Page 40 of The Friendly Fall

Chapter Fourteen

Eliza

“Rise and shine, sweetheart, I’ve got good news!”

I turn over in bed and look at the clock. It’s 8:30 a.m. on Sunday morning—much too early for Granny to be this chipper.

“Oh goodness, Granny, what’s got you so excited?” I ask, rubbing my eyes and sitting up in bed.

“Well, last night I ran into Alison Nelson. She owns one of the local apple orchards. Every year the 4-H kids pick apples and they’re always wanting pictures taken.”

Granny’s eyes are bright with excitement as she delivers the news, and I can’t help but smile ather enthusiasm.

“That sounds like a fun opportunity,” I reply, swinging my legs out of bed and stretching.

“I thought so too. So I offered up your services, and told her where to find your portfolio on the Instant Gram.”

I chuckle. “You mean Instagram?”

Granny waves her hand dismissively. “Whatever it’s called, that thing on your phone with all your pretty pictures.”

I can’t help but be amused at her attempt to keep up with technology.

“Anyway, she called me this morning. Apparently, she took a look at yourInstagramlast night after the Pumpkin Festival and thought you’d be the perfect person for the job! She wants to hire you!” She claps her hands.

“That’s amazing!” I exclaim, suddenly wide awake with excitement. “Thank you so much, Granny! When is it?”

“Next Saturday!” She beams at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners with joy.

I jump out of bed and wrap Granny in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is such a fantastic opportunity!” My mind races with ideas for the photoshoot—golden sunlight filtering through the leaves, kids laughing and reaching for apples, the picturesque scenery of the orchard in the background.

Granny’s eyes glisten with pride as she pats my back affectionately. “I always knew you had a talent for capturing beauty, Eliza. You’re going to do wonders for those kids and their apple-picking day.”

After a quick breakfast of fluffy pancakes and syrup, I retreat to my room to start planning. The thrill of a new project courses through my veins, filling me with inspiration and motivation. I scroll through Pinterest for some creative ideas, and save images that speak to me. By the time lunch rolls around, I’ve connected with Alison and have a set plan in place with a clear vision in my mind of the shots I want to capture.

It’s really happening.

My first paid photography job.

I scroll through my Instagram, looking at the photos that sold Alison on me—candid shots of Nick working on Gran’s ramp and some staged photos I took of Vanessa out on Main Street.

Ireallyneed to expand my portfolio. Capturing the joy and innocence of children picking apples in a beautiful orchard will be a fantastic start … but I’d love to specialize in portraits and weddings eventually.

“One step at a time,” I remind myself.

I sit down at my desk, surrounded by my camera gear and notebooks, and begin outlining my goals for the future. I suppose since this photography business isactuallycoming to fruition, I should put my marketing degree to good use and start creating some sort of business plan.

I jot down ideas for expanding my client base, setting up a website, and creating a social media strategy to attract more customers. I make a to-do list, which includes expanding my portfolio toshowcase family portraits and couples, and taking headshots for my website.

Maybe I can take some headshots of myself while I’m at the orchard next weekend…

I make a mental note to bring my tripod and then open up Pinterest again to get ideas for poses and lighting techniques. As I scroll through the endless rows of beautiful photography, pinning anything and everything that catches my eye, I can’t help but feel excited about all the possibilities that lie ahead.

Suddenly, the sound of a drill whirs to life out front, snapping me out of my creative reverie.

I walk toward the front of the house, peering out the window to see Nick. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he works on the ramp, focused on the task at hand.

I watch him for a moment, admiring the way he moves with purpose and skill; the way his dark hair falls in his eyes, the way his hands move deftly as he works. With each strike of the drill, his tense muscles ripple and bulge under his skin in a way that’s strangely mesmerizing.

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