“Do you have frames? Passe-partouts?”
“Different question, same answer.”
Dillon cleared his throat and asked her, “Can you tell me what you’re doing?”
Somewhere along the line, Olivia had learned how to talk while still working at hyper-speed. “The debate over lenses, digital bodies, and software is endless. I’ve read and studied most of the sites that don’t descend into verbal violence and scathing put-downs.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, and really didn’t care. “Okay, so?”
“I personally think there’s a great deal of truth and value to all sides of the equation. For my money, the Nikon system is tops when it comes to deep-color saturation and finesse. But it also requires a huge amount of time to get right. The choices are basically endless. I love working with my buddy Nikon when time is not a factor.”
“So, not today.”
“Definitely not. When it comes to auto-tuning and fast turnaround, setting a preliminary standard and trusting the system to make it pop, for my money it’s Canon hands down.” She leaned down so close her nose almost touched the screen. Shifted back and worked the mousepad with one hand, the keyboard with her other. “The Nikon pros treat me like a second-class shooter. Barely above amateur status. Needing the computer and the camera to do most of the work.” She inspected again, nodded, and slapped the computer shut. Pulled out the SSD and holder. Offered it to Gleason. “You know where they can stick it, right?”
He accepted the stick. “Whatever you say.”
“The one I’m after is labeled A1.”
Gleason waggled his finger back and forth between them. “Are you two . . .”
“No,” Dillon said.
Olivia snapped, “Can we please dispense with the ridiculous and get to work here?”
* * *
Soon as Gleason retreated to the back room, the shop was filled with an awkward tension. All the unspoken thoughts and memories, all the regrets, all the arguments they never finished. He had no idea what to say. Or even if it would be better for them both if he just left. So there he stood, midway between the counter and the exit, watching her trace one finger over the laptop’s corner.
Then she said, “After everything fell apart, I kept thinking if I could just hold on to the one thing I had left, it might turn out okay. Someday.”
Her voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact. Dillon’s only response was to take a step to his right, so he could see her face more clearly.
Olivia seemed to approve of his silence. Or maybe she wasn’t speaking to him at all. She wrapped her arms around her middle and gazed at the counter. “When I saw that family in the jail cell, it all came together. Just for a second. There and gone in the space of two breaths. But right then, it felt . . .”
“Tell me. Please.”
“I thought maybe this was it. A step in the right direction. Using my gift, trying to help . . .”
Gleason reentered the shop.
He held an oversized photo sheet in both hands. The big man approached the counter slowly, his expression solemn, his movements almost theatrical. He used two fingers to shift Olivia’s laptop over. Then he settled the sheet on the counter. Swung it around so it faced her. Took a step back.
Olivia just stood there. Dillon could not see if she even breathed. “Can I see?” When neither Olivia or the big man responded, he stepped forward.
The picturearrestedhim.
Gleason said, “If they ever do a picture book of this Christmas season in Miramar . . .” He used two fingers to shift the print ever so slightly. “I want this on the cover.”
Olivia remained frozen. Unblinking.
“I don’t know how. But you’ve captured what a lot of us are feeling. How we’re there for them.” He tapped the print’s corner. “These people. We care and we do what we can.”
The resolution was crystal sharp. The work held an ethereal quality, too precise to be a painting, and yet that was how it seemed. This was more than just another portrait. The familyspoketo him.
The light was dim enough to soften their weary state. They were transformed into a mystical tableau.
The wall behind the family was splashed with the window’s gray illumination. The bars formed a crosshatch pattern above the five people. The love they shared, despite everything, made Dillon want to shout out loud.
