Chapter Five #2
According to Susanna, her best friend, Clem and Slade had another yelling match in front of Clem’s today. How could she get across to her mother, the two men, the whole town that Christmas was about family and giving, not about who had five gillion lights and a Santa in front of their business?
She bundled up on her bed, tossed aside the pink throw for her white comforter, and popped a throat lozenge.
It only took moments to transfer the pics from her phone to her laptop and upload the best picture from the incognito social media account.
Thinking for a minute, she captioned the photo: “Even pumpkins know Santa belongs to the town.”
She could have used her phone, but no one could discover what she was doing yet, and her laptop stayed in her room for studying purposes and nothing else. Her mother’s rule. Her brother, Chance, the computer geek, had gone to great lengths to make sure her computer stayed private.
Her phone dinged again, and she checked the message. Daniel sent another Santa picture set at the VFW and the elementary school. They’d been busy. She voted to do the Lutheran Church, but too many people went there to gawk at the gigantic Christmas tree, and Jake had vetoed that one.
Was she using the boys? She forced herself to be honest. Yes.
For Daniel, the prank was a way to be different from his overachieving brothers. For Jake, he liked her. A lot. Did she like Jake back? She rubbed her nervous tummy and set her laptop aside, uncomfortable with the question.
Opening her experiment notebook, she marked the day and time she loaded the farm picture of Santa and plotted when to deliver the next picture to the Sergeant.
Did she dare keep her nose in the investigation?
She was interested in their steps and how long it would take to figure out it was her, but she had a greater purpose for this: wake up the darn town.
Arguing over decorations was not what her hometown was about, and she was going to prove it.
&&&&&&&&&$
Tom disconnected his cellphone and stared at all the cars lined up for the bays at his grandmother’s mechanic business.
Window cracked, the chilly breeze swept away the stuffiness of the vehicle.
With nine days to go before Christmas, the shop was busy.
Olivia only spent two days a week here, and Josh Anderson, her head mechanic, ran the rest. The business had been her dream since her father’s original one had been sold after his death.
The entire family had been worried about this venture, but it soared to success within weeks of opening to the consternation of Buddy from Buddy’s Towing and Auto.
Tom grinned. He didn’t like Buddy. Never had.
He always took a few minutes every shift to enjoy the Santa and reindeer lighted display on the top of the adjoining car dealership. He had a deeper appreciation this year. That one took a crane to get on the roof and nobody could steal it.
He sat, lips pursed and head calculating. Penny Gutherie had Summer’s art room planned. New floor, custom cabinets, moving a closet access for more storage, new windows, and all new electrical for lighting – which might lead to new electrical throughout the house. It was a doozy cost wise.
He’d told Penny to go ahead and draw up plans and ideas for Summer to approve, but these changes might take a visit to the bank for a loan.
They’d inherited the house from Walter, so they had no mortgage payment, but he considered the house Summer’s inheritance.
He in no way wanted her covering any of the cost when it was his gift to her.
Still. What was he trying to prove? He couldn’t compete financially with Summer’s artwork or Jonathan’s financial backing, and he couldn’t do it loan free unless he drew on his family’s gas/oil leases. Any of those options defeated the purpose of it being from him.
He was only a cop, not world renowned.
He frowned, unhappy with the direction of his thoughts. “Come on, Tom. She’s not Georgia O’Keeffe. Yet,” he muttered. “What else are you going to use your money for?” He reported his location to dispatch and got out of the SUV.
His grandmother stood in bay one, blue overalls over her clothes and her gray hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.
Her rosy cheeks and happy expression made him smile.
She was at peace with herself, and she loved the shop.
He shook his head at the black work boots, though.
They were out of place on a woman who usually wore colorful tennis shoes.
She gave him the look.
Uh-oh.
He hadn’t done anything. That he knew of.
“Where have you been?” The sound of her voice always soothed sore places, but she wasn’t usually so demanding. She’d always been his confidant, but he’d quit appraising her of his location when he’d been fourteen and started kissing girls.
He stopped in front of her, eyes sweeping the front of the business and identifying Josh Anderson and Dell Bryant, her tow truck driver. “Out at the farm. Chad had some pranksters at the market last night.”
“No surprise.” She handed Tom her phone. “Look what Josh just showed me.”
One glance and Tom groaned. Disgust flooded him. He shut his eyes and exhaled. “A Santa picture. At the farm.” He clamped his mouth shut on a bunch of swear words. The mischief at the farm finally made sense.
“Has about 100 views.”
“I swear there are kids at the high school who are in on this secret. I need to call Bret.”
Olivia shook her finger at him. “Don’t involve your pregnant sister. She’s got enough on her plate.”
Due January 3rd, Meg was counting the days until school let out for Christmas break. Chrissy having Stevie the other day finally tumbled for him as a necessity not an excursion.
Tom handed back her phone. “She’s nosy. Not sure either of us can get away without telling her the whole story. But I’ll try.”
“You and Summer are coming for dinner tonight.”
“Okay. News to me.”
“I just talked to her. She’s got questions about the Applegate and Carnahan family backgrounds. A meal is the place for that conversation. With pictures.”
Tom grinned. “I never tire of the stories from your father. We’ll be there. What time?”
“Will you be off by seven?”
“Yes.” Another thought occurred. “Maybe you could find a way to bring up her grandparents and work them into the conversation.”
“Why?”
“I think she’s struggling with her family’s place in this town and whether she belongs. I know she does. You know it, too. But we have a different perspective on Walter, and I’m not the one to say anything to her about it. It’ll drive a wedge.”
She studied his expression for a long minute. “Okay. I’ll find a time and place. Not dinner, but sometime.”
“That works.” He sighed. “Trying to keep us solid. I like having her home.”
“I get it. Navigating marriage isn’t for sissies. We close at six and are usually out of here by six thirty. More than enough time to get dinner to the table.”
“We’ll be there.” He leaned to kiss her cheek.
“You’ll find these kids?”
“Ah, so you think it’s kids, too?”
“Most likely. It’s kind of cute the way they’re moving him around.”
Tom shook his head. “Tell Clem and Slade that.”
“I will. Putting it on my agenda for tomorrow. Those two know better than to do all this bickering.”
It wasn’t the reverends weighing in on their behavior, but his grandmother’s ‘talk’ would be better. A long-time friend and fellow business owner held more weight. Oh to be a spy for that lecture.
“Thanks. Later.” Tom walked back to his truck and checked his phone.
Why hadn’t Mia contacted him with the new post?
And where was his wife?
&&&&&&&&&&
Summer carefully parked Tom’s truck and glanced over the main street neighborhood, noting the chaos of Clem’s Restaurant decorations and the clash with the train station front of Slade’s General Store.
When she was in high school, Slade’s consisted of the antique/thrift store and sat next to the dilapidated railroad stop.
Garrett Slade, being a smart businessman, bought the train station and the land around those two buildings.
Now the entire block was Slade, Slade, and Slade.
For Christmas, he turned the stores and surrounding walkways into a mini-Christmas village.
From elves to gingerbread men running to keep up with the train, to Christmas trees decorated in various themes, the scenes were fun and quirky.
Santa’s empty spot was a glaring eye sore, but the red, green, and white lights numbering in the thousands shouted Christmas in bright color.
The antique store was dedicated to angels.
Angel ornaments, angel crystal sculptures, and angel homemade crafts.
She was searching for the right theme for her home Christmas tree and couldn’t settle on coloring or doing only balls or adding ornaments.
Her grandfather’s collection was eclectic to say the least and, while she chose some of them as a remembrance, most were decrepit and pitiful.
She stood back and studied the store window, questioning if painting it would fit her landscape brand. This idea would make three Echo Falls paintings along with the mural.
“If you keep standing here, you’ll get trampled.” Her mother-in-law’s voice jarred her back to reality.
She turned to Helen Applegate, accepting a hug. “I’m toying with painting this. Look at all the angels. Such different sizes and shapes, some plain, some beautiful, stunning all of them. I’m not sure I could do this justice.” She lifted her phone and snapped several pictures.
“You couldn’t do it justice? You?” Helen laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Doubts of an artist. I never believe I can do a new subject right, because the idea never comes off my hand the way it’s in my brain.” Her mother-in-law held the door to the main store for her to enter first.
“Yet, here you are. Famous.”
“Well-known. Not famous.”
“I’ll ask Jonathan. He always tells me exactly what the talk is around you. Brilliant. Edgy. Hmmm, what was the other one? A master with color, I believe he said.”
“You talked to Jonathan?”
“Yes, I did. Within fifteen minutes of our first mural conversation. The man was enthusiastic about the idea. We’ve arranged for him to visit after his Christmas trip to work out the details.”
“Nice of him to tell me,” Summer muttered. “So, is the location hunt on hold until he gets here?”
Helen grimaced. “No, I still have a committee process to go through, but I’ve gotten good responses from everyone I’ve talked with. Meeting tonight.”
“Good. In the meantime, I’m digging deeper into the oral history of Echo Falls.”
“Why?”
“Mrs. Heigl thought the subject of the mural would be better oriented around families, not only historical notes.”
Helen shoved her gloves in her pocket. “I agree.”
“The idea was backed by a chance encounter with Chrissy and Stevie.”
Helen’s smile transformed her face. “That little one is growing so fast, and I’m so proud of Bret and Meg for sticking with Chrissy. With Bret’s family here now, it’s made life busy for them, but Meg is so happy.”
“Might be the new baby coming.”
Helen grinned. “Yeah, might be that for me, too.”
They’d moved farther down the row of Christmas decorations. Summer glanced over the shelves in dismay.
So many empty spots.
She sighed. “Dang it.”
“What?”
She pointed at the bare spaces. “I’m too slow. I wanted to update our Christmas decorations. Last few years, we’ve been using grandfather’s old ones.”
“Might have to make a run to Amarillo.”
“I was hoping to avoid a trip.”
Helen raised a brow. “Well, one complication of a small town is limited supply. Gotta start early. Bill got elaborate with our outside decorations and needs another strand of lights. Guess he’ll have to settle for less, too.
” She pointed at the bottom shelf were the lights were supposed to be.
“I do have extra decorations I’m not using this year.
If you want to come over, you can check it out.
I’m sure Olivia has a few tubs of extras, too.
She changes her colors pretty frequently. ”
“I guess I’ll get home and use what I have and see where it takes me.” Her mood crashed from creatively charged and excited to disappointed and sad. She wanted something special to celebrate.
Helen hugged her. “Gotta go break the news to my husband. Enjoy dinner with Olivia. She’s got some wonderful stories.” She kissed her cheek and went out the door.
Summer stopped at a crystal and porcelain display.
They still had tons of angels. Were they not in Christmas vogue this year?
She fingered several varieties. We’re they too girlie or was it the year for angel blessings?
The overhead lights sent mini rainbows off the crystal and the porcelain glimmered.
Her breath caught, imagination sparking.
She laughed to herself and went for a basket.
She glanced at her watch as she carefully selected a dozen angels. Added to the silver and gold balls and white lights she already had, yes, it might work. She usually went for color, but not this year. Finally at the check stand, she noted a text from Tom. Dinner at Olivia’s at 7:30.
Oops!
Forgot to set the time when she talked to Olivia.
But she’d gotten lost in her other project.
She snagged the opportunity to track Tom around town, snapping dozens of candid pictures of him in his uniform.
She’d used pictures from the school paper to draw his baseball print, and her intense focus on the details of the drawing had been powered by a high school crush.
She’d thought to keep the two works similar, but even the idea was in flux.
How the town viewed him percolated quietly as she mused over respect, hometown reputation, and his giving nature.
Paying the outrageous angel bill, she shoved aside the monetary guilt. She’d gone overboard…and didn’t care. She’d let her art pull all her focus for too long, ignoring the life waiting here at home. Burned out now, she wanted more than projects, deadlines, and commissions.
She’d never told her grandfather how important he was to her, and she feared Tom didn’t truly know how deeply she treasured his love and support.
Her actions spoke louder than her vows – and too often they said distance.
She wanted this Christmas to be different, to be perfect.
Was it too much to hope she could turn to that fresh page now?
To wish for one special moment, one honest drawing, one life built on staying instead of running?