Before long the whole room filled with soft laughter and the crackle of joy. An hour later, they all sangAuld Lang Syne. Even the shy ones hummed along.
He had a way of coaxing everyone to sing despite the creaky notes and thin voices, even maneuvering her into a rendition ofBaby, It’s Cold Outside. She whispered fiercely at him that she painted, she didn’t sing, but he only grinned and kept strumming until her laughter joined the chorus.
“Summer,” Adelina called when they broke for refreshments. “Come join me for tea.”
Summer left Tom among the men and made her way to Adelina’s side. “Helen spilled the beans, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she told me about your project. It’s marvelous. How can I help?”
She pulled a chair closer to the table and sat close to Adelina so they could talk privately. “I may be tackling more than I can handle, but I thought a big street mural would be a great way to give back to the community.”
“Put us on the map, you mean?”
“No, that wasn’t my thought. So many of the people in town already support my work. I grew up and went to school here. It’s a gift so to speak for giving me a start. A mural would be for them.”
“So how can I help?”
“Well, I honestly never learned any of Echo Falls history as a town. I may have studied it at one point or my grandparents talked about it, but I’ve got nothing now. Helen said you used to collect and study the area. Could you give me some highlights? I’m trying to refine ideas to bring the mural to life.”
“You mean help you form a painting?” Adelina grinned and rubbed her hands together. “Oh, that would be a thing, wouldn’t it?”
Something unfurled in Summer – pride, excitement, inspiration. Here’s what has been missing from every project over the last two years. The joy of creating. Not for money, not for recognition, but for love.
Summer grinned back. “Yes, it would be a thing. A beautiful thing.”
“Where do we begin?”
Summer poured a cup of tea for herself and Adelina. “Tell me everything you know about Echo Falls.”
Tom made the time to talk with each person while Summer chatted with Adelina. When Summer’s grandfather lived here, he’d been a frequent visitor, the only one for some of them. The residents started drifting back to their rooms, and he opened the case to put his guitar away.
George came to his side and patted his back. “Find Santa, you hear?” The man’s laugh spurred a better mood.
Tom grinned good-naturedly and let go of his stress. “I’m on it, George. Merry Christmas.”
“Don’t be a stranger. It’s been too long.”
“I’ll work on that, too.”
Picking up his guitar, his fingers rested on the strings, good memories flooding him. The calluses on his finger had softened, the ache in his thumb told him he hadn’t played enough lately. Music used to come as easily as breathing, but somewhere between the new badge and Summer’s restless travels, the songs had gone quiet. His own fault. And he wanted the joy back.
Summer stood beside Adelina, laughing over a crooked Santa on display by the bookcase. The sight warmed him, but regret jarred like a missed chord. He strummed one last soft note for himself and promised himself he’d find the music again.
Chapter Three
The next day, Tom hurried up the walk to his house. Penny Gutherie waited for him by the front door. Married to the town football coach, Penny was a cracker jack at interior design, and he needed her help for Summer’s Christmas present. Two weeks to Christmas and it was a bit late to be tackling this, but he’d run out of ideas and time.
“Hi, Tom!” Penny’s infectious grin took the stress right out of his posture. The woman was in her mid-fifties with gray beginning to take over her hair. Dressed in jeans and a heavy blue jacket, she stuffed her gloves in her pockets. “Summer joining us?”
Tom mounted the steps and held out a hand. “Hi, Penny. Thanks for coming, and no, she’s not. It’s a Christmas surprise.” He unlocked the front door and let her enter ahead of him.
Summer’s grandparents had a long history living in Echo Falls, and the home was still referred to by some as the LeFey house. Tom had helped Walter care for the place after he’d moved to the retirement home, and the property had been passed to both him and Summer on a will stipulation.
The house still carried Walter’s presence – solid oak floors, narrow hallways, the faint scent of turpentine that clung to old canvas. But Tom’s touch had softened the edges. Warm lamplight, antique furniture restored by his own hands, and the quiet hum of a life built together turned the old place into something better than either of them had imagined.
He paused in the doorway, thinking how every scuff and shadow in the old place told a story – and how ready he was to give Summer space to write her own.
He ushered Penny up the stairs. “Since we inherited this house from her grandfather, Summer’s been trying to use her grandmother’s sewing room for her painting studio. It’s never been redesigned to meet her needs.”
