“That’s nice to hear,” Lisa said, her face brightening. “Then how about when I get back from visiting my folks, we make a point of catching up?”

“That’s an excellent idea. I’ll look forward to it.”

“Great, then it’s a date,” Lisa chirped, walking to the closet. “Oh, that reminds me. I received the invoice from Life Source the other day. You got the delivery I arranged a few weeks ago, didn't you?”

“I did,” Bennett said, nodding. “Thank you.”

“It’s what you pay me to do,” Lisa said, pulling on her coat.

“Speaking of pay, what would Christmas be without a Christmas bonus,” Bennett said, pulling the last envelope from her pocket. “This is for you. I passed Gunnar on his way out, so I gave him Finn’s as well.”

“Thank you,” Lisa said, flashing her pearly whites. “I may just have to hit some after Christmas sales in Portland while I’m up there.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Hey, what can I say?” Lisa said, shrugging. “I like clothes.”

“And your taste in them is marvelous, which is why I dared not attempt to buy you any,” Bennett said, handing Lisa a package. “Instead, I got you this.”

Lisa looked at the gift and then at Bennett, and then back at the gift. “What’s this?”

“I believe they call it a Christmas present,” Bennett said, handing Lisa the second gift. “And this one’s for your parents. Please give it to them with my love.”

“Um…sure, but…but you got me a present?” Lisa squeaked, placing the other package on the desk. “Really?”

“Apparently, I did. Yes.”

“But I didn’t get you anything because we never exchange gifts at Christmas.”

“Oh, in that case,” Bennett said, holding out her hand. “Give it back.”

“Not on your life,” Lisa said, holding the present out of Bennett’s reach.

Bennett chuckled. “That would be a tough bet to win.”

Lisa beamed, the glow on her face having started in her heart. “So…can I open it now?”

“By all means,” Bennett said, watching Lisa tear into the foil paper. “It’s just a little something I picked up at an art show in Dorchester a few weeks back. I saw it and thought of you.”

Lisa carefully opened the box, and moving aside the tissue paper, she found a small watercolor of a Barbie-pink daylily surrounded by leaves of parakeet green. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

“I know how much you like Georgia O’Keeffe’s work, and while this young lady isn’t nearly of the same caliber, I thought her use of colors and poetry was quite innovative.”

“Poetry?”

“Look closely. Her name’s Maya Diallo, and she uses a poem, sonnet, or song lyric as the backdrop and then paints the flowers over it, making them become one. So, the poem becomes part of the flower just as the flower becomes part of the poem.”