Epilogue
The evening sun casts a brilliant golden glow over the gallery, highlighting the empty wall space I’ve prepared for my newest work.
I finished the painting late last night, after a lunch break with Claire put me slightly behind. Even after moving out, we’ve kept our promise to see one another just as much. So while it was a delay, it was well worth it.
This painting is a landscape, like all my work these days, and highlights the wildflower field around Spruce Lake. It took an array of purple, pink, white, yellow, and orange paints to capture the blooms, and they offset the sparkling lake better than I had hoped.
It might be mine, but it’s hard to decide considering all my paintings focus primarily on local scenery. Perfect for a local gallery.
I pick up the canvas from where it rests against the wall and carefully secure it over the French cleat hanging system. The sun catches my hand just right, causing my engagement ring to sparkle and fracturing the light into rainbow bursts against the clean white walls.
It’s absolutely gorgeous, of course. And vintage, because Jake knows me well. I smile down at the piece of jewelry before stepping back and taking in the flow of my gallery with this new addition.
Taking this chance on opening my own business was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. But it was far easier having Jake by my side. Life is easier with him in it. Like a slow Sunday filled with simple pleasures.
“What do you think, Bear?” I cast a glance back over my shoulder at the dog lying on a plush bed. “Do we like this one here?”
His ears perk up, his tail sending a single thump echoing through the room.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Satisfied, I hurry behind the desk to grab my bag and his leash. He stands, seeing the leather strap and letting out an eager whine. He knows what this means at the end of the day. Home.
But we have one stop to make first.
We pad down the stairs, pausing to lock the gallery door, and then following the path for the front of the building—for Monroe Street. It’s the same walk we made when this was still Jake’s apartment, crossing over to Serendipity Brewing across the way.
Closing time for me happens around when the brewery’s foot traffic picks up. But Jake doesn’t stay for it. Instead, he grabs Charlie’s leash the minute he sees us through the window. And with a wave goodbye to Mack, the pair of them are out the door as soon as I reach it.
“Hi there,” Jake greets me with a soft, familiar warmth to his tone. His arm loops around my waist, pulling me into a kiss.
“Hi there,” I breathe as our lips part.
“Painting’s up?”
His fingers curl into the fabric of my sweater, keeping me tucked into his side as we start towards Martha Street.
“It is, just in time for the fine arts and craft market next week.” I smile as I remember my first Ellicottville art fair. The moment Whitcombe Gallery discovered me.
A gust of wind howls down the street, carrying a few early turned leaves with it. I lift my chin to inhale the fresh mountain air. There’s an edge to it, which can only mean one thing.
“And just in time to take a break for our wedding the weekend after,” I finish.
It’s going to be an early fall wedding, and if the breeze is any indication, we’ve planned it right on time. Or maybe it’s just a happy accident. The universe conspiring along with us.
Jake’s thumb drags lazy half-moon loops around the top of my hip. “I am very much looking forward to marrying you, Lucy Hart.”
“That’s going to be Lucy Carpenter to you soon.”
The corner of his mouth hitches. “And I very much like the sound of that.”
Up ahead, home comes into view. Our buttery yellow Victorian with a covered porch stretching across the front, forest green shutters, and a second story bay window.
The first time he walked me up onto that front porch, we were both afraid to utter his last name. But no matter what we’re called, I’m certain we’ll always be just Lucy and Jake.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.