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On the other hand, I imagined it would be nice to wander through. I made a mental note to come back and see it sooner rather than later, and I was sure that was something I could do by myself.
The main streets felt like I’d stepped back in time. The hotels were mostly built in a Victorian style, with beautiful windows and doors and awnings that made my art-loving heart sing. The shops were all small, individually owned places, from the ice cream shops to the clothing stores and the tourist gift shops that were filled with rock candy and magnets and various other little things people loved to buy.
I simply adored it.
I passed the cutest bakery on the corner with a line that stretched halfway down the street—I had to ask Matthew about that place—and came up to The Prince of Wales pub.
It had a small car park behind it. With one car in it.
Excellent.
This just got better, didn’t it?
I was so getting some ice-cream after this.
I walked through the outdoor seating area that was covered with a beautiful wood pergola and into the pub. It was dark and dingy in here, and the thick, dark wooden beams that ran the entire length of the ceiling only served to shorten the walls. They all had Tudor-style panelling on, with the colour somewhere between a cream and a beige, framed by the same dark wood as the overhead beams.
I shimmied through the tables until I reached the bar. Dafydd was serving an older man, and he belly-laughed at something he’d said. I hovered at the end until his friend alerted him to my presence, and he came over to me.
“Eva! How are you?” he boomed, leaning on the bar. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Hi, Dafydd.” I smiled. “No, thank you, not this time. I actually have something for you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Already?”
I nodded. “The subject was very well-behaved.”
Dafydd laughed as I hauled the frame up onto the bar. “Is that it?”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, so A3 seemed to work. I made sure not to fill the whole paper, so if you need to size it down, you have room to cut away some edging. But it won’t look bad if you don’t because of the shading.”
I’d wrapped it in brown paper and tied it with some string. Part of that was presentability, but the string was mostly to give me something to grab on to help carry it.
The sucker was heavy.
Dafydd carefully pulled away the string with his beefy, tattooed arms, then unwrapped the brown paper. “Oh, Eva. This is incredible.”
I glanced down, feeling my cheeks warm. “Thank you. It was a beautiful picture you chose. It really was all her.”
“No, this is beautiful. I don’t think we have much time left with her, and this is somehow much more personal than a photograph.” He reached over the bar and rested his hand on mine. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” I assured him. “I’m really glad you like it.”
“I do. I love it.” Slowly, he nodded, then covered it back up with the paper. “I’ll take that upstairs in a moment. If you ever need more of those discount cards for a meal, just give me a call and I’ll get some made for you.”
I inhaled sharply and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Do you take commissions?”
Commissions?
Oh.
Was it happening?
I swallowed. “I hadn’t really thought about it. What do you have in mind?”
“I’d love a map of Beaumaris for the pub. The coastline, with the pub, the pier, the castle, and other landmarks pinpointed.”
“That sounds like something I could do,” I replied. “You might have to give me a list of things you want on there, though, because I really don’t know much.”
He chuckled. “Of course, Eva. How much would I be looking at for that?”
Um.
Crap.
I had no idea.
“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “Why don’t you give me a couple of days? I’ll do some research on map styles and the area, and I’ll give you a ring when I’ve got some ideas.”
He winked. “No problem.” He glanced over at the bar when someone waved for him. “Duty calls. Thank you for this. It’s incredible.”
“It was my pleasure, like I said. I’ll let you get back to work.” I smiled and backed away. “I’ll talk to you soon, Dafydd. Bye!”
I left the dark pub, squinting as the bright sunlight hit my face. It was quite the difference from the dimly lit interior of the building behind me, and I had to take a moment to allow my eyes to adjust.
He liked my sketch.
He wanted to pay me for my work.
I hurried away from the pub and through the streets to the promenade, where the pier beckoned me to it. I stepped onto the wooden planks and walked a quarter of the way along, then leaned against the railings and looked out over the water where fishing boats were busy working.
