Chapter 14
The air was full of the scents of pine and cinnamon, and the sound of happy, excited shoppers. As Emilio looked around what once been the Miller & Sons livery stables, it was hard to believe horses had once been housed in the stalls that now held all manner of handcrafted items, from soaps and candles to elaborate hand-carved wooden cradles.
Rayne had mentioned the craft market idea to the arts council before Thanksgiving, and to Emilio’s surprise the council had taken the idea and run with it. Apparently the city had been trying to figure out what to do with the old stables—which occupied a rather nice piece of property right off the park at the center of town—ever since the last of the Miller sons had passed away and willed it to the city. It was fortuitous that no decision had been reached before Rayne suggested the market, and the head of the arts council approached the mayor, the Right Honorable Mr. Elden Garrison, about using the building for a holiday craft market. Given that the head of the council was Mrs. The Right Honorable Garrison, there hadn’t been any question about permission being granted.
The council hadn’t had the budget for much advertising, but when they’d contacted all the regular local vendors of the summer street fairs about renting a space for a nominal fee, most of them had jumped at the chance. With the collected fees and a quick plea for donations, the council had managed to raise enough money to place online advertisements as well as a hurried distribution of flyers at a competing craft fair in Asheville. The flyers had been passed out by the high school football players and cheerleaders, and the kids had done a great job at luring in the customers. Which was fortunate, since the turn out among the vendors had been larger than expected, crowding the stables and even spilling out onto the sidewalks.
“Wow, I never expected them to actually pull it off,” Emilio said, looking at Rayne and shaking his head. “Putting together something like this in less than two weeks?”
“A lot of people have been working hard to pump new life into Holiday Pines,” Rayne said. “It seems to be working.”
“Definitely.”
They were strolling along among the stalls, taking their time, stopping to enjoy the items offered for sale. Emilio was glad for the break; the first hectic week of performances had been exhausting, as always. It was even more harried this year, as all the performers dealt with the differences in the playhouse and the inevitable glitches arose. The only serious one had been when one of the new speakers had blown out and needed replacement, which had necessitated a longer than normal intermission in the second performance. But the tech crew knew their jobs, and Emilio had handled his tiny ballerinas by telling them stories about the many, many shows he’d danced on the very stage they would be performing on. It had helped distract the children during the delay, and then the show had gone on as smoothly and professionally as any production on Broadway.
A group of silver-haired ladies pushed by them, seeming eager to get to the vendor selling locally produced honey, and Emilio took the opportunity to drop his arm around Rayne’s shoulders so they didn’t get separated. It was still a bit surreal when he thought about it, that he and Rayne were actually giving a relationship another try, but taking things slowly this time seemed to be working. They were getting to know each other as the men they had become, rather than the boys they had been, and, for his part, the more Emilio learned about Rayne the more comfortable he became.
He’d been so impressed by Rayne’s decorations that he had impulsively asked his mother if she would mind having Christmas dinner at his house instead of hers. She had been delighted, and she’d gushed over the decorations to anyone who would listen, praising Rayne for making the house look like a home again. Emilio had realized she was right, too. He’d been living in the house for the last four years, and it was home to him because it was familiar, but it hadn’t really looked inviting since his mother had moved out.
Something caught his eye, and he steered Rayne toward a particular stall. “Would you look at that! What do you think, Rayne, do you like it?”
The “it” in question was a lamp. A single male nude crafted in bronze stood on a geometric base, one arm raised as though reaching toward heaven. Behind him was a fan of jewel-toned stained glass lit by three small bulbs. Emilio was no expert in Art Deco, but he thought the lamp was beautiful.
Rayne’s eyes lit up as he moved closer to the vendor’s stall and bent to examine the lamp. “It’s gorgeous,” he said.
“You like it?” The man behind the display asked. He looked to be in his early forties, and he held out a hand that was calloused and scarred. “I’m Jay Baker. The lamp is a joint effort. I work in stained glass, and my wife does bronze castings. We deided to team up and see how it worked out.”
Emilio shook the offered hand. “I agree, it’s gorgeous.” He looked at the other items in the stall, which included bronze bowls and candlesticks, as well as small works of stained glass obviously meant to hang in a window. All the pieces were nice, but the lamp was by far the most impressive piece.
“Do you guys have a shop or do you only do events?” Rayne asked as he tore his attention away from the lamp and studied the other pieces on display. “What about commissions?”
“We don’t have a retail shop, no,” Jay replied. He took a business card from a holder on one side of the table and offered it to Rayne. “We have a website, and we do the events we can manage. Since we’re just outside of town we couldn’t miss this one. We’ve considered doing commissions, but for the bronzes it would need to be a good-sized order. Most of the time is in making the model and the molds, you know. The glasswork is easier to do custom work for, but it still takes time for design.”
“I might have some work for you.” Rayne tucked the card into his coat pocket and then glanced at the lamp again. “How much is the lamp?”
Jay seemed excited at Rayne’s words, but before he could speak, Emilio shook his head. “Rayne, can you give Mr. Baker and me a moment, please?”
Rayne gave Emilio a questioning look, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he fished a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Jay. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and then he rested his hand briefly on Emilio’s back. “I’m going to check out that silversmith two stalls down.” With that, he walked away.
Emilio looked at Jay. “I want to buy it for him. Whatever the cost, I want it.”
Jay grinned, and it didn’t take long for them to complete the transaction. Jay wrapped the lamp carefully and then put it in a sturdy tote bag. Emilio accepted the package with thanks and went to join Rayne at the silversmith.
“Merry early Christmas,” he said, offering Rayne the bag. “I figure it isn’t much good trying to surprise you, but the minute I spotted that lamp, I knew I had to get it for you.”
“Seriously?” A flash of disbelief appeared in Rayne’s eyes, and he stared down at the bag in his hands. “Thank you,” he said, looking up at Emilio at last. “You didn’t have to.”
“You didn’t have to decorate my house,” Emilio pointed out. He hesitated, wondering if he’d overstepped a boundary. “It’s okay, isn’t it? You like it, right?”
“It’s gorgeous, and I love it.” Rayne shifted the bag to the crook of one arm, cupped Emilio’s cheek in his free hand, and drew Emilio into a light but lingering kiss. “Thank you,” he murmured against Emilio’s lips.
Relieved, Emilio returned the kiss and then pulled back with a smile. “You’re welcome. Like I said, it just seemed like it was meant to be yours.”And maybe I am, too.
“I know where I want to put it,” Rayne said. “It’s going on my nightstand, and when I look at it, I’ll be reminded of you.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Emilio replied softly. “I like the thought of you thinking of me.”
“Then you’ll be pleased to know I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” Rayne picked up one of the silversmith’s business cards from a stack on the display table and then inclined his head in a “let’s move on” gesture.
