But first things first—a bit of instruction. “I want you to pick up the small square of wood next to your plaque. That’s going to be our practice piece, so you can get familiar with how wood burning feels, how to adjust your touch from gentle to firm to create light to deep grooves. Go ahead and turn on your burners. While they heat up, I’ll review a few safety rules and give you some tips.” A general rustling took place as participants complied. Lillianna continued her instruction. “First of all, use the tongs in the metal bowl next to you to remove the burning tips when you want to make a switch. The bowls are on trivets so don’t worry about the heat. The tips cool quickly.”
She launched her class by teaching basic techniques in line drawing, adjusting burn tips from fine to thick, showing by example how to work the wood as well as the hand-held instrument.
“Burn with the grain, not against it. Excellent. Good job! Keep in mind, this is just like doodling, on steroids. And who doesn’t love to doodle?” Laughter rang out and Lillianna basked in the sensation of doing what she loved. “Don’t be afraid of the wood. You control it, it doesn’t control you.”
The door to the dining room swung open and Paulina Kovacs ushered in what seemed to be a late arrival to class. A man. A very handsome man. A very handsome and familiar man.
All at once, Lillianna morphed from confident, engaged and energetic craft instructor to the tongue-tied, clumsy, overweight high schooler she had been ten long years ago. She released a quiet, involuntary gasp. Dustin Farrell. What on earth was Dustin Farrell doing in Hope Creek? At Christmas Inn? In her class, for heaven’s sake?
Trembling started deep in her chest and rippled outward, igniting heat and sparks along the fine hairs of her arms, stirring a blush that spread fast across her skin, landing at her cheeks. Her pulse kicked into a heavy thunder.
Curse it all.
Gritting her teeth, Lillianna addressed the newcomer who had definitely done a number on her senses. “Can I help you, Paulina?
“Yes, Lillianna, thank you.” The manager of Christmas Inn addressed not just Lillianna but the room at large. “I do apologize for the interruption, but I’d like you all to meet Dustin Farrell. He’s visiting Hope Creek for a spell and is a newly registered guest of the Inn. He heard about this class and wanted very much to participate. Lillianna, I hope you don’t mind the late addition.”
“Not at all. Please join us.” Where had that smooth, effortless reply come from? Lillianna gathered her breath and composure while she turned toward a large duffle on the floor not far away. Thankful for a moment to regroup, she walked to the carryall that housed her crafting supplies. From within she grabbed a fresh set of supplies for Dustin. Her back to the world at large, she puffed out a soft sigh, fighting to find steadiness. Tough to do when she couldn’t help noticing the way his gaze never once strayed.
What was going on here? It had been years since they laid eyes on each other. Years and years, in fact…
Still, a fundamental truth remained. By simply being in the same room, by simply sharing atmosphere, he could make her entire spirit hum with awareness, and longing.
She settled the fresh batch of supplies on the table before him. When she leaned in to place the plaque, the bit holder and a pair of tongs, she came upon his warmth along with the subtle drift of sandalwood cologne. She paused, inhaled all over again, just because.
She cleared her throat, thrown at once into a world full of insecurity and the uncomfortable risk of emotional exposure. “If you’d like to warm-up, so to speak, feel free to fire up your burner and take a few practice swipes on the small board to your right.” She addressed the rest of her class. “Everyone else, please go ahead and start burning the outline of the stencils. If you have any questions, just shout.”
“I definitely need some help.”
Dustin’s warm gaze and the quirked smile he offered etched her heart as swift and sure as the delineations he attempted on his practice block.
“Here. Let me show you something.” She rested her hand on his and leaned in close. Gently guiding his touch, she absorbed the slightly roughened feel of his skin. She cleared her throat. “Start with a light touch…like this…then slowly exert more pressure on the tip.” She pressed gently on his hand and a curve went from slim and light to bold and dark. The spice of wood smoke drifted on slim wisps of steam. “The amount of pressure deepens the groove. When you want a thicker line, just switch out tips for one with a larger base.”
She broke contact, breathing out through pursed lips as her heart trip-hammered. Retrieving tongs from the metal bowl, she demonstrated bit removal and replacement, setting a thicker blade in place.
“Thanks, Lillianna.”
A corner of her heart melted when he called her by name.
‘My friends call me Lilly.’
‘Why? I never would.’
‘You wouldn’t?’
‘No. Lilly might be quicker and easier, but Lillianna is poetry. Be proud of your name. I think it’s great.’
Lillianna forced herself to go steady. Cartwheeling down memory lane wouldn’t lend proper perspective to coming face-to-face with Dustin Farrell.
His light brown hair shone. Sinewy arm muscles went taut and lax as he moved through the burning process. Broad shoulders moved in subtle degrees when he manipulated the position of his board and worked carefully against the outline of the word ‘Joy.’
For the next hour and a half, blank pieces of wood took on beauty, and life. Lillianna coached when asked, suggested tones as participants finished the burning process and moved forward to adding color with pencils.
She wanted to stop staring, to keep from tracking everything he did, but the exercise was futile. Heat rose all around her, incapsulating, effectively hemming her into a world of used to be, of timid self-doubt, and questions of her own worth. High school had been such a brutal time for her, where for Dustin it had brimmed with the promise of ‘most-likely-to-succeed.’ Two ends of a very large arcing rainbow.
“Coffee?”
Lillianna jerked alert. Well, of course she had landed right behind him, studying him…staring, really…at the careful way he added splashes of vivid red to the ornament he had burned into place, polishing off his plaque.
“Excuse me?”
He looked up. “Can we get together after class is finished?”
“S..sure…”
“Great.”
Lillianna moved through the room, making sure everyone was satisfied with the day’s results. Concluding rites began as participants completed their decorations and straightened supplies. Chat levels rose, punctuated by happy laughter as folks shared and compared results.
Ordinarily a swell of satisfaction accompanied the conclusion of her classes. Today, her nerves tightened to a hum.
The dining room gradually emptied, and she accepted a number of gracious compliments, but all Lillianna could focus on was Dustin, and the way he lingered, watching her.
At last, once silence held sway, he joined her. “You sure have changed, and not just physically.”
She didn’t know what to make of that observation, but she caught the implication. In college she learned about nutrition and healthy dieting—the endorphin release of steady, distance walking. As a result, she had trimmed down, and discovered a wonderful level of energy she refused to lose. Plus, the contacts she wore weren’t just for vanity. They were more comfortable to her than the weight and awkwardness of glasses, especially when she worked on wood pieces.
Dustin spoke into the stretching silence. “You have confidence, a spark that wasn’t there back in the day. I always saw the promise of it, but you were tough to get to know.”
“I’ve always struggled with being an introvert. Always.” Lillianna dipped her head, all at once the shy girl she had been back in school. And she hated that feeling. Absolutely hated it.
“Not during class, and from what I understand you own and manage a successful business in town.”
Lilliann
a puzzled, brows pulling. “How’d you know about that?”
“From a friend.” He spoke fast. Almost too fast, but she shrugged that aside. “I loved watching you in class today. You’ve emerged. You demonstrate your craft with a lot of confidence and talent. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.”
Two simple words released on a trembling breath. Why did she question? Why did she doubt? To his credit, Dustin rolled into the awkwardness head-first, undeterred. “I’d love to see your shop sometime.”
Okay. Challenge accepted. She could do this. Lillianna hefted her duffle and squared her stance, trying hard to convey strength. Confidence. “I’m headed there now to drop off my supplies before I call it a day. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”
“I’d like very much. Why don’t I follow you there?”
Chapter 2
NATURALLY, THE PURPLE DOOR ART Market featured…a purple door.
The whimsical detail, all glossy and polished, charmed Dustin. Crossing the threshold, he continued the conversation he had begun with Lillianna after they parked their cars along the curb in front of the store. “So, what you’re trying to tell me is you’re a pyro.”
Lillianna giggled, preceding him into the shop. “A specialist in pyrography. Big difference. I’m all about creation, not arson. I’m also proficient in calligraphy, in case you’re interested.”
Very. The word moved through him, the touch of a dancing flame—or the angled tip of the wood burner he had used to create his now safely packaged Christmas Inn keepsake.
“Lilly! How did today’s session at the Inn go?”
Dustin turned at the greeting. An elegant, yet bohemian-esque woman of perhaps sixty drifted toward them. Adorned in a bright pink maxi dress swirled with white and pale blue, this had to be Maxine Culver. Long, gray hair was fashioned into a loose braid that trailed down her back. There were a few lines making grooves along dark blue eyes and a wide, smiling mouth, but overall, this artsy lady still looked like she could hold her own against anyone.
Business investors included.
“Dustin? Dustin…Foster…Formley…?” She tilted her head, eyes narrowed in concentrated recollection.
“Dustin Farrell, Ms. Culver, and it’s great to see you again. I can’t believe you remember me at all after all this time.”
She brushed a slender hand through the air. “Please, it’s Maxine, and you’re Dustin Farrell, that’s right! I remember now. You reinterpreted Van Gogh’s Sunflowers with exceptional results. Remember? It was during my teachings on technique.”
His chalk on cardstock rendering ended up in a school display and was about the only ‘A’ he ever scored in high school art class, but no matter what the skill level, Maxine Culver knew how to make class fun. He ended up with a ‘B’ overall, which had stunned him senseless, to be honest.
“Where did you end up, Dustin? What are you doing now?”
“I’m in New York City. I studied business in college and got my degree in finance. When I graduated, I went to work for a development company.”
“How wonderful! Doing what?”
“I find investment capital then pair it up with the suitable projects. We design business development plans to specs and budget. My team finds companies with growth potential and pairs them with like-minded investors to bring about growth, and mutual success.”
“Spurring growth. I love it.” She gave a satisfied nod. “It would seem being creative has served you well. I’m so glad.”
Dustin blinked. He had never looked at his work-life that way before. His professional world was defined by mutual success, and return on investment, yes, but until this moment he hadn’t really considered the process to be creative. And yet, a certain level of innovation took place every day. Interesting perspective, he thought, keying in on Lillianna who stored her supplies and rejoined them.
“How long are you in town?”
“A few weeks. Just past Christmas.”
“Make yourself at home, and I hope you enjoy exploring our store. Lilly has made quite a success of things. A true artist and a true business woman.” Lillianna’s answer to that praise was a rose petal pink blush which Dustin absorbed with unexpected thirst. “Enjoy your return to Hope Creek.”
With that, Maxine floated toward the rear of the store. Drapes of crystal-dotted chains circled her neck in varying lengths, forming dazzling sparks of color when she moved away.
“I swear she walks in a world of rainbow dust.” Stepping into the void, Lillianna offered a look full of sweet reserve and shyness.
“Just like her student.” A warm thaw moved through his body when Lillianna’s eyes went wide, her gaze tracking down to loose, flowing slacks of peach, to a tunic of lace that featured soft hues of lavender, peach and crème. A lush fall of blonde curls had been clipped to the side and trailed over her left shoulder, causing his fingers to twitch with an urge to touch—to twirl—to dance through silken strands. “I always loved that about her. About both of you.”
Lillianna smiled, full bore, and Dustin’s thaw moved rapidly to the level of a heatwave. “Me, too. That’s why we make great partners. We co-own the shop.”
“And it’s impressive.” By design he turned his focus away from Lillianna. For now, he needed to place his full concentration on business. Moving past display shelves, he explored a plethora of ceramics, metal-crafted pendants, earrings, rings.
“Thank you. I’m proud of what Maxine and I have created together.”
“I think it’s awesome, and fitting, that you teamed up with your former art teacher.”
“She inspired me from the beginning, so it’s been a good combination.”
He nodded, taking in an open, welcoming expanse of space stuffed with unique artifacts, with clothing that featured appealing textures and colors, with unique aromas that filled the air from a wooden display cabinet full of hand-milled soaps. Lillianna went quiet, watching while he continued to wander. There were beautiful silk scarves…hand dyed, obviously…and then, at the center of it all, a wide, long table that featured wooden plaques of every shape, size, and emotion. Lillianna’s domain. Drawn instantly, his fingertips trailed against the grooves, the burned swirls, and scrolled designs on a few of the pieces that caught his eye.
Don’t wait for someone else to light your fire. You have your own set of matches.
Work hard, play hard, pray hard. Then, trust God. Always.
Fear has two meanings: Forget Everything and Run or Face Everything and Rise.
“Do you have a favorite?”
The sound of Lillianna’s soft, quiet voice came from behind, jarring Dustin from his study of her creations.
“Yeah, I think I do. It’s this one.”
Dustin removed a small oval piece from its curved, black metal stand. Stained turquoise, glossed by varnish, its black block letters declared: Dreams and dedication are a powerful combination.
Lillianna joined him, eyes full of curiosity. “Really? Why that one?”
“It’s you. It’s what you’ve done. Wish I could say the same about me, about my life.”
He knew at once he had shocked her because her brows pulled; she frowned. “Really? But you’re a success in the business world. Wasn’t that your dream?”
Dustin thought about her question. The answer hit him and refused to be denied. No. It wasn’t his dream. “I didn’t dream. I didn’t have passion-driven goals. I had expectation. I had legacy. Wonderful things, sure, and I worked hard to live up to them. Those aspects of my life are blessings many people would embrace. At times, though, it occurs to me. My life hasn’t really been my own.”
“I remember. You came from a world of success. Affluence. Your dad was amazing, running his own real estate company. He helped my aunt and then my cousin find their homes back in the day.”
“And that world might have looked great from the outside, but it was far from easy.” The emphatic tone of his words was shocking. Even to Dustin.
“Far
less risky, though.”
“And ultimately, far less reward.”
Lillianna didn’t comment, but a sensation of tenderness, of understanding, wrapped around them, saying much more than mere words. She allowed him to move, to breathe, and absorb. That thoughtful concession, her amiable silence, buoyed his comfort level at having been so open. All the same, it didn’t take long for shop items to catch his eye. Lillianna’s shop was captivating, which was the allure of a boutique like Purple Door.
“So, you help run this shop, and you teach classes at Christmas Inn. How’d that start?”
Lillianna brushed fingertips against those glimmering swaths of silk, shrugging. A hard tug alerted him to the pull of attraction. How strange…
“Blame that on Maxine’s influence, and a lot of pressure from Lydia Forrester.”
Lydia Forrester. Dustin did a fast memory check and recalled an employee of Christmas Inn, a petite brunette who had been stationed behind the reception area of the Inn when he checked in.
“Maxine has always preached the ‘pay it forward’ axiom. She never lets me get away with being timid or accepting anything less than the best. She keeps on me to share what I create and believe in what I do. Hard at times, because in so many ways, my work isn’t quantifiable.” But then, a mysterious smile, a distant glow, lit her features. “Except for one very important thing.”
Good for you, Maxine, Dustin thought. Good for you. “Which is?”
Lillianna shot him a sassy glance. “Joy. Pure, undiluted joy. No matter what, my work brings me pleasure, and a sense of fulfillment.”
The word joy resonated clear through to the center of his heart, a heretofore unacknowledged quest in his spirit. Dustin went still, watched her.
Love at Christmas Inn Collection 2 Page 17
