“Looks like it’s just that cheap broken glass you can order online anywhere. Not sure it’s really sea glass.”
“Well, it’s really pretty, whatever she uses.” She defended the necklace because it was beautiful.
He grunted and turned to a hand-knit lace shawl. He didn’t say a word about it and continued looking through the items. No words of praise. Nothing.
Connor turned to her, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of reluctance and curiosity. “All right, let’s see what we can do.”
For the next hour, they worked together, sorting and arranging the items into thematic groupings. Connor offered suggestions on how to best showcase certain pieces, his knowledge of art and design becoming increasingly apparent as he engaged in the task.
As they worked together, he seemed to warm up to the job at hand, his attitude softening as he admired a hand-blown glass ornament that perfectly captured the colors of the sea. He picked up a set of hand-dipped candles. “Lavender. And a mild scent, not too overwhelming like so many candles.”
He looked around at their piles, neatly sorted now. “I think you’re going to need some walls to display some of this. The pavilion is open air.”
“I’m not sure what to do about that.” She frowned, considering their options and the logistics.
“I could make you a few display walls. Use pegboard and then you can use hooks to hang the items.”
“You’d do that?” she asked, surprised at his offer.
“Yes. And don’t worry. I’ll make the bases sturdy so they won’t blow over if we have a windy day.”
“That would be so helpful.” She looked at him closely, genuinely stunned he’d offered to help even more. She liked this new Connor a lot more than the gruff, standoffish one.
Connor shook his head, surprised he’d offered to help yet again. But it wouldn’t take him long to make the display walls for her. A quick trip to the hardware store for some pegboard and hooks, and he’d be set. Besides, he was beginning to grudgingly admire her commitment to making the town’s festival a success. And the way her eyes lit up when she picked up a piece of the artwork, appreciating the skill that was poured into the work—it stirred something inside him. It was hard to resist her infectious enthusiasm and nearly impossible not to get roped into her plans.
“So, do you think you would change your mind and display a few of your carvings in the art show?” Her eyes were hopeful, pleading. So similar to Brooklyn’s when she wanted something from him.
The question caught him off guard and hung in the air between them. Of course, this was the price he paid for offering more of his help. Now she wanted his art.
“I don’t really do art showings anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Got my reasons.” The words came out blunter than he intended.
A look of hurt settled on her face before she struggled to compose herself. “Okay. Just thought I’d ask again.”
He let out a long, weary sigh as he swore he felt his sister jab him in the side. “Okay, maybe just one carving.”
Amanda’s eyes filled with excitement. “Really? Oh, Connor. That’s wonderful. Thank you.”
For a moment he froze, sure she was going to launch herself into a hug, just like Brooklyn when she got her way. Luckily, Amanda stopped just short of that but did grab his hand.
He stared down at their hands, her small hand smooth against his calloused one. How long did they just stand there? He pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. “We could go over to the workshop now and pick out which one you want.” He paused and looked at her sternly. “But I get the final say. No arguments.”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
With the soft crunch of sand beneath their feet, they made their way over to his workshop. He threw the doors open wide and let the light spill into his studio. He had designed the workshop with care, strategically placing windows on all sides to let in the most natural light possible. His workshop was his most favorite place on earth. His sanctuary. The one place he was truly at peace.
He turned around to see Amanda standing tentatively in the doorway. He motioned to her, the corners of his mouth tilting up ever so slightly. “You can come in, you know.”
She nodded and stepped inside, looking appreciatively at his artwork. He restlessly stepped from foot to foot as she wandered around the shop, looking at each carving. “I can’t choose. You should.” She came back to stand in front of him, her face a mixture of appreciation and indecision.
“Okay, I’ll choose.” But why was he so nervous?
He walked over and picked up a carving of a seagull, its wings stretched out in mid-flight. He carved the details of its wings with painstaking precision. The carved bird was held up by a curved piece of wood that he’d reworked over and over to get the braided look just like he imagined it.
He crossed the room to another shelf and picked up a carved sea captain outfitted in a rain slicker and hat. The sea captain held a pipe in one hand and a bucket in the other. The carving capturing the essence of a life at sea.
