A Holiday Tradition

by Chrissy Munder

  “Things you can’t unsee,” Kevin intoned solemnly.

  “Exactly.”

  “They don’t care how they destroy a guy’s ego either,” Kevin confessed. “Half the old guys in here have more game than I do.”

  “That’s cold.” Paul shook his head with mock sympathy, Kevin’s self-deprecating humor helping Paul move past Kevin’s bona fide hotness and his response to it to the likable person beneath.

  “What are you going to do now?” Kevin asked. “Can they recover your work?”

  Paul nodded. “This happened to a friend of mine last year, and the virus even encrypted his cloud files. Since then I keep extra backups in a separate cloud drive. Once my laptop is unlocked and probably sanitized, I’ll be back to work.” Kevin’s calm presence had helped bleed off some of Paul’s stress, leaving him able to joke about the situation, but still. Ewh.

  “If you wanted, at least until your computer is fixed, you could use the desktop at the office,” Kevin offered.

  “Really?” Paul straightened from his despondent slouch. “Are you sure?” He hesitated, dialing down his enthusiasm a few notches. “I wouldn’t want to be in the way.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Kevin assured him. “Office hours are seven till seven, six days a week, but I’m usually out on the grounds.”

  “That doesn’t leave you too much time off. Do you have someone working for you?”

  “Nope.” Kevin shook his head, tossing his dark curls off his forehead. “I’m it.”

  “Looks like you’ve been doing some repairs too.” Paul gestured to the obviously new street signs.

  “I’m trying. The last owner let too many things slide.” Kevin stopped at an intersection while another cart went by. “You’ve not seen a lot of the park yet, have you?” He leaned on the steering wheel, the tan of his muscular forearms catching Paul’s attention.

  “No, I’ve been working on my paper.” Paul held out his own winter-white arms. “As you can tell.”

  “You know what they say about no play,” Kevin teased. “How about a tour while we’re out? I can give you the tech guy’s number tomorrow.”

  Paul opened his mouth to refuse, waiting for his father’s impatient text tone to interrupt the moment with a reminder of everything that was riding on this assignment and how hard his father had worked to get him this opportunity, or like the last one, a reminder of how he had let his father down in the past. Except he had forgotten the phone in his haste to leave the RV. “I’d like that,” he said instead, instantly rewarded by Kevin’s pleased smile as he turned the golf cart away from the office.

  “Let’s start with the pool.”

  Paul held on to his crutches, laughing when Kevin tooted the cart’s horn and sped past a resident walking his dog. Screw it, Paul decided, feeling freer than he had since before the accident. Everybody deserved a little time off.

  Chapter 4

  THE LAST time Paul visited the park office, he had leaned against a wall and stared out a window, too tired to care while Kevin finalized paperwork and handed off ID cards to get them in and out of the gates.

  Today he took a good look around. The interior of the double-wide had been converted into an open area with a kitchen and island to the side. The space resembled a college hangout, with comfortable couches and colorful service brochures spread out on the flat surfaces.

  Interesting. The topics ranged from Social Security and Medicare to elder abuse and housing laws. He picked up one of the flyers from SAGE USA, an organization dedicated to helping older LGBTQ adults. He recognized the logo from their Facebook page, having come across it while browsing through a campus list of resources.

  “This is nice,” he acknowledged. “Not what I expected.”

  “I like having the residents involved in the community, so I try to foster an open-door policy,” Kevin replied. “I view my role as more of a facilitator than a park manager.”

  Kevin ushered him past an enormous artificial Christmas tree in front of the bay window. The white lights blinked among the greenery, highlighting the silver ribbons twisted throughout, and a variety of brightly wrapped packages peeked beneath the branches.

  “I can’t wrap my brain around all this holiday stuff when I’m wearing shorts.” Paul tugged at the fabric to illustrate.

  “We have two more trees. One at the clubhouse, and one at the pool, with a competition for best decoration between the different age groups in the park.” Kevin opened a set of french doors into the separate office area Paul recognized from his first day. “The winning team gets a discount off their January lot rent.”

  A dual monitor setup took up space on the wood desk, along with a phone and several file folders neatly stacked to the side. Banks of low filing cabinets surrounded the credenza and edged the walls. Like in the rest of the trailer, the windows were plentiful, and the space was filled with an assortment of indoor plants.

  “You have your own little jungle.” Paul admired a mini cactus decorated for the season with tiny silver ornaments.

  A faint flush appeared on Kevin’s cheeks. “I get bored in an office. Thought I’d bring a little outdoors inside.”

  He showed Paul how to log in to the system, and within minutes, Paul accessed his cloud storage. “Fantastic,” he breathed out in a gust, releasing the last bit of fear that this wouldn’t work. “You sure I’m not putting you out?”

  Kevin shook his head. “I’ve forwarded the main number to my cell, but if the phone rings, the voicemail will pick up.” He gestured to the area outside the office. “Don’t hesitate to grab some coffee or water when you’re ready to take a break, and any baked goods on the counters are fair game.”

  Paul opened his messenger bag, then hesitated. “Last chance to change your mind.”

  Kevin dropped his palm onto Paul’s shoulder. “You’re fine.”

  Paul nodded, his stomach tightening. The warmth of Kevin’s hand seeped through the fabric of his shirt, sparking an answering heat in Paul’s chest.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice shakier than he expected. He sat and watched in bemusement as Kevin wheeled over a guest chair to elevate Paul’s leg.

  “Thanks.” Paul wiggled around before settling in comfort. He smiled his appreciation at Kevin.

  Kevin paused at the doorway. “I’ll check in on you in a little bit. Don’t worry if you notice anyone out in the common area. The residents are in and out all day.”

  “You bet.” Paul settled his folders and his phone within reach. Kevin closed the door with a final wave, leaving Paul alone in his personal space filled with pictures and knickknacks.

  Paul resisted the urge to poke around. While tempting, it would be rude and a poor return of Kevin’s generosity. With a sigh, he turned his attention to the computer screens.

  The rest of the morning flew by until Paul eventually flexed his cramping fingers. He’d made some good progress and had moved ahead of his father’s expectations, but God, the subject was killing him.

  He arched his spine in a bone-crunching stretch and took another look around. Yes, he was venturing into the same snooping territory he’d held off from earlier, but now the behavior counted as a reward.

  The careful organization seemed to contrast with Kevin’s casual manner, but every business needed the basics. The space still reflected the warmth of Kevin’s personality, and Paul inhaled the lingering notes of Kevin’s cologne. Before Paul could examine the pictures on the credenza, Kevin knocked on the glass and waited for Paul to wave him in.

  “Ready for a coffee break?” Kevin’s sunglasses were pushed to the top of his head, holding his hair off his face, which gleamed with his efforts out in the sun.

  Paul glanced at his phone. “I guess time flies. Coffee sounds great.”

  Kevin held open the door for Paul to swing himself through. “Even better, we have cinnamon streusel cake.” He pointed to the kitchen island.

  The rich aroma made his stomach growl. “Oh my God,” he groaned, covering his belly w
ith one hand. “That is fantastic.”

  True to Kevin’s predictions, residents had drifted in and out of the office, but Paul hadn’t paid any attention. A shame, because he would have liked to see who brought this in and encourage Grandpa Louie to ask him or her out.

  “One of the perks of the business, especially this time of year.” Kevin opened the upper cupboard and took down two plates. “Elderly residents who love to bake but don’t live near their grandkids. We’ll be rolling in cookies.”

  “Nice.” Paul’s stomach rumbled again. “Wait. That’s kind of sad, when I think about it.”

  “Realities.” Kevin shrugged and cut into the golden-brown cake. “The coffee pods are in the drawer below the sugar, and creamer is in the fridge. Fix yourself a cup, then leave it on the counter. Grab a seat, and I’ll bring the rest over.”

  Paul wanted to protest being waited on, but he had to pick his battles. He couldn’t manage his crutches and the mug. He settled onto the couch, leaning forward to take the offered plate. He waited for Kevin to arrange the coffee mugs on the low table he dragged within reach, then wasted no more time.

  His first bite of the cinnamon streusel cake proved it a wise choice. “This is so good,” he praised. “I can’t believe you haven’t gained weight with treats like this.”

  Kevin patted his ridiculously flat stomach before swallowing his own mouthful. “Hard work.” He set down his plate and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I meant to get your number earlier and give you mine in case you had any problems.”

  “Oh, sure.” Paul rattled off his information. “Mine’s back on the desk.” Before he could get to his feet, Kevin had already jumped up and retrieved Paul’s phone. Paul unlocked the device with trembling fingers and selected a new contact before handing it to Kevin. Strictly business, he reminded himself, but the caution didn’t change the warm glow in his chest.

  The glow dimmed when Kevin’s cell rang. He glanced at the screen and frowned. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

  Paul nodded. He had to choose between checking out Kevin’s rear view and indulging in more cake, but the firm muscle, covered by work-worn denim, won.

  Instead of retaking his seat when the call finished, Kevin put his plate in the fridge and poured his coffee into a travel mug.

  “Resident with a water problem,” he explained. “If I’m not back before you head out, just lock the french doors behind you.”

  “Okay,” Paul agreed. He traced his fingers over the ceramic mug and took another sip, swallowing his disappointment. “Don’t work too hard.”

  BY THE second week, Paul was ready to forget about having his laptop fixed. Or buying a new one, as his father suggested, apparently worried Paul would be too distracted using the office computer, rather than congratulating him on his problem-solving. Thanks, Dad.

  Grandpa Louie grumbled at Paul’s absence but stayed busy with whatever group adventure he’d signed up for during the day and the bevy of widows he squired around at night.

  Paul ignored them both. He walked to the office after breakfast, enjoying the fresh air and waving to any other early risers. Kevin rewarded his diligence by greeting him with sleepy morning face and a cup of coffee waiting on the desk.

  Paul hoarded the little snippets of conversation he and Kevin exchanged before Kevin would set out on the day’s project, leaving Paul in mostly uninterrupted peace.

  Kevin obviously did his own computer work earlier and later than Paul, because sometimes the seat was still warm when he sat, a pleasant touch of humanity that made Paul smile.

  Paul didn’t want to take advantage of Kevin, but he liked getting out of the RV, especially on the days they shared the office, and Paul not only spent time with Kevin, but followed his interactions with the park residents.

  Like today.

  Paul had hobbled into the kitchen area for a break and stood off to the side while Kevin and an elderly man were seated on one of the small couches.

  “I gave the son of a bitch three hundred and twenty-five dollars! And all he gives me are excuses.” The man vibrated with indignation. “First he put his back out, then another job wasn’t finished, then he needed money for supplies. I told him that’s what my three hundred and twenty-five damn dollars was for.”

  “Ouch,” Kevin said. His attention was fixed on his notes, allowing Paul an opportunity to study him without limit.

  “Then he asked me what did I want him to do?” The old man snorted. “So I told him, get your ass over here and fix my windows like I paid you half up front to do.”

  Kevin pushed his dark hair behind his ears, and Paul avidly followed the path of his long fingers. “Give me all the contact info you have, and I’ll do some digging.”

  “It’s my own damn fault.” He stood and shook Kevin’s hand. “I knew the price was too good to be true, but I went for it anyway. I appreciate you looking into this. He wasn’t on the list, and the wife gave me plenty of grief when I called him in the first place.”

  “Well, I’m afraid she’ll give you a harder time when she finds out she was right.” Kevin chuckled.

  The old guy grabbed at his heart. “Careful there, Kevin. I’m not ready to leave her a rich widow yet.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  The wry twist to Kevin’s lips created an equally twisting sensation in Paul’s chest. He waited by the counter until Kevin had safely seen the old man down the steps.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Paul lifted his cup of coffee. “I needed a break.”

  “You’re fine.” Kevin dropped his pen onto his notepad. “I wish there was more I could do.”

  “What was he talking about, the list?” Paul asked.

  Kevin gave him a considering glance, the blue and gold highlights in his irises catching the light. “Let’s take a real break. Join me for lunch, and I’ll answer any questions you might have.”

  Paul’s thoughts jumped to the pages he still needed to write today, then weighed his father’s displeasure against an hour or two of Kevin’s company. He should be more worried about his lack of worry, but instead he nodded. “Give me two seconds to shut down.”

  Chapter 5

  PAUL STUCK his hand out the car window, his palm surfing the air currents. He hummed along with the radio. Rather than the old rusted pickup parked outside the office, Kevin had led him to a small convertible that tore down the road without hesitation. After his adventures climbing in and out of his grandfather’s RV, Paul enjoyed seating himself with minimal effort and plenty of room for his leg.

  “This is terrific,” he said. He looked over at Kevin, admiring how the wind whipped the dark curls off his face. “Doesn’t feel like December.”

  “Your grandfather says you’re from Michigan.” Kevin shuddered in obvious mock dismay. “Are you a fan of the snow?”

  “I am,” Paul replied without hesitation. “Especially this time of year. I’ll miss the usual Christmas traditions.”

  “We have traditions.” Kevin pushed his sunglasses higher up his nose and nudged Paul with his elbow. “We just don’t have to wear as many clothes when we celebrate them.”

  Paul burst out laughing. He’d concede the point. The lighthearted current between them hummed, a hint that the warmth Kevin sparked off him might be mutual. “Where are we going?”

  “A restaurant off the coast.” Kevin glanced over. “I should have checked. You do like seafood, right?”

  “Absolutely.” Paul relaxed against the seat with a sigh, happy to get off the roller coaster his life had become since the accident. Between the hospital, the loss of his internship, and now the paper from hell, he’d barely taken a breath. But this, the sun shining and the breeze hitting his face? It was the pause Paul hadn’t known he needed.

  Kevin seemed to share his relaxation, tuning the radio to a Christmas station and handling the vehicle with smooth confidence. Paul wanted to stretch this bubble in time, willing the moment to last, and had to fight pangs of disappointment when Kevin turn
ed off the freeway and into the lot of a weathered building.

  The exterior walls were strewn with fishing nets, a haphazard attempt at decoration, and there wasn’t any signage, but cars filled the parking spaces. Kevin slid the convertible into a reserved spot.

  “Shhh.” Kevin met Paul’s questioning eyebrow with a conspiratorial grin. “I’m friends with the owner.”

  He held the door for Paul, helping him with his crutches without a fuss. They were seated in a manner of moments and had their drink order brought almost as fast despite the crowd. The restaurant was larger and more modern on the inside, with plenty of room for newcomers.

  “We missed the main lunch rush.” Kevin pushed a menu from the middle of the table over to Paul. “But we can still get the special.”

  “Okay.” Paul reached for the menu, meeting Kevin’s broad grin with one of his own. His phone chimed in his pocket, the text tone for his father intruding into his afternoon of peace, and he winced. “Sorry.”

  He switched off the ringer and placed the phone beside his plate out of habit. He noticed Kevin either didn’t have one on him or wasn’t as fixated on it as everyone else he knew.

  “You said you’d tell me about this list?” Paul asked.

  Kevin flexed his jaw. “You may not run into this up north, but with Florida’s huge retiree population, scam artists are a real problem. They prey on the elderly, signing them up for new roofs, windows, landscaping, or repair services. Anything they can convince someone they need.”

  “I’m guessing oftentimes people don’t?” Paul offered.

  “Damn straight.” Kevin ran his hand over the top of his head, removing his sunglasses and setting them on the table. “They usually ask for a percentage up front, then take the money and run. We call the cops, report them to the Better Business Bureau and the local chamber of commerce, but we might as well swim against the tide.”

  “Why do people fall for the scam?” Paul asked.

  “Living on a fixed income is hard. You need work done, but within your budget.” Kevin ticked off the two points on his fingers, then opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “I got so sick of fielding resident calls I created a list of reputable vendors. The residents don’t have to use them, but if they do, they can trust they are licensed when needed, usually bonded, and at least they’ll show up to finish the job.”