Bree darted from one supply shelf to another, her dark blonde hair twisted into a messy knot that was already threatening to escape its elastic.Her leggings were streaked with paint in at least four colors, evidence of past projects, and she moved with the focused energy of someone who thrived on organized chaos.
"You made it!"Bree spun toward them, her whole face lighting up."You're officially my favorite person in the entire world."
"Good to know where I stand," Colby said dryly."I'll be in the hallway, nursing my hurt feelings."
Bree pointed a loaded paintbrush at him, leaving a small arc of cerulean blue in the air."You're my favorite human wrench.Completely different category.Non-competing."
Sabrina snorted, the sound escaping before she could stop it.
Colby tipped his chin toward her, his expression shifting to something more serious."You good?"
She nodded, meaning it."Yeah.Go.Fix something before you start reorganizing her markers by color and size."
He gave her a look that was half warning, half affection, the kind that made her stomach do a small, pleasant flip."Text if you need me.I'll be two doors down, pretending I understand the grant paperwork they keep asking me to review."
When he disappeared into the hallway, Bree clapped her hands together once, sharp and businesslike."Okay, Inn Queen.We've got ten minutes to set this circus up before the chaos arrives.I need water jars filled at every station, drop cloths straightened, and canvases distributed to tables.And I need you to keep me from saying anything wildly inappropriate in front of impressionable minors."
"I once ran a breakfast buffet where a groomsman dropped his pants in the middle of the dining room because he lost a bet," Sabrina said."I handled it with grace and only minimal screaming.I can manage teenagers and paint."
Bree's grin was immediate and delighted."That's the spirit.I knew I called the right person."
They moved in easy tandem, falling into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural.Sabrina filled mason jars at the deep utility sink in the corner, watching the water turn faintly cloudy as residual pigment lifted from brushes that hadn't been fully cleaned.She set them at each workstation, spacing them evenly, then straightened the drop cloths that protected the tables and lined up the paint bottles in a gradient from warm to cool.
It was soothing, this work.Preparation.Anticipation.Making a space ready for the people who would fill it.
"See?"Bree said, stepping back to survey the room with satisfaction."Already better.You have a hospitality brain.I knew it would translate to this."
Sabrina's hands stilled on a row of brushes she'd been organizing by size.She hadn't realized, until this exact moment, how much she'd missed this.The simple, quiet act of creating order.Of anticipating needs before they were voiced.Of setting up small comforts that people might not even consciously notice, but would feel in the ease of their experience.
This was what she'd done at Norman House.Every morning, every evening.Making sure the coffee was hot before guests came down for breakfast.Putting fresh flowers in the common room because the color lifted people's moods.Remembering which guest took cream in their tea and which preferred lemon.
"Hey," Bree said softly, appearing at her elbow."Where'd you go just now?"
Sabrina blinked, pulling herself back from the memory."Just...remembering.This feels familiar.In a good way."
"Good."Bree squeezed her arm, the touch brief and warm."Let's layer some new memories on top of the old ones.That's what art's for, right?Building something new without erasing what came before."
The kids trickled in over the next few minutes, all gangly energy and awkward limbs and whispers that weren't quite as quiet as they thought they were.Bree greeted each one by name, tossing out inside jokes and quick instructions, clearly familiar with their personalities and preferences.
Sabrina hovered near the supply table at first, a little unsure of her role.She felt like an imposter, someone pretending to belong in a space that wasn't really hers.
That uncertainty lasted exactly five minutes.
"Ms.Bree, is this enough glue?"A girl with purple streaks in her hair held up a collage that was dripping with adhesive, strings of it stretching between her fingers and the paper, like translucent spider webs.
Bree laughed from across the room, where she was helping another student."That's enough glue for the whole town, Maya.Sabrina, triage?"
Sabrina moved in without thinking, years of guest management kicking in automatically.She helped Maya guide the excess glue back into the bottle, showed her how to use the edge of the brush to spread it thinner, and made admiring noises about the colors she'd chosen for the collage.
Before she could return to her post, another kid slopped water onto the floor.She snagged a towel from the supply shelf and was mopping it up before he could slip.A third student needed help reaching a specific shade of green from the high shelf.A fourth wanted an opinion on whether her painting looked more like a sunset or a forest fire.
"Sunset," Sabrina said firmly."Definitely sunset.But, you know, a really dramatic one.The kind where you can almost hear music."
The girl beamed and added more orange.
Sabrina found herself leaning over shoulders, asking what they were making, listening as they explained elaborate stories about dragons and skate parks and a cat that apparently worked at a coffee shop and had very strong opinions about latte art.
When Bree launched into a quick demonstration at the front of the room, Sabrina stepped back to watch.Her friend's hands moved with confidence and grace, paint sliding over canvas in bold, assured strokes.Bree's eyes lit up as she explained how shadows worked, how light created depth, and how the choice of colors could change the entire emotional tone of a piece.
