Page 81 of Finding Forever

Rachel reached her. “Where do you want the photographs from the high school?”

“Gallery wall.”

“Which section?”

Beth stared at her.

Rachel smiled sympathetically. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I did yesterday.”

A drilling noise started outside and Beth closed her eyes. The plumbers had arrived before seven to continue replacing the damaged section of sewer line running beneath the parking lot. What should have been a relatively straightforward repair had become considerably more complicated once they’d started digging.

Now there was a trench outside, orange safety barriers blocked six parking spaces, and a small excavator sat where Beth had planned to put the balloons on opening morning.

She opened her eyes again. “Put the photographs near the children’s artwork. I want people to see them as soon as they walk toward the gallery.”

“Got it.” Rachel turned away.

“And make sure the labels stay with them.”

Rachel looked over her shoulder. “Already done.”

Beth could have hugged her. Instead, she turned to the artist beside her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Henderson. You were asking me something?”

“Where would you like this?”

The painting was a beautiful view of Flathead Lake at sunset. Before Beth could answer, Laurel appeared.

“I’ll take it,” she said brightly. “Come with me.”

Mr. Henderson followed her toward the gallery.

Beth mouthed, “Thank you.”

Laurel grinned and disappeared.

Another crash sounded from outside. Beth flinched.

“It was only a shovel,” Natalie called from near the entrance.

“How do you know?”

“Because I checked.”

Beth pressed a hand against her chest. “At this point, I’m going to need you to keep doing that.”

Natalie laughed and returned to the elderly woman she was helping.

The arts center looked nothing like it had yesterday. Paintings leaned against walls waiting to be hung. Boxes of craft supplies were stacked beside the reception desk. Someone had left a large ceramic moose on the floor near Beth’s office, and she had no idea who it belonged to.

Julie was unpacking pottery onto a long table while Laurel and Rachel organized the artwork. And Dave had somehow become responsible for directing traffic.

He opened the front door and waved to the furniture delivery driver. “Bring the chairs through here,” he called. “Tables go into the events room. Anything marked ‘Children’s room’ goes down the hallway.”

Beth hurried toward him. “The armchairs for the reading area need to go into the smaller room. And when Pastor John arrives with some beanbags, he can put them in the same room.”

Dave looked amused. “We made a plan, Beth. It will be okay.”