*CLARE
“Mom, you have to see these pictures!” I shoved my phone across the kitchen table.
Even though it wasn’t even seven a.m., Mom was already immersed in her laptop, probably reviewing paint samples or some other design detail. Even at the breakfast table on a Saturday morning, she looked like she’d stepped out of a Talbot’s catalog. She glanced up, her expression distracted. “Honey, I'm kind of in the middle of something. Can it wait?”
“No!” I insisted. “Look!”
Mom sighed and picked up my phone, her eyes widening as she scrolled through the photos of the oarfish. The massive, silvery creature dominated every frame, its otherworldly appearance both fascinating and slightly terrifying.
“What... what is that?” she asked, her voice a mixture of awe and disgust.
“It's an oarfish!” I was proud of the photos—even Walter, for once, looked happy—exultant, even. "We found it on the beach at Ethan’s Grandpa Walter's. We helped him drag it up the sand.”
“We?”
“Yeah, me and Ethan,” I said, trying to sound casual. “It was insane. You wouldn't believe the size of this thing. A friend of Walter’s from the Marine Institute came. They have an aquarium that can house him. They said he must be sick for him to come so close to land.” My excitement faltered under Mom’s obvious disinterest. “Oarfish are deep-sea creature...”
Mom stared at the phone with her brow furrowed. “I don't understand why you're showing me this.”
“Because,” I tried to tamp down my frustration, “we have to put these on the blog! It's incredible! It shows the human side of what we do. It's not just about the finished product but also the adventure, the unexpected things that happen along the way!”
Mom shook her head, her face firm. “Our readers are interested in design, in renovation. They want to see before and after pictures, paint colors, furniture choices. They are not interested in giant dead fish.”
“It’s not dead! Were you even listening?” I sucked in a deep breath. “It's a story! It's about community, about helping someone, about the unexpected challenges we face. It'sreallife!”
“Our brand is about aspirational design.” Mom was unwavering. “Not... not sea monsters.”
My frustration boiled over. Mom was so focused on the image, on the perfect aesthetic, that she completely missed the point. She never showed the mess, the sweat, the real human effort that went into these projects. It was always just the polished, finished product.
“You're so obsessed with the brand,” I said, my voice shaking slightly, “that you forget there are actual people involved! People with stories, with lives that are more interesting than beige walls and granite countertops!”
Mom sighed, a weary expression on her face. “Please don't be dramatic. I'm running a business here. A business, need I remind you, that will one day be yours. We can't just post random pictures offishon ourprofessionalwebsite.”
“Fine.” I snatched my phone. “Then I'll post them on my own accounts.”
And that's exactly what I did. I captioned the pictures with a slightly exaggerated version of the story, emphasizing the sheer size of the oarfish and the adrenaline rush of helping to drag it onto the beach. I even included a slightly blurry photo of Ethan and me, covered in sand and seawater, grinning like idiots.
Let the world see the real story,I thought.Let them see that we're not just designers, we're people.
*ETHAN
“Call off the hounds,” Grandpa groused.
“The what?” I leaned back in my office chair, grateful for the distraction from the legal brief that was anything but brief.
“The hounds!”
“Grandpa, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did Mrs. Henderson get a new dog?”
“Have you seen the TV? We made national news. ABC, CBS, that station about the fox, they’re all wanting to talk to me. Swarming the beach, hoping another oarfish washes up...which will probably never happen again in our lifetime.” He was quiet for a moment. “Or, at least, mine. You need to talk to your girlfriend.” He ended the call.
Curious, I turned back to my computer and scrolled through the local news channels. It didn’t take me long to find the news clips and Clare’s blog.
Clare’s Revamp & Restorewas sleek and modern with a minimalist design, soft neutral tones, and high-quality photos of her projects. Her image was casual yet polished, and she was often wearing work boots, paint-streaked jeans, and a confident smile. Would Grandpa still be grumpy if he could see her again? And what had he said?You need to talk to your girlfriend...
I logged off, picked up my phone, and sent her a text:seen any more oarfish?
Clare:not today.
