A Walk Along the Beach(12)

He lingered for a moment and it seemed neither one of us knew what to say. “I suppose I should be going,” he said. “Before I do, I have something for you.”

“For me?” For the first time I noticed he had a yellow manila envelope with him. He handed it to me. When I opened it, I found a beautiful black-and-white photo of the front of Bean There. Staring at it for several moments, I didn’t know what to say. Even though the photo lacked color, the shadows and the lighting offered a warm, welcoming sensation. “Sean,” I whispered as I pressed my hand over my heart. “This is…perfect.”

    “I wanted to be sure you liked it before I framed it.”

“I…love it. Thank you…I hardly know what to say.”

“No thanks necessary. It was something I wanted to do.” He turned away, prepared to leave.

More than anything, I wanted him to stay. “Ah, it’s pretty quiet, if you’d like to sit for a bit?” I asked, stopping him.

He hesitated. “Will you join me?”

“Um, sure, but if someone comes in, I’ll need to get up.” This would be the first time ever that I’d prayed for a lack of business.

“Understood.”

I made myself a latte and joined him, my hands trembling, nervous and feeling awkward. Sean didn’t seem any more at ease than I was.

He smiled when I sat down and I released a small sigh, wondering how best to start the conversation. I knew most everyone enjoys talking about themselves. When I heard that Sean was a photographer, I was intrigued, even more so now that I’d seen his work. I would treasure the photo he’d given me. With a single picture, he’d managed to capture everything I’d hoped my small coffee shop would be.

“How did you get into photography?” I asked. “Is it something you’ve done all your life? I hope you don’t mind me asking.” I glanced down at the photo once more, impressed with his talent.

“I don’t mind in the least.” He stretched out his arms and held on to his cup with both hands the way he had earlier. “I started out with another career that unfortunately didn’t pan out. It was a major disappointment, and afterward I floundered, unsure what I wanted to do. For years I’d had a one-track mind. For a time, I was angry and lost.”

    “That must have been unsettling.”

“It was. I’d always enjoyed photography and had played around with it for years. I was bored and killing time, taking photos. It was my dad who suggested that I go into photography for a career, since I was so interested in it. His encouragement was all I needed.”

“Sometimes all we need is a nudge.”

“Dad was right. Soon I lived and breathed photography. It filled the void and gave me the opportunity to pour my passion and energy into something I genuinely loved. And the beauty of it was that I didn’t need a degree or a certificate.”

“Did it take long for you to make a living?”

His responding smile said more than words.

“It wasn’t easy in the beginning, but I managed. I’m grateful I’d made enough money in my earlier career so that I was able to make an investment into the equipment I needed and had the time to develop a portfolio.”

I noticed that he seemed evasive about his previous job, and while I wondered what he’d done, I didn’t ask. If he didn’t want to tell me, then I wasn’t about to put him on the spot.

“I took a few classes and got a job working for a fine art photographer.”

So he’d learned on the job, the same as me. I’d worked as a barista while in college. I’d enjoyed the work and made a lot of friends. I’d been terribly shy as a teenager, still was, but not nearly as bad as before. Having to greet people and make light conversation had helped me tremendously with my shyness.

“What was your first sale?” I asked.

He grinned, his look almost boyish. He pushed a lock of sandy-colored hair from his forehead. “A garbage dump.”

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

    “Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. It was the glass recycling center. I happened by one day to drop off my recyclables. The sun broke out from behind a cloud and shone down on the glass in a large storage bin. Light bounced around the multicolored glass stored there. I was never without my camera. I grabbed it and took a zillion pictures until I got the right one. I submitted it to a local magazine and was paid a whopping fifty dollars.”

“Enough for a bottle of champagne,” I said.

“I worked hard to build my portfolio and eventually was able to make enough to support myself.”

“It’s clear you enjoy your work.”

“I do. Very much.”

“You were on assignment this weekend, you said?”

“Yeah, in Seattle. I finished editing the shots this afternoon and decided to take a break.”

His gaze briefly met mine. I could be wrong, but his look seemed to say he wanted to see me more than he needed the break. While I longed to believe that, I doubted it was true.

“I’m glad you did.”

He was about to say something more when a customer entered the café. Although reluctant to leave, I had no choice. Taking one last sip of my latte, I stood. “Thank you again, Sean. This photo means more than I can say.”