“Make that two,” Ethan added, still looking a little flustered.
“Coming right up,” Laura said with a wink before heading off, leaving us to exchange a look that was both amused and a little relieved.
Ethan leaned in, still smiling, but with a hint of embarrassment lingering. “Sorry about Laura. She’s been friends with my mom forever, so I’m pretty sure I’ll get the third degree about this later.”
I laughed, the tension between us easing. “Oh, so this date comes with a follow-up interview? No pressure then.”
“Exactly,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll probably get grilled about every detail. It’s like having a whole town full of nosy aunts.”
I grinned. “Well, I’ll make sure to give you a glowing review. Five stars. Would recommend.”
Ethan’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ll do my best to earn those stars, then.”
His light-heartedness was contagious, and I could feel the awkwardness fading, replaced by an excitement for the evening ahead. The night was young, and it already felt like we were off to a great start. We eased into light conversation about the town and exchanged stories about some of the quirky locals. The conversation flowed easily; his easy-going nature making it hard not to feel relaxed.
“So, what’s next for you?” Ethan asked. “I mean, are you planning to stick around Hallow’s End for a while?”
I smiled, feeling a spark of excitement. “Actually, I’m opening an art gallery here. I just emailed the owner about the lease, and it’s all in motion now.”
Ethan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mouth forming a wide grin. “No way! That’s amazing, Vinnie! Where’s the building?”
“It’s that old space on Maple Street,” I replied, the excitement in my voice unmistakable.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, nodding in recognition. “Maple Street? I know that place. You must be renting from Harold. He’s a lovely man,always chatting up everyone at the farmer’s market. That’s a fantastic spot.”
“Yeah, he’s been really helpful so far,” I said, my excitement bubbling up again. “Opening a gallery is a huge deal and, honestly, it’s a bit overwhelming. There’s so much to consider—like renovating the space to fit the vision I have in mind. I need to start with a fresh coat of paint. I’ll probably go for something neutral that makes the artwork stand out. Then there’s the lighting. Gallery lighting iskey, and I need to figure out the best way to highlight the pieces without washing them out, or casting weird shadows. I’ll also have to install track lights, or maybe even custom fixtures. Andthenthere’s the layout—making sure there’s enough space for people to move around comfortably, whilst still creating a flow that guides them through the exhibits.”
Ethan listened intently, and it spurred me on. “I’ve got to consider the kind of art I want to showcase, too. Initially, I plan to start with a mix of my own work to get things moving, but my ultimate aim is to showcase local artists and give them a platform. There’s also the business side: setting up a proper website, social media marketing, maybe even collaborating with local influencers to spread the word. Andthenthere’s all the permits and insurance I need to sort out.”
As I spoke, the words tumbled out faster. I shared my ideas for different exhibits, the vibe I wanted the gallery to have, and even the little details like the type of music I imagined playing softly in the background. I barely noticed how animated I’d become, my hands gesturing as I painted a picture of the future in my mind. But then, I caught myself, and a flush of embarrassment crept up my neck. “I’m sorry,” I said, ducking my head slightly. “I’m rambling. I just get so excited about it.”
I winced, suddenly worried that I might’ve overwhelmed him with too much information. What if he found all that boring? The thought mademe nervous, and I braced myself for a polite smile or a change of subject. Instead, Ethan reached across the table, gently touching my hand.
“Don’t be sorry, Vinnie,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “I think it’s adorable how you light up when you talk about it. Your passion is . . . infectious. It’s rare to see someone so excited about something they love.”
I looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and my heart skipped a beat. Sincerity filled his eyes, and there wasn’t a trace of disinterest or boredom. Instead, he seemed captivated by what I had to say.
“Thanks,” I whispered, a soft smile curving my lips. “It means a lot that you care.”
“Of course I care,” Ethan said, his thumb lightly brushing over my hand. “I want to know everything about you, Vinnie. And I’m here to listen.”
“I’m hoping this gallery can become something special,” I continued, my voice more confident now. “Not just for me, but for the entire community. I want it to be a place where people feel inspired, where they can connect with art in a meaningful way.”
Ethan nodded, his smile broadening. “I can already see it. You’re going to make it something amazing, Vinnie. I have no doubt about that.”
The sincerity in his voice sent a rush through me. It was one thing to have a dream, but to have someone else believe in it, too—it made the dream feel more real, more achievable.
“Thanks,” I said again, squeezing his hand. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
Before either of us could say more, Laura appeared, with a warm smile and a bottle of wine in hand. “Time for a top-up,” she said, topping off our glasses with a smooth, red wine that caught the candlelight. “And here we go—dinner’s served.” With a practiced ease, she set our plates down in front of us.
The smell ofthe food hit me first, rich and mouthwatering. My fettuccine Alfredo looked like pure comfort on a plate, the creamy sauce clinging to the perfectly cooked pasta, with a generous dusting of fresh Parmesan melting into the top. Across from me, Ethan’s lasagna was a masterpiece of layers—simmering tomato sauce, bubbling cheese, and seasoned meat that begged to be savored.
“This looks amazing,” I said, already twirling some of the pasta around my fork.
“Definitely worth the wait,” he agreed, taking a bite and letting out a contented sigh.
As we started eating, I realized I’d been doing most of the talking and smiled sheepishly at Ethan. “Sorry, I’ve been hogging the conversation. How’s your week been?”
