Chapter 21 #2
She grinned. “Haven’t you heard of our famous cookie wars, H? Of course not. How could you? It’s something we always do this time of year. We each bake a batch and then ask the public to decide who wins.”
“The public?” he asked, feeling a growing sense of unease.
“Well, usually. But as we are here this week, you and Hillary can declare the winner.”
“Goodie,” Hillary said, clapping her hands.
Harrison felt something bump against his leg and glanced down. It was Duchess, and he reached down to scoop her up, relieved to see her. That meant Amy was back. “I’ll just take this one to her person,” he said.
No one heard him. There was a brewing controversy between Melissa and Carol, who both intended to make chocolate-chip cookies for this year’s cookie wars, which, for some reason, they both deemed to be cheating.
He made his way to the mudroom and out the door, down the steps, to the door of the studio.
He could see Amy inside, her back to him, seated at the easel.
He rapped on the door, and she jerked around so quickly she almost spun off her stool.
Her face lit with a smile that tugged at his heart.
He couldn’t remember the last time anyone was that glad to see him.
He didn’t want to go back to having no one to be that glad to see him.
She hopped up, opened the door, and brought him inside. She was wearing a thick sweater today. The studio wasn’t well insulated, and cold damp was seeping in through the windows.
“Duchess, there you are! Were you sleeping in Mom’s bed again? Traitor.” She took the dog from Harrison’s arms and kissed the top of her head, then put her on her bed. Duchess stood up and circled on the dog bed several times before settling into a bagel shape.
“Busy?” Harrison asked.
“Sort of. I’m ready to show you what I’ve been working on.
” She stepped aside so that he could see it.
Ladies in bathing suits and red hats were in pool ring floats.
Duchess was in one, too, floating alongside them.
There was snow on the deck, a Christmas tree, and what looked like elves busily hanging lights on the arbor.
A small swan floated on the pool among the ladies, and the sky was filled with white, fluffy clouds. The lake sparkled in the distance.
“Wow,” he said, grinning. “I love it.”
“I have another one,” she said, and moved that painting from the easel. She picked up one from the floor and set it on the easel.
The ladies in the red hats were still in their bathing suits.
But they were seated on swans that were flying over the lake as it snowed.
Below them, boats festooned with Christmas lights and trees were sailing along.
The women appeared to have gained a little weight from the first painting she’d showed him.
“I’m impressed,” he said. “The ladies are even more talented than I gave them credit for.”
Amy smiled with delight. “I’m calling it the Bossy Posse series.”
“For real?”
“For real.” She stood back, examining her painting. “Should I name it something else?”
“No, it’s perfect. These are both fantastic, Amy,” he said, and unthinkingly put his arm around her.
“Very whimsical. And sort of vintage?” He didn’t have the words to describe the art, other than it seemed strangely joyful.
“Wait…is that Duchess?” he asked, pointing to a small dog riding on the tail feathers of one of the swans.
“Traitor Duchess. She likes my mother a little too much.” She removed the canvas and propped it against the wall, next to the other one. “How do you think it would do in a Christmas bazaar? Like, would you stop and look at it, or would you keep walking?”
“I would stop and look,” he said.
“You’re just saying that.”
He nodded. “Maybe. But I really think I would stop. It’s too interesting to pass up. How many paintings do you have?”
“Just the two. And the one of the lake. But I’m not happy with it.”
“That one?” he asked, pointing at a smaller canvas leaning against the wall. “I love it. It reminds me of my time here.”
“For me, that’s all it evokes. An oh-I-was-there-once sort of feeling. But nothing more. No emotion. No soul.”
“I disagree. It holds a lot of emotion for me,” Harrison said. “This is the view where I met you.”
She turned to look at him, frowning slightly with confusion. “Do you want to be reminded of that?”
“Of course I want to be reminded,” he scoffed. Something strange snaked through him. A sliver of hope. Or maybe fear. He couldn’t tell which. “Don’t you?”
“Actually, I—”
There was suddenly quite a lot of shouting outside; Duchess started to bark and leaped to her feet, taking off and slamming into the wall. She course corrected and shot out the door.
“Duchess!” Amy tried to grab her, but the old dog was remarkably nimble and racing (as much as a blind dog could race) toward the voices.
“What in the hell?” Amy demanded, and went after her dog.
Harrison wasn’t going to be left in the dark, and followed, too.
Amy had gone through the sliding-glass door, and when he barreled in after her, he knocked into her, because she came to a dead halt just across the threshold.
He caught her by the arms to keep them both from falling, then looked to see what had her attention.
Two men stood in the living room. The older of the two looked vaguely familiar. He was looking at the Christmas tree with awe. The younger man was holding two big brown bags by their handles.
“Why?” Amy growled, “Are. You. Here?”
“Don’t look at me,” the younger man said. “Ask Dad.”
“Dad?” she said sharply, swinging her body around to face the older man. Now Harrison understood why that one looked familiar.
“I’m sorry, Amy, but I need to talk to your mother and she won’t answer her phone and who knows how long we’ll be snowed in?”
“If I won’t answer the phone, what makes you think I’m going to talk to you in person, Bob?” her mother demanded. “And it’s not snowing.”
“Kevin, really?” Amy cried. “Could you not have maybe stopped this before it happened?”
“Stopped what?” her brother asked and seemed truly not to know. Which was sort of amazing, since everyone standing in this room, including Harrison and Hillary, knew what she meant.
“No need to get upset, honey,” Barb said. “Once Kevin delivers the costumes, he and Bob will leave. Kevin? Could you please hand them out?”
“Oh. Sure.” Kevin handed the bags to Carol.
“Costumes?” Amy looked at her family. “What costumes?”
“Our elf costumes!” June said cheerfully. “It’s my fault, I forgot them. We’re making a TikTok video of the cookie wars, and we thought it would be cute if we wore elf costumes.”
“Oh, adorbs,” Hillary said with great enthusiasm.
“No,” Amy said. “No, no, no. Mom, you said I wouldn’t even know you were here and now you’re going to film videos in elf costumes?”
“Hey,” Amy’s dad said, looking at Harrison. “Aren’t you Harrison Neely? The golfer?”
The question caught Harrison by surprise—he was often recognized, but usually not in the middle of a family squabble. “Uh…yeah.”
“I’m his physical therapist,” Hillary said and stuck out her hand. “Hillary Green.”
“Oh,” Amy’s dad said, and took her hand while looking at Harrison. “Hey, let me ask you something,” he said. “What would make a good drive suddenly start to slice?”
“Dad!” Amy cried. “Not now.”
Her tone was so sharp that now everyone in the room was looking at her.
She looked almost wild, her expression a mix of fury and confusion.
“I will ask this once more. What part of taking a break did you not understand? Any of you? Isn’t it bad enough that you call on me night and day?
Do I not come by two or three times a week to check on you, Mom?
Dad? Kevin, haven’t you been surfing my couch for months?
Could none of you let me have this one thing? ”
“Have what?” Kevin asked.
“Two weeks! Here! By myself!”
The room grew very quiet. It amazed Harrison that they would all act as if they were hearing this for the very first time.
“This is not my fault,” Kevin insisted. “Mom asked me to bring the costumes and Dad wanted to ride along. That’s it. I’m going back to Willow Valley.”
“You want some leftover taco casserole?” June asked.
“Sure.” Kevin spoke without a moment’s hesitation.
“This is what I’m saying,” Amy said, gesticulating wildly at her brother.
“He said he was going back and taking that one with him,” Barb said, jerking her thumb in the direction of her husband. “And as for us, we aren’t making the video in your studio, honey. You find us bothersome because you’re in here.”
Barb was either willfully missing the point or just did not hear what her daughter said. Harrison could believe either scenario was true.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Amy said coolly. She swiped up Duchess and turned on her heel and marched out through the sliding-glass door.
“Barb, we need to talk,” Amy’s father said.
“Go ahead, Bob. Talk all you want,” Barb said, and folded her arms across her chest. The rest of the Posse started moving toward the kitchen, clearly trying to escape the conversation between husband and wife.
Harrison wasn’t going to be left behind and hurried to catch up.