Page 19 of Since the Day We Left

Vacation time

Stability

Less than two weeks to decide between chasing the dream that kept her awake at night or accepting the steady paycheck that might finally let her get some rest.

The bell over the door jangled, startling her. She looked up, pasting on her customer smile. Arthur stepped inside, clutching a canvas bag. Miles followed behind—

No hat this time?

Without it, his brown eyes were darker, more intense, scanning the shop with a quiet focus. His sandy-blond hair curled at the ends. And the way his T-shirt stretched across his chest and arms? Yeah, she was absolutely, definitely not looking.

Heat crept up her neck.

“You made it,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Both of you.”

“Had to hurry getting groceries.” Arthur huffed. “Self-checkout almost made us late. I don’t get it—used to be their job to scan everything.”

Miles smirked. “Dad, it’s not that bad.”

“It is when I’m doing the work for free.” Arthur shook his head. “This generation will be the end of us, I’m telling you.”

Wendi bit her lip. “Well, the good news is you two saved me from talking to myself all afternoon.” She gestured at the empty tables. “Looks like it’s just us.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Max spring up from his bed. He bounded straight past Wendi and launched himself at Arthur, pawing at his shins.

“Hey, buddy.” Arthur chuckled, steadying himself as Max danced on his hind legs. “Ready to paint?”

“I’ve got a spot for you,” Wendi said, leading them to the north-facing windows.

Arthur settled in, unpacking his bag. Miles grabbed a stool and set it against the wall, close enough to observe but still keeping his distance.

“Today’s theme is seascapes,” Wendi said, laying out some reference photos. “But I’m guessing this isn’t new to you.”

“Painted more of these than I can count.” Arthur tested his brush. “The ocean’s never still long enough to get it right.”

“That’s exactly what makes it challenging.” She leaned in, tapping the reference photo. “See how the foam isn’t actually white? The sky, the water—it all bleeds into it. That’s what makes it look real.”

Arthur squinted. “Always struggled with that part.”

“Try this.” Wendi picked up a fine brush, demonstrating on a scrap of paper. “Instead of painting the foam directly, paint the shadows around it first. Then use your lightest color with the tip of the brush—almost dry—and let the texture of the paper do some of the work.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Huh. Never thought of approaching it backward like that.”

“It’s like negative space. Your brain fills in what the brush hints at. Less is more with white water.”

Arthur followed her lead. A few strokes, a smudged shadow—suddenly, the foam lifted from the page. He sat back with a satisfied smile. “Well, I’ll be. That does look better.” His hands continued moving, and within minutes, he’d blocked in a horizon and waves that seemed to move on the paper.

She let out a low whistle. “You just did that. Like it was nothing.”

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