Christmas Kisses: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

  “Final delivery just came in.” Jonah greeted Kaya when she arrived Wednesday morning. “I can't wait to see what Manuel sent me. He's an incredible artist. Makes me feel like a neophyte half the time. You, especially, will appreciate these.”

  Glad he didn't appear the least upset about the other man overshadowing him, Kaya followed him to the back room where the paintings were crated up. It was about time the shipment arrived. The delivery was several days late and they would open the gallery the next day for the grand gala. Jonah had been putting off setting up the last few things, wanting to make sure he got the placement exactly right. She still had a few small sculptures to uncrate as well that had been delivered the previous afternoon. As she walked through the gallery behind him, she saw the stands had been erected, so she should be able to get them all placed so they would be ready to open the next day.

  Jonah picked up the crowbar from its usual location and pried the crate open, moving slowly and carefully, so he wouldn't damage anything inside. The wood groaned as the nails were pried out, and the smell of pine filled the air. She loved the scent, always had, but after three of these uncrating ceremonies, it was gaining a new significance. She'd learned how valuable everything was to him— not in money, though there was certainly that, but intrinsically, as a piece of someone's soul, as he had claimed one day. She didn't quite get it, as a few of the pieces looked like nonsense to her.

  Not Jonah’s paintings, though. They had always touched her somewhere deep inside, starting with the painting he had done of his grandparents in their backyard that hung in Ora's living room. That had been done when he was still a teen. It didn't have half the skill of the painting of Shyanne that she had seen waiting for a frame the previous night. She would have to invite Evelyn, give her a chance to at least see the painting before someone else snatched it up.

  Kaya could hardly believe the grand opening was the next day. After she helped Jonah through the first week or so, he wouldn't need her anymore, and their time together would be over. She didn't think she could fade back into being just two people who lived in the same city. Not now. She watched him lift the first painting, which faced away from her, from the crate and his eyes lit up with pleasure.

  If things worked out for the Shoemakers to buy Ora's house, then he wouldn't even have a reason to come to the neighborhood and maybe pop by to say hello. Could she let that happen? She didn't think so. Not without at least trying to see if something might develop between them. Something more.

  She tried not to think about that right now. She needed to focus on the task at hand, she reminded herself. They had work to do. When he turned the stretched cotton canvas around so she could see the painting, the breath caught in her throat. The craggy rocks and vibrant green bushes practically leapt off the canvas, the details so minute it looked almost more like a photograph than a painting. But it was the chestnut bay standing near the center that really got her. She could almost feel the horse hair under her fingers, hear the horse blowing air through his nostrils.

  Kaya took a step closer and lifted her hand, half expecting to feel hair on the canvas, but stopped before making contact and slid her hand into her pocket. “That's incredible.” Even inches away, it barely looked like brush strokes, the acrylic paints were so masterfully mixed and applied.

  “All of his paintings have this kind of detail. He amazes me. Give me a hand here?” Jonah carefully set the painting aside and reached for the next one.

  Blinking to overcome the stunned sensation she felt, Kaya cleared away some space on his framing counter and removed a smaller painting from the crate. It didn't feature a horse, but was equally as detailed.

  In all, there were five paintings, each as wonderful as the first, and four of them featured horses. The one featuring a palomino grabbed her by the throat, and she wished she had the money to purchase the four-figure painting. That wasn't going to happen, though.

  They set up the last few statues, found places for the remaining paintings, and Kaya helped Jonah decide on frames for Manuel's paintings.

  “Some of the other paintings here don't have frames,” she pointed out. “Why are you framing all of these?”

  “They'll show better with frames, and that velvet mat for this one,” he gestured to the first one he had uncrated. “I actually have a buyer in mind to look at them. I'm sure he'll buy at least a couple.”

  “That would be fantastic for you.” She leaned back against the framing counter, her hands wrapped around the carpeted surface. “Will you have time to finish the frames before the show tomorrow night?” She knew they were pushing the deadline to the max and he had some of the artists and community elite coming for a thank-you lunch in the afternoon, followed by the general grand opening for the public in the evening. Thursdays were her only afternoon off so she'd be there most of the day.

  “Yeah, if I ignore the phone for a few hours this afternoon, it shouldn't be a problem.” He ran his fingers along the edge, near her hand. “I appreciate your help.”

  “It's been a pleasure seeing this all come together.” More than that, really; she hated to see this end.

  “You've been great to work with. Seriously, I don't think I could have managed it without you. Not with an ounce of sanity left.” Jonah’s finger’s tapped lightly in the wooden backing. “I know you need to get back to your animals soon, but I wondered if you could break away for a while tonight. For dinner.”

  “Like a thank-you dinner?” Kaya wasn't sure what his expectations were. She hoped he saw it as a date— that he wanted it as much as she did, but she had never been good at reading him.

  He watched her face carefully. “Actually, like a date. I've enjoyed getting to know you. I wondered what it would be like to spend time together away from here.”

  She grinned, relieved that he might have feelings for her. “I think I'd like that. What did you have in mind?” Her thoughts were already racing, trying to figure out what to wear— she hadn't exactly had the opportunity to dress up for him yet. Of course, she would be in much nicer clothes for the opening celebration.

  He picked up her hand and gave her fingers a light squeeze. “When was the last time you went ice skating?”

  Kaya blinked, taken totally by surprise. She'd been thinking of something a little more formal. Ice skating was definitely not formal. Not even a little bit. “A long time, at least not since college, maybe not since high school.”

  His expression made her wonder if he was pleased he set her a little off-kilter. “I haven’t been out this season, but I used to skate a lot. Do you have a pair of skates?”

  “I think so. If not, I could probably borrow some from someone. I know several of my neighbors ice skate.” Flo, who lived two doors down, took her kids out skating a lot and their feet might be the same size. Or Laurie around the corner.

  Jonah grinned, happier and more relaxed than she'd seen him before. “Great. I'll take care of dinner. You want to meet me at the lake at seven? That will give you time to milk the goats and settle everyone in for the night, and time for me to get a fair amount of framing out of the way.”

  He wasn't picking her up, either? This wasn't seeming all that date-ish right now. “I could do that.” Chickadee Lake was kitty-corner across the street from the gallery and surrounded by trees and picnic tables. “I should go then, take care of things back home.” Search for those skates. “See you tonight.”

  “See you.” Jonah’s lips turned up and he watched her grab her coat and walk out.

  As she drove back around to the front of the building, she saw Keira Kenworth directing people to set up for the Carol Fest in the plaza across the street from the Gallery. She was sorry she would have to miss it that afternoon. She remembered going to one as a kid and the sweetness of cider and donuts on her tongue. It would be over before her date with Jonah that night.

  Her thoughts turned back to Jonah. He was usually a little uptight, which could easily be because of his work. Kaya looked forward to seeing hi
m in a more casual setting and hoped it didn't turn into a disaster.

  IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME since Kaya had been to Chickadee Lake. The city allowed non-motorized boats on it in the summer, and cleared the ice for skating for a couple months during the winter— depending on the weather. Thanks to several weeks of sub-zero temperatures at night, it was fully frozen now.

  Kaya found her old skates in a musty wooden box in the attic and checked them over. They were worn— she'd had them since she was fifteen and had bought them second-hand to begin with. But they were still just fine for another use. She pulled on a second set of warm socks and crammed her feet back into her boots. Extra insulation would be much appreciated once she got on the ice.

  Though she told herself it didn’t matter, Kaya debated for more than ten minutes over her collection of scarves and hats before finalizing her outfit with an ultra-soft navy yarn set Ora had given her the previous Christmas.

  Why was she so worried about what she wore? Jonah had seen her in her coveralls, for goodness sake, with her hair pulled up, sweat dripping from her face, and stinking of horse droppings. So what was the deal now?

  Kaya admitted to herself that she liked Jonah more than she had thought possible. Things were going so well and she wondered if this was the start of something really terrific or if it would be just one more disappointment in the dating department.

  She went out to her vehicle and climbed in, hoping the clouds that were rolling in would hold off on dumping a new layer of snow long enough for them to have a nice evening. A cloud cover might raise the temperature a few degrees, though, if there wasn't too much wind— that would be appreciated since the night was already in the teens and dropping.

  Kaya found a parking spot behind the art gallery and walked over to the pond— there was parking on the side of the road, but with all of the snow they'd had lately, it would be half-full of snow drifts and her truck had a long bed, so it would stick into the road. There were already plenty of people skating, flashing in and out of the well-lit areas. Not only did the seasonal spotlights illuminate the cleared area, but the colored twinkle lights that brightened several of the trees nearby helped make it easier to see everything. It looked almost magical.

  “Hey,” Jonah said, coming up behind Kaya. “You want to eat first while the food's hot? We can grab some hot cocoa at Fay's Café after. She makes the best on the planet.” Jonah was bundled in his heavy winter coat, a red, knit scarf double-knotted at his neck.

  It looked a lot like Kaya's scarf and she wondered how many other scarves Ora had made. “Dinner sounds good. I'm freezing already.”

  “Sorry about the cold date, it's the one downside of ice skating.” He led her over to one of the picnic benches and started setting out cartons. There were two deep bowls of chicken noodle soup, hunks of bread, warm, spiced cider, and gingerbread cookies.

  “Looks delicious. Is this also from the café?” Kaya had only been there once, when she had been a child still. Her grandpa had taken her in during one of her visits.

  “Yes. It's nice it's so close to the gallery. I've been eating there a lot lately.” He passed over a spoon and took a seat on the freezing bench.

  “Nice this table happened to be clear.” She noticed the others were all covered in more than a foot of snow.

  “I cleared it off before picking up the soup,” he admitted. “I figured eating standing up wouldn't be much fun.”

  “The window display at the gallery looks great. I can't wait for opening night,” Kaya could see the gallery from her seat, though it was far enough away that she couldn't read anything on the windows. The lighting hit the paintings just right, and the sculpture near the front window would catch anyone's eye. Cars rushed past as people hurried to their next holiday event. He had a prime location.

  “I had a call today, someone who saw the sculpture as they walked by. They wanted to buy it. We talked price and they said they'll come by tomorrow during the opening for a closer look.” He appeared very pleased with himself.

  “That's a good omen, to have interest before you're even opened.”

  “I hope so. I feel like I've put all of my eggs in this one basket and I'm kinda terrified that it'll bust.” He played with a chunk of his bread. “I don't know what my next move would be.”

  That was a moment of honesty and vulnerability Kaya couldn't ignore. She hoped that meant he was open to talk. She decided to start with something easy. “How long have you been drawing?”

  He smiled, countering with, “How young do most kids pick up a pencil?”

  “So pretty much always. Fair enough.” She took a spoonful of the sinfully delicious chicken noodle soup and asked another way. “When did it go from, hey, this is fun, to hey, this is what I want to do with my life?”

  “I can't remember not loving to draw, and according to my mom, painting came right at its heels. I think I was five when my kindergarten class went on a field trip to a museum. I saw these huge, amazing paintings and thought, hey, this art thing, it could be something. That's what I want to do when I grow up.” He grinned. “I went home and started drawing on the wall, planning a mural.”

  That made her chuckle; she could imagine it perfectly. “What did your mom think about that?”

  “After she got over the pencil marks on everything, she reconsidered and agreed to let me paint the walls. She even bought me some paints to do everything. I started mixing different shades and splashing things up there. It was really terrible.” He grinned at her before taking a large bite of bread.

  “But you had fun?”

  “Yeah.” He chewed and swallowed. “I had a lot of fun. Mom took a bunch of pictures, proud as can be, and gave me a serious artist's sketch pad. I thought I was the king of the art world. I started taking art lessons through a summer program, and kept drawing. In third grade we expanded the mural to a second wall and it was somewhat less horrible. But not much.”

  “And then you learned more, practiced more, and covered wall number three?” Kaya could see where this was going.

  “Of course. By the time I graduated from high school, the mural had all been repainted with a new scene, some of it twice over, and each wall was significantly better than the one before. I also had a large portfolio of sketches and a reasonable, pretty decent, collection of paintings. That got me a scholarship.” He said it as if it were a matter of course instead of a major accomplishment, though she didn’t imagine he’d been nearly as casual about it at the time.

  “When did you decide you wanted to use mostly watercolor instead of the other kinds of paint? Has it always been your thing?” She knew a few other people who were artists of varying quality, and though they all did different things, few worked in several mediums.

  Jonah finished his soup and picked up one of the gingerbread cookies. “I dabbled in all of them. In college I spent a lot of time learning pastels, oils, acrylics, and watercolor. I'm reasonably proficient in all of them— not spectacular, but reasonably proficient. The challenge of watercolor really stuck with me.”

  “Why is it more of a challenge than the others?” Kaya loved the way his expression opened up and his face became animated when he talked about art. She had asked a lot of extra questions about the pieces displayed in the gallery as well, happy to see his enthusiasm. There was satisfaction mixed in with his enthusiasm now, which she found extra enticing.

  “If you mess up with acrylics or oil, you can paint over it. Start again. Worst case scenario, you have to add a couple layers of paint to cover up the mistake. With watercolor, you can go darker, but you can't go lighter. I have to block off white space and be extra careful because I can't undo something once the color is on the paper.”

  She hadn't thought of that before, but she could see that it would keep a lot of artists from choosing watercolor. “I think I would be intimidated by that, not being able to fix it.”

  “It just means being more creative.”

  “Don't you still work with oils sometimes? I've s
een a couple at Ora’s. She always brags on you.”

  “There's something to be said for the smear of paint, and the sensation of building it up, a layer at a time. It's a different kind of work, but I enjoy it just as much, in its own way. You can add physical texture to the painting in oil, which is nice for certain projects. It works well for dramatic or emotional pieces. I don't use it often, but sometimes when I'm in the mood.” He played with the end of his cookie, pensive, then looked back at her.

  Kaya paused for a moment, not wanting to push, but he seemed open so she broached the topic that had been burning in the back of her mind. “You said you stopped painting after things ended with a previous relationship? It must have been very serious.” She wanted to ask outright about what happened, dying to know if his heart was still broken or if he was really feeling better. This was the best she could do, though.

  He finished his cookie, studying her face, then washed it down with the end of his cider. “I was dating someone. Seriously. We were talking marriage and were excited for the future. I had this big show at a major gallery, my career was taking off, and everything seemed so perfect. The night my big show opened, she was supposed to meet me at the gallery. We'd had a little argument that afternoon, but I thought we had worked it out. She never showed up.”

  He stared at his hands and pain etched around his eyes and along his forehead. “I remember being so angry that she had flaked out and missed my big night, that she hadn't really let go of our argument like she said she had. It turned out she was in an accident on her way to the opening. I never got to talk to her again.”

  “Oh my.” Kaya didn't know what to say about that. She reached out and took his hand in hers.

  He squeezed back. “It messed me up for a long time. I wondered if it was my fault. I was mad at myself for being mad at her instead of worrying about her. I hadn’t known about the accident, but for a long time I thought I should have known. Like a better attitude on my part would have changed the situation. I just wanted everything to be different. That was nearly two years ago, and I couldn't paint for a long time. When I did, it was awful, really— so uninspired. I was doing better work in high school— not technically better, but emotionally better work. The stuff from my showing sold pretty well, but after a while I realized I wasn't producing anything sellable, and didn’t know if I ever would again. That’s when I bought the gallery and fixed it up.”