Page 20 of Hush (The Seaside Saga #25)

FINALLY, JASON’S HOME.

It’s been that kind of a day when, as he opens the slider and comes into the kitchen, that’s all he thinks.

Finally .

Thursday’s done.

From sitting on the finished stairs first thing this morning, to filming a construction scene at the Fenwick cottage, to meeting with the contractor who’ll be doing his latest Stony Point ranch reno and walking him through the cottage and prints, to a quick stop at the White Sands shotgun project—the day’s end couldn’t be fathomed.

Jason looks around the kitchen now. Looks at the pale gray Shaker cabinets.

At the glimmering recessed lights. At the stonework around the stove alcove.

He looks from the crystal pendant chandeliers hanging over the denim-blue island, to Neil’s old bandanas behind the distressed-white picture frames hanging near the gray pedestal table, to the barnwood floor beneath it all.

Hell, he could spend the whole weekend right in this very room.

“And I just might,” he whispers, dropping his work duffel on the counter. He takes off his bomber jacket, then hangs it on a chairback. Unloads his lunch things from the duffel, removes his tablet, his cell phone and charges them on the kitchen island. Washes his hands in the sink.

Which is when it hits him.

Oh, that aroma. Maris has something amazing cooking for dinner.

Maddy runs into the room now, too. She circles around behind him. Her paws click-click on the hardwood floor as she prances in place.

“Okay, okay, Maddy,” Jason says, drying his hands before giving her a good rubdown. “Maris?” he also calls out, wondering where she is.

“In the living room,” her voice carries back.

So Jason and the dog head there—Maddy delighted to lead the way.

But Jason doesn’t follow her fully into the living room. No, he stops right in the doorway. It takes a few seconds to actually realize what he’s seeing.

Starting with the Christmas tree.

Beside the stone fireplace, their artificial tree is fully assembled and decorated.

Twinkle lights shine on the ornaments, on the dangling gold-filigreed snowflakes.

Then there’s that fireplace. Faux green garland drapes across the mantel.

Two gold deer figurines anchor either end.

Pinecones are tucked in the greens. And a sheer wide gold ribbon weaves gently through the entire garland .

Hell, candles are in the windows—candles flicked on now.

More candles flicker on the mantel. Two red tapers in brass candleholders.

Several very large frosted pinecones spill from an old basket on the coffee table.

And then there’s Maris.

She’s standing near the fireplace. But there’s more.

She’s wearing her Christmas card outfit: fitted black turtleneck sweater tucked into a midi-length, side-slit pencil skirt.

Its two-plaid print is of a small black-and-white buffalo plaid edged with a countering large black-and-white buffalo plaid.

The skirt’s sweater-knit fabric hugs her in just the right places.

Her stiletto-heeled, knee-high black boots finish the gorgeous look.

“Maris, hey. What is this?” Jason finally asks.

“It’s a little Christmas… right this very minute.”

“Oh, no.” Jason leans heavy on the doorjamb. “The Christmas card photo shoot.” Again, he takes in the truly festive sight. “Already?”

Maris just smiles. And nods. “The pot roast is the reward afterward.”

The entire time Jason’s been standing in the doorway, Maddy’s paced around the room, checked out the lower decorated tree branches, nudged Maris’ hand. “I thought the dog looked extra glossy,” he admits now.

Maris sits herself on the arm of his upholstered club chair. “She’s nicely brushed and feeling the Christmas spirit, Jason.”

“But I thought we’d be doing this in a few weeks.” As he says it, he walks into the room. The glow of candlelight is golden; the twinkle lights, festive. Then he turns to Maris. “This is really happening now?”

“Yes, now.” Still sitting, she crosses her legs in that snazzy skirt.

A fold of fabric falls open to show that knee-high black boot.

“We have to design and order lots of cards this year. There are new people on our Christmas card list,” she explains.

“The CT-TV crew. Trent. The Fenwicks. And it’ll take time to get our custom card order placed. ”

“But it’s been a really long day, Maris. I was going to take off my leg. Put on sweats. Relax.”

“And you will. Later.” She stands then, beautiful—but insistent. She also takes his reluctant hand. “First? It’s time to get changed, babe.”

***

Upstairs, Maris waits for Jason to wash up in the bathroom. When he gets to the bedroom afterward, he empties his jean pockets at his bureau; sets his keys in his valet; drops some loose change in a coin dish; runs a hand through his kind-of-messy hair and turns to her.

“Come on,” she says, standing near his bedside chair. “Let me help you.”

Still in his work clothes—tired brown sweater and faded jeans—he crosses the room and sits in that chair.

When he does, Maris crouches and first unties his dusty work boots.

She moves next to the long zipper stitched into the inner seam of his left leg and pulls that zipper up to loosen the leg fabric.

This way, he can easily lower the pants down over his prosthesis.

“Go ahead and take those things off. I’ll get your outfit ready,” she says, standing and turning away .

By the time he tosses his wrinkled clothes on their bed, Maris is back.

She keeps up a running dialogue as she slips a clean tee over his head, then holds the sleeves of his red-and-black buffalo-plaid flannel shirt.

The shirt nicely coordinates with her black-and-white buffalo-plaid skirt.

Next, she tells him to sit as she opens the discreet leg zipper she’d sewn into his new slim charcoal-gray trousers. Then she hands them to him to put on.

And keeps moving—leaving no time for Jason to resist. While he puts on his pants, she gets his new dark beige high-top trainers and sets the shoes near him. As he laces those up, she’s off to his dresser for his hairbrush.

Her dialogue doesn’t stop, either. Her talk is of light things. About how they’ll pose. And asking how his day was. And saying his overgrown hair is just the right length for their photo as she quickly brushes it, then runs her fingers through a few locks to give a tousled look.

Finally, she waits near him and holds open his new light gray, fitted blazer as he stands and puts in one arm, then the other, before she hikes the blazer over his shoulders.

As she does, she presses her mouth close to his ear and quietly says, “If you wear this and are nice , Jason—we can be a little naughty later.”

“Okay.” Jason turns and shrugs the blazer into place as Maris stands close and skims her fingers across the lapels. “I like the sound of that, sweetheart.”

***

The setup is the easy part.

Arranging the cell phone on a tripod. Tipping the phone to a certain angle.

Adjusting the window candles. Turning on only one living room lamp, with more illumination coming from the Christmas tree’s tiny white lights.

Artfully tying Maddy’s black-and-white matching bandana around the dog’s neck, then draping the fabric just so.

Jason watches Maris do her thing—and she does it well.

Years of working with models in the fashion industry has her a pro with lighting, posing, camera angles.

Finally, they’re ready.

Maris gives one last fuss to her black-and-white plaid skirt.

Checks her makeup. Combs her sleek brown hair—down with a side part.

She gets Maddy situated with Jason near the hearth.

She straightens Jason’s jacket, too. When she tugs the lapels, he manages to get in a brief kiss as he goes with the flow.

Follows Maris’ orders. There’s no fighting her.

She’ll bend him, shape him, any way she wants for this Christmas card.

And he’s good with it.

Until the pressure’s on when Maris sets the self-timer in the phone’s camera app, taps the shutter button and joins Jason near the fireplace. As the countdown seconds tick, so do their stress levels. Then, they somehow turn it on for the snapping camera.

Smiling.

Leaning into each other.

Serious.

Standing.

Sitting.

Again and again, Maris heads to the tripod, hits the phone’s self-timer, then the shutter button. They stand and face the camera head-on while holding hands between them. They turn to a slight angle, with Maris crossing her arms and leaning back against Jason. Maddy stands tense by his side.

Another trip to the tripod.

“Why couldn’t Eva do this?” Jason asks while patiently waiting.

“Do what?”

“Take our pictures instead of you having to fret.”

“Jason!” Maris rushes back to posing position, her stiletto boots clipping on the floor. “Then our Christmas cards wouldn’t be a surprise!” she says through a clenched smile. “And do you really want an audience while we do this?”

“ Argh . You looked back at me when you said that. A wasted shot.”

“Well, we took a lot. Let’s check the pictures on the camera again.”

They do just that. There’s a slew of them waiting to be scrutinized. Standing near the fireplace; crouched near the hearth; sitting on Jason’s club chair.

“Oh! Look, Jason.” Maris points to her phone screen. There’s a perfect pose of the two of them standing beside the tree. “That would’ve been a good shot.”

“What do you mean— would’ve ?” Jason leans closer. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Don’t you see the blur of Maddy? In the corner? That’s when the delivery guy rang the doorbell and Maddy went nuts!”

Delete.

They look at more.

“Maris, you blinked! Two times! I looked great—and your eyes are closed. ”

Delete. Delete.

They set the self-timer, strike a pose near the twinkling tree and take a few more pictures. After several, they pause, walk to the tripod and check out the latest on the cell phone screen.