Frank wanted to be an artist, so he opened his own gallery to make his dream come true. He had no idea that one day, his gallery would save the life of the painter he liked best.

Frank Mason looked at the sign in front of the art gallery he had just opened. All of his dreams had brought him here, and he was overjoyed.

Since he was a child, he wanted to be an artist, but his parents made him go into business instead. He was angry about it at first, but now he realized it might have been smart because he could use those skills to run his gallery.

If only his parents were still alive, he could thank them. He planned to use the gallery to show off the best work by local artists, many of whom deserved to be better known.

He rushed inside to hang his first painting on the wall. It was a landscape by his favorite artist, Sheila, that had a lot of details. It was important because she had been gone for years.

After a few years, Frank’s gallery had become a successful business. People from all over the world came to see his shows, and art collectors often asked him for advice. He was most proud of the fact that his small gallery had helped the local art scene grow.

One day, Frank stood at the window and watched snowflakes fly down the street as strong winds blew. Even though the weather was bad for business, it was lovely to look at.

Frank saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. He was so scared that he almost spilled his coffee. He went to the front door and looked through the wood-framed glass panes to get a better look.

A woman wearing a gray coat stood there. Snowflakes fell on her shoulders, and white hairs poked out from under her woolen hat. She jumped when he opened the door

“Afternoon,” Frank greeted her.

She frowned and shook her head at him. “I don’t have any cash. I just wanted to take a break from the snow.”

When Frank got close to the woman, he could tell she was poor. He felt bad that she was out there in the cold.

“Do you like art?” he asked.

“You’ll no longer be living on the streets.”
Face of the woman lit up. “I love art. Sadly, I no longer feel as strongly about this as I used to. I can only go to free galleries, but my favorite artists are never there.”

“Oh? “Such as?”

The woman quickly named a few people. Frank was shocked to find out that she liked a lot of the same lesser-known artists as he did. Every time she talked about the artist, she talked about what she liked about his or her style.

Frank would never have thought that this dirty woman would know so much about art. He pushed the door open wider and waved for her to come in.

He said, “You’ll find all of those artists in here.”

“And you can go whenever you want for free.”

“Really?” She thought for a moment.

Frank nodded. “Can I warm you up with a cup of tea or coffee?”

The woman took him up on his offer to make tea. When Frank went back to get her the cup, he saw that her hands were shaking a lot.

She said, “Don’t mind that I’m shaking.” “Since I lost my home, it’s been hard for me to get my medicine. There are so many places that won’t help you if you don’t have an address.

Frank quickly felt sorry for the woman. He started to show her around the museum. They talked about the artists and how the paintings were made, and Frank chose his favorite piece to end the tour with.

“I want to show you one more painting,” he said. He opened the door to the room where he kept his personal things. Because none of these paintings were for sale, he only let people look at them on certain days.

The woman took a deep breath and pointed at the Sheila landscape in the middle of the room.

The woman pulled her social security card out of her coat and gave it to Frank.

Frank was amazed as he looked at the card. “I count you as one of my favorite musicians. I’ve asked about you and your work for years, but no one knew what happened to you.”

“I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s.” Sheila groaned. “I could no longer paint. Then my husband died, and I had to sell my house. I lived with my daughter’s family until she and my grandson died in a plane crash.

Sheila looked angry. “In less than a year, her husband got married again, and I had to leave. Since then, I’ve been living on the streets.”

Sheila was surprised when she looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, without a doubt. If you think you can do it, I’d also like to hire you to help me take care of my kids.”

“That would be great!”

Sheila moved in with Frank and was soon treated like a family member. The kids didn’t have grandparents who were still alive, so they were happy to have Sheila in their lives.

When people in the local art scene heard what had happened to Sheila, they got together and held a fundraiser for her. Right away, Frank offered his art gallery as the place.

Some artists taught classes, while others put on shows. Some even said they would show off how fast they could paint. Soon, they had enough money to buy the medicine Sheila needed.

Sheila once asked Frank to come into her room so she could show him something. A painting of his children was on an easel in the corner.

“This is the first original painting by Sheila in 20 years.”

“You’ve been painting?”

Sheila took the painting off the easel and put it in Frank’s hands. “This isn’t my best work, but I hope you’ll accept it as a thank you.”