Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

A large box sat at the base of the loft steps when we arrived. I checked the return address with a giddiness in my stomach. The first-responder calendars. And a day early.

"Are those what I think they are?" Linc asked, coming up beside me after parking his truck.

"The calendars! As soon as I figure out how to lug this up the steps, we can check them out." I looked around for a hand truck or something—they were always laying around the nearby orchard marketplace. I looked back to see Linc lift the box easily onto his shoulder and start up the steps.

"Show off," I teased.

"Hurry up with the key, will you?" he huffed. "This is heavier than it looks."

I scooted past him on the stairwell to unlock the door, then led him into the kitchen.

"Just put it on the table," I said. Then stopped short.

In the center of the once empty space sat a gorgeous table handcrafted from a piece of salvaged wood, the bark around the rough edges still showing under the light layer of lacquer. The small imperfections and knots in the surface mirrored the rustic look of the loft seamlessly. I ran my hand over the surface, reveling in the shape and texture and rawness of it all. It was exactly what I envisioned for the space.

Then, realization dawning, my eyes snapped to Linc's. His lips were curled into a hopeful smile. Anticipation shone in his eyes.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Did you do this for me?" I asked. He nodded slightly. "Linc. It's too much."

"Do you like it?" he repeated.

"I love it. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I said. "I can't accept it."

"Of course you can. Besides, I'm not hauling it back out of here." He moved forward to put the box on the surface. I almost squawked at him for scuffing the perfect, shiny surface.

I moved to him and touched his arm. "Thank you. It's the nicest gift I've ever received."

He put his hand over his heart in mock pain. "Six-year-old me is hurt. He thought the whistle he won you at the carnival was the nicest gift. He really, really wanted to keep that whistle for himself, you know."

I almost admitted I still had that stupid whistle in a box in my closet but decided that only added to the stalker vibe. Instead, I said, "Okay, the table is the second nicest gift. But only because it's going to give my mother an excuse to come over more often. And if I have to join her book club, so do you." I poked a finger in his chest. He grabbed my hand and held it to his chest. His eyes turned dark again, like they had the night of Jodie's confession.

And in a moment directly out of a rom-com, the door burst open again. Colleen bustled through.

"Sorry. I had to stop by my—" She stopped when she saw the table. "Holy cow! Linc, did you make this? It's amazing!" She spotted the box. "Are those the calendars already?"

Linc dropped my hand and moved to rummage in my kitchen junk drawer for scissors to open the box. I flinched a little as he brought them over to open the box of calendars. I wondered how long it would take before I could see scissors without thinking of Missy.

Colleen pulled the first calendar out before Linc even had the box all the way open. Her eyes widened at the cover shot—Linc and Andrea, both in uniform, playing happily with Fang and completely unaware of the camera.

"Alex. This is brilliant. You have both organizations represented on the cover. I'm in love with it already and I've only seen one picture," Colleen said. She eagerly flipped through to reveal all the candid shots I chose for the spread.

"You have to say that since you're my best friend," I said, downplaying the compliment.

"Why do you do that?" Linc asked.

"Do what?" I looked through a calendar too, noting a place where I dropped a shadow in one and realizing my composition was slightly off in another.

"Diminish your ability." I looked up at him, brows creased. He continued, "I've heard you do it at least three times. Every time someone compliments you on your photographs, you make some excuse for why it's not true."

"Do I?" I asked. I'd never thought about it.

"You do. I'm going to tell you this as many times as you need to hear it. You are an amazing photographer." He held up a finger, stopping the denial on my lips. "You are. You capture more than just pictures. Anyone can point a camera at someone in good light and get a shot with their eyes open. But you, Alex, you capture their spirit."

"Thank you," I said, truly touched. "I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that."

"He's totally right," Colleen confirmed. "You're gonna have every mother in Piney Ridge banging down your door down after this to take their Christmas pictures."

I waited for the slab of stone to weigh down my chest at the mention of becoming a family photographer, of opening a business in Piney Ridge. To my surprise it didn't fall. Sometime during the last few weeks, this place had seeped back into my being. Maybe taking a break from the go, go, go of my past and settling into the slow ebb and flow of this still life was exactly what I needed.

As I looked at my friends and the beautiful space around me, only one word came to mind. And that one word held so much promise, so much possibility, that it practically filled the entire room.

Home.

THE END

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Book 2 in the Alex Lightwood Mystery Series

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