Page 30 of Ten Christmases Without You
He grinned. “You’re better than sushi pickup. In high school, you were a top student, and you always worked really hard. You studied way more than I did.”
She eyed him playfully. “How do you know I studied in high school? You and I didn’t hang out then.”
“I used to watch you from my back window while you were lying on a blanket in the grass, with all your textbooks spread out around you. You read for hours.”
“Stalker,” she teased, making him chuckle.
The humor in his eyes gave her flutters.
“You know, I took Abbey Nichols to senior prom when I really wanted to ask you.”
She sucked in a breath. “Really?” His admission hit her like a ton of bricks. “I hated senior prom,” she said. “I went with that football player, Martin Albert—remember him?”
Charlie wrinkled his nose. “I remember his belching contests at lunch. He always won. Why did you go with him?”
“Because he asked.”
The vehicle came to a stop on the edge of North Thompson and Buck Drive, a one-lane intersection outside the country market where students used to gather after school.
“How’s this?” He gestured toward the clapboard building in front of them.
Emmy had been a few times, but most of her after-school hours were spent studying. The market had seating inside and country cooking in the back.
“It’s perfect.”
“I mentioned to my parents that I wanted to swing by this place. They said if I did, to get them each a cream soda.” Charlie waggled his eyebrows. “Let’s get ourselves a bottle. My treat.”
She grabbed her handbag along with her sketchbook and the drawings before they got out of the car and walked up to the building. A pine wreath hung on the door and blinking coloredlights outlined the large window. A pair of tarnished brass bells jingled when they entered. With the envelope and notebook under her arm, Emmy followed Charlie, pacing along the wooden floor. He nodded to the young man behind the counter, who didn’t look any older than sixteen.
“You didn’t want to come with your parents?” she asked.
“I offered. They said it was too cold to go out. They’re under blankets on the sofa, watching Christmas movies—and probably asleep.”
“That sounds wonderful actually. What are you doing driving around? Wouldn’t you rather be cuddled up on a sofa at home?”
“Nah, this is just as entertaining.” His gaze lingered on her for a tick. Then, he led them over to the wall of refrigerators.
Emmy tried not to interpret the fondness in his eyes. She browsed the array of bottles, then opened the glass door and pulled out a cream soda for herself. He grabbed an Orange Crush and a couple more cream sodas for his folks.
He paid for their drinks, and they settled at the picnic-style table at the back of the shop. Emmy set the little stack in front of her.
Charlie popped the top off her bottle of cream soda and then opened his own. “Show me the drawing you want to do.”
“Why are you so interested? I’m curious.”
He leaned back in his chair. “It’s intriguing to watch you draw the same things that you used to when we were kids. I’m interested in seeing how your talent has progressed.”
She pulled out her mother’s sketches and found the one with the classic silhouette of a woman in the tea-length dress. She ran her fingertip down it. “She was brilliant with the shading. See how she added the darker pencil here to make the dress look perfectly cinched at the waist?”
Charlie moved his bottle to the side and peered over at the drawing.
“I’ll bet you can draw one just as intricate.”
“I don’t know.”
She took her drawing pencil from the spiral and opened her sketchbook to an empty page. “It’s nerve-wracking with you watching,” she admitted.
“You’ve drawn in front of me before.”
