“And Clint’s scooter?”
Maria had to look away. “Kit said it brought in a lot.”
“I knew it would. And you heard Travis is wondering if you’ll paint a mural for the town?” Fiona asked, referring to the mayor, Travis Nestner.
“I think his triplets would do a better job of it. Or at least Donna. She’s got some creativity and talent.” His wife had designed the logo for Brant’s vet clinic, Call of the Wyld(er).
It was nice having a hobby again, but she definitely wasn’t ready to take on a mural.
Fiona perked up, saying, “Oh, there’s Clint! He’s talking with Levi.”
“What?” Maria turned to look, then spun back to the counter. She couldn’t talk to him. Not here.
“Oh, now they’re leaving with Brant.”
Maria forced herself not to react. “Is this all really about a tractor?” And why were her boys working with Clint so much? Were they okay with him, but only if she wasn’t dating him?
“It’s so busy right now with Christmas a few days away. Why don’t you wait and talk to Clint on the weekend?” Fiona poked at her hair, making the Christmas-colored gems entwined in it sparkle.
“I like your hairdo.”
“I know. Everyone does.”
Her friend flitted off again and Maria sat, thinking. Was Clint really that busy? Why else would Fiona suggest Maria wait to talk to him?
Chapter 10
On Christmas Day Maria entered the living room to tell her boys and their loved ones that supper was ready. Roy and Sophia would have dinner with them tomorrow, letting Maria have them all to herself today, a real Christmas gift.
Gratitude.
So much to be grateful for. Her boys were finding love. Ryan and Carly had seemingly fixed whatever had occurred between them, and Laura and Levi were curled up together like Myles and Karen were. She’d even caught Brant and April looking at each other in a special way. The only son missing was Cole.
Her new dog, a rescue found by Brant, leaned against her leg and she absently bent and gave Bingo a reassuring scratch behind the ears. He’d been such a skinny mess when he’d arrived a few days ago, but was already looking healthier.
The front door opened, and something inside her stilled. She turned, her nerve endings firing both flames, then ice. For a moment she couldn’t speak, couldn’t even gasp.
It was Cole. Her second born had returned home after five long years away. Her feet ate up the ground between them and she threw her arms around him. For long moments Maria held him tightly, unable to believe he was truly here.
The wish she’d made on that Christmas tree ornament had come true, even though she’d broken the Indigo Bay tradition. How did that already feel like months ago, when it had been only last week?
“Hey, Mom,” Cole said, after the excited hubbub had died down, his brothers had welcomed him home. “I hope I’m not late for supper.”
She just shook her head, still speechless. He said it so casually, as though he’d merely stepped out to take care of some chores before the meal. Not run off without a word five endless years ago.
“You’re never too late,” she said, her voice almost failing her.
He held her gaze, and she scanned him. He was broader, and looked more sure of himself, but had a shadow in his eyes she knew meant he would need some time to heal from what had driven him away. Away from her. Away from family. Away from home.
It wasn’t until everyone began moving toward the kitchen that the shock began to wear off. And as it did she caught sight of someone else familiar standing in the doorway.
Clint Walker.
Once again something inside her stilled, and then began to thrum.
Without thinking, she took several steps his way. The living room and entry area had cleared out, leaving them alone.
Clint had been wearing a cowboy hat, and he lowered it to his chest. “Merry Christmas, Maria.”
His eyes didn’t leave hers, taking in details.
He was clutching a box about the size of a softball in his free hand. “I thought you might like this,” he said, holding it out.
She stepped forward, accepting the box. It was light. “What is it?” She opened the flap and saw a Christmas ornament nestled in tissue paper, the one with her seascape painted on it. Almost flabbergasted, she looked up at him. “You kept it?” Then the artist in her had to study the scene. Her seascape wasn’t so bad. Here in Texas, it brought her nothing but warm memories of laughing with Clint while painting, going for scooter rides, and walking around town.
Lots of good, good memories. She hugged the ornament to her chest.
“Thank you, Clint.” He’d brought it home for her without saying a word, as if knowing that, given time, she might cherish the item and all it represented.
“I heard about your mermaid.”
“On the scooter?” Her cheeks heated thinking about the anger-fueled airbrush job.
He nodded, his gaze not leaving hers. “I hope you’ll keep doing things you enjoy.”
Before she could summon a reply, her five boys—all five!—came hurrying back into the room, Levi in the lead. “Mom! We almost forgot,” he told her.
“Forgot what?” she asked, turning to face them. Their eyes were smiling and their faces glowing like their dad’s used to when he was their age. They were happy. All of them.
“We have a surprise,” Levi announced.
She glanced at Cole, who gave a shrug and a smile.
“No, Cole isn’t our surprise,” Brant said solemnly, clapping his taller brother on the shoulder.
“Great. Now supper’s going to be late,” Carmichael grumbled, crossing his arms. Despite his tone, his lips twitched showing he wasn’t truly upset.
The boys kept darting quick looks in Clint’s direction, but before Maria could sort anything out, Levi was hustling her toward the door, Myles on her other side.
“You brought it, right?” Levi asked Clint as they shuffled Maria out onto the front porch.
“Sure did,” Clint replied, his voice so low and quiet it almost seemed as though he wanted to fade into the background.
“What are you boys up to?” Maria asked, anticipation swirling in her gut. They hadn’t given her a gift to open that morning, telling her one would arrive later.
Cole was here, but he wasn’t the gift. Clint was here, but he wasn’t, either, but he was somehow connected.
So what was it?
Several strong hands turned her to face the gravel driveway. To the right of the porch was a familiar red car.
Her Mustang.
It was no longer coated in dust or cobwebs, but its Candy Apple body had been buffed, washed and waxed, and looked beautiful.
She took a few steps down off the porch to take a better look, then turned back to the boys with a questioning glance. They all smiled and turned toward Clint. His expression gave nothing away.
She walked to the car, trailed her fingers along the body.
“Sorry about the timing,” Clint said, appearing beside her with the boys. “I meant to get it here before suppertime.”
“One of the last parts came in yesterday,” Levi said.
“You were right. I should’ve ordered them sooner,” Clint said to him.