What happened was, it sold.
Ms. Hix said that Amy should enter the art contest during the town’s Christmas festival. There was a five-thousand-dollar purse from the chamber of commerce for the winner. “Kelly Hodges wants to make our town a draw for artists.”
“See?” Julie said later. “Nora Ephron, not quintessential Texas. But still, five grand is a big deal. And so is the festival. People come from all over Texas for the Christmas festival, you know. Kelly started putting up the town decorations right after Labor Day. Isn’t that insane?”
It was a little early, Amy had to agree. And yes, she knew that people came from all over Texas for the two-week-long Christmas festival, leading up to New Year’s Day. During the week before Christmas, there was a crafts fair and shopping and baking demonstrations. The town made sure there was caramel popcorn, hot cocoa, and fake snow for the kids to play in, even that year it was incredibly warm and people were out in shorts and T-shirts. Santa arrived in his sleigh and carolers walked up and down Main Street.
The last day of that part of the festival was Christmas Eve, the week culminating in live nativities and Christmas carols. The winner of the art show was also slated to be announced that day. Then, starting the day after Christmas, the festival turned to music and food, dancing, and games and contests. A music contest was scheduled, where local bands would play every night, and the winner of the music contest was announced on New Year’s Eve.
It was two solid weeks of a major Christmas glow-up for Willow Valley. And if there was one thing Kelly Hodges could do, being an interior decorator by trade, it was decorate. Dozens of Christmas trees graced the town square. Every lamppost was turned into a candy cane. A giant snow globe, two stories high, rained snow on top of woodland creatures romping about. She was intent on having Willow Valley named the Christmas Capital of Texas.
“I don’t see how she takes the title from Grapevine, but she’s going to die trying,” Julie said sagely over drinks one night.
Amy wasn’t listening to her. “I would love to enter,” she said. “But I don’t have three paintings.”
Julie blinked. “Youdon’t? How can an artist not have three paintings?”
“You don’t just churn them out,” Amy said defensively. She didn’t think it was necessary to mention how many paintings she had started and abandoned.
“How long will it take you to make them?”
“I can’t put a time on it. Art is about inspiration—”
“And five thousand dollars,” Julie reminded her. “All you have to do is make three paintings that are Texas-y and tourist-y and Christmas-y.”
“That’s all?” Amy had asked wryly. But with that money, she could get the back deck fixed. Still, she shook her head. “I can’t get three paintings ready by the deadline while working and taking care of the kids and getting ready for Christmas.”
“Amy! Youhaveto,” Julie practically shouted at her. Which Julie tended to do when she’d had a couple of drinks. “When will you get an opportunity like this again?”
She had a point. “But how? It took me three months to finish the one that sold. I live with three males, Julie. Between cooking and laundry—”
“My parents’ lake house,” Julie said instantly. “It’s empty.”
“I can’t afford—”
“For free,” Julie said before Amy could argue. “It’s really more of a lake estate, you know. Eight bedrooms, nine baths.”
“What? Why is it so big?” Amy exclaimed.
“What do you mean, why? Because my parents are superrich. You know that. And it’s all done up for the holidays. It would be very inspirational.”
Amy did not know that their lake house wasthatbig—she’d never seen it, only heard about it. The idea of using it was enticing and quickly began to take root. Imagine, having a palace to create art for a few days.
Julie explained to her that she and her sister had taken over managing the property, and after the new year, they would list it on all the vacation home rental sites.
It really did sound perfect. But even so, Amy had reservations. “I don’t have two weeks of vacation time. I had to take that extra week last year when Ethan was having trouble with his anxiety, remember?”
“Ask Ed,” Julie said, referring to Amy’s boss. “It’s almost the holidays,and you have vacation time, don’t you? I’m pretty sure there’s not a mad rush on railroad ties this time of year.”
“Railroad ties don’t have a down season,” Amy said pertly. But Julie was right—no one would notice she was gone except her boss.
The next day, when she spoke to Ed about the opportunity, she’d expected him to hem and haw—he liked having her on standby for all the uncomfortable things he didn’t like to do. Like fire people. Or tell them they weren’t getting a raise. But Ed had surprised her. He was very enthusiastic about her opportunity. “I probably never told you this,” he said, folding his hands over his enormous belly, “but I had my heart set on being a novelist.”
Ed had indeed told her that, and more than once. He’d never actually written the novel. Not even a handful of pages as far as Amy knew. But boy, did he have lots of ideas for them. “Take the time,” he said. “Pursue a dream. It’s dead around here until after the start of the year. But you’ll miss the company Christmas party.”
“Somehow, I don’t think I will,” Amy said. “Just don’t let Martin drink too much.”
Ed laughed. “Who can stop him?”
