Chapter 30
The art contest was set for early Christmas Eve afternoon, followed by a reception during which people could shop for last-minute gifts.
It had snowed the night before, but Amy’s entire family and the Bossy Posse and their families were at the Christmas festival, crowding into the gallery to hear the results of the vote.
Amy’s parents came together, which she considered a significant sign of progress.
She’d run into June at the grocery store, who said that Amy’s father was spending less time in the recliner and more time with Mom.
June said also that her mother was trying to be less demanding of him.
“But you know Barb,” she’d said with a grin.
Amy knew her, all right.
June further disclosed that her parents were thinking of getting a lake house for themselves. When Amy phoned her mother later, she asked about the rumors June was spreading.
“Are you seriously thinking of getting a lake house?”
“We’ve discussed it,” her mother said.
“Just like that? You went from thinking you were going to leave Dad to deciding maybe instead you’ll invest in a lake house?”
“Amy,” her mother said patiently. “Someday you will learn that as you get older, you often don’t know what you need. You just know you need something. It may take a little longer to figure it out, that’s all.”
“So what did you need?” Amy asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” her mother admitted. “Something.”
Amy’s boss and a few of the guys from work came, because they’d heard there was free food and drink.
Also in attendance: the gallery owner, of course.
Amy’s friend Gabriella, who had suggested she enter the contest. Mayor Kelly Hodges, whose name was plastered on all the Christmas festival signs.
And lots of townspeople, wanting to get out of the bitter cold that had descended last night on the last day of festival shopping.
For the first half hour, the artists stood by their creations. Amy was proud of what she’d done, but she did have to explain the Bossy Posse to several people.
“How did you find the experience?” one woman asked her. “I’ve thought about entering, but I never find the time to create.”
“That was my problem, too,” Amy said. “Which was why this was so great for me. If nothing else, I’ve learned that I really need to make time for myself.
” The admission popped right out of her mouth, surprising her.
She’d had that thought, but she hadn’t realized it was so front and center in her mind.
“That’s what they say,” the woman said. “Take care of yourself so you can take care of those around you.”
“Exactly.” Amy glanced at her paintings. The old adages one learned as a child were adages for a reason, she guessed. But she was pleased that she’d come out of the experience with at least that understanding.
Julie came, too, dressed in sequins. She looked around the gallery, dismayed by the jeans and puffy coats. “I thought this was an art show party.”
“Yeah, but not a fancy one,” Amy said, laughing at her friend. “It’s Willow Valley.”
“What was I thinking? Well anyway, I can’t stay long,” Julie said, just as she kissed Amy’s cheek like a true cosmopolitan. “I’m going to a party.”
“What about your family?” Amy asked. “What about the party at Carol’s?”
Julie shrugged. “I’m talking about Carol’s party. And I’ll be with my family tomorrow at the lake. Sam has added some new music, she said, and my mother is determined to fry a turkey.”
“Beware the nutcracker guards,” Amy warned her. “They fall down a lot.”
The last to arrive were Ethan and Jonah, along with Ryan.
Her boys brought her flowers. “That was my idea,” Ryan said, quite unnecessarily.
Amy was fully aware that her children hadn’t reached the stage of life where they thought about anyone but themselves.
In true Ryan fashion, her ex-husband was still knocking on a door that was closed.
Since she’d been back, he’d tried to ask her about Harrison, and when Amy was not forthcoming, he reminded her that he wanted them to be together. “For the kids,” he added.
“We’re already together when it comes to the kids,” Amy said.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Amy conceded. “But we’re not getting back together, Ryan. Not now, not ever.”
He looked so forlorn in that moment that Amy took pity on him. “But you can come for Christmas.”
He immediately lifted his gaze. “I can?”
“You can.”
He grinned. “Thanks, Amy.” And then he followed it with, “See? You’re warming to the idea,” and all her feelings of compassion for him flew out the window.
When at last it was time for the five artists to come onstage so the winner could be announced, Amy accepted all the good wishes from her family.
“You get ’em, slugger!” Kevin shouted as she mounted the rickety steps to the even ricketier temporary stage.
There was the usual speech, thanking everyone for coming.
And then, the chairman of the contest judges, who happened to be the mayor, came forward to present the winner.
“We had a talented roster this year,” Mayor Kelly said. “We are blessed in this community to have such talent. I would say the entire Christmas festival has been a rousing success, wouldn’t you?”
A round of applause went up. As Julie said, Kelly never passed up an opportunity to pat herself on the back. But in Kelly’s defense, the Christmas festival was a success—a true moneymaker for the town.
“Without further ado. Our fourth runner-up, with an honorable mention for use of color goes to…Amy Casey!”
Applause filled the room, and Kelly gestured for Amy to come over to her. Amy moved to the chant in her head, last place, last place, last place.
There was a certificate for fourth runner-up. Amy noticed it was made out to Amy Case, but she smiled and bowed and thanked Kelly for the amazing opportunity before being directed to the opposite end of the stage.
She’d come in last, but she was not going to allow herself to believe she’d missed her calling. She had decided in the last week that her calling was just right—she was doing what she loved to do, painting subjects that spoke to her. If that didn’t suit the rest of the world, so be it.
Harrison was right when he urged her to carve out a place for herself among her family. She didn’t need a bohemian lifestyle or fame or accolades. She needed to do what made her happy, and the Bossy Posse Christmas made her happy.
The winner was the artist who had used light so creatively in her still life portraits.
Amy applauded along with everyone else. The woman truly deserved it—her art was extraordinary.
The gallery owner came onstage to congratulate them all, handing them each an envelope with the notes from the judges about their work.
She told them she’d love to keep their work in her gallery to sell.
Amy said yes. She didn’t have room for them at home, and besides, she had a new idea in mind for a series of paintings—an old woman gardener and her three little dogs.
She was congratulated by her family, all of whom insisted she’d been robbed.
She said she’d meet them at home, but that she was going to stay a little and talk to the art patrons.
But everyone was eager to be home, what with the snow and Christmas morning fast approaching.
Amy was one of the last to leave, and she stood at the door of the gallery, watching a light snow come down.
She didn’t win, but she got some great feedback, the gallery owner was taking her paintings to sell, and she was going home to a great family who had cheered louder than anyone.
She felt happy. She felt content. She sensed that this was a new beginning for her.
She walked outside into the cold. There were a few stragglers grabbing last-minute gifts.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and happened to glance at one of the last firepits that was still ablaze.
A man was standing there in a knee-length coat, and a knit cap was on his head. He held his hands over the flames.
Amy stopped. The man turned and smiled. Amy felt the breath leave her body. She stared at him, expecting him to disappear in the smoke, but he remained standing there, smiling at her.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she managed.
“Oh. Yeah, I came to the art show,” Harrison said. “Except I missed it. Sorry I’m late. My flight was delayed and then there was a problem at the car-rental counter—”
“You came?” she asked in disbelief.
“I came.” He turned from the fire, shoving his hands in his pockets. “How’d you do?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Dead last.” And yet she felt like she’d just won the grand prize. She walked up to him, cupped his cold face with her hands, and pulled his head down to kiss him. Harrison immediately melted into her, kissing her back, his arms going around her.
She pushed him back. “What are you doing here, Harrison? You’re supposed to be on a flight to Edinburgh.”
“I know. But I kept thinking of you and your show and Christmas and…and I couldn’t get on the flight.”
“You canceled?”
“I bailed. I was waiting to board.”
She gasped with surprise. “You bailed?”
“Like I was on the run from the law. I didn’t want to spend Christmas alone. Again. Or without you, Amy. Which, I know, is a big ask, but—”
“Of course you’ll spend it with us,” she said without hesitation.
He winced. “I know I shouldn’t have done this, but I have missed you and I—”
“Harrison,” she said, and cupped his face again.
“I am so happy you are here, are you kidding? I’ve missed you like crazy.
I can think of nothing better than spending Christmas with you.
Nothing.” It was the perfect end to her quest for the artist lifestyle.
The proverbial icing on the cake. At this moment, she didn’t think she could possibly be any happier ever again.
He grabbed her hands and pulled them down, clasping them in his. “I don’t know what this means, exactly. Me showing up here. You inviting me in. I’m still going to Scotland. A little more on the last-minute side, but—”
“It means it’s a Christmas miracle. The only thing missing is some nutcrackers, some very loud Christmas music, and some mistletoe.”
“And your family.”
She grinned. “We can arrange that, at least. Look, we don’t have to say what it means.
We just have to live in the moment, right?
We did a pretty good job of that at the lake, and we can do it again.
” She tugged him into a walk, looping her arm through his.
“My family is going to drive you crazy, you know.”
He laughed. “I know.”
“And tonight, we’re all supposed to go to a sing-along at Carol’s house. If you think my family is too much, wait until you get a load of hers.”
Harrison chuckled as he moved his arm to her shoulders, pulling her tightly against his side. “I can’t believe I’m going to say it, but I can’t wait.”
“No, no, I’m warning you—it’s a total shit show,” she said, her arm going around his waist. “But there will be booze.”
“Another Christmas miracle. What will they say about us?”
“Oh, a lot,” she assured him. “But who cares?” She laughed.
She felt buoyant. She didn’t know until she saw him how much she needed Harrison right now.
Or how much she’d really missed him—terribly, deeply.
He was the best of all Christmas gifts, even better than the cashmere-lined leather gloves from Julie she knew were under the tree.