Chapter 16
T hree Months Later
Life was different now.
"The iridescent finish on these specialty papers is what makes them perfect for heritage scrapbooking," I explained, fanning out three sample sheets across the counter. "The acid-free quality ensures your family photos won't yellow over time."
Mrs. Winters' eyes lit up behind her wire-rimmed glasses as her fingers traced the embossed pattern on the champagne-colored sheet. "This is exactly what I've been searching for."
"I know it's a little more expensive, but trust me, it'll be worth it."
She smiled. "My granddaughter's wedding deserves something special."
The weekend rush swirled around us—a steady hum of voices, the cheerful chime of the register, the rustle of tissue paper as purchases were wrapped—but I remained focused, unhurried. Just a few months ago, this kind of Saturday afternoon chaos would have sent my anxiety spiraling, had me stumbling over product specs and second-guessing every recommendation.
Not anymore.
"I'd suggest the pearl finish for the focal points," I added, pulling another sample from beneath the counter. "It catches the light beautifully when the album pages turn."
Mrs. Winters nodded eagerly. "You really know your craft supplies, Rebekah. I don't know what we did before you took over the paper section."
A familiar heat threatened to creep up my neck, but I pushed away the urge to dismiss her praise. Instead, I met her eyes and smiled. "Thank you. I've worked hard to learn our inventory inside and out."
As I rang up her substantial purchase, Margaret passed behind me, her collection of vintage bangles jingling softly as she paused to observe. Her gray-streaked braid swung over one shoulder as she nodded approvingly.
"While you're here," I said to Mrs. Winters, "we just received a shipment of those German glass glitters you liked last Christmas. They'd complement these papers perfectly."
"Oh, wonderful! Add two silver and one gold, please."
The register drawer slid open with a satisfying ding as I completed the sale. My new assistant manager badge caught the light as I leaned forward to carefully bag her purchases.
"Rebekah, could you help when you're finished?" called a voice from the custom framing counter. "We've got that shadowbox order for the Petersons."
"Be right there," I called back, handing Mrs. Winters her receipt. My gaze flickered briefly to my workstation—color-coded sticky notes arranged by priority, my leather-bound planner open to today's meticulously detailed page. Everything in its place.
Just the way Daddy had taught me.
Margaret sidled up as Mrs. Winters departed. "That shadowbox order gave me fits last week. Three different mat colors and that oddly sized memorabilia."
I smiled, already mentally calculating the measurements. "I've got some ideas for it."
"I'm sure you do." Margaret's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Go work your magic."
" F ifteen minutes to closing," I announced, glancing at the ornate clock above the register. "Denise, could you start on the end-of-day checklist while I finish with this last customer?"
As the final customer departed with her hand-marbled stationery, I moved through the store, straightening displays that had been disturbed during the day's rush. My tablet chimed with a reminder I'd set earlier.
"I'm going to do a quick check on the fall inventory," I called to Denise as I headed toward the seasonal section. The Halloween merchandise was already half-depleted despite it being only mid-September. I made precise notes on reorder quantities, paying special attention to the items that had sold out fastest last year.
Margaret appeared beside me, surveying the organized shelves. "I can't remember when the store has run this smoothly," she said, adjusting her tortoiseshell glasses. "Not since I took over from my mother, and that was twenty years ago."
I tapped a final note into my tablet. "Just trying to keep up with customer demand."
"It's more than that." Margaret's tone was warm but firm. "You've brought structure to our creative chaos. The special orders are up thirty percent, and returns are down. That's all you, Rebekah."
From the front, I heard Denise's frustrated sigh followed by the distinctive sound of the register drawer sticking—a common problem with the aging machine.
"I'll check on Denise," I said, making my way to the front counter.
Her cheeks were flushed as she wrestled with the drawer. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I think I pressed the wrong sequence again."
"It's an easy fix," I assured her, keeping my voice gentle. "Here, let me show you again." I demonstrated the correct sequence, explaining each step. "The old girl's temperamental, but she has her patterns. Try it now."
Denise bit her lip in concentration as she repeated my actions. The drawer slid open smoothly.
"I did it!" Her smile was wide with relief.
The wall clock's minute hand ticked closer to five, and I caught myself glancing at it for the third time in as many minutes. My attention drifted to the storefront windows, scanning the street for the familiar sleek lines of Luca's midnight blue Audi.
My phone vibrated against my hip. I slipped it from my pocket, heart fluttering when I saw Luca's name on the screen.
Almost there, baby girl. Can't wait to see you.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks as I read his message. Even after three months, the endearment still made my stomach swoop like I was riding a rollercoaster. My fingers automatically found the silver key pendant hanging at my throat—Luca's gift after I'd received my promotion to assistant manager.
"It's for unlocking your potential," he'd said when he fastened it around my neck. "Though you had the key all along."
"Earth to Rebekah," Margaret's voice broke through my reverie. She stood before me, arms crossed, but her eyes twinkled with amusement. "You've been staring at that phone for a full minute with the goofiest smile I've ever seen."
"Sorry, I was just—"
"Thinking about that man of yours. I know." Margaret playfully rolled her eyes. "Go on, get your things from the back room before you float away completely. We can handle the rest."
"Are you sure? There's still the—"
"The display rearrangement can wait until tomorrow." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Your lawyer awaits, and I've seen that look in your eyes enough times to know you're already halfway out the door in your mind."
I surrendered with a grateful smile and hurried to the back room. As I gathered my cardigan and purse, I caught my reflection in the small mirror we kept for customer service emergencies. My cheeks were flushed, and my eyes bright with anticipation. For a moment, I barely recognized myself—this woman with confident posture and a smile that reached her eyes.
The evening air was warm against my skin as I stepped outside. Luca spotted me instantly, his serious expression melting into a smile that transformed his entire face. Despite seeing each other just that morning over breakfast, the light in his eyes when he saw me made my heart trip over itself.
I quickened my pace, and in three long strides, he met me halfway. His arms enveloped me, lifting me slightly off my feet as he held me close. The clean scent of his cologne mingled with the paper and ink smell that always clung to him after a day at his office.
"There's my brilliant girl," he murmured into my hair, his voice a low rumble I could feel against my chest.
When he set me down, I studied his face—the fine lines at the corners of his eyes were deeper today, and shadow-smudges of fatigue darkened the skin beneath them. The community center renovation had been demanding every spare minute he had outside his regular cases.
"You look tired," I said, reaching up to smooth my thumb across his jaw.
He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. "Worth every minute. How was your day? The new display layouts go over well?"
As we walked toward his car, I found myself eagerly sharing details about my day—the successful rearrangement of the paper crafting section, the elderly gentleman who'd come in looking for supplies to make a scrapbook for his wife's seventieth birthday, the special order I'd managed to track down for a customer when our usual supplier was out of stock.
"And the best part," I said as Luca opened the passenger door for me, "was when Mrs. Sanderson—you know, the one who used to insist on speaking only to Margaret?—actually asked for me specifically today. Me!"
Luca's smile deepened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Of course she did. You're becoming the heart of that place." He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. "I'm so proud of you."
The simple sincerity in his voice made my chest tight with emotion.
" S o," I said, smoothing my cardigan as we drove, "today's the big day."
Luca's eyes brightened. "It is. The contractors finished installing the gallery lighting this morning—those special fixtures you mentioned would showcase local artists' work without washing out the colors." His fingers tapped excitedly on the steering wheel. "And the children's reading nook turned out even better than the designs. We found this local carpenter who built these amazing curved bookshelves that look like something from a fairytale."
I smiled, trying to push down the flutter of anxiety in my stomach. "It sounds perfect."
"It is perfect," he said, glancing at me as we stopped at the town's only traffic light. "Marie keeps saying you'll burst into tears when you see the craft area, but I told her you're tougher than that." His lips quirked. "I give you at least five minutes before the waterworks start."
"Such faith in my emotional resilience," I laughed, but my fingers had started to twist the hem of my cardigan, a nervous habit I'd never quite overcome.
Luca noticed—he always noticed. His hand left the gearshift, covering mine with a gentle pressure that instantly calmed the buzzing in my veins.
"What's going on in that beautiful head?" he asked softly.
I swallowed. "It's silly. I just... I had all these ideas at the beginning, and then I stepped back to focus on the store and..." My voice trailed off.
"And you're worried it won't match what you imagined," he finished for me. "Or that everyone will have forgotten your input entirely."
I nodded, grateful as always for how he could translate my scattered thoughts into something coherent.
"Everyone can't wait to see your reaction," he told me, squeezing my hand. "They've been saving the best parts to surprise you. This whole project started with your vision, Bekah. No one's forgotten that."
The tightness in my chest eased a little. This was what Luca did for me—created safe spaces, both physical and emotional.
"I know I made the right choice," I said. "Focusing on my growth at the store while trusting you all with this. I needed to prove to myself I could step up there first."
"And you have," he said, pride evident in his voice. "Assistant manager in record time."
We turned onto Maple Street, and I felt a flutter of anticipation as the community center came into view. Then I gasped.
"Oh my god, Luca..."
The parking lot, once cracked and faded, now featured freshly laid asphalt with bright yellow lines. Several spaces near the entrance were marked with wheelchair accessibility symbols—something I'd mentioned was sorely lacking before. But what truly took my breath away was the building itself.
The drab beige exterior had been transformed with cheerful blues and greens, the colors of the falls the town was named for. Along the west wall, a vibrant mural of children's handprints formed the shape of a massive tree, branches reaching toward the roof.
"The elementary school helped with that," Luca said, watching my reaction with evident pleasure. "Every child in Small Falls has their handprint on that wall."
My throat felt tight as he parked the car. This was so much more than I'd imagined when I'd first suggested incorporating the community into the design.
"Come on," he said, excitement making him seem younger than his forty-three years. "You haven't seen anything yet."
He led me to the entrance, where I noticed a small bronze plaque mounted beside the door. I leaned closer to read the elegant script: "Renewed with community spirit and creative vision," followed by the date of the fundraiser—the day everything had changed for me, for us, for Small Falls.
I traced the words with my fingertip, emotion welling up unexpectedly. Luca watched me, his eyes soft with understanding. Then he reached into his pocket and produced a silver key attached to a small ribbon.
"You should be the one to open it," he said softly, holding it out to me.
The key slid into the lock with a satisfying click, and as I turned it, I felt like I was unlocking more than just a building. The door swung open, and I gasped. Light. That was my first impression—so much light where there had once been shadows.
"Oh my God," I whispered, stepping inside.
The community center's transformation was breathtaking. The central hall, once dingy with water-stained ceiling tiles and scuffed linoleum, now gleamed with polished hardwood floors that caught the sunlight streaming through tall, clean windows. Modern track lighting hung from a fresh white ceiling, and movable partition walls stood at strategic points around the space, ready to create smaller areas as needed.
"Do you like it?" Luca asked, his voice carrying a rare note of uncertainty.
I couldn't find words, so I just nodded, my eyes wide as I turned in a slow circle. Every corner of the space had been reimagined exactly as I'd once described during those long evenings we'd spent dreaming together, his legal pad filling with notes I hadn't realized he was taking so seriously.
"Come see the rest," he said, taking my hand and leading me down the hallway.
Each room we entered left me more speechless than the last. The art studio with its north-facing windows for perfect light. The children's area with bookshelves built at kid height. The senior center with comfortable chairs arranged in conversational circles.
"You remembered everything," I whispered, trailing my fingers along a craft table. It was built at precisely the right height for wheelchair access—something I'd mentioned offhandedly months ago after seeing Mrs. Wheeler struggle during a community quilting session.
In an alcove near the entrance, Luca guided me to a wall where photographs hung in a thoughtful arrangement. They documented the renovation process—volunteers painting walls, the construction team installing new windows, community members sorting donations.
"Lucy took most of these," Luca explained. "She has quite an eye."
But my attention was captured by the large photograph in the center. Me, surrounded by children at the craft table during the fundraiser, demonstrating how to make tissue paper flowers. My face was lit with pure joy as I helped Emma fold a delicate blue petal.
"That's how I see you," Luca said quietly. "Bringing light and creativity into every room. Into my life."
Next to the photograph hung something that made my breath catch—Emma's original tissue paper flower from the falls, carefully preserved in a shadow box. A small brass plaque beneath it read: "The first creation of the Small Falls Community Arts Initiative."
Tears welled up suddenly, spilling over before I could stop them. In this simple display, Luca had captured everything—how a community had come together, how art could heal, how a small beginning could grow into something beautiful.
"It's perfect," I managed, my voice barely audible. "You made everything perfect."
Luca turned me gently to face him, his thumbs brushing away my tears. "No, baby girl," he murmured. "You did that. I just helped build the frame around the masterpiece you created."
The double doors to the entrance swung open with a bang, bringing in a gust of autumn air and the sound of excited voices. Lucy burst in first, her strawberry blonde hair bouncing in its high ponytail as she practically skipped across the polished floor.
"Beks!" She squealed when she spotted me, running over with uninhibited enthusiasm. "Oh my god, look at your face! I knew you'd love it!"
Before I could answer, she threw her arms around me in a hug that nearly knocked me off balance. Luca's steady hand came to rest at the small of my back, stabilizing me with that quiet protectiveness I'd come to cherish.
"Let her breathe, Lucy," came Marcus's rumbling laugh as he entered behind her.
Marie and Dwight came next, hand in hand, followed by Brett and Maisie. The whole town seemed to have turned out for the occasion.
"I've got a bit of a surprise for you," Luca murmured, his lips close to my ear. "We're having dinner tonight, here, everyone who was involved in the renovation and fundraising."
My heart skipped a beat. "That sounds wonderful!"
"But first, we're opening the doors to the public as a thank you for supporting this place all these years."
The next hours passed in a whirlwind of activity. I found myself naturally falling into arranging centerpieces for the dinner tables—simple mason jars filled with autumn leaves and fairy lights. Across the room, Luca was testing the microphone system, his methodical approach a perfect complement to my more intuitive process.
When things were nearly ready, I slipped away from the main hall's flurry of activity, needing a moment of quiet before the evening's festivities.
When I pushed open the craft room door, I found I wasn't the only one seeking sanctuary.
"There she is!" Lucy's face lit up.
"We thought you'd never escape," Marie added. She was holding her stuffie, Mr. Giggles. It had been hard not having a space for the Littles League while the community center had been closed for renovations, but we'd taken turns hosting at our houses.
Maisie, who worked at the firestation with her Daddy, Brett, stood proudly by a small table in the corner of the room. "We have a surprise!"
I closed the door behind me, feeling the weight of the day's responsibilities slide away. "What kind of surprise?"
"A Little surprise," Maisie whispered with a giggle, using our code word for the side of ourselves we kept hidden from most of Small Falls.
She pulled a tablecloth off the corner table with a flourish, revealing a miniature feast: dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, star-cut sandwiches with crusts removed, and colorful plastic cups with curly straws.
"Milkshakes!" Lucy clapped her hands. "I brought sprinkles for them!"
My throat tightened unexpectedly. "You did all this for tonight?"
Marie nodded, suddenly shy. "We thought... with everything being so formal later... we could have our own celebration first. Just us."
"Our own special little celebration," Maisie corrected, emphasizing the word with a wink.
Lucy grabbed my hand, pulling me into their circle. "And look what I made!" She proudly displayed four intricately woven friendship bracelets, each in different colors but with the same pattern. "One for each of us!"
"They're beautiful, Lulu," I said. The care she'd taken with each knot and bead was evident.
Marie unfolded four laminated place mats, each decorated with elaborate doodles around our names. "For our special table. I know we can't sit together during the actual dinner, but..."
"But this is our real celebration," I finished for her, taking the place mat with 'Bekah' written in bubble letters.
We settled around the table, pouring milkshakes and dividing up the food. There was something magical about how easily we slipped into this shared space—four professional women momentarily embracing the playfulness we'd all been taught to outgrow.
"To finding each other," Maisie said, raising her unicorn cup.
We clinked our colorful plastic cups together, and I felt tears prick at my eyes.
"I'm so happy to have this," I admitted quietly, running my finger over the friendship bracelet Lucy had tied around my wrist. "People who understand."
"People who don't think it's weird that sometimes I just want to color and drink from a sippy cup after teaching fifth grade math all day," Marie added.
I took a bite of my star-shaped sandwich. "My parents always said I needed to grow up. That my crafts and coloring were childish wastes of time."
"Well, you're enough for us. And now you've designed an entire community center focused on creativity," Maisie pointed out, squeezing my hand.
"And found a man who understands," Lucy added with a knowing smile.
Heat rushed to my face. "Luca's been... incredible about it all."
"The way he calls you 'baby girl' when he thinks no one can hear," Marie teased gently. "So sweet."
I ducked my head, but couldn't stop my smile. "He says he spent his whole life being serious. That I remind him it's okay to play sometimes."
"That's what good Daddies do," Maisie whispered. "They protect the little in you while helping the grown-up in you flourish."
T he community center buzzed with excited voices as Small Falls turned out in force for the grand reopening celebration. Tables arranged family-style filled the main hall, decorated with miniature versions of the tissue paper flowers that had started it all.
"It's even better than I imagined," I whispered to Luca as we took our seats at the head table. The community had transformed along with the building, the boundaries between different groups blurring as they mingled together.
Luca's hand found mine under the table, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against my palm. "You're better than I imagined," he replied softly.
Throughout dinner, I kept stealing glances at Luca. Something was different tonight—a tension in his shoulders, a distracted quality to his smile. Every few minutes, his hand would drift to his pocket, checking something, before he'd catch himself and return to the conversation.
"Is everything okay?" I asked quietly as servers cleared the soup course.
"Perfect," he answered too quickly. "Just making sure my phone is silenced."
One by one, community members rose to speak about what the new center meant to them. Mrs. Winters tearfully described how the senior lounge gave her somewhere to go after losing her husband. Teenage Tyler explained how the music room meant he could practice drums without driving his mom crazy. Each story somehow connected back to ideas I'd sketched on napkins months ago, paired with practical solutions Luca had implemented.
"I never thought my daughter would have a safe place to make friends," a mother from the elementary school said. "But the sensory-friendly quiet room Rebekah suggested has made all the difference for Louise."
I felt Luca's hand squeeze mine as my vision blurred with tears.
The server arrived with apple cobbler, setting the warm dessert before us. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla ice cream filled my senses. I took a bite, savoring the sweetness, when I noticed Luca hadn't touched his dessert.
Instead, he straightened his tie—the deep blue one I'd given him that matched his eyes—and reached for his water glass. The crystal made a delicate ping as he tapped it with his spoon.
The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward us. My cheeks warmed under the attention, but Luca looked perfectly at ease, though I could see the slight tension in his shoulders.
"If I could have everyone's attention," he began, his deep voice carrying across the room. The lawyer in him knew how to command a space, but tonight something was different—his usual precise tone carried an undercurrent of emotion I rarely heard him display in public.
"First, I want to thank each of you for your contributions to this project." He acknowledged people by name—Marie for coordinating volunteers, Dwight for rewiring the building's electrical system, Mr. Pearson for donating lumber from his hardware store.
"Three months ago, this town came together in a moment of crisis that became a moment of transformation," he continued, his voice softening. "Not just for this building, but for many of us personally."
He turned toward me then, and the intensity in his gaze made the room around us seem to fade.
"Especially for me."
My heart fluttered against my ribs as his focus narrowed completely to me. The whole room seemed to hold its breath.
"Before Rebekah came into my life, I was a man who measured success in billable hours and favorable verdicts." His voice carried a rueful honesty. "I had a five-year plan with contingencies for every possible outcome—except one."
"Rebekah taught me that community isn't about perfect appearances or maintaining control," Luca continued. "It's about accepting people exactly as they are—in all their beautiful complexity."
I felt tears gathering as he put into words what had taken me my whole life to learn myself.
"Before her, I thought myself content with my ordered existence." His voice grew thick with emotion. "But she showed me how to embrace joy rather than just pursue success."
Luca turned fully toward me now, reaching for my hand. His voice dropped, becoming more intimate, though in the silence, everyone could still hear him.
"Beks, you've shown me what it means to live with an open heart. Before you, I organized my life. With you, I actually live it."
My breath caught as he let go of my hand and reached into his pocket. Time seemed to slow as he moved from his chair to kneel beside me. Gasps rippled through the room like a wave. In his hand was a small velvet box, midnight blue against his palm.
He opened the box, revealing a ring that caught the light and scattered it in rainbow fragments across the tablecloth. A brilliant sapphire nestled in the center, surrounded by a constellation of tiny diamonds in an antique silver setting.
"It reminded me of your eyes," he said softly, "bright and surrounded by sparkle."
I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. The world had narrowed to just his face—those intelligent eyes now unguarded and vulnerable, showing me everything he felt without reservation.
"Will you marry me, baby girl? Will you keep bringing your beautiful chaos into my ordered world for the rest of our lives?"
Tears spilled freely down my cheeks now. Three months ago, I would have been mortified to cry in front of the entire town. Now, I couldn't bring myself to care.
I nodded frantically, trying to find my voice through the emotion clogging my throat.
"Yes, Daddy," I whispered, the words meant only for him, so quiet they wouldn't carry beyond our shared space.
Then I raised my voice for everyone else: "Yes! Of course I'll marry you!"
The room erupted in cheers and applause as Luca slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly—of course it did. He'd probably measured my finger while I slept, the methodical man I was agreeing to spend my life with.
He rose and pulled me to my feet, his arms strong around me as he kissed me. The familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the slight sweetness of dessert on his lips. Around us, the celebration continued, but for that moment, we existed in our own perfect bubble of happiness.
In that moment, surrounded by their joy and Luca's arms still holding me close, I finally understood what it meant to be wholly, unquestionably, enthusiastically loved for exactly who I am—the organized assistant manager, the creative spirit, and yes, even the little girl who sometimes needed to be taken care of by her Daddy.