The sweet scent ofsummer roses was missing from the entryway of the Echo Falls Retirement Center, fondly called the nursing home. The rose bushes trimmed back for winter looked bleak. Summer hadn’t been here for two years because she’dnever been home when Tom came. The last time had been a funeral for an old friend of her grandfather’s. As typical, Tom brought his calm stability to the elderly community while she traveled and painted. She hated that.
Even with all the difficulties with her grandfather, this place had been good for him.
“What’s wrong?” The soft timber of Tom’s voice left her breathless and fumbling.
“Remembering.”
“The painting in the entry isn’t a fake anymore. You painted them a new one.” His smirk punctuated the tease. He had his guitar case held tightly and reached for her hand. His eyes showed the tiredness he fought to keep at bay, but his face stayed neutral. This wasn’t her Tom.
She eased into a smile. “I know.”
“No critiquing the work. They love it.”
She sighed heavily in exaggeration. “If I must.”
He opened one of the double-entry doors. The building stood out in the community. The large, sprawling home was white, bulky blocks with a light brown mortar cementing them together. The windows were all framed with matching wood and many of the windows had lights.
Simple Christmas trees lined the portico. The lights twinkled quietly in the gathering darkness. The dry, green lawn had been trimmed neatly, fall leaves were raked, and the weeded flowerbeds smelled of new mulch. Across the street, family homes were scattered down the street, some more run down than others, but all had lights in their yards.
A scent of cinnamon apples wafted in the air as soon as they walked through the door. The gnarled and twisted emotions she had about the place from after her grandfather’s death were muted and quiet now. Melancholy rolled over her.
“Thomas, Summer! We’ve been waiting.” Adelina James swept toward her. Her brown eyes sparkled. Her white hair was in a perfectly coiffed roll, and her festive red dress swirled with her movement. The cane was new, though.
She came directly to Summer and held out an arm for a hug. “We’ve missed you.”
Choked up, Summer swallowed hard to banish a bit of tears and went into the hug like she had as a little girl with her grandmother. “Hello! I’ve missed you, too.”
Adelina let her go and turned to Tom. She forced him to lean down so she could kiss both cheeks. “Have you found Santa yet?”
Tom’s disgusted sigh earned him a frown. “Sorry, Adelina. Not yet.”
“Poor Garrett. He’s been so good to me, and he’s gonna have a stroke if you don’t figure it out. Clem wouldn’t do something like this.”
“Don’t hog the man, Adelina.” George Brucker sauntered into the entry with another couple on his tail.
George held out a hand for Tom to shake. “This is Davis and Bobbi Langstrom, Tom. They moved to town to be by their daughter and grandkids.”
“Welcome to Echo Falls.” Tom nodded at the couple. “And this is my wife, Summer.”
“Oh, she’s more than Tom’s wife. She’s our resident famous artist.” Adelina pointed at the painting.
“Oh, I love your work,” the woman gushed. “So special.”
“Thank you.” Summer hated that her smile had become neutral.
Tom ushered the group into the day room. Pine and peppermint smells added to the cinnamon apple. The staff had strung a small tree with colorful ornaments and a paper chain that drooped under its own weight. A record player in the cornerhummed softly before the needle skipped, as if even the music was old and careful.
Adelina took Summer’s arm, and she slowed her pace to match Adelina’s halting steps. By the time she’d settled the older lady into her seat, Tom had his guitar out, tuning strings with practiced turns, and greeting residents by name. About a dozen total had left their rooms, drawn by the promise of music.
“Why’d you quit the church choir, Tom?” The older gentleman wore a holiday-green sweater, his beard as white as a snowbank. She’d never seen him before.
“Well, Kyle. No time. If you hadn’t heard, I’m hunting a stolen Santa.”
“We heard, son. Work faster.” George shifted to sit near Tom.
Tom strummed the first few chords ofHere Comes Santa Claus, the familiar rhythm loosened his shoulders and set his feet to tapping.
Summer grinned. This was exactly what they both needed.
