The silence on the other end was deafening. Then, in a defensive tone, she said, “Well, how was I supposed to know? You should have told me. It’s not my fault I didn’t know.”
The dismissal in her words stung, but I could hear a crack, a sliver of doubt. Still, it wasn’t enough. I needed to end this before I broke down completely. “I have to go. There’s a town meeting I need to attend.”
“A town meeting?” she scoffed. “How quaint.”
“Goodbye, Mom,” I said, trying to wrap up the conversation, but she cut me off.
“Just think about what I said, Lavinia,” she pressed, her voice softer but still insistent. “This doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix everything when you come home.”
A wave of exhaustion washed over me. “Sure, Mom.”
“Call me again soon,” she continued, her tone regaining its composed edge. “And maybe your father can join us. We need to have a serious discussion about your future.”
The thought of a conversation with my father made my stomach churn. Our talks were always stiff, like a formal evaluation. “Okay,” I mumbled, just wanting the call to end.
As I finally hung up, a heavy silence filled the room. Despite the tension and frustration from the conversation, a strange sense of relief washed over me. For the first time, I had stood up to my mother, expressing my true feelings rather than keeping them bottled up. Letting out all that frustration felt like a release and, for a moment, I felt lighter.
The idea of opening the gallery had been a mere fantasy, but after standing my ground, it felt more like a tangible possibility. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, especially breaking the news to my parents, but the decision filled me with nervous excitement and determination. I had time to prepare for the inevitable confrontation, to find the right words and muster the courage. For now, the thought of pursuing something that was entirely my own was intoxicating.
The town meeting, which I’d originally used as a convenient excuse to escape the call, suddenly felt like a crucial next step. If I was serious about staying in Hallow’s End and opening a gallery, I needed to immerse myself in the community. The meeting was an opportunity to connect with the people here, to understand the town better, and to plant the seeds of my new life.
I grabbed my coat and headed out the door. It was time to make my own choices and take control of my future, starting tonight.
Chapter 5
IT WASN’T HARD TO FIND the town hall, especially since Ivy had pointed it out earlier during our walk-through town. The building’s sturdy stone façade was easy to spot in the evening light, its intricate carvings subtly highlighted. The tall arched windows, softly glowing from within, cast a warm and inviting light onto the cobblestone streets. As I approached, the elegant wrought iron details on the heavy oak door caught my eye, adding a timeless charm to the historic structure.
Inside, rows of neatly arranged wooden benches faced a small stage with a well-worn podium. The warm lighting accentuated the dark wooden beams overhead, enhancing the welcoming atmosphere. Framed photographs and memorabilia lined the walls, each telling a piece of the town’s rich history.
There were sepia-toned portraits of the town’s founding families, candid snapshots of community events like parades and fairs, and old newspaperclippings celebrating local milestones. One area displayed medals and ribbons from various town competitions, while another showcased vintage tools and artifacts, a nod to the town’s early industries. These displays weren’t just décor, they represented the shared stories and deep connections that made Hallow’s End a tight-knit community.
I spotted Ivy near the front, her smile lighting up as soon as she saw me, and she waved me over, scooting to make room on the bench.
“I saved you a seat, just in case,” she said with a knowing grin. “Had a feeling you might end up coming.”
With a grateful smile, I slid onto the bench next to Ivy. “I decided last minute. I wasn’t sure if I’d make it on time.”
“Better late than never. You didn’t miss anything, don’t worry.” Ivy chuckled softly and added, “Margaret isn’t exactly known for her punctuality.”
I was about to ask Ivy who Margaret was when a tall woman with striking silver hair and a commanding presence stepped up to the podium. She tapped the microphone, drawing everyone’s attention. Curious, I leaned over to Ivy and whispered, “Who’s that?”
Ivy leaned in, whispering back, “That’s Margaret Hale. She’s our mayor, and a superb one. She’s very dedicated to the town and its people.”
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming,” Margaret began, her voice strong and steady. “I’d like to start by welcoming Lavinia Carlisle, who is visiting our town for a few weeks. It’s great to see her taking an interest in our community and attending a meeting, something we rarely see from visitors.”
Caught off guard, I felt my cheeks flush as all eyes turned to me. The sudden attention was mortifying. Forcing a smile, I gave an awkward wave. Beside me, Ivy chuckled, amused by my discomfort.
“Welcome, Vinnie!” someone called from the back. I nodded awkwardly. The unexpected warmth of the reception made me feel more at ease, but I was sure my face was now a shade of red that matched the autumn leaves outside.
“Now, let’s talk about the upcoming Spooktacular Hallow’s Eve festival,” Mayor Hale continued with enthusiasm. “This is a cherished tradition in Hallow’s End, and we have some exciting plans this year.”
Relief washed over me as the focus shifted away from me. It was a welcome distraction, and I found myself interested in hearing about the festival.
“The haunted trail is fully planned out in Ravenwood Park,” Margaret announced, her excitement contagious. “We’ve decided on a new location for the pumpkin-carving contest this year, closer to the main square, for better accessibility. And if anyone would like to volunteer at the first-aid station, there’s a sign-up sheet on the notice board at the back. We could use a few more hands to help out.”
She continued with updates on various activities and events, each detail sparking a bit more excitement in the room. The atmosphere was light and filled with anticipation, making it clear just how much this festival meant to the town. Mayor Hale smiled, visibly satisfied with the response.
“And don’t forget about the famous apple pie contest,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “It’s one of the highlights of the festival, and we need some new participants this year to keep the tradition alive. Last year’s winner, Carl, has held the title for three years running. It’s about time someone steps up to give him a run for his money, so we can crown a new champion,” she chuckled, glancing around the room, her tone light and encouraging. The audience responded with laughs and murmurs, clearly enjoying the friendly competition.
