Page 113 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
There was a third chair on the porch, situated right next to Andy’s. And on the seat sat a camera.
“You have a space for me,” she said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
“We bought a third chair for you. When you’re on assignment, we’ll be home, waiting for you.”
Jeez. Did he have to be so freaking sweet? She turned and faced him, the calendar on her lap. “I can’t think of a better new beginning.”
EPILOGUE
An extra burst of happiness ran through Arthur Hale’s black-ink veins as he watched the festivities around him in Jill’s house. Meredith was holding her newborn baby boy, Jared Arthur McBride, in the middle of a crowd of enthusiastic Hales.
It touched him deeply that she and Tanner had given the boy his name, so much so he’d had to drag a worn handkerchief out of his pocket.
Beyond the baby celebration, they were commemorating another Hale’s return to Dare Valley. Moira was going to join the ranks of the bright minds shaping a better world at Emmits Merriam University. His old friend, long since passed, who’d founded the university the same year Arthur had returned to town, would have been proud to see a pioneering invention center on the school’s beloved grounds. Arthur and Emmits had shared a vision for the world, and in their own ways, they’d laid a foundation for change in Dare Valley.
Another generation was taking the reins now, and soon his time would pass, just like Emmits’ had.
Arthur spied another visionary in the crowd—one of the young folks he’d always hoped would return to Dare Valley. Lucy O’Brien saw a bigger world than almost anyone else he knew, but she found a way to communicate her vision with others using nothing other than a flimsy thing called paper—rather like Arthur did with his newspaper.
A funny thing, paper. He marveled at everything it could capture.
He picked up one of the autographed copies ofThe Calendar of New Beginningssitting on the table and took a seat in one of the empty chairs in the dining room. April had brought out a bunch of autographed ones to share with the family. Sure, some people in town had gotten their knickers in a wad about the photos, but most of them—Arthur included—had teared up plenty from reading the dedications.
Now those were worth lingering over, especially the one Jill had written about his beloved wife, God rest her soul.For my grandmother, Harriet Hale, the kind of woman who threw tea parties with champagne glasses filled with orange juice and gave money to her granddaughter to start a business of her own. Her love and vision made her one special lady, and I miss her more than words can express.
After tearing up over that particular dedication, he’d flipped through the rest of the calendar pretty quickly. He was three feet in the grave and had no desire to see any of the people he knew buck naked, even if they were covered with props like the American flag.
Old Man Jenkins was a class act, and Arthur thought he looked pretty fit for his age. Not that he was comparing himself to that old sack of bones. Joanie liked him just fine, and that was more thanhe could expect at his age. Of course, he’d stayed on his girlfriend’s page a tad longer than most. She’d looked pretty good, draped in all those colorful ribbons, but he’d never tell that to another soul save the woman herself. But if he had to hear another young woman grow breathless while talking about the photo of Chef T hiding his manhood with a meat cleaver, he was going to bash his head into the closest wall.
Some people had no sense.
Of course, he’d heard a few of the men’s comments about his granddaughter wearing nothing but a hat of fruit. He’d leveled them a glare designed to shrivel up their man parts.
The chair next to him was yanked back, and he frowned and looked up at the culprit. “I was just looking at your calendar,” he told Lucy, who was pretty much beaming like a lighthouse now that she and Young Andy had agreed to hook up for life. Pretty soon, his great-nephew would put a ring on her finger, and Arthur couldn’t wait until they tied the knot.
These young people were going to give him a stroke someday.
“I saw that,” she said, sitting down and scooting forward until she was beside him. “Why do you think I came over instead of cooing over the new baby? He’s only two months old, but he already has more love in the world than he could ever imagine.”
“Babies are pure love,” Arthur said, and then coughed, realizing he sounded like some greeting card. “What I mean is they’re pure. Not messed up yet by this big old world we live in.”
She gave him a warm smile. “Not everyone is messed up.”
He gave her a pointed look. “You were.”
“I’m learning,” she said, fighting a smile. “Did you read my dedication in the calendar?”
“Of course I did,” he blustered. “I have eyes, don’t I?” Then he paused, cataloguing her face. “How is your vision?”
“About the same,” she said, putting on a brave face. “But I’m moving forward. I love taking photos and dammit, that’s what I’m going to do.”
Certainly she’d managed to take good photos for the calendar—although to hear her tell it, she’d sworn a blue streak and relied on Moira’s help more than she’d ever imagined.
“Good to hear!” he said, pounding the table for good measure, making some of the adults look over. “Everything is fine.”
They resumed their cooing over the baby.
“My new Leica is feeling more natural in my hands,” Lucy continued, “and I decided I could try out two approaches when I go on assignment again.”
