Chapter Eight #2
Olivia’s eyes widened, and she stretched out a hand.
Summer passed over her phone. After several minutes of scrolling through her source pictures, Olivia gazed at her, wonder in her face.
“I see him out in his uniform talking to people all the time, but seeing these pictures and how you shaped the drawing is a whole different level of marvelous.” Olivia handed back the phone.
“Not that I don’t love you here, but why are you at my table doing this? Don’t you have a painting room?”
“Tom is a sneaky snoop and can guess what his presents are, and I want this one to be totally out of left field for him so it’s a surprise. Plus, I need to talk. Something came up, and I’m lost.” If anyone could handle that, Olivia could.
Olivia pulled out a chair and gave her a pointed look. “Talk.”
“Tom gave me my Christmas gift today, only it’s a big one and he felt we had to decide together.”
“Which is?”
“Remodeling my art room.”
Olivia smiled and sat back in her chair. “So what’s the problem? Put the words out there. This obviously didn’t sit right.”
“It’s amazing. I did what he asked. Took the packet upstairs and walked through all Penny Gutherie’s suggestions.”
“She’s good.”
“Yes, she is. She’s thought of everything. Yet, it makes me so sad to take apart what my grandmother built in her sewing room. It was her special space.”
“Build on it, then. It’s not the space that holds her memories, Summer. It’s your heart. Take the things that mean the most. You’re not going to use the old bits and pieces. They hold nothing for you.”
Summer eased out a breath and put words to the jammed up mess in her chest. “Is it the memories I’m holding or the anger?”
Olivia reached for her hand. “Which do you think?”
She dropped her pencil and held on to Olivia like a lifeline. “I’m not sure, but it’s hurting Tom.”
“How?”
“Because I keep leaving. I didn’t believe that’s why I was doing it. But he confronted me this morning, and I can’t stand that this is who I’m giving him – the teenager angry at her grandfather. I mean tell me to grow up.”
“Anger, grief, joy – those feelings don’t go away, honey. They’re valid emotions. You have to acknowledge them first, then examine each one to find the context. Deciding which to put aside when you’re done with them and which need other paths is a process, not an easy thing.”
“My grandfather didn’t believe in my art.”
Olivia sat back and folded her arms. “Tom does.”
“He sees the artist I am now.” The skepticism she nursed deep inside stirred, and she let it bleed out.
Olivia raised a brow. “It’s why he kept the drawing you did of him in high school.”
Summer opened her mouth, then shut it again. Was it possible he’d understood her all along?
“This town knew it, too. It’s why we display your work. You’re grandfather figured it out, too, but the old coot was too stubborn to tell you. Men. I swear.”
Summer laughed, quietly. “He was pigheaded.”
“So are you. You need to write out all these feelings. It’ll help. Paint something angry or go to the graveyard and yell at him, but get it out, honey. I knew both your grandparents. They wouldn’t want you suffering like this. Go live. Find the joy.”
“I already found it. My painting, and Tom is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“There shouldn’t be a problem making the space yours then.” Olivia patted her hand and went back to the recipe search.
Summer gathered her pencils and gently shaded in more area. “I’ve had to do so much sneaking around. He’s already asking questions, and I’m lying to pull off this surprise.”
Olivia’s eyes got dreamy. “Thomas didn’t like surprises. He wanted to tell me what to get him so we made good use of our money. Aggravated me no end. I finally resorted to baking and candy, homemade items and had to do much the same hide and seek maneuvers to make it a surprise.”
“I love him so much.”
Olivia smiled, her eyes twinkling. “It’s the best feeling, honey. You can see your love in the drawing, too.”
Summer grinned. “Fell in love with that man when I was in high school.”
“What’s not to love?” Smiling, Olivia spread more recipes across the counter. “You best clean up. Your husband tends to stop here once during shift to refill his coffee and raid the cookie jar. Does he even know you’re here?”
“If he’s checked his phone or has been by the house, he’ll figure it out.” Still, she popped open the containers for her pencils and charcoal and shifted her creative toys into the slots where they went.
Olivia went back to her recipes. “He’s checking on me and trying not to be obvious about it. He comes by the shop, too.”
“He loves you, and taking care of his family has always been his number one commitment.”
Olivia blushed. “He was always a good boy, and he turned into a really good man.”
“Yes, he did.” Summer rose and put her tools in her tote bag and pulled out the items she needed to preserve the drawing until she could get home and spray the surface. “Can I help you find the recipes?”
“I’d like that.” Olivia divided her remaining recipe cards and laid half out for Summer.
Her contented tone pierced Summer to the core. “I going to head out soon. Find a good place to yell at my grandfather.”
Olivia kissed her cheek. “You do that, honey. You’ll feel better.”
If she could shed this overwhelming hurt, she would count her blessings – for the stability her grandparents had given her and for Tom’s love.
&&&&&&&&&&
Summer was at his grandmother’s house, and he was dying to walk into the kitchen and eavesdrop.
He couldn’t do that without being obvious.
The need for her to figure out her past weighed on him.
He should be reading the report in his hand, but he stared out the window at the hospital entrance lost in thought.
Norah finished her call and shot out of the dispatch chair and to his side. Her blonde hair was subdued in a ponytail, and the dispatch shirt kept her professional if he ignored the reindeer slippers on her feet.
“I’d ask why you’re staring out the window, but I don’t care unless Santa has miraculously appeared across the street.”
He gave her a side-eye. “Something new for me?”
“Yes. Santa was at the hospital. On the bench outside. Rand Caldwell reports he’s not there now, but the picture was posted on social media during lunch.”
Tom swore in his head. “This is ruining Santa Claus for me.”
“Sorry. Rafe is on the other end of town on a medical. Bret is out at the high school. Again. Chief is at the mayor’s office. Again. You want to take this call to talk to Mr. Caldwell?”
“Where’s Carmen?”
“Courthouse. Again. It’s like they’re trying to clear the court docket or something.”
“I’ll take it.” Tom grabbed his radio. When he’d made sergeant, he’d thought his duties would change. Nope. Not at all. “Any other social media sightings?”
Norah’s eyes widened. She checked the room and leaned closer.
“Spill it,” Tom ordered.
“Well, I have it from Trina Murray there’s a picture of the old guy by the boat launch at the reservoir. I can’t find it anywhere online and nobody reported it.”
Irritation was not his friend. Like they needed false sightings at this point. But why not? He wasn’t naturally a moody man, but he was over this issue. “Anywhere else?”
“Library.” Norah popped her phone out of her pocket.
“I’ve been saving them.” She handed Tom her phone.
He scrolled through one short of a baker’s dozen in photos, noting the fire department and hospital were visited, but the police department had been a no-go.
The building being right across the street from the hospital qualify the visit as a two-fer, though. Jesus take the wheel.
He was going to recommend to the judge that these jokers have their licenses suspended. They could only be using transportation to get the girth of the figure around.
“Anybody report all these other sightings?”
“Oh yeah, half the town. It’s in the log.”
“So why do I need to go to the hospital?”
“Mr. Caldwell might have seen the car.”
“Peachy. Show me out at the hospital.”
“Copy.” She went back to her chair and clacked on her keyboard with long magenta nails and nimble fingers.
He went through the main doors and crossed the street. Rand Caldwell had a lean runner’s frame and a casual pose. He waited on the bench, compromising a non-existent crime scene. Tom stopped in front of him and sighed. Giving up, he sat on the bench, too.
Rand grinned. “How’s your day?”
Tom turned his head and had no trouble keeping his cop face. “Santa’s a wanted man.”
“I heard. Afraid my description of the car isn’t going to help much.”
“Give it to me anyway.”
“Black. Toyota Runner. Didn’t see the plates.”
“And how do you know it’s connected to Santa?”
“Believe it or not, nobody currently in the ER. Visiting hours don’t open for another hour.
Process of elimination. Myrtle says the car idled in the parking lot a long time.
I happened by, she told me, and I came to check things out.
The car was leaving, then the picture popped on social media – wish I knew who this was because I could use this person as our hospital social media expert – and I put the two together. ”
“Not a solid connection, but probable. I can use that.”
Rand whipped out his phone and went to the hospital picture. “Check out the caption.”
He took the phone and read. Santa loves the heart of Echo Falls. Don’t ruin it with stuff that doesn’t matter.
Tom couldn’t even find a snort. “I wish I could say that this stuff doesn’t matter. Wish I could let this case go. It’s giving me a headache.”
“But he was stolen. I get it. Do what you gotta do.”
“Text me the picture.”
“Can do.”
Tom went back across the lot. Three cars pulled in. He turned and yelled back to Rand. “You jinxed yourself by telling me you weren’t busy.”
“Probably.” Rand waved and went back inside.
Tom trotted across the street and went into the station. “Norah, can you do something for me?”
“I’m filing my nails, but yes.” She was wide-eyed and tapping her finger on her workstation, but the sarcasm made him smile. He had to let this go and think of it as a bit of Christmas fun. Because, deep down, he agreed with the message. This decorating thing was out of hand.
He leaned in through the public window. “Take all the social media pictures and do a posting timeline. I want a when and where chart.”
Norah grabbed her pen, nonchalance dropped. “Carmen has a partial one already done. I’ll fill in the blanks.”
Tom agreed. “I’m going on patrol. Add a Black Toyota Runner to the watch list, no plate, yet.”
“DMV run?”
“Yes, only the county. I’m still convinced it’s someone who lives here and a high school student.”
“I’ll get on that.” An ambulance, lights flashing, pulled in at the hospital. An Echo Falls police car followed behind.
Tom grabbed his keys and walked back across to the hospital. After a check-in with Rafe and a conversation with Bret about high school vehicles, he’d hit the streets.
When his phone rang, he grabbed it. “Grandma? You okay?” He listened quietly while she talked and made an immediate decision to change the route he’d planned.
Summer was headed to the cemetery. Mixed emotions tore at his conscience. She hadn’t been there since Walter died. Had he pushed her into something she wasn’t ready for?
“Thanks, Grandma. I’ve got her.” He disconnected, dropped his phone, and took the most direct route.