is surprised. "You're really worried about her, aren't you?"

"Of course. I told you, I'm not heartless. So? Is she okay? I hear a lot of noise but have no answers."

"Take a Midol."

"Bite me."

He chuckles but replies to my question. "She's fine," he softly replies. "Not feeling like herself, but she'll be okay."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I sag further against the car, turning my back to Rose and Jasper as they get closer.

"Good. What about you and Emmett? Why are you not at school?"

"Aw, you're worried about me," he teases.

I scoff. "Don't confuse curiosity and nosiness with concern. I just want the upper hand on the rumor mill."

He hums, the sound full of humor. I ignore him and turn toward Rose and Jasper as I hear them start to bicker by the front of the car. Rolling my eyes, I walk toward the trunk to have a semblance of privacy.

"Okay, don't call or text me anymore, got it? I don't even like talking to you face to face."

"No late-night sex calls or nude pictures. Got it," he replies in a solemn tone. For a moment, I think he might actually be serious, but his muffled laughter seconds later negate the thought. "What about if I have a sleepless night? Can I call you to talk about my thoughts on life and the universe we live in?"

I bite my lip to contain my laugh and force out a sigh instead, hoping it sounds genuine.

"You're warped. Lose my number … and tell Alice I said hi, please?"

"I'll tell her. Bye, Bella."

Heading back toward the quarreling siblings, I stand by, trying to figure out why they're arguing. Soon, my question is answered.

"Just let it go, already!" Rose complains, throwing her hands in the air. "Emmett is obviously too busy to answer your calls."

Jasper scowls, a tinge of redness rising from his chest to his forehead. "Jesus, you're so bitter. I'm concerned, okay! What if something is seriously wrong?"

There's nothing but silence between the three of us as Rose and Jasper engage in a showdown. Their eyes narrowed, lips pursed so tightly they almost disappear and slow, steady breathing that is never a good sign when tempers are flaring.

When Rose finally does speak, her tone is controlled, but tight. "If something is wrong, then it's none of your business anyway. It's a family matter, Jasper. Their family. Leave them alone."

He rolls his eyes with a huff. "I'm just concerned. You know, like a good person would be. Just because you hate them doesn't mean you can't have a heart."

"I have a heart. I just don't see the need in worrying endlessly and calling him like a psychotic stalker. When there's something for you to know, he'll answer the phone." Rose mutters something else under her breath, but it's far too low for us to hear.

"And what if something is terribly wrong, huh?" He persists.

"Okay, enough of this," Rose grounds out. "Everyone knows Alice had a little episode. She's sick; obviously, they're sticking by her side to make sure she's okay. They're not going to be glued to their phones and answer it every time it rings because you wouldn't do that if you were in their shoes. You'd be focused on the person who needs the attention." She pauses, and Jasper looks down at the ground, knowing she's right. "Now, leave it and them alone. For good. They're nothing but trouble anyway. They probably changed their minds about being your friends, like they've done with everything else."

Storming to me, she jumps in the driver's seat and slams the door, starting the car immediately. Jasper gazes at me, incredulously, and I shake my head and raise my hands because I honestly have no clue why she's acting this way.

Going over to the other side, I reach for the passenger door, knowing he doesn't want to be anywhere near her right now.

Just before I open it, Jasper places a hand on my arm.

"Do you think I'm being stupid about this whole thing?"

"No," I reply instantly. "But Rose has a point; if you were in their shoes and Rose was sick, you'd be doing the same thing."

He nods. "I'd do the same for you, too, you know."

I smile, knowing the truth. "Of course. You'd be lost without me."

Chuckling, he gets in the car. As soon as I'm in, Rose takes off. The tension is thick, but luckily, it's not that far of a drive.

Mom meets us by the door with a tight smile on her face, her arms wrapped around her chest. Moving closer, I can clearly see her eyes are red, and there are splotches on her cheeks ... the tension rolling off her in waves.

"How was school?"

"What's wrong?" Roses asks before I can.

Mom waves away her worry and chuckles half-heartedly. "Oh, I'm just being a worrywart. It's been a hard day for your Uncle Charlie. Deputy Mark finally sent him home an hour ago. He's been working non-stop for days without me knowing. He's … stressed."

Rose gives her quiet reassurances before moving into the house while Jasper kisses her cheek as he passes.

"Has another person gone missing?"

The pained look on her face says more than words ever could. "Let's not talk about that now, okay?"

Instead of arguing, I nod and head inside, taking my bag up upstairs, making sure to pocket my cell phone. On the way back down, I hear the low bass of music coming from Rose's room and know it's another day where she's still struggling. Underneath the music, I hear her voice, though I just hear one piece.

"—not answering me now?"

I wait, wondering who she's talking to, but the music drowns out her voice, and I give up.

In the kitchen, Jasper sits talking quietly with Mom and Dad, who has dark circles under his eyes, and his skin seems to look paler than usual.

I don't know what Jasper is saying to them, but they laugh heartily, their down and dreary expression being replaced with joy and laughter in mere minutes. It makes me grateful for Jasper being able to lighten things up so quickly.

Going to join them, I stumble over something under my feet and go tumbling toward the table, palms forward. Dad reaches out to catch me, but luckily, I manage to right myself on the chair. Looking back, I see Jasper's backpack on the floor, scuffed from my shoes.

"Watch it, Bella!"

"Maybe if you would pick up your crap, it wouldn't get trashed!"

"Just kick it off to the side," he grumbles.

"You were not raised in a barn, Jasper," my mother scolds. "If you don't have any homework, take your bag to your room; otherwise, treat your belongings with care. A lot of people can't afford such things; you shouldn't take them for granted."

Thoroughly reprimanded, Jasper sulks off to his room. I join my parents at the table, folding my hands on the cool surface and look at them seriously.

"You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking we should get away for Thanksgiving break; get out of town and see some sights."

Dad manages a grin and smooths his mustache with his thumb and index finger. "Right. And where do you propose we go?"

"Florida, to see Gran. We could get some sun, stay on the beach. It'll be a blast."

"And what about my Thanksgiving dinner?" Mom inquires, looking hurt. "You know I wanted to cook dinner this year. Your Gran won't let me do that. I wanted to cook, and I promise I won't make anything non-traditional. I have a whole meal plan set up. Look."

Mom reaches for a notebook, flipping the pages and pointing to a page that's littered with her messy scrawl. With every portion of the dinner she points out, my hope disappears quicker than Edward when he's pissed off.

Still, I have to try.

"Maybe she'll let you cook?" I supply hopefully, knowing the words are dumb as soon as they leave my mouth. Gran isn't one for multiple cooks in her kitchen. Helpers, sure, but someone else doing the majority of the cooking? Not a chance in hell.

Mom gives me a disbelieving look, but it's Dad who answers. "Sorry, kid. We're staying here … and unfortunately,"—he takes a quick, fearful peek at my mother and swallows thickly—"my mother is coming up here for Thanksgiving. She confirmed it yesterday."

"Charlie," my mother says, astonished and outraged. "When were you going to tell me? I thought you were sending her on a cruise?"

He takes a moment to think about his words, knowing he's in deep shit. "That was my original intention, but by the time I got around to calling her, she had already booked the tickets."

Mom gives him the stink eye and takes a few deep breaths. "Fine," she says, her tone a lot calmer than what she looks. "When is she coming, and how long is she staying?"

"She's coming the day before Thanksgiving and leaving the day after … and don't worry, Renee. I made her promise to be on her best behavior, and she gave me her word. I think she's happy she's not going to cook this year, so I think everything will be okay."

Mom sighs, covering her face with her hands. "This is going to be such a mess. So much for a stress-free holiday."

"Why do you say that? Mom is a handful, but she's not that bad."

She removes her hands and looks at my father with trepidation. "My parents are coming too. They're back from France and wanted to spend the holidays here."

Dad swallows, his face paling. I understand his fear. Gran Marie and Grandma Higginbotham do not get along. And the fact that Grandpa George and Gran get along fine, only adds fuel to my Grandmother's fire.

Whenever they're in a room together, they constantly argue, bicker, and nitpick the other's parenting, traditions, and lifestyle.

This should be fun.

"I'll make it up to you," Dad promises quickly. "Somehow, I will. I promise."

Mom nods once and leans down to hiss something in his ear. Whatever she says makes him go pale and makes me extremely thankful she decided to whisper.

"Are you okay, Dad?"

Reaching forward, he pats my hand, squeezing it once. "I'll be fine, don't you worry. This will be resolved soon."

Nodding, I stand and start to head into the living room, but the next words out of Dad's mouth has me freezing.

"What time is your art festival tomorrow?"

Slowly, I turn and catch my parent's wide grins. "How'd you know about that?"

"You should know better than to keep things from me. I'm a super cop," he says with a smirk. Upon seeing my unamused face, he sighs and shakes his head, like I've wounded him deeply, before explaining. "The wife of one of my deputies is involved in putting everything together. She saw your name on the list of artists."

Loudly, I groan and drop my head toward my chest. "You can't come. It's not for me personally, so it would be a waste of your time."

"Oh, suck it up. We're going."

"Dad," I start, but he interrupts.

"It'll be nice for everyone," he tells me, an underlying meaning to his words.

Knowing there's no way out of this, I blow out a long breath. "Fine."

Dad smiles triumphantly, while Mom squeals and claps her hands. For the first time in days, her eyes are sparkling with excitement.

"I must say I'm curious," Mom says once she's settled down. "Why are you doing this now? I've been begging you to do this for so long."

Back at the table, I jerk a single shoulder upward, feeling a little uncomfortable with telling them. I'm not ashamed or anything, but the reason why I didn't want my parents—or anyone else I know—at the art fair is so I could do this on my own.

I want to do this by myself, not only to prove my art is worth something but also so there won't be any witnesses if my effort bombs.

"I'm not doing this for me, so I don't deserve the attention, okay? A friend of mine needs the money for a special program, and I'm hoping someone will buy it so I can give her the money. I didn't know of another way to do it."

There's a beat of silence until my mother squeals, rushing around to my side of the table, gripping me in a tight hug and placing kisses all over my face.

"Mom," I whine dramatically.

"You're so sweet! Charlie, did you know our baby girl was so sweet?"

He doesn't get a chance to reply before Jasper walks back in.

"What's all this for?"

"Bella is submitting one of her art pieces to the art fair to help a friend. I have no idea why she didn't tell us in the first place."

"What'd you do, sprinkle holy water on her?"

I release a full belly laugh at his statement, keeping it up for a good twenty seconds before I stop, allowing my face to fall into a blank, unamused mask. "Hysterical."

Turning away, I face Mom. "I have an image to uphold. I don't want people thinking I'm going soft."

"Seriously, though," Jasper says, lightly punching my arm. "That's cool. I'll be there. Maybe we can get Rose to come too."

Knowing there's no way around this, I sigh, effectively admitting defeat.

8*8*8*8*8

Saturday is a riot of people and noise. It's not exactly how I like to spend my mornings, but with caffeine in my system and knowing this is for a good cause, I'm surprisingly content.

Walking down the street, I look at the booths of the fair, admiring the varying work around me. Mrs. Masters assured me when I showed up this morning, I was free to look around, and she would handle anyone wanting to purchase a piece of artwork for anyone who wanted to explore.

I took her up on the offer. Standing around for hours on end, feeling like a showpiece, is not my idea of a good time.

Plus, I was getting antsy with each crowd of people that walked by. I wanted to scream for them to buy my art, but I figured that would be too much.

The fair is actually cooler than I thought it would be. In the past, I've never been interested in going because I never thought there wouldn't be stuff here I liked, but actually, there are tons.

Not only are there detailed paintings, drawings, and sketches, but there are handmade dresses, jewelry and tons of other handcrafted items for home and personal use.

A couple of items have caught my eye: a beautiful purple and black braided bracelet interwoven with purple and black glass beads, and some handcrafted jasmine and vanilla perfume. The price is a little steep to be spending on myself, so I take some time to think about it.

In the meantime, I walk further through the fair, spotting a few little things for my family and friends. I purchase them right away, and I'm returned with huge smiles and many thanks.

By the time I decide to go ahead and walk back to the items that have caught my eye, they've been purchased. While I'm disappointed, I can't expect anything less.

You snooze, you lose.

Slowly, I stroll through the fair, observing what I missed while I was shopping. As I look at a jewelry box, I hear the familiar laugh of my mother.

Turning, I spot her immediately, walking through the crowd with my father, cousins … and most of the Cullens.

Carlisle and Esme are chatting with my parents and Jasper, smiling and laughing at whatever is being said. Behind them, Edward and Emmett are walking, their eyes vigilant over the vast crowd.

Rose trails behind them, her eyes unabashedly boring holes into the back of Emmett's head, He seems oblivious, but I can see his eyes seeking her out whenever he stops to look at something. A couple of times, it seems as if he's going to turn and say something, but he stops, his shoulders dropping each time as he heaves a heavy sigh.

"There she is!" my mother says, rushing forward and pulling me into a hug. "We've been looking for you."

Behind her, Edward waves with a smirk, chuckling under his breath as I exaggerate a frown in his direction.

"Hi, everyone. Enjoying yourselves?"

"We are. There are so many beautiful things, and I have a wish list a mile long."

"She does," Dad confirms. "My bank account is weeping."

Mom playfully backhands his stomach, making the air whoosh from his lungs and the elder Cullens laugh. Still in the back, Edward and Emmett whisper to one another, both of them pointing in different directions and nodding.

Edward leans forward, grabbing his father's arm and murmurs something to him before pulling back.

Dad and Rose watch them closely, following them with their eyes as they disappear through the crowd of people.

"Where's your piece, Bella?" Mom inquires, again getting my attention. "We can't find it. Shouldn't you be with it in case someone wants to buy it?"

"Mrs. Masters, the woman in charge, said it was okay. She's handling the purchases for the art pieces and encouraged me to walk around."

Mom smiles and grabs Dad's hand, pulling him forward. "That's wonderful, and honey, we're so proud of you."

"Please, stop. It's not a big deal."

"Of course, it is. You're helping a friend."

"It's very admirable, Bella," Esme chimes in with a gentle smile. Carlisle nods in agreement, looking a little distracted, but still friendly.

"How's Alice doing?"

"She's fine," Carlisle answers, seemingly back in the present moment after Esme elbows him in the stomach. "She'll be back to her normal self soon enough."

The ringing of a phone captures his attention, and he steps away, walking through the crowd to find a quieter area to talk. Esme excuses herself and follows after him.

Shortly after, I hear my mother's voice, but I can't make out what she's saying over the crowd. Figuring she's attempting to persuade Dad into buying something, I tune her out and focus on Rose and Jasper, standing on either side of me.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find your work. I have to see how bad it is," Jasper teases.

"Go fall in the sewer with the clowns!"

He laughs, though I do see him warily eye the sewer grate just before he's swallowed by the crowd.

Looking at Rose, I see her eyes narrowed on nothing in particular and gently nudge her side.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," she murmurs. "Your piece was beautiful."

"You saw it? When?"

"When I first got here. I stopped by the art section and searched it out. It was … amazing. You have a natural talent."

I scoff, knowing there are other, more beautiful paintings here than mine. I had seen them. "You're biased."

Rose's lips quirk into a small smile, and she holds her index and thumb finger half an inch apart. "Maybe this much. But it doesn't change the fact that I think it's the best … and I'm proud of you for doing this."

"Well, I am awesome," I say playfully.

"That's another thing; you're so modest."

"That too."

She laughs, trailing off with a sigh as she straightens and brushes off imaginary lint and wrinkles from her clothes. "I'm going to look around."

With the way she was shooting laser beams at Emmett and following him with her eyes, I have to wonder if she's going to seek him out. I don't know why or what for, though. I suppose I could ask, but I know it'll only get me into trouble.

Instead, I wave goodbye. "Have fun. Buy me a present."

Twenty minutes later, my feet are screaming at me for walking around so much. Going back to the booth where a table, chair, and my piece are waiting seems like a really good idea right about now.

Up ahead, I spot Emmett and Rose standing close together, exchanging heated words.

"I don't know why I even entertained the thought of you!" Rose seethes. "You're so back and forth it's driving me insane."

I repress a snort, a part of me relieved that Edward's whiplash behavior isn't just limited to him. I'm also somewhat surprised Rose is admitting to liking him. I figured she was crushing on him, but I had no idea she was thinking about dating him.

In all honesty, I think he would be good for her. He's the perfect match for her serious behavior and attitude.

"You wanna know why? Because I'm not sure you're ready for that. I think you're still getting over everything that's happened to you. You may not know it, but sometimes I see you look around nervously. I still see you flinch. I also hear you talk badly about yourself. When I date you, I want you to be ready, to be yourself … to love yourself." He pauses, bringing a hand up to her face and running his fingers down the side. "When I date you, I want you to love yourself, so I can love you. I want you to be sure because when we're going to be together, it's not going to be for a few months or years. It's going to be forever."

"I don't know what you mean," she replies, her voice soft and small. "I love myself. You're just making excuses because you know about what happened to me and want an easy out."

He raises an eyebrow in challenge, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know that's not true in the slightest. Tell you what, you name one thing you love about yourself, and we'll go on a date right now."

She starts to reply but stops suddenly, the irritation fading into one of sadness when she comes up with nothing.

"Exactly," he softly tells her. "You're amazing, Rosalie. You're beautiful and kind and fierce. It's my dream to be with you. When you're ready, when you can stop flinching when I come up to you unexpectedly, when you can find one thing you love about yourself, you and I will so be on."

Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping on their conversation, I scurry away, awed, and in shock by Emmett's heartfelt words.

I'm pissed at myself that I didn't notice Rose was still struggling with the aftermath of everything. I should have watched her closer and been there for her.

Knowing I can't change the past, I'll settle for changing the present and the future. I'll help Rose find ways to love herself so she can move on with her life because she deserves to be happy.

On the sidewalk and away from the bustling crowd, I see Mr. Mallory talking quietly with my dad. From the look on my father's face, it's nothing good. Being nosy, I head over, slowing my steps when I notice Mr. Mallory's red eyes and haggard face.

Dad catches me approaching and gives me a sad smile. "Bella," he says, raising an arm in an inviting gesture.

"Hey. Hi, Mr. Mallory."

He tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a painful grimace. "Hello, Bella," he croaks. "I'm terribly sorry to be interrupting your time at the art fair."

"It's fine."

"I have a question for you if you don't mind?"

"Now, Richard, I don't think—"

"Charlie, please. She said she was supposed to meet him." Mr. Mallory turns to me then, a pleading expression on his face. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'm happy to help."

He dips his head in thanks, and his choked-back sob is audible over the noise of the crowd. "You said my nephew, Arthur, was supposed to meet you in front of the art gallery earlier this week, correct?"

A knot forms in my gut, and I swallow back the lump that's risen in my throat. "Yeah."

"What did he say? Did he say anything beforehand?"

"I didn't see him. He texted me and asked if I wanted to meet up in Port Angeles sometime. I told him I would be in town that day and to meet me at the art gallery. He said he would be there, but he never showed. I tried texting him while I waited, but he never replied. Is … what's going on?"

Mr. Mallory swallows thickly, his hazel eyes glossing over with tears. When he speaks, his words are choked and gruff. "He's missing. Or he's run away. I know something bad happened. He hasn't answered any calls, texts. None of his friends have heard from him or seen him. Lauren said he drove her into town, but never met back up with her. My sister is beside herself. We don't …"

He stops, sobbing loudly into his fist, biting his knuckles to keep his cries to a minimum. My dad steps toward him, speaking quietly but firmly while I stagger backward, my heart beating erratically in my chest.

Arthur wouldn't just run away, would he? From the way he spoke, you could tell he loves his mother dearly. He has a genuinely kind soul; there's no way on earth he would just leave without saying something … would he?

Posters of missing people flash in front of my eyes, and I shake my head, trying to clear the possibility away.

No. No way. He's just run away. Nothing bad has happened to him.

Their conversation seemingly over, Mr. Mallory walks away, and Dad steps in front of me, bending his knees to meet my eyes.

"You okay, kid?" he asks, grabbing my shoulders.

"Do you think he ran away?"

Dad releases my shoulders, sighing heavily. "Honestly? Everything I've seen points to yes. According to the police here in Port Angeles, Arthur expressed to friends his … annoyance with certain things in his life. More than one told the police he expressed irritation at his cousin, Lauren."

I don't bother to hide my snort. No big surprise there.

"He also was very tired of his home life," Dad continues.

"Arthur never said anything like that to me, Dad."

"And how well did you know this boy?" He raises an eyebrow, and I roll my eyes.

"Physically, emotionally, or personally?"

"Bella," Dad groans, his head falling forward.

"I didn't know him that well, calm down. We weren't dating. We were becoming friends."

"Well, then it's possible he didn't think he should share that with someone he didn't know well. Hell, his lifelong friends said they had to drag it out of him because they noticed something was off."

I nod, seeing his point. But something still doesn't make sense.

"Why would he ask to meet up with me?"

"Witnesses say he and Lauren were in an argument and she confirmed it … perhaps it was the last straw."

I'm silent for a moment, trying to process everything. Even with the knot in my gut, hope slowly rises within me.

"Is it bad that I'm hoping he did run away?"

Dad shakes his head, pulling me into a short hug. "With all the missing person reports? No, sweetie. I'm hoping for the same thing."

I release the breath I didn't know I was holding and give my father a small smile in thanks.

"Go enjoy your art fair, kid. I'll let you know if anything new comes up, okay?"

"Thanks, Dad."

"Of course, kid. I have to go find your mother," he says, looking over my head. After a second, he gives up, knowing there's no way he'll spot her in this vast crowd. "She's probably buying everything that speaks to her."

I laugh because he's probably right. "Okay. Be careful."

"Always am."

Wandering back through the crowd, my mind is on Arthur. I'm really hoping he just ran away. While it's not the nicest thing to wish, especially since his uncle and mother are worried sick, at least it's better than the alternative. At least there will be hope that one day he'll return home.

He better not be hurt, because if he is … there will be hell to pay. No one messes with my friends. No one.

I walk back toward where the paintings are kept, and Mrs. Masters excitedly waves for me to join her.

"Oh, Bella, I'm so glad I found you. I have great news! Someone purchased your art!" Her words trail off in a high note, resembling a squeal. It's hard to imagine the woman in front of me with neat hair and an impassive face making such a sound, but it happened.

Her excitement rubs off on me, and I find myself grinning broadly. "Really? That's awesome!"

"It is! They paid in cash, and way more than we were asking for, but I won't argue. A sale is a sale," Mrs. Masters says with a light laugh. She removes a white envelope from her pocket and hands it over with a smile. "Here you are. Congratulations, Bella. I hope to see your artwork hanging in my gallery sometime soon. Contact me, and I'll set something up ASAP."

"Maybe," I reply, eager to see how much I got for my work. I didn't put a price on it because I suck at that type of thing, but Mrs. Masters assured me she'd handle the pricing, and I trust her. It's what she does, after all.

Opening the envelope, I discreetly count the money inside, and my jaw drops.

"Uh, I think this is a mistake," I say lowly, shaking my head.

"What? Did I not give you the full amount?" Mrs. Masters takes the envelope from me and counts the contents quickly before handing it back. "No, that's correct."

I sputter. "Are you … are you … is this some kind of fucking joke?"

Mrs. Masters frowns at my language.

"Shit. Damn. Sorry. But are you serious? Someone paid four hundred and fifty dollars for my work?"

"Yes. I was surprised at first too, but they insisted on it."

"Who bought it?"

"I can't say. They didn't leave a name."

"Can you describe them?"

I'll hunt them down and kiss them for essentially giving Jess a considerable amount of the money she needs.

Mrs. Masters frowns. "I'm sorry, they asked to remain anonymous."

Immediately, I have a feeling I know who is responsible.

The Cullens. They're the only people here I know who could possibly spend that much money on something.

I try to track them down through the crowd, but the only person I find is Esme, who is talking on her phone with a serious expression on her face. When she sees me, she smiles.

"I'll call you back, Alice."

"Is everything all right?" I ask when she hangs up.

"Oh, yes. I was just checking up on her."

Nodding, I take a deep breath, feeling a little embarrassed, but so grateful for her help.

"I won't keep you. I just wanted to thank you."

Her lips pull down in confusion. "For what, dear?"

"For buying my piece."

Esme shakes her head, understanding dawning on her features. "I didn't buy it. Honestly, I was hoping I would get the chance, but everything has been so hectic." Disappointment clouds over her face and she sighs heavily, put out at the missed opportunity.

"I wanted a Bella Swan original. I have a feeling you're going to go places. Would you be interested in selling me another one of your works?" She questions, hopeful.

"Uh, sure," I murmur, distracted.

If it wasn't Esme, then who the hell bought it?

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Everything in my RL is still hectic and I also haven't been feeling the greatest lately, but I want to thank you for being so patient in between updates. I really appreciate it. :)