Maxi pulled up in front of Bunny’s charming home and admired the small white pumpkins Bunny had lined up on her porch. The neighborhood was a postcard of fall décor, with mums and pumpkins adorning each front porch and yard.
Walking up to the door, she took a moment to appreciate Bunny’s seasonal touches. A wreath made of autumn leaves hung on the front door, and planters with mums in various colors were arranged artfully on the steps.
Bunny welcomed Maxi in, the warm aroma of fresh-baked carrot muffins filling the air.
“Wow, it smells heavenly in here,” Maxi said, her eyes widening at the sight of the golden-brown muffins on the kitchen counter.
“Thank you! I figured we could use something homemade when we take a break from painting,” Bunny said, leading Maxi to the back room where easels and paints were set up, ready for their artistic endeavors.
The room was awash in late-afternoon light, illuminating the paint palettes and brushes that lay on a table near the easels. Through the glass patio doors, they could see Liz Weston in the garden, busy harvesting the last of the pumpkins.
“Now, today’s lesson is highlights. I know you’ve been wanting to improve in that area,” Bunny said, gesturing to the easels and the beautiful outdoor tableau beyond.
“I sure have.” Maxi picked up a brush and palette. The paints were all laid out, and she soon got to work on an ocean scene, with Bunny closely watching.
Maxi dipped her brush into the dollop of titanium white, her fingers tingling with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Highlights. They always seemed to elude her, either too stark or too subtle, never capturing the natural shimmer she aimed for.
“Remember, Maxi, less is often more when it comes to highlights,” Bunny said, her voice as soothing as a warm cup of tea. “You want to think about where the light source is in your painting. Place your highlights accordingly.”
Maxi glanced at her canvas. It was a seascape today, a vivid sunset stretching across the sky and cascading its fiery hues onto the rippling water below. She touched the brush lightly to the crest of a wave.
“That’s it,” Bunny encouraged. “A light touch. Just kiss the canvas with the brush.”
Heart buoyed by Bunny’s assurance, Maxi added more glints to the wave tips, her brush dancing across the canvas as if guided by an unseen hand. A sense of awe washed over her; the canvas seemed to glow with newfound life, the highlights transforming flat shapes into voluminous forms.
She took a step back, amazed at how such small strokes could bring out such immense depth and emotion. A satisfied smile spread across her face, mirrored by Bunny’s own beam.
“You’ve got it, Maxi. Those highlights are just what this painting needed to come alive.”
Maxi’s chest swelled with pride. This was a skill she’d long struggled with, but now, thanks to Bunny’s expert guidance, she felt she’d crossed an important threshold.
“I think now would be a great time for a break,” Bunny said.
“Good. I’m starving.” Maxi carefully placed her paintbrush in the jar of turpentine, her thoughts still swirling around the artistic breakthrough she’d just experienced.
Bunny led the way to the kitchen. “Tea and muffins, the perfect artist’s break,” Bunny said as she popped the muffins into the oven to heat and put on water for tea. Five minutes later, Maxi had a warm muffin and a cup of Earl Grey in front of her.
Maxi eagerly slathered butter over the muffin, the melted goodness soaking into the crumbly top. The first bite was heavenly, a sweet and nutty flavor that seemed to encapsulate all the cozy comfort of a home kitchen.
“So, how’s the mystery solving going?” Maxi asked, catching Bunny’s gaze.
Bunny sighed, her shoulders drooping a little. “I wish I could say I’ve cracked it wide open, but it’s more like I’ve just scratched the surface. Andie’s mystery has proven more elusive than I’d hoped. What about you?” Bunny asked, shifting the topic. “The gallery’s big reveal is in two days, right? How’s that going?”
Maxi grimaced. “It’s stressful. The criteria are very specific. We’re looking for something that’s holiday themed but also carries a cultural element. And I can’t find anyone who fits the bill.”
Bunny’s eyes twinkled, a spark of inspiration crossing her face. “Does it have to be paintings?”
“No, not at all. Any form of art would work,” Maxi said.
“So handmade art would be considered?”
“Handmade would be perfect,” Maxi assured her.
Bunny looked out the kitchen window, her gaze falling on Olga Svenson’s house across the street. A knowing smile crept onto her lips.
“Come on,” Bunny said, rising from her chair. “I think I have an idea that might just solve two problems.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
