Free Angels in the Snow by Melody Carlson

this?” Claire opened the oven door and slid the golden brown turkey inside.
    Jeannie laughed. “Are you kidding? I’m a city girl, and I know how to survive in the city—it’s called take-out.”
    Leo began unpacking other food items, and he and Jeannie continued to laugh and joke about her lackof culinary skills. But suddenly the cabin began to feel overly full and slightly stuffy to Claire. She found herself stepping away from them. And she felt relieved that Jeannie had brought only one friend.
    “Do you guys want to take a walk before dinner?” she asked, longing for fresh air and hoping to distract them from wanting to see her art just yet.
    “Hmmm?” Jeannie looked outside the window and tapped the toe of her soft leather high-heeled boots. “I didn’t exactly wear hiking boots, if you know what I mean.”
    “Right.” Claire pointed to the chairs at the maple table. “Why don’t you both sit down? Would you like some coffee or tea? I have hot water all ready.”
    “Tea sounds lovely.” Jeannie sat down at the table, but Claire saw her eyeing the draped canvases off to her right.
    Claire poured the hot water into the teapot, breathing deeply as she gazed out the window above the sink, willing herself to relax.
    “Those your paintings?” asked Jeannie, as stubborn as ever.
    Claire waited while the tea steeped in the pot before she returned to the table. “Yeah. But I’m not sure they’re ready to be—”
    “Jeannie says you’ve been painting angels.” Leo leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg, an unreadable expression across his face. “I suppose you haven’t heard that the angel trend is over now.”
    “Oh, Leo.” Jeannie frowned and waved her hand. “Angels have been around forever.”
    Claire sat down with them and poured tea. “So, do you mean to say that you believe in them too, Jeannie?”
    Jeannie laughed. “I mean that they’ve been represented in various art forms for thousands of years. Good grief, you can probably find them carved into some cave walls from prehistoric times. So they’re certainly not only a modern-day fad, although Leo’s right,” she cleared her throat, “our latest angel trend is probably over by now. But that shouldn’t matter—not really.” Still there was something unconvincing in Jeannie’s voice, like she was only trying to humor Claire.
    “Cheese and crackers?” Claire hopped up to get the platter she’d so carefully prepared earlier.
    “Very pretty,” said Leo as he took one.
    “Well, I didn’t really shop for Thanksgiving,” she admitted. “My pantry was a little, shall we say, boring, so I thought I better at least try to make it look good.”
    “But back to the paintings.” Jeannie nodded toward the canvases again. “You don’t really want to keep me in suspense like this, do you?”
    Claire smiled. “Actually, I do.”
    Jeannie leaned her head back and groaned. “Whatever for?”
    “Well, I’d like to enjoy your company and the dinner before . . .”
    “Before what?” asked Leo.
    “She’s afraid we’re going to hate them.” Jeannie shrugged. “Well, even if they’re not very good, Claire, at least you are painting. That’s the main thing. And you’ve only been up here—what? A few weeks now. There’s time to do more. I know how fast you work once you getgoing.” She winked at Leo. “That’s one thing I love about my impressionists, they usually work in a whirlwind of inspiration—producing a volume of paintings in a short amount of time.”
    Claire glanced at Leo. “Forgive me, Leo, but I’ve forgotten exactly what your connection to the art world is.”
    He grinned. “You may be sorry you asked.”
    Jeannie rolled her eyes. “Claire, honestly!”
    He waved his hand. “Oh, it’s all right, Jeannie—”
    “No, Claire should know better than this. For heaven’s sake, Leo is an art critic with the Times .”
    Claire slapped her forehead. “Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry. But Jeannie can