Page 47 of A Christmas Mystery

I thought I might never feel this way again.

We stop by the art gallery display, browsing the works and saying hi to Daniela. As we’re chatting, an attractive couple in their thirties walks by, and the man calls out a greeting to Theo.

Theo greets them briefly, and after a mutual Merry Christmas, he turns back toward me.

“Was that Lance Carlyle?” I ask him, watching the backs of the couple as they stroll. The man has wildly curly hair and an impressively fit body. He’s grinning down at his wife in a teasing manner, and she gives him a playful glare and a sharp poke in the side.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I don’t know. Just Lincoln and Summer Wilson. Lance Carlyle. If you told me you’re good friends with brilliant, reclusive Jude Gregory, I’d hardly be surprised.”

“Well...”

“Oh my God!”

Theo laughs out loud. “I’ve only met Jude a couple of times.”

“Are you acquainted with all of Green Valley royalty?”

Theo chuckles. “Just to say hi to, and that’s only because I’m a member of the country club. I actually know Lance’s wife better. Savannah is a cousin to Dan Mills’s new wife, Vicky.”

I recall the large table at the coffee shop and can visualize the bright, pretty young woman I met. “Oh yeah. I can see the resemblance.” My mind makes a connection it takes me a minute to follow through on. “Savannah. Oh wait, she’s not Savannah Emerson, is she? The photographer.”

“Yes. She’s a photographer. She’s got a studio in town. She does portraits and weddings and such, I believe.”

“She also does some art photography. I’ve seen some of her pieces in local galleries. She’s really fantastic. Wow, I’d never made the connection before. Lance really lucked out, didn’t he?”

Theo’s eyes rest on my face with a fond, laughing curiosity.

“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious at his warm regard.

“Nothing. Just that most people would have claimed that Savannah is the one who lucked out in that marriage.”

I shake my head. “That’s only because most people prioritize money over everything else. Sure, Lance grew up with ridiculous wealth, but being a rich boy is something that happened to him. Not something he accomplished for himself.”

“He’s not an empty suit. He’s smart and he works hard, and I guess he’s highly sought-after as a business consultant. He’s done pretty well for himself on his own, I think. I heard he stopped taking any of his family’s money several years ago.”

“Oh that’s good. But still... She’s Savannah Emerson. I can only dream of being that good.”

“You take beautiful photos too.”

“Thank you for saying so,” I tell him, leaning over to press a kiss on his right cheek. “But there’s a difference. I can take decent photographs, and I can paint decent canvases, and I can do a decent job with all kinds of arts. But I’m not great. I do it because I love it and because it has the potential to make other people happy, but there’s a certain level of artistic quality I’m never going to reach.”

We’ve been standing facing each other on the sidewalk next to the gallery as we have this discussion, but it feels like we’re in our own small bubble and the rest of the world is a blur of Christmas cheer swirling around us.

He puts his hands on my waist to ease me forward so we’re only a few inches apart. It feels like he can see far deeper into my soul than anyone ever has. “Does that bother you?” he asks softly.

I shake my head. “Not really. There’s a real pressure that comes with being that good—some sort of creative compulsion that won’t always let you rest. I’ve seen it in Daniela, and I’d rather live without that kind of pressure.”

“What do you want then?” Theo asks.

It’s the kind of question a lot of people ask, but I can tell Theo really wants to know. It matters to him. So I answer him as honestly as I can. “I... I think I want to feel safe and secure. To be close to the people I love. To make beautiful things and share beautiful thoughts with as many people as want to hear them. To do good in the opportunities that open up to me. And to... to have someone to go through life with.”

His hands slide farther toward my back, still holding my waist possessively. His head is tilted down toward mine. “Do you want to start a family?”

“I... don’t know. I used to. With Chris. And maybe I still will. But I need to be in... in a different situation before I really want that again.”

He nods, hearing me. Understanding. Completely.

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