He grinned. “Thanks, Amy.” And then he followed it with, “See? You’re warming to the idea,” and all her feelings of compassion for him flew out the window.
When at last it was time for the five artists to come onstage so the winner could be announced, Amy accepted all the good wishes from her family. “You get ’em, slugger!” Kevin shouted as she mounted the ricketysteps to the even ricketier temporary stage. There was the usual speech, thanking everyone for coming. And then, the chairman of the contest judges, who happened to be the mayor, came forward to present the winner.
“We had a talented roster this year,” Mayor Kelly said. “We are blessed in this community to have such talent. I would say the entire Christmas festival has been a rousing success, wouldn’t you?”
A round of applause went up. As Julie said, Kelly never passed up an opportunity to pat herself on the back. But in Kelly’s defense, the Christmas festival was a success—a true moneymaker for the town.
“Without further ado. Our fourth runner-up, with an honorable mention for use of color goes to…Amy Casey!”
Applause filled the room, and Kelly gestured for Amy to come over to her. Amy moved to the chant in her head,last place, last place, last place.
There was a certificate for fourth runner-up. Amy noticed it was made out to Amy Case, but she smiled and bowed and thanked Kelly for the amazing opportunity before being directed to the opposite end of the stage.
She’d come in last, but she was not going to allow herself to believe she’d missed her calling. She had decided in the last week that her calling was just right—she was doing what she loved to do, painting subjects that spoke to her. If that didn’t suit the rest of the world, so be it.
Harrison was right when he urged her to carve out a place for herself among her family. She didn’t need a bohemian lifestyle or fame or accolades. She needed to do what made her happy, and theBossy Posse Christmasmade her happy.
The winner was the artist who had used light so creatively in her still life portraits. Amy applauded along with everyone else. The woman truly deserved it—her art was extraordinary. The gallery owner came onstage to congratulate them all, handing them each an envelope with the notesfrom the judges about their work. She told them she’d love to keep their work in her gallery to sell.
Amy said yes. She didn’t have room for them at home, and besides, she had a new idea in mind for a series of paintings—an old woman gardener and her three little dogs.
She was congratulated by her family, all of whom insisted she’d been robbed. She said she’d meet them at home, but that she was going to stay a little and talk to the art patrons. But everyone was eager to be home, what with the snow and Christmas morning fast approaching. Amy was one of the last to leave, and she stood at the door of the gallery, watching a light snow come down. She didn’t win, but she got some great feedback, the gallery owner was taking her paintings to sell, and she was going home to a great family who had cheered louder than anyone.
She felt happy. She felt content. She sensed that this was a new beginning for her.
She walked outside into the cold. There were a few stragglers grabbing last-minute gifts. She shoved her hands in her pockets and happened to glance at one of the last firepits that was still ablaze. A man was standing there in a knee-length coat, and a knit cap was on his head. He held his hands over the flames.
Amy stopped. The man turned and smiled. Amy felt the breath leave her body. She stared at him, expecting him to disappear in the smoke, but he remained standing there, smiling at her.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she managed.
“Oh. Yeah, I came to the art show,” Harrison said. “Except I missed it. Sorry I’m late. My flight was delayed and then there was a problem at the car-rental counter—”
“You came?” she asked in disbelief.
“I came.” He turned from the fire, shoving his hands in his pockets. “How’d you do?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Dead last.” And yet she felt like she’d just wonthe grand prize. She walked up to him, cupped his cold face with her hands, and pulled his head down to kiss him. Harrison immediately melted into her, kissing her back, his arms going around her.
She pushed him back. “What are you doing here, Harrison? You’re supposed to be on a flight to Edinburgh.”
“I know. But I kept thinking of you and your show and Christmas and…and I couldn’t get on the flight.”
“You canceled?”
“I bailed. I was waiting to board.”
She gasped with surprise. “Youbailed?”
“Like I was on the run from the law. I didn’t want to spend Christmas alone. Again. Or without you, Amy. Which, I know, is a big ask, but—”
“Of course you’ll spend it with us,” she said without hesitation.
He winced. “I know I shouldn’t have done this, but I have missed you and I—”
“Harrison,” she said, and cupped his face again. “I am so happy you are here, are you kidding? I’ve missed you like crazy. I can think of nothing better than spending Christmas with you. Nothing.” It was the perfect end to her quest for the artist lifestyle. The proverbial icing on the cake. At this moment, she didn’t think she could possibly be any happier ever again.
He grabbed her hands and pulled them down, clasping them in his. “I don’t know what this means, exactly. Me showing up here. You inviting me in. I’m still going to Scotland. A little more on the last-minute side, but—”
