The degree, Trevor’s agency, and the client list were developed over five years in Vixen Falls. Mostly small-town work but thorough, with brand identities built from the ground up and maintained over the years. The Swan Auto Electrical rebrand, forty years of history given a visual language that honored its roots while speaking to a new generation.
She listens carefully before speaking, “Do you have a portfolio?”
Opening the laptop, I turn it toward her.
She goes through it page by page, unhurried, really looking. The logos, the brand guidelines, the before-and-afters. The way each identity has been built around something true about the business, rather than just something that looks good on a page.
When she looks up, her expression has shifted, something confirmed rather than just considered. “These are really good,” she says, simply and directly, the way people say things when they mean them.
“Thank you.” It lands somewhere real.
“I’ve been working on some initial concept directions,” I say. “These are starting points rather than finished ideas, but I wanted to bring something to this meeting rather than just words.”
Victoria straightens slightly. “Please.”
Three directions, each built around the name, that lobby, and the feeling I’d walked into forty minutes ago and immediately understood.
Direction One—The Glow. Warm amber and deep copper are the primary palette. A logo mark built from the shape of an ember, abstract, organic, glowing from within. Typography that is classic but alive, with enough warmth in the letterforms to feel human rather than corporate. Where luxury feels like home.
Victoria leans forward.
Direction Two—Ember and Stone. The amber tones paired with the coolness of natural stone provide balance and contrast with the fire and the earth. A more architectural approach, clean lines softened by warmth. Strong in print, strong in signage, strong in digital.
Direction Three—The Hearth. The most intimate of the three. Smaller in scale, more personal, built around the idea of the fireplace as the heart of the hotel, everything radiating outward from that central warmth. Hand-drawn elements in the logo give it a crafted feel rather than a manufactured one.
When I look up, Victoria is already looking at the first direction, and then at me.
Her finger lands on Direction One. “This one. This is it. This is exactly what I’ve been trying to articulate for six months and haven’t been able to.” Back to the screen. “How did you get this so quickly? You’ve been here twenty minutes.”
The moment of walking through the lobby door. The way the room had hit. The designer part of my brain lights up fully for the first time in months, without grief getting in the way.
“The hotel told me.”
Victoria looks at me for a moment, then she smiles, wide, certain, and completely decided.
“When can you start?”
We chat for a while longer before Victoria leaves.
Her card is in my hand. A follow-up meeting is already on the calendar. The weight of‘When can you start,’is still sitting warmly in my chest.
The amber light. The copper fittings. The fireplace waiting against the far wall.
The tears arrive before I understand why. That ambush grief delivers when a genuine moment of happiness gives it the opening it needs.
Ryan would never know about this.
He’d always kept me separate from his world, protecting me from it, and I’d never gotten to show him mine. He’d never sat across a table from me while I talked about brand identity and watched my face when I was in the middle of something I loved. He’d never seen this version of me.
And I’d never get to show him.
Pressing my lips together, I breathe through it, in and out the way I’ve learned, letting it move through without fighting it.
Then a buzz from my phone.
Tate:How’d it go.
No question mark. Direct, simple, and completely him, the way all his communication is with no excess or performance, just the thing itself.
