The Pollyanna Plan Read Online Free PDF Page B

bluer—and I’ll try to mix it up for you.’
    Emma tilted her head. If Will didn’t get it right, she didn’t want to be stuck with a useless pot of paint. Think positively, she reminded herself. These kinds of situations were low stakes enough to practise a little Pollyanna. Maybe he would hit it spot on, and she’d leave a happy customer. Maybe.
    Will held up his hands as if reading her thoughts. ‘If it doesn’t turn out to be the shade you’re looking for, there’s no charge to you.’
    Wow, the man was confident. ‘Okay, you’re on.’ Grinning, she flipped open the sample book again and pointed to ‘Sunny Skies’. ‘This one is the closest, but it needs to be more … ’ Emma closed her eyes, picturing her father as he stood in the centre of her childhood room, gesturing proudly to the newly painted walls. To her horror, a rush of emotion overtook her, and her throat closed over. Coughing, she met Will’s warm gaze. ‘Um, it needs to be hazier. Almost like you can see wispy white clouds mixed in with the blue,’ she said, cringing at the uncharacteristically expressive explanation and the slight tremor in her voice.
    But Will was nodding as if he understood what she meant. ‘Okay. Let me get started.’ His forearm tightened as he cracked open a tin of paint and placed it in the mixing machine, pulling the levers with practised movements. Emma watched as a spurt of blue, then grey, then yellow poured into the white base, and Will’s brow furrowed in concentration.
    ‘Right,’ he said finally. ‘I think that should do it. Now it needs a good mix, and then we’ll take a look.’ He pressed another button on the machine, and the tin of paint swung back and forth like it was on a carnival ride.
    ‘You certainly seem to know what you’re doing,’ Emma said, as they awaited the mixture. She wondered how long he’d been working here—he blended paints like a pro.
    Will smiled. ‘I’ve always had a good eye for colour.’ The machine stopped, and the tin came to a standstill.
    ‘Right, let’s see what we’ve got.’ Emma held her breath as Will levered off the top of the paint. Logic told her the chances of him being able to match her vision were pretty much nil, but perhaps … her heart sunk as she eyed the thick gooey liquid. It was almost there—the right hue, definitely—but too dark to be what she’d held in her mind.
    Before Emma could say anything, Will stuck a stir stick into the colour and spread the paint on a test piece of wood. ‘Give it a minute to dry. It always looks darker when it’s wet.’
    Emma nodded, but she was pretty sure that, wet or dry, the shade wasn’t what she wanted. It had been a long shot, anyway—a shame Pollyanna couldn’t work her magic on paints. Trying to match a vision from her childhood was silly. She should have gone for something modern and funky. Crimson, or even a punchy lime green—
    ‘Well?’ Will gestured in the direction of the stick, and Emma’s mouth dropped open. Praise Pollyanna, that was it! The exact shade that had lived in her mind’s eye: the kind of sky that existed only on early summer mornings when translucent white clouds veiled the blue and sunrays were beginning to work their way through. She couldn’t wait to get that colour on her wall back home.
    Perhaps positive thinking works after all, Emma thought, before telling herself not to be ridiculous. It was Will who’d got the shade right, not her new attitude. Still, if she hadn’t let him try …
    Aware she was grinning like an idiot, Emma tried to lower the corners of her mouth. ‘It’s brilliant,’ she said, meeting Will’s big brown eyes. ‘Spot on.’
    Will smiled back. ‘Good. I’d hate to waste a tin of paint—not to mention letting you down.’ A faint hint of red coloured his tan cheeks, and he cleared his throat. ‘Well.’
    ‘Thank you again,’ Emma said, feeling herself blush again in response. They were acting like a couple of tongue-tied