“I’ve done a little research on my own with the help of the other bartenders,” Dan continues, “but we haven’t come up with a whole bunch. We thought it might be fun to have the high schoolers come in here and go wild with it, but with Alchemist being a bar and all…” Dan smirks, the mustache wiggling like an inchworm on his upper lip. “And then the other artists we looked into were just too sparkly, or too cartoony, or too religious.” He shrugs, and then his expression relaxes into a hopeful half smile. “But I like your stuff—especially the forest bits. I want this place to have that old-school tavern feel, right? A little magical, a little funky.”
I nod and lean casually against the bar to distract myselffrom excitedly tapping my foot. Sheepishly, I say, “If it’s not too presumptuous—I-I understand you’re still looking into your options, of course…but I already sketched out a vague idea. Can I show it to you?”
“Of course,” Dan says at the same time Noah enthusiastically adds, “Please!”
I pluck out my tablet and pull up my sketch from earlier today. Noah had assured me that it wasn’t necessary to arrive with a pitch ready to go, but who am I kidding? I’ve been excited about this opportunity for the last couple weeks, secretly sketching and hoping and wishing. I have plenty of ideas ready, but this is the one I love best. After a quick breath in and out, I maximize the picture so that it fills the screen and hold out the tablet toward Dan and Noah.
“It’s just a sketch,” I hurriedly assure them. “And if you’re not connecting with this direction, I can return to the drawing board. It was just a feeling, a scene that came to my mind after I visited Alchemist for the first time…I’m not sure. Maybe it’s not what you’re looking for…” I trail off, suddenly aware of my rambling.Goddamnit.My manager at Incite used to praise me for my confident assurance and bright enthusiasm in my pitches. I’ve really lost my touch.
Or maybe this is just the first project in a while where I actually care about the stakes.
I carefully watch Dan’s face as he regards the glowing screen with a squint. Behind him, Noah covers his mouth with his hand; his gaze keeps darting from the tablet to my face and then back again. His eyes are lit with honest admiration.
But he’s not the one I have to convince.
Something in Dan’s expression softens, and the tiniest corner of his mouth curves upward. He looks up at me.
“When can you start?”
After another half hour talking through the details of the piece (adding in certain elements), the payment plan (holy shit, Dan insists on paying me way more than I bargained for), and when I will be working on the mural (all day on Mondays and maybe some weekday mornings before Alchemist opens), we finally say our goodbyes.
Noah walks me out, and as soon as we get to my car he gathers me in his arms, lifts me off my feet, and twirls me around in two laughing circles. “Sadie! You did it!”
“I barely did anything!”
“You did it!”
I’m smiling so wide that my face feels like it’s splitting in two, and when he sets me back on the ground, I distract myself from the giddiness by adjusting my glasses where they skewed off my nose from Noah’s enthusiasm. He holds me at arm’s length, gripping my shoulders excitedly.
“God, I’m so glad you’ll be around on Mondays! It gets so dull here. It’s usually just me and the brewing and thecleaning.”
It’s good for me that I hadn’t known Noah spent his days alone at Alchemist on Mondays, or I might have done the project for a whole lot cheaper. Already Dan has transferred money into my account so I can shop for supplies next week. “I’ve got so much to do,” I say, my pitch high.And not much time to do it,doubt echoes in my mind. But it’s the first solidplanI’ve had in months, and it’s calming to have an actual purpose and routine, even if it’s temporary.
“Do you want me to go with you to buy stuff?” Noah offers.
I smile. “Yeah, if you’re up for it. I could use the extra pair of hands.” Hands that are still on my shoulders, lingering, fingers curling around my upper arms. “And your reach.” I’ll never get over the way he towers over me. “And your van, probably.”
“Of course.” I can see his dimples through his beard as his gaze shifts toward the tablet I tucked back into my tote bag. “Sadie, if this turns out anything like what you’ve drawn…Seriously, it’s going to be incredible. It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you liked it. I’m really excited for it.”
Noah finally lets his arms fall, shakes his hands a bit, and then wraps me in another hug. This one I return, circling my arms around his waist. Every time he hugs me I marvel at the warmth of it, secretly delighting in the way my head tucks right underneath his chin. I want to stay here.
“I’m really excited foryou,” he says, his words vibrating through his chest.
Finally I let him go, and after a wave and a promise to let him know when I’m ready to go shopping, I unlock my car and slide into the driver’s seat. After I turn on the ignition and queue up a song, I allow myself an excited, full-bodied wiggle, stamping my feet hard on the floorboard. Art has always been something I’ve done for fun, and though I take payments for small projects, this is the most money anyone has ever invested in me. I’m shot through with confidence, inspiration, and tingling enthusiasm.
It’s almost enough to make me forget about the cluster of applications still open on my laptop.
Chapter
Twelve
It’s a storybook Saturday afternoon.
Bluebonnet Books is nestled near the center of Heller, and I park far away so that I have an excuse to amble through the downtown area, decorated with perfectly manicured trees, bunches of flowers, and unlit strands of looping globe lights. I meander behind a group of tan blondes tipsy from brunch, parents tugging along kids with strawberry and chocolate ice cream smeared across their chins, and elderly couples shuffling along hand in hand. Clouds occasionally drift in front of the sun, offering brief periods of respite from the heat.
The bookstore is impossible to miss. Two windows stretch to either side of the double doors, showing off purple and pink pansies in the window boxes and thoughtfully curated book displays inside. Upon entering, I hear the jingle of a bell hanging over the doorframe, and I’m immediately hit with a blast of cold AC and the comforting smell of hundreds of bound books.
