“If you need more help with your projects, dear, call me. I’m only doing two days at the shop while it’s so cold.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Olivia rose from the table. “Anyone for dessert?”
“No, us?” Bret laughed. “Bring it, Grandma.”
“You can come and help me.”
“Kitchen duty accepted.”
“He wants first dibs on dessert,” Meg groused.
Bret bowed slightly. “No, my lovely. I’ll bring the first piece to you.”
Robin reached across the table to high-five Meg. “Ah, true love.”
Tom watched Summer casually finish her plate. Usually, she’d be sketching ideas on the paper in front of her. But she wasn’t. What did that mean?
Tom bumped her with his shoulder. “Finish your dinner. You’ll create better on dessert.”
Summer agreed and cleared her plate, but he got the sense her mind was elsewhere. What else was new? Being married to an artist who was sometimes lost in the fog was not for the faint of heart.
&&&&&&&&&&
Norah hurried into the break room and slapped three notes on the desk. “Find Santa will you. These people are blowing up my phone.” She strode out, her long legs going the distance to her desk in a flash.
Tom frowned and grabbed the messages. Scanning each, he rolled his eyes. “Damn social media anyway.”
“Problem?” Chief Hudson appeared in the doorway arms akimbo. The man had a permanent frown lately. It made his silver hair, hard face, and blue eyes transmit tough and irritable, not approachable. It might be stopping crime, but the jury was still out.
He sifted through the papers again. “Messages. Penny Gutherie, Larry Smith, and Darla from the Echo Falls paper – new social media postings of Santa.”
“Where?”
He checked the notes. “VFW and the elementary school.”
The chief pursed his lips. “Any rumors?”
“Not any Bret and Meg have heard. I asked at dinner last night.”
“Miraculous. I didn’t think anyone at the high school could keep a secret.”
“Unfortunately, they are learning. I swear I’m putting a GPS tracker in Santa’s stuffing next year.”
Paul put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Assuming we find him.”
Tom rose from his chair and grabbed his keys and radio. “Oh, I’m going to find him.”
“Where to now?”
“I haven’t heard from Mia. I’m going to talk to her mother and find out. She was hot to participate and has vanished.”
“Anything else?”
“Two sets of prints so there are two of them wrestling Santa around. But the tread is a well-known tennis shoe, so dozens of kids have them. One must have a car. But so far no sightings. They’ll make a mistake. And this will all be over in a week anyway.”
“Why?”
