Chapter 19
Later that evening Emily climbed out of the shower. She was certain every muscle in her body hurt—even muscles she didn’t realize she had. After leaving Apple Haven, she and Jake had driven to the Splendid Lake Flea Market and spent more than an hour talking to vendors about the grand opening at the orchard. Before they left, they had three vendors signed up and another four who were considering the offer.
She was grateful that they ended the day on a good note, with the vendors promising to arrive early tomorrow to set up. Seeing a smile on Jake’s face was such a relief. All Emily wanted was for this grand opening to be successful and for Jake to be happy.
She dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top before piling her hair on top of her head. As she made her way into her bedroom, she recalled the gallery conversation she’d had with Jake. For a moment she allowed herself to envision opening a place to showcase her work—her paintings on the walls, people wandering through, customers discussing where they’d hang herpieces in their homes or businesses. Having her own gallery would mean that she’d finally share her art with the world and possibly make a living as a real professional artist.
It all sounded wonderful—like a dream come true—but was she kidding herself? Would peoplereallywant her artwork on their walls? Sure, Jake and Diane had displayed her art, but they were like family. Would some random stranger also consider her work good enough to spend their hard-earned money on?
Well,she mused,guess there’s only one way to find out!
Emily smiled as she pushed her feet into a pair of fuzzy purple slippers and then padded down the stairs, where muffled voices sounded from the suite that belonged to Jake’s parents. The delicious aroma of candy apples lingered in the kitchen as Emily made her way to the door leading to the staircase that plunged down to the finished basement.
She flipped on the lights and then hurried down the stairs. A flood of memories filled her mind—the hundreds of playdates and parties Emily had attended there with Jake and their friends from the time they were in kindergarten until they graduated from high school. The basement had once served as an enormous playroom containing a humongous sectional sofa, a large television complete with video game systems, a stereo, lots of toy cars, and tools.
Now the room seemed lonely. The sofa, the games and toys, the tools—everything that used to be here was long gone, and the room had been converted into a second attic. But this attic mostly held Emily’s possessions—furniture and collectibles from her childhood home, along with her paintings.
She waded past the random boxes and plastic containers until she came to the paintings leaning against the wall. She began tounwrap them and flip through them, silently criticizing her work and contemplating whether any of the pieces were good enough for a gallery.
Hergallery!
A mixture of excitement and fear rushed through her. Was she even ready for this?
Emily found four companion pieces featuring the same landscape of Splendid Lake in the four seasons, and she unwrapped them before displaying them in a row—spring, summer, fall, and winter. She pulled a couple more paintings from a plastic container and studied them, silently picking out the brushstrokes that could have been improved.Who would pay good money for these pieces? They’re definitely not perfect.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Emily turned just as Jake peeked over the banister.
“Hi.” She touched her messy bun and wished she’d actually dried and styled her hair.
She almost laughed out loud at herself. She’d never before worried about how she looked in front of Jake, but now that he was her boyfriend, she felt self-conscious.
He rested his arms on the banister. “I was looking all over for you. What are you doing down here?”
“Just taking a trip down memory lane. Come join me.”
He jogged down the stairs and closed the distance between them. “I remember these pieces. I never understood why you didn’t hang them up in your folks’ house.”
“My parents had their own art—real art that was worth real money.”
He shook his head. “I hate how hard you are on yourself. You’resotalented. I wish you could see what I see.” He unwrapped another painting of a sunset over a beach. “This is one of my favorites.”
“I forgot about that one. I painted it when I went to Coral Cove with my folks. We stayed in this awesome condo on the beach, and the sunsets were out of this world.” She leaned against Jake.
“I always wanted to ask you for this one, but I never had the nerve.”
She smacked her lips. “Are you kidding?” She pointed to it. “It’s yours.”
“Nah. This should go in your gallery. It’ll be the first piece that sells.”
She snorted and waved him off. “Just take it.” She unwrapped another piece, which featured wild horses on the beach in the Outer Banks. “Oh, I remember this. It was the summer when I was sixteen and went to the Outer Banks. We went out to Corolla, and there were these wild horses there, and I—” She stopped speaking when she realized Jake was staring at her. She glanced down at her clothes and brushed her hands over her tank top and shorts before she focused on him. “Why are you staring at me?”
“I need to know something.”
“What?”
“Why on earth did you stop painting?”
Her throat thickened, and tears stung her eyes as she tried to find the words to describe how she felt.
