Page 66 of Nailed

I was shocked at the actual number of people who showed up.

It wasn’t just the protesters or the representatives of the preservation group, there were masses of regular folks who turned up out of pure curiosity. I was nervous at first, almost expecting something to go wrong.

The memory of someone bringing a bucket of garbage to the community meeting was still fresh in my mind. But I had Brock, Cal, Clara and even Rafe in my corner today. And they were all right there with me, dressed in the “industrial chic” but casual dress code I’d suggested and looking amazing.

I delivered a general walkthrough earlier in the day, specifically singling out the activist group so that they would be the first to see the entirety of the exhibition before everyone else. It was also easier to control for unexpected variables that way, but surprisingly everyone seemed to be on their best behavior.

Many people came up to me to ask about some of the photographs I’d taken, surprised that they were dated from the day I moved in. They asked about how I came to know of the city’s hidden gems and if I had any plans to hold another exhibition in the future. Some even asked if they could be part of a potential neighborhood shoot.

At one point as afternoon faded into evening, I found myself in a corner with Rafe. Maybe it was the free-flowing alcohol but he’d managed to crack a smile or two throughout the day and I wasn’t sure whether to be more curious or suspicious.

“Hmm. I didn’t think I’d see another one of those on your face again any time soon,” I commented over the rim of my glass, eying him cautiously.

I waited to see if he’d reply with sarcasm, or if he’d be serious again.

“All of our problems are gonna be over soon. For the renovation job but, for me, too.” He reached out a hand as though to tuck a wayward curl behind my ear, then seemed to think better of it. “Trust me. We should be celebrating.”

I pressed my lips together tightly, not buying it. When he saw that I wasn’t making a move to leave yet, his shoulder dropped slightly.

“I meant to… I meant to apologize for the way I’ve been acting lately. For brushing you off and not acknowledging the drink the other day. I’m sorry, Lauren,” he said.

I couldn’t care less about the beer or his attitude, I just wanted the truth. I wanted to know if he was really going to be okay. But all I did was accept the apology and walk away, drifting back to the milling crowd.

As time wore on, I could feel the ice melting around my reputation, and I was sure a lot of it had to do with the confidence and security I’d developed during the preparation process. Regardless, it was those memories that steadied my voice when it came time for me to make a speech near the end of the evening.

By now the firehouse had been buzzing with excitement for several hours, the novelty now on a simmer. I clinked a fork to my champagne flute, and the music was turned to a low hum. When I had the room’s attention, I started the speech I’d written just this morning, before I had time to overthink anything.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I won’t speak for very long, as I’m sure most of you have already gotten the gist of my story and plans for the future. For those that still aren’t aware, my name is Lauren Wolfhaardt and I recently purchased this firehouse,” I said.

I tried to keep brief but intentional eye contact with everyone’s foreheads. “I know it caused quite a stir, especially in the face of new developments to the neighborhood and the impact on locals. I held this exhibition today in hopes of showing all of you that I have no intentions of turning this piece of your history into some money-making ploy. In fact, I intend on preserving as much of it as I can while making it livable.”

A few intrigued murmurs rippled through the crowd. In one corner, I spotted Brock. He gave me a slow, encouraging nod. “Because I do plan on actually living here. I know that I’ll never be able to claim the title of a true Chicago native. But I hope you believe me when I say that this is the first place that has truly welcomed me and made me feel like I could belong to it.”

My eyes roved over to where Callum was standing in the back, near the entrance. When his gaze met mine, he offered me a charmingly familiar, warm smile. “There’s a beauty to this city that I hope I managed to capture in the portraits you see around you. And in the brief time I’ve lived here, I’ve already felt some of that magic. It’s not something I’d ever want to change or profit off of.”

I waved a hand over to the nearest stills—a fleeting look between lovers, a mother holding her baby, hands at work creating something special. Snapshots of time and space that would now last forever.

And then I saw Rafe, in the shadowy relief of an Edison lightbulb. “My goal here is to make things last. To give the quiet moments a voice that echoes. And thanks to an amazing renovation team, I’m starting to build on an existing foundation. It’s a legacy that I want to honor along with every person this firehouse has belonged to. It’ll always be a part of this community.”

Clara was the first to clap, loud and proud and perhaps a little too loud but she was soon joined by the rest of the crowd. There were cheers of approval and I retraced my steps, looking from Rafe to Callum to Brock again and collecting a smile of pride from each one.

*

“That was amazing, Lauren! You did so good,” Clara squeezed me, swaying us back and forth. I laughed, not minding the extra affection today, anyway. She’d been amazing too.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you did,” I said.

She waved me off. “Don’t even mention it. I got my portrait hung up in a place of pride so consider me compensated for all my emotional labor.”

I laughed again, drunk off of the success of the night and the possibilities of the future.

“And now I must love you and leave you. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” she asked, giving my hand one final squeeze before turning to leave.

“Let me know when you get home,” I called after her and she waved.

She was among the last of the stragglers to leave, and soon it was just Rafe, Callum and I left. Brock made an early exit, shooting me a quick text to let me know that the inspector had a single evening slot to meet to discuss the whole permit delay situation.

And while I’d been a bit miffed that he wouldn’t be here by the end of the night, I was glad to have the other two to myself.