Chapter 13 - The Camden Estate and the First Public Gallery Showing
Two months later, the sign outside Bennett & Pine Restoration had been repainted in crisp gold leaf by a local artisan—a subtle upgrade that Nora had initially protested as too flashy, until Julian pointed out that her work deserved to be stamped with pride.
Tonight, however, the workshop was empty of sawdust and tools.
The heavy walnut sideboard, the Federal-style writing desks, and a brand-new dining table crafted from reclaimed Maine cedar were arranged artfully across the polished floorboards, transformed into a high-end pop-up gallery for Portland’s annual arts and heritage gala.
The room was filled with the low hum of conversation, the clinking of crystal champagne flutes, and the soft strains of a string quartet playing somewhere near the front display windows.
Nora stood near the center of the room, wearing a deep emerald-green velvet dress that hugged her curves with unapologetic elegance, its fitted bodice and sweeping skirt making her look like a queen surveying her kingdom.
She had spent hours staring at herself in the mirror that afternoon, not with the critical, editing eye of her past, but with the quiet, fierce realization that every curve, every muscle, and every inch of her body was entirely worthy of the space it occupied.
Julian walked up behind her, sliding his hands gently around her waist.
He wore a tailored midnight-blue tuxedo that fit him with the effortless precision of a man born to command rooms, though tonight his eyes were entirely for her.
“You look breathtaking,” Julian murmured against her ear, his breath warm and familiar.
“You’ve been saying that for three hours,” Nora teased softly, turning slightly in his arms to look up at him.
“And I’ll keep saying it for the next fifty years if you let me,” he replied without missing a beat.
Across the room, local city council members, architectural historians, and a smattering of discreet business associates from Boston and New York were admiring the craftsmanship of her furniture, speaking her name with genuine respect rather than the hushed, fearful tones that followed Julian’s acquaintances.
“Look at them,” Nora whispered, gesturing toward the crowd.
“They’re actually looking at the wood, Julian. They aren't looking at me like I’m a liability or a mystery.”
“They’re looking at an artist whose work finally has the room it deserves,” Julian said, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made the surrounding crowd fade into the background.
Before Nora could reply, an older woman with sharp eyes and an elegant silver brooch approached them, holding a glass of sparkling water.
“Excuse me, Mr. Kang, Ms. Bennett,” the woman said politely, her voice carrying the unmistakable cadence of Portland’s historical preservation board.
“I was just admiring the cedar dining table near the back. The joinery is extraordinary. My husband and I are looking to commission a custom conference piece for our firm’s downtown office. Would your schedule permit a consultation next week?”
Nora felt a sudden, electric surge of pride swell in her chest.
She didn't look down.
She didn't shrink back or defer to Julian.
She stood tall, her shoulders squared, her chin held high as she met the woman’s gaze with absolute confidence.
May you like
“I’d be delighted, Councilwoman,” Nora said, her voice clear, steady, and filling the space with undeniable grace.
“Let’s set a time for Tuesday morning.”
