After paying the check, I tell them, “I’ll see when the next class starts and let you know.”
My new friends give me a ride home and drop me off in my driveway. “Thank you for such a fun night,” I tell them.
“Thank you for supper,” Shelly says. “Have fun at Finley’s tomorrow.”
I’m not sure if having fun will be on the menu. In fact, I’m convinced it’s going to be more awkward than anything. But it will be good to see her and put her mind at ease that there are no hard feelings about our first session.
“I’ll see you both soon,” I say before getting out of the car.
After walking to my front door, I put the key into the lock, feeling a new sense of optimism about life in Elk Lake. Sure, it’s slower paced and absolutely nothing like Manhattan, but there are good people here who help to make it feel like it could be my new home.
Yet for some reason, it feels like a lot depends on how things go tomorrow.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FINLEY
I had the hardest time falling asleep last night. I turned the light off at ten, like always, but I just couldn’t turn my brain off. I finally picked up the romance novel Margaret gave me in hopes it would distract me from my thoughts. It did. I conked out somewhere around the fourth chapter only to have world-class nightmares.
I dreamed that Thomas Culpepper showed up for his reshoot looking like a real pirate—full-on with a scraggly beard and a pegged leg. I told him he had to shave and put on a nice shirt, but he refused.
He wielded the hook that replaced his left hand as though he was intent on running me through. “Avast ye, matey! It’s time to walk the plank!”
I was more annoyed than afraid. I was not going to disappoint Constance again. “Put that away,” I yelled at him, while handing him a shirt.
Pirate Thomas was not interested in doing what he was told. Instead, he jumped on the furniture and demanded, “Where’s the treasure, lass? If you tell me, I won’t have to kill ye!”
The weird thing is that even though I knew this was a stupid dream, I couldn’t force myself to wake up. So, I sat down and waited for Thomas to expend all his pirate energy and get on board with the mission at hand. Which never happened.
Instead, an entire crew of buccaneers showed up in my studio, and they all demanded to have their pictures taken. It was the longest, most exhausting night of my life. When my alarm finally rang, it was all I could do to not roll over and go back to sleep.
Being that I have a full day before Thomas comes in, I drag myself out of bed and start what I’m sure will be an all-day task of caffeinating. I get dressed in a pair of jeans and my second-fuzziest sweater—I don’t want to wear my softest because I don’t have any confidence today will go well and I don’t want to taint it with bad juju.
At the bakery, I order my daily latte with three shots of espresso instead of one. Then I get a chocolate croissant in hopes it will make my mood better.
My morning is spent taking class pictures for the Little Sunshine Preschool class. The kids are full of energy and it’s like herding a bunch of baby bunnies hopped up on sugar. While it was challenging, I wind up having so much fun that my bad mood disappears entirely. The day also flies by, and six hours are gone before I know it.
I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that time does not flow for me like it does for others—I cite the whole nose drawing event from college. An hour can feel like a day, and twelve hours can feel like a minute. The whole “timeline” thing isn’t a concept my brain gets.
Once the kids and their parents leave, I hurry and eat the lunch I brought from home. When I’m finished, I crawl under a blanket on a bed I use for boudoir shots. I need a power nap if I’m going to get through Thomas’s reshoot.
Here’s the thing about me and naps: unlike my nighttime sleep, where ninety-five percent of the time I know I’m dreaming, naps always feel more like an alternate reality. You know, like I’m still fully awake, just visiting the dimension next to ours. That’s the only way I can make sense of what happens next.
In my dream, I open my eyes, and Thomas is standing over me. He gazes at me with what I can only describe as longing. “Finley,” he croons with a voice as silky as my favorite hair ties from childhood. He’s once again in full pirate regalia, but this time he looks like a swashbuckler from one of Margaret’s novels.
“Thomas?” I ask sounding unsure. “Is it you?”
“Aye, lass.” He kneels at the side of the bed until our eyes are on the same level. “I’ve come to take you with me. Get up and pack so we don’t miss the tide.”
“Where are we going?” I’m both nervous and excited at the prospect of being whisked away by this devilishly handsome man.
“Wherever the water takes us,” he says cryptically. “But we’re being pursued so we have to go now.” He suddenly jumps to his feet. “Hurry!”
Sitting up, I ask, “But what about the picture we have to take for Constance?”Don’t you just love when enough reality slips into your dreams to confuse them?
“I don’t know who this Constance is.” His voice is rough like a bag of freshly cracked walnut shells. “If you don’t want to be hung alongside me, you’d best move.”
I stare at him, trying valiantly to make heads or tails out of what’s going on. I want to go with him, because you know, PirateThomas is a total babe. But then again, I know I have to take his picture, so Constance won’t tell everyone in Elk Lake what a bad photographer I am.
