The gallery is warm after the chill of the street, the air heavy with the scent of oil paints and canvas. Soft classical music plays in the background.
We wander through the space, taking our time. Paige films a few things and then turns the camera on me. I don’t mind. I don’t feel like she’d put me on her channel—I’m not that interesting. And who am I to judge her for taking a video when I drew twelve pictures of her last night?
I find myself getting lost in the artwork. Each piece tells a story that invites interpretation. Before I know it, I’m explaining techniques to Paige on camera, pointing out the interplay of light and shadow in a landscape and the bold use of color in an abstract piece.
“This one,” I say, gesturing to a painting of a snowy forest scene, “see how the artist has used cooler tones in the shadows? It makes the snow look deeper and more three-dimensional. And here, in the sky, those touches of pink and gold? That suggests early morning light, giving the whole scene a sense of new beginnings.”
I turn to find Paige watching me, a soft smile playing on her lips. “What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“You’re awfully handsome when you talk like that,” she says, her voice low and warm, momentarily forgetting the camera.
For a moment, I’m frozen, caught off guard by her words. But then I feel something shift inside me, a surge of courage I didn’t know I possessed. I reach out, my hand finding her waist, ready to pull her closer, to finally bridge the gap that’s been narrowing between us for days.
But before I can, a cheerful voice breaks the moment. “Noah? Noah Bennett, is that you?”
I turn, startled, to find Will striding towards us, his face split in a wide grin. He still looks like an overgrown Peter Pan with his impish nose and slightly pointed ears. I can almost see the green hat with a red feather perched jauntily on his head.
He glances quickly from me to Paige, a shadow of … jealousy crossing his face.
I look at Paige. Is he interested in her? My nerves are suddenly on alert. I tighten my grip on her hand.
He’s accompanied by an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses.
“I thought that was you.” Will claps me on the shoulder. “What are the odds running into you here? Outside of Benton Falls.”
I scowl. It’s not like I never leave town.
Will continues, “Mr. Cavanaugh, this is the artist I was telling you about. Noah Bennett, meet James Cavanaugh, owner of this gallery.”
I feel a moment of panic, but it’s quickly replaced by a strange calm. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cavanaugh,” I say, shaking his hand. “We’re actually here filming for Paige’s travel vlog. Would you mind if we included your gallery? It’s a beautiful space.” I tug Paige into the circle and put my arm around her. It’s a possessive move, and I don’t care.
Mr. Cavanaugh’s eyes light up. “Not at all. I’d be honored. And please, call me Ted. Will here tells me you’re an artist, Noah?”
I glance at Will and his smug features. If he’s jealous of me, why is he helping me? I manage a small smile. “I dabble,” I say, not willing to put myself out there yet. I have thought about Paige’s encouragement to sell my art, or at least get it into a gallery, but that’s about as far as it’s gone. “But today, I’m just the cameraman. Paige is the real star here.”
Paige, ever the professional, steps in smoothly. “It’s wonderful to meet you, James. Would you mind telling us a bit about your gallery and how it fits into Millbrook’s Christmas celebrations?”
As James launches into an explanation of the gallery’s history and its annual Christmas art show, I take the camera from Paige and start filming. I can focus on capturing the best angles to highlight the artwork that catches my eye while helping her get footage.
When we finally wrap up the impromptu interview, Will gives me another hearty pat on the back. “You’re a natural, Noah. Maybe you should think about doing this more often.”
“Maybe I should.” I shrug noncommittally. This guy is a little too much for me. He’s so … confident. But in a weird way that I can’t put my finger on.
“Or you could be here.” He waves toward the walls. “I bet they’d love to have your work on display.”
I stare at him. The strange flashback of doom comes back to me—the one that happened when I first met Will. I take two steps away from him. “How do you know so much about me?”
Will turns quickly and asks Ted a question.
Okay, this is getting too strange. I lower the camera. Paige sees me and says a gracious goodbye to everyone. We make our way outside. Will scowls after me like I’ve somehow disappointed him. I shake it off as soon as we are outside.
As we drive back to Benton Falls, the sun setting in a blaze of orange and pink, Paige turns to me with excitement dancing in her eyes. “I can’t believe how much footage we got today,” she says, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.
I nod, feeling a surge of pride. “Yeah, I really liked working with you.”
Paige grins, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Ohmygosh! That cute couple we caught under the mistletoe. That’s definitely making the final cut.”
I chuckle, remembering the elderly pair who’d shared a sweet kiss to the delight of onlookers. “They were adorable. I think we should open with that scene. It really captures the spirit of the town.”
