Page 18 of The Crush of Christmas Past
Seven
Isla
Myfirstfewdaysback in Sugarpine Springs are consumed by business meetings.
I put on a smile, pitch, and pretend I’m thriving.
The goal?Captivate potential clients with the in-control version of the designer I see in my future.
Nearfuture, hopefully.
My portfolio is in serious need of a revamp. Having been limited to logos and layouts for the past two years, it’s lacking soul. And direction.
Perfect plan, if time weren’t sprinting and my savings account hadn’t slid into a seasonal depression spiral. A full rebrand oftomorrowis the dream, but I alsohave to eat—today.I can only freeload off the Thornes’ charity for so long before I cross intoshamelesssquatterterritory.
That’s why I’ve given myself until New Year’s Eve to wrap up my vacation, stop pretending I’m just visiting, and find a rental in town.
The morning kicks off with a consultation at the art gallery. Orla Gallagher wants new business cards and a plan of attack for the tragically outdated, Papyrus-riddled website. While I may not be saving lives, resurrecting a local fixture matters. The least I can do is give every detail—down to the last pixel—my all.
There is liberty in no longer being shackled to AdCraft, but that freedom carries added weight. The responsibility to deliver something worthy now falls entirely on me.
The victoryandthe worry are solely mine to bear.
Next, I trudge through ankle-deep snow to Spoon & Slice, a cozy Main Street restaurant known for its soul-warming soups and freshly baked breads. The owners are looking for a menu redesign that reflects their inclusive, welcoming atmosphere.
My challenge? Create a friendly layout that resonates with loyal regulars who prefer reminiscing about the good ol’ daysover fumbling with QR codes. It also needs to be easy on the eyes since some of those diners rely on accessible design.
By the time I arrive at Sugarpine Sweets for my final meeting, my feet are numb from the cold, and my energy levels are depleted. Thankfully, this last stop provides heat, sugar, and caffeine—the trifecta to help me power through the rest of the day.
The bakery-slash-café is decked out for the season. Strands of pastel lights crisscross the wooden ceiling beams, sparkly snowflake decals cover the windows, and every booth has its own mini tree. Behind the counter, the life-sized Sugarpine Springs snowman mascot sports his usual lopsided smirk, stilldonning the scarf that was torn the night Asher led our class in hoisting him onto the high school roof for our senior prank.
Spread out on the table in front of me is an assortment of cupcakes the new owner, Holly Dai, meticulously arranged. The plate of pastries tells a story of love, history, and pride. This time of year, everything is dusted in edible glitter and frosting that looks like freshly fallen snow.
I’ve held off sampling for the sake of professionalism. One lick of the magic-laced icing, one bite of soft-as-breath cake, and the cupcakes and I would end up engaging in a series of explicit acts guaranteed to scare off my client.
“I used your grandmother’s signature Winter Wonderland cupcake as my inspiration for the logo.” I slide my tablet across the table. “It’s a timeless product, so it fits the sleek, streamlined look you’re going for in the update.”
“You nailed it.” Her dark brown eyes widen as she studies the proof, the corners of her lips curling into a delighted smile. “Grandma Hazel left a legacy baked to perfection. I’m trying not to overmix it, you know? This is exactly what I meant by honoring her memory while bringing this place into the current century.”
Her excitement is contagious, and I can’t help but grin. “Your grandmother would be proud.” With Holly at the helm, the bakery couldn’t be in better, more skilled hands.
“Can you maybe add another swirl to the corner of eachSin the title?” she asks, her tone tentative.
“I can,” I say with a laugh, “but let me remind you of your design brief:less kitsch, more chic.”
She blushes, tucking a short strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “You’re right. Still—maybe just a small tweak?”
Forgoing my tablet, I reach for my sketchpad. Pencil on paper is always my go-to for brainstorming sessions. It’s grounding. Arefreshing shift from the screen-heavy work. Within minutes, I’ve roughed out a version with her requested flourish and hold it up for review.
Holly studies the updated logo intently, her sleek bob tilting to the side. “Hmm…”
“How about this?” I tweak the design again, pulling back the lettering to a cleaner, more contemporary style, but layering an extra swirl of frosting on the cupcake illustration instead. “It keeps the title tidy while adding the bit of whimsy you’re after.”
As soon as I finish the newest draft, Holly claps her hands. “That’s it! Exactlyit.” She beams at me. “Modern without losing the vintage vibe of the shop’s foundation. You’re the best!”
Moments like this remind me why I love what I do. After years of churning out lifeless designs for a company that valued profit over passion, I finally get to make something that matters.
At AdCraft, every idea was dissected, diluted, and scrubbed of anything remotely mine. Here, in the freedom of freelance, I get to collaborate on something real. Something personal. With people who are just as real.
