The sadness in her expression jerked at emotions he’d been leaving alone. Stay, go. Love, leave. Hold, release. He knew where he stood with her, with his family, with this town. Summer didn’t. She might have him, but the rest was a broken landscape. But he’d keep with stay, love, and hold because she kept coming home. To him.
“Go through the packet and see what’s there. Look at the studio with what she designed and see if it fits. If it doesn’t, we don’t do it.”
“But it’s your gift.”
“No, it was going to be a gift, now it’s not. It’s something we’ll do together or not at all.” He rose and kissed her, coaxing a response.
She slid a hand behind his neck and pulled him close. “I’ll think about it. You go find Santa.”
“Oh, snap. For a minute there, I forgot the old guy was missing.”
Summer smiled, and it eased the tightness in his chest. “No you didn’t. You’re a cop through and through.”
“Your cop.”
“Yes, you are.” She leaned closer, kissing him with memories of last night in her eyes.
Satisfied, he grabbed his keys and left her drinking coffee with the art studio remodel plans open in front of her.
&&&&&&&&&&
Olivia Applegate’s kitchen was a hub for cooking and baking most times of the year, but all the family and friends used the bright yellow kitchen for social times, a place to catch a breath, and for pouring out problems. Olivia specialized in dispensing advice, did a bit of matchmaking, and never let any difficulties move her off track.
Summer couldn’t pinpoint when she decided to use Olivia’s kitchen to draw in, but she liked the quiet and the chaos. At this moment, she needed the secrecy Olivia’s kitchen could give her for Tom’s Christmas present. She also needed to talk to a neutral party.
Olivia stood at the center island counter in faded jeans, a plain deep red sweatshirt with the collar of a white blouse peeking out from sleeves and collar. She had a mess of recipe cards spread out in front of her and two old wooden recipe boxes stacked to the side.
“What are you planning over there, Olivia?” Summer kept sketching, trying to deepen the contrast and stop herself from tossing this version of Tom’s police portrait in the trash. She already had four at home in the garbage. The problem was she’d gotten too used to big murals, bright and contrasting colors. She’d forgotten how to work smaller and to use pencils and charcoals. Christmas Eve was four days away, and she expected this particular piece to be finished and hidden already.
To herself, she admitted she was stalling, reluctant to spill her bottled-up emotions all over Olivia’s table. It was her usual tactic. Jonathan bribed her to confess. Tom guessed the problem, went around her, and searched for solutions. Why was she so difficult?
“I’m looking for old recipes. Something different to add to the celebration especially for the kids. I remember some things my mother used to make, but I can’t find the recipes.”
“What were they?”
“Oh, candy. Homemade. You can buy so much these days, but it’s so commercial. This was fudge and peanut clusters and divinity and hard candy.” She put her head back and closed her eyes, a melancholy expression on her face.
God, she wanted to paint the lines of Olivia’s face. Such character. “Sounds delicious, and the family will say the more treats the better.”
Olivia opened her eyes and smiled. “Well, the kids will probably whine for Hershey’s Kisses and Snickers bars but introducing them to how we used to do it might be fun.”
“I love the idea.”
Olivia grinned. “You have charcoal on your nose.” She moved from behind the counter and came to the table. “Can I see?”
Summer heaved a big sigh and turned the work for her to view.
Olivia gasped. “Oh, my word, it’s wonderful.”
“Is it? I’m having trouble. I may have taken too many pictures of him.”
“How many did you take?” She carefully kept her fingers off the drawing.
Summer grabbed her phone and opened the photos. “Oh, about fifty.”
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.
