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“I THINK PERHAPS THIS wasn’t such a great idea after all.” Frannie set aside the book she’d been reading. She was enjoying it, but her mind kept wandering back to last night, to the man by the fire. She picked up her sketch pad and started to create a fanciful image of a man seen through the flames of a fire, his features mostly obscured by shadows.
Frannie had been drawing almost as long as she could remember. There was something about the process that was calming as well as creative. She rarely showed her work to anyone, but she was sketching on her break one day at the job she’d gone to after the car dealership and her supervisor surprised her by coming up behind her to ask a question.
“Frannie, do you know where –” Alma stopped in mid-sentence. “That’s remarkable,” she said, her voice tinged with wonder. “I had no idea you were so talented.”
Frannie looked down at the sketchpad. She’d been letting her imagination run wild and had created a fantasy garden peopled with strange creatures. “Oh,” she said, tilting her head to see the illustration from another angle. “Do you like it?”
“You must be kidding. It’s amazing.” She sat down. “Do you have more?”
“Yes, but...” Frannie handed over the sketch pad. “...I’m not sure how good they are.”
Alma studied each drawing, then went back and looked at them again. “You’re in the wrong place,” she said in a no-nonsense voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting you should quit, but with your level of talent you should at least take a night-school class. Get the opinion of a professional, as it were.”
“Do you think so? I’ve thought about it from time to time. I even bought a how-to book through Amazon. Much as I’d like to do this for a living, I’ve never done more than think about it... dream about it is more accurate.”
“Even more reason for taking a night school class at the local college. Those people would know how to go about it.”
“You’re right, but my self-confidence has taken a bit of a beating recently. Maybe it’s time I put myself out there again, but in a different way.”
That same night she looked into what courses were available and within a couple of weeks had joined an evening course which was already underway. The instructor had taken one look at her portfolio and welcomed her to the class, even though chronologically she was behind the others. Her fellow students soon recognized her talent and for the first time she found herself socializing with like-minded individuals. A group of them got in the habit of going out after class; Frannie looked forward to those encounters almost as much as the class, fascinated by the lively discussions.
Dennis Woodward, who had aspirations of becoming a portrait artist, stirred sugar into his tea. “You know Frannie,” he said, “you should really submit some of your work to that contest.”
“Contest?”
He rolled his eyes. “Darling, if you’re going to get anywhere in the art world, you have to jump at every opportunity.”
Frannie smiled. Denny’s hyperbole was well known in the group. “Who says I want to get somewhere in the art world?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It would be a sin not to do something with your talent.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Where do I find out about this contest?”
Her pulse kicked up a notch when she checked the bulletin board the next day. The contest was sponsored by a group of fantasy book publishers and encouraged submissions from new artists. As she copied down the information she mentally sorted through her portfolio, trying to decide which images to choose. The idea of sending out her work to be judged was both energizing and nerve-wracking but she agreed with her new friends; it was time to see if her passion for art could be turned into a job.
She stared at the image of the man looking through the flames, added her signature and turned the page to a fresh sheet of paper. Looking back now, and knowing how long it often took other artists to ‘make it’ commercially, her transition from amateur to professional had been swift and painless.
She still worked for the first publisher who had contacted her after she won the contest; as a matter of fact they bought more of her illustrations than anyone else. They were sometimes demanding, but she recognized that launching a book entailed far more than arranging for cover art. By and large she liked working for them, which was why she had agreed to sit in at the book signing in Nanaimo with one of their top authors. From time to time she’d wondered what Brad Lyon was like; she was about to find out in a few days.
Her stomach rumbled, interrupting her rambling thoughts. Ignoring the food in the refrigerator she got dressed and headed to the Lodge for some lunch.
Puddles of water dotted the floor of the restaurant where skiers and snowboarders had stomped the snow from their boots. A few people glanced at her, taking note of her street clothes as she crossed the room with her food, but mostly they were busy discussing their morning runs. Red cheeks and loud, exuberant voices seemed to be the order of the day and she smiled to herself, aware that she was completely out of her element.
A coveted table by the window opened up. She sat down with a sigh, her back to the room, and took a large bite of her hamburger. She’d wavered between the hamburger and the soup in the bread bowl, but the hamburger looked like it would be easier to manage.
“Is this seat taken?”
She looked up to see a tall man. A few strands of hair curled over his forehead, giving him a boyish look. Something about the way he looked at her made her heart do a little stutter-step. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She swallowed and tried again.
“Galen? Is that you?”
There was that grin she remembered from school. “I was afraid you didn’t recognize me.”
“Was that you at the campfire last night?”
He nodded. “Sorry I didn’t say anything, but I would have tracked you down today.” He paused. “Somehow.”
“I can’t believe it. How long has it been?”
“Six years, three hundred and fifty-two days and” – he checked his watch – “fifteen hours.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I figured it out last night.” He looked down at his soup. “Do you mind if I eat while we catch up? I’m starving.”
Frannie shook her head, trying to recover her composure. “Of course not. My tummy was rumbling not that long ago.” She bit into her burger and tried not to stare at him.
“You look different,” she said finally. “Did you actually grow taller after high school?”
He lifted his shoulders and grinned. “Crazy isn’t it?” His gaze lingered on her hair. “I see you still have red highlights in your hair. I always liked that.”
Frannie could feel the blush creeping up into her cheeks. “Okay, now you’re embarrassing me.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t look the least bit sorry. “But you must have known I had the biggest crush on you.”
“Oh come on,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “You kiss all the girls that way.”
“No.” He stared at her intently. “I don’t.”
Tears burned behind her eyes and she fought to hold them back. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked out the window. When she thought she had herself under control, she turned back. “I blame myself for what happened in the hallway that day.” She searched his face for a clue to his thoughts, but found nothing. “I gave you the impression that I was brushing you off when all I was trying to do was to protect you from Colin. He was coming up behind you.”
He gave her a wry smile. “I figured that out later. Actually, Benny told me. He was at his locker and saw the whole thing. But by then my poor teenage ego had taken all the bruising it could handle. That’s why I avoided you.”
“And then your family moved to Vancouver. I’m glad Benny told you, but I’m surprised at how relieved I feel now that I’ve spoken to you.” She offered him a tentative smile. “Are you still there? In Vancouver?”
He nodded. “Still there.”
She looked outside at the line of boarders waiting for the lift. “Not to be too personal, but why are you here? Why aren’t you skiing at Grouse, or Seymour, or Whistler?”
“I ski there when I get the chance,” he said. “But I have some business here on the island which will only take a day, plus I’m between projects right now, so I’m taking some time off.”
“And what about Benny? I recall you saying that you two were going to be roommates in Vancouver.”
“You remember that?” A slow smile broke over his face. “I’m flattered. Actually, Benny is now a very successful lawyer, thanks to the fact that he speaks Cantonese. He also learned to speak Mandarin and is highly sought after by Asian businesses.” He finished his soup and ate a bit of the bread bowl before pushing it away and reaching for his coffee. “What about you? I’ve often thought about what you told me that night.”
She frowned.
“About people getting stuck in jobs they hate for the rest of their lives. You said your mother had spoken about it.”
Frannie smiled at the memory. “Ah, yes. I recall now. Fortunately, I’m doing something I love. I’m a self-employed artist and I work mainly for a publishing house in the States.”
“Sounds interesting.” He glanced out the window. “I’d love to hear more about it but I’d also like to get in a few more runs before it gets dark. Maybe you’d join me for dinner tonight, if you’re not busy.”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah. That’s where you go to a restaurant, order food and then eat it. It’s really catching on.”
“Okay, smart aleck. You’re on. What time?”
“How about six thirty. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to the Bistro.”
“It’s a date. I’m in Unit 6-A.”
He placed a hand on his chest and sighed dramatically. “A date. Be still my heart.”
“Are you ever serious?” she asked with a grin.
“Frequently,” he said. “But not tonight.” He rose. “See you later.”
