Page 32 of Ten Christmases Without You
Emmy’s hand moved effortlessly over the page, and with every line, she felt stronger than she had with any of her other drawings.
When she finished, she turned the sketch around and then took a drink from her cream soda, her heart pattering.
“That’s absolutely incredible. You should definitelynotbe getting anyone’s lunches for a living.”
She smiled. In that moment, she believed him.
“Promiseme you’ll call me and fill me in on what happens at the meeting with your boss,” Charlie said as he stood with Emmy at the front door.
“I promise.”
Happiness quivered through her at the thought of having a reason to contact him after the holiday. She looked into his eyes, not wanting to say goodbye.
“Have a good flight home,” she said.
“You do the same.”
A cold wind whipped around them, and she shivered.
He bounced his eyebrows the way one does when there’s nothing left to say. “You should get inside where it’s warm.”
She considered asking him in, but he probably needed to get home to his parents. He was there to see them, not her. And, at the very least, he had their sodas in the car.
“Well, I’ll see ya,” she said.
“See ya.”
She turned away and opened the door. Should she have said something else? She spun back around, but he was already heading to his car.
Gripping her notebook, she went inside.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A WEEK LATER
After spending a week with her family, Emmy arrived at her New York apartment from her flight home. It was late. Her eyes stung with the exhaustion that only travel could create. The quiet was always the first thing she noticed whenever she came home after being with everyone. She used to enjoy it, but recently, the silence felt less like a reprieve and more like an emptiness.
She texted her dad and sister to let them know that she’d made it, then sat at her small kitchen dinette. She peered down at the drawing she’d done with Charlie.
As Emmy sat in her empty apartment, she missed his mischievous smile, the way his head tilted just so when he listened to her... Was she romanticizing their time together since they’d shared a childhood? No, it was more than that. She enjoyed hearing him talk about his life. She wanted to know more about whether he’d been fishing or done anything outdoors since he was stuck in the office all the time. She wished she could take another drive with him. Where would they go? She hadn’t given the market a single thought, but after one visit, it had become a place she couldn’t wait to get back to... Becausehe’dmade it memorable.
There weren’t many people in life who had that kind of effect on someone. She had yet to meet anyone who came close to how she felt about Charlie.
She looked down at the drawing again.
He’d made her feel like she was the most talented person in the world. She’d never felt talented until he’d acknowledged her ability. Why was that? Was it because she trusted him? Surely, her aptitude wasn’t as strong as her mom’s. But the most surprising thing was how drawing had made her feel. Even though she’d dabbled in a few sketches here and there, she’d shied away from developing her skills for two reasons: One, it was too painful, since she’d shared that activity with her mom, and two, she was terrified to admit how much she enjoyed it because she might not have the success her mother had.
Emmy opened the envelope and retrieved the drawing she’d used as inspiration, to compare. She pulled a few more designs out and noticed something she hadn’t before. One that she’d originally thought was a billowing dress, upon further scrutiny of the lightly sketched train, looked more like a wedding gown. It was such a beautiful design that she wondered why her mother hadn’t made it for her own wedding. It was very different from the one in her mom and dad’s wedding portrait. What a shame that it was never brought to life. Her gaze slid down the sleek lines of the drawing, the tapered waist and flowing sleeves. Emmy decided then and there that if she ever got married, she was going to have someone make that dress. She went to tuck it back into the envelope, but as she did, she noticed something on the back.
She squinted and pulled the yellowed paper toward her. Penciled in the corner were the names:Mitchell Augustine and Mrs. Augustine. Oh, perhaps it was a client. Had someone worn this dress? She pulled out the other designs and checked the backs, but there was nothing written on them.
She called Madison.
“Hey, did you ever hear Mom mention anyone with the last name Augustine?” she asked when her sister answered.
“No, why?” Madison replied.
“It’s written on the back of one of Mom’s designs. It says Mitchell Augustine and Mrs. Augustine.”
