“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 bottomshelf 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 quietlyas 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 saiddistance.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?
