Between Then and Now (Hallow’s End #1)

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I VY’S CHEERFUL VOICE broke through my reverie as she slipped a knitted cardigan over her dress. “Vinnie! Are you ready to go see that gallery space?”

Startled, I looked up and smiled. “Oh, yes! Let’s go.”

Ivy led the way down Hallow’s End’s cobblestone streets, alive with Halloween spirit. Twinkling orange lights framed the quaint storefronts—Sweet Crumbs Bakery, Maple & Spice Grocery, and Timeless Toys—each decorated with carved pumpkins sporting mischievous grins.

Townspeople, some already dressed in Halloween costumes despite it only being the start of September, added to the festive atmosphere. Children darted between shops, their laughter mingling with the scent of cinnamon and cloves, whilst ghostly figures and cobwebs hung from lampposts. Curious about the early costumes, I asked Ivy, who laughed and explained, “We do love Halloween a lot here, but these costumes are actually for the play that the local theatre group is putting on for the festival.”

As we strolled through the town, Ivy’s enthusiasm was contagious. “You know, last year’s costume contest winner was John—the guy who owns the bakery we just passed—and his little boy. They dressed up as Pennywise and Georgie. They even had matching balloons. It was both adorable and terrifying,” she recalled with a chuckle.

I laughed. “I love that movie! I’m into anything horror, as long as it doesn’t go overboard with gore.”

Ivy grinned. “Same here. You’ll definitely enjoy our haunted house. This year’s theme is Zombie Doomsday . We have scare actors, but it’s all in good fun—nothing too intense, since we usually keep it family-friendly.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, eyes lighting up with excitement.

We continued our walk, and the town’s festive decorations became more apparent. The lampposts were wrapped in twinkling orange lights, and the storefronts displayed painted windows and spooky props.

“The parade is a big draw, too,” Ivy continued. “The local high school kids make these amazing themed floats. You never know what they’ll come up with. Although, there was that one year they went all-out with a spider theme—absolute nightmare fuel. I still get chills thinking about it.”

I cringed in sympathy. “Spiders? No, thank you! Although, I figured with your whole witchy vibe, you might have a pet tarantula or something,” I joked.

Ivy burst out laughing. “Oh, gods, no! The only creature I have at home is a cat. I’m definitely not the spider-keeping type!”

As we walked, it became evident that all the shops were conveniently arranged around the town square, which was the hub and heart of Hallow’s End. The central area swarmed with activity, serving as a focal point for both locals and visitors .

“Is this where most of the town’s action happens?” I asked, observing the lively scene.

Ivy nodded. “Yes, we like to keep everything centralized. It just makes sense to have the buzz and business in one area. It keeps the rest of the town quieter.”

“That makes sense,” I agreed, glancing around. As we continued walking, a larger building caught my eye. It was an old, stately structure with a brick facade, large arched windows, and a clock tower perched on top. “What’s that place?” I asked, pointing towards it.

Ivy followed my gaze. “Oh, that’s the town hall. It’s used for all sorts of things—parties, social events, anything that requires a bigger space. We also host local meetings there. Actually, there’s one tonight if you want to see what it’s all about.”

I cringed slightly at the thought. “I’m not sure a town meeting is really my scene.”

Ivy laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s not that formal. It’s more like friends getting together and throwing around ideas. Plus, if you’re seriously considering opening a gallery here, it’s an excellent opportunity to show your face. The locals love getting involved with new businesses and supporting each other.”

I considered her words. It made sense, but I still felt uncertain about committing to the idea of opening my own space here. “I’ll think about it,” I said, keeping my tone casual.

Ivy smiled. “Well, I hope you come. I could use an extra vote—or at least someone new to chat with when Danny starts his rant about his darn garden. He’s convinced someone in town is stealing from it, and I swear he brings it up at every meeting. Poor guy doesn’t seem to realize that being this close to the forest means it’s basically a free-for-all for raccoons and other rodents. He really thinks there’s a veggie bandit out there,” she added with a laugh.

We both chuckled as we turned onto a quieter street, just past the town hall. Ivy gestured ahead. “The space for rent is just a little further up. It’s not right in the thick of things, but still close enough to catch the foot traffic. A great spot for a potential gallery.”

I nodded, intrigued. The idea of a slightly quieter location appealed to me—somewhere people could escape to and really take in the art.

“I think you’ll love it,” Ivy continued with a reassuring smile. “It’s got great bones, and a lot of potential. You could really make it your own.”

“I hope so,” I replied, trying to shake off my doubts.

We walked a few more steps before Ivy stopped and turned to face a building. “Here we are,” she said, gesturing towards it.

The structure was historic, with a stone fa?ade that spoke of centuries gone by. Weathered wooden shutters framed large windows, allowing an abundance of natural light to flood the interior. The building exuded an air of elegance, with intricate stonework detailing the facade and a sturdy oak door that hinted at its rich history.

Peering through the large windows, I could see inside. The high ceilings and exposed wooden beams gave the space an airy, open feel, while the original hardwood floors added a touch of rustic charm. The walls were bare, eagerly waiting to be covered with vibrant paintings and detailed sketches. I could already envision it brimming with my artwork, drawing the townspeople in to share in my passion.

One wall could be dedicated to a rotating exhibit of local artists, offering a platform for hidden talents in the community. Comfortable seating areas with plush armchairs and small tables would invite visitors to linger and discuss the art over a cup of coffee or tea. A corner could be transformed into a mini studio space for hosting art classes and workshops, encouraging creativity and learning. Soft, ambient lighting would highlight each piece of art, creating an intimate and inviting atmosphere. My mind raced with possibilities.

“This spot is perfect,” I said, my voice tinged with excitement. “I can see it all coming together.”

Ivy grinned. “What would you call it?”

“The Cozy Canvas,” I replied without hesitation. “Art has always been a refuge for me, a source of comfort and creativity. I want this gallery to be that for everyone who walks through the door.”

As we admired the building, an elderly man with mesmerizing blue eyes and a genuine smile approached. His tweed jacket and flat cap gave him a scholarly air. He pulled out a set of keys, unlocked the door, and held it open for us.

“Did I hear the name ‘The Cozy Canvas’?” he asked, his voice rich with approval. “That’s a fantastic name.”

I beamed. “Thank you.”

As we stepped inside, the features of the building spoke of its storied past. Old wooden shelves lined one wall, hinting when the space might have served as a quaint shop or bookstore. A dusty counter stood at the back of the room, a relic from another era, adding to the charm and character of the place.

“Are you the owner?” I asked, casting a hopeful gaze around the room.

“Indeed, I’m Harold Thornton,” he said, extending a hand with a warm smile. “This property has been in my family for generations. It used to house a medical practice many years ago, then an antiques shop and, most recently, it served as a library, which eventually moved to a larger location because of growing demand.” He glanced around fondly. “Each incarnation has contributed its own unique charm to the community. ”

I shook his hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr Thornton. What an incredible history this place has.”

“Please, call me Harold,” he said, his vibrant blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His grip was firm yet gentle, though I noticed a slight tremor in his aged hand.

“Alright, Harold. What made you decide to rent this place out again?” I asked, curious.

He sighed, a wistful expression crossing his face. “I’m getting older, and can’t manage running a business anymore. This place needs a new energy. Something lively and creative, perhaps.” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

A sense of hope tugged at my heart. The idea of creating something meaningful in this space was tempting, the vision of the gallery already forming in my mind. But then, the reality hit me.

Settling down here would mean leaving behind the life I had known—the fast-paced energy of Cresden, the familiarity of city streets, and even the lingering memories of Sebastian. My parents were expecting me to return home soon. They thought this was just a brief holiday, a break before I started working for my father and set aside my dream of pursuing art. That was the plan. The pressures of my old life that I was supposed to return to.

My mind was torn in two—one part longing for the fresh start that Hallow’s End promised, and the other clinging to the comfort of my old life, despite knowing it no longer fit who I wanted to become.

“I’ll have to think about it,” my voice faltered, betraying the conflict within me.

“Take your time,” Harold said kindly. “I believe you’ll make the right decision. ”

After leaving the gallery, Ivy suggested we grab lunch at a nearby café. We strolled to a lovely spot called The Sunflower Bistro, its wooden tables and a fireplace inviting us in. As we stepped inside, the scent of freshly baked bread and simmering soups wrapped around us. Sunflowers in vases brightened each table, adding a cheerful touch to the atmosphere.

A waitress behind the counter spotted Ivy and waved enthusiastically. “Hey, Ivy! Thanks again for that special tea blend you made for me. It worked wonders! Can you whip up some more when you have the time?” she called out loudly, drawing a few amused glances from other customers. She didn’t seem fazed by the attention, grinning widely as she made her way over to the table where we had just sat down.

Ivy’s face lit up. “Of course, Em! I’m glad it helped. I’ll bring you a fresh batch tomorrow. The moon’s energy is perfect for brewing something extra special tonight.”

The waitress grinned and shook her head, clearly accustomed to Ivy’s strange ways. “Thanks, Ivy. You’re a lifesaver. And this must be Vinnie?”

Ivy turned to me with a friendly smile. “You got it. Vinnie’s new in town, and might just be our next favorite artist.”

The waitress extended a hand to me, her smile genuine. “Nice to finally meet you, Vinnie. I’m Emily. Welcome to The Sunflower Bistro!”

I shook her hand, awkwardly. “Thanks, Emily. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

We settled at our table, the soft gingham tablecloth smooth under my fingertips. After we glanced over the menu, Emily took our orders, and Ivy turned her attention back to me, her gaze brimming with curiosity.

“So, what brought you to Hallow’s End?”

Spending the day with Ivy had been refreshing. There was a genuine sense of friendship forming between us, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Her kindness and easy-going nature made me feel like I could trust her and, despite the weight of my past, I felt the urge to open up to her.

“It’s a long story,” I began, gazing out the window at the colorful town square. A woman was trying to walk a golden retriever puppy, who seemed more interested in exploring everything around them. The puppy bounced around excitedly, tugging at the leash and nearly toppling over a small display of pumpkins. The owner struggled to keep up, laughing as she tried to gently steer the puppy away from further chaos.

The brief amusement from the scene outside faded as I turned back to Ivy. “I grew up in Cresden,” I began, my tone serious. “My parents are both highly successful—my father runs a large corporation that acquires and restructures smaller firms, and my mother thrives in high society. She’s always pushing me to marry well ,” I added, the words dripping with disdain. That was the last thing I wanted.

“My father expected me to take over the family business, Carlisle Enterprises, seeing it as my destiny, while my mother envisioned me navigating elite social circles. To them, art was a frivolous hobby with no money in it. It’s ironic, considering our home was filled with expensive artworks that they didn’t understand—they were just there to showcase their wealth.”

Ivy’s eyes widened as she recognized the name. “I’ve heard of Carlisle Enterprises. There was news recently about a successful takeover of some small businesses in a town not far from here—Brookside, I think. People around here have been talking, wondering if the same thing could happen in Hallow’s End.”

I winced at Ivy’s mention of the takeover. “Yeah, that was all my father’s doing,” I admitted. “The idea is to improve smaller businesses. Streamline their operations, cut costs, and then either integrate them into larger corporate structures, or sell them off at a profit. It’s all about maximizing efficiency and profit margins .

For small towns like Brookside, it can be a tough decision. Sometimes, these businesses are struggling to stay afloat, and a takeover can mean an influx of capital and resources that keeps them open. Plus, having a well-known corporate brand attach its name can attract more customers and tourism, making the shops more appealing. But, it often comes at the cost of losing the local flavor, and unique character, that made those businesses special in the first place.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow playfully, though there was a subtle undertone of concern in her voice. “You seem to know a lot about how it all works. You’re not here to scout and plan a takeover of our little town, are you?” she joked, but I could sense she was gauging my reaction.

I let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “No, definitely not,” I assured her. “It’s just that my father made me work for him and learn the ropes during my summer breaks in college. It was part of the deal he set if I wanted to pursue an art degree, which had nothing to do with the future he envisioned for me.” I paused, reflecting on how complicated my feelings were. “I realize now, how lucky I was that he even funded my education. It was partly because I convinced him that I’d eventually join the business, even though I never really wanted to. I guess I’ve always felt torn between following my passion, and meeting my family’s expectations.”

Ivy nodded, her expression softening. “That sounds really complicated. It must be tough trying to balance what you want, with what your family expects. I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under.”

“It’s exhausting trying to keep everyone else happy, while still figuring out what I really want.” I sighed, the weight of it all sinking in. “I’ve been saving up from part-time jobs during college, and I’ve even squirreled away some of the allowance my parents give me. I opened a separate bank account they don’t know about, so they can’ t keep track of it.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Would your parents really do that? Monitor your spendings?”

“Yeah, they would. It’s not just about control—it’s more about the family wealth. They’ve always been careful about where the money goes, and are very protective of it. They wanted to make sure I wasn’t spending recklessly, or on things they didn’t approve of. Even now, they like to keep tabs on everything, just to make sure I’m staying on the right path , as they see it.”

Ivy looked thoughtful for a moment. “So, has all that made it hard for you to move out and do what you really want?”

I nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. “Pretty much. Even with the savings I’ve got, it’s not enough to really strike out on my own in Cresden. My parents have always been my safety net, and I guess I’ve been afraid to cut those ties completely. They’ve made it clear that, if I don’t follow the path they’ve laid out, the financial support stops. And honestly, I don’t have much experience in the real world outside of their influence. It’s scary to think about going it alone, especially when they’ve controlled so much of my life up until now.”

As the words spilled out, I suddenly realized how much I was sharing, and a wave of awkwardness hit me. I barely knew Ivy, and here I was, unloading my whole life story. I bit my lip, feeling a bit exposed. “I’m sorry,” I said, glancing away. “I didn’t mean to drop all of that on you. It’s probably too much to share with someone I just met.”

It felt good to let it out, though, and Ivy’s quiet attentiveness made it easier than I expected. Despite the embarrassment, it was comforting to finally have someone who listened.

Ivy smiled warmly, her understanding evident. “It’s okay. Everyone needs to let it out sometimes, and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to share with me.” She paused, as if considering her next words carefully. “I get that it’s scary, but I believe everything happens for a reason. You’re here in Hallow’s End now, and maybe that’s exactly what you need, to figure things out. The scariest paths often lead to the most beautiful destinations. Change is frightening, but it’s the only way to grow. Sometimes, the things we fear most are the very things that lead us to where we’re meant to be.”

“Thanks, Ivy. I really appreciate you saying that. It’s nice to feel like I’ve already got a friend here.” I smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. For someone so whimsical and dreamy, she had an uncanny ability to say exactly what I needed to hear.

Just then, Emily arrived with our orders. She placed a steaming bowl of creamy tomato basil soup in front of Ivy, its rich aroma mingling with the scent of the freshly baked breadsticks on the side. In front of me, Emily placed a vibrant autumn salad, which featured a mix of crisp greens, roasted butternut squash, tangy feta cheese, and dried cranberries. Thin slices of ripe pear added a touch of sweetness, while a light balsamic vinaigrette tied everything together.

The arrival of the food provided a welcome break from the heavy conversation, allowing us to savor the simple pleasure of a good meal and, throughout lunch, Ivy and I chatted about the town, and the gallery space. Our conversation left me with much to consider. After we finished our meal, my mind continued to churn with thoughts of the gallery, and the possibilities it held. I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope.