A Very Merry Match--Includes a Bonus Novella

by Melinda Curtis

  A little over a year after his cancer all-clear, Derek had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. This time, he swore his love for Mary Margaret. That hadn’t stopped him from going on a spending spree the day they’d diagnosed him as terminal. Among other things, he’d bought a seventy-inch flat screen, a fancy laptop, an all-terrain quad, a fishing boat, and a new pick-up truck. And then when his body began shutting down, he’d coerced his friends into taking him gambling, betting big in the hopes he’d win enough to square Mary Margaret away.

  Derek had been as unlucky in the casino as with his health.

  She’d tried to return and sell everything after he died. The truck and fishing boat had been returned with what she’d felt was an unreasonable re-stocking fee. The all-terrain quad had been sitting in the driveway with a FOR SALE sign for nearly a year. And now this…

  “Here’s the thing, Mrs. Sneed.” Mr. Hardy was gleefully fidgety. “We tried in good faith to contact your husband. We aren’t completely heartless regarding your loss.” He tried to look sad. Tried, but failed. “Do you own this place?”

  “No.” Some of the bitterness she tried not to feel toward Derek slipped out. She’d had to sell their starter home last spring. “How much will it take to buy his debt down?” She’d learned that debt collectors would settle for less than the full amount just to get it off their books.

  “This isn’t a sale at Macy’s, Mrs. Sneed.” Mr. Hardy’s good humor evaporated. His words were as chilly as the thirty-degree air. “We want our hundred grand.”

  Mary Margaret twitched so hard that the ladder fell sideways into the snow.

  “We’ll be needing a good faith payment today.” Mr. Laurel walked a few feet into the snowdrift and righted her ladder.

  Mary Margaret cleared her throat. “Gentlemen…” She decided to upgrade their status in the hopes of leniency. “I’ve spent months consolidating Derek’s debt. I’m on a very strict payment plan. I could maybe add fifty dollars a month for you.” She was grasping at straws.

  Their heads swung slowly from side to side.

  “We’ll be needing a good faith payment today,” Mr. Laurel repeated.

  Mary Margaret only had two hundred dollars in her checking account. But she wasn’t the most beloved kindergarten teacher in Sunshine for nothing. She was a quick thinker and had a winning smile. “Can I interest you in a quad?” She gestured to the vehicle to the side of her driveway. The one with the faded FOR SALE sign.

  They shook their heads.

  “We plan to stay in town until a sizable portion has been paid,” Mr. Hardy said. “Our boss wants us back in the office before Christmas.” He stared at her blue jean–clad legs.

  And it wasn’t the admiring kind of look a man gave a woman’s gams.

  It was the kind of look a kindergarten boy gave to a Popsicle stick before he tried to snap it in half.

  * * *

  “Daddy, are you sure Santa likes Christmas trees with toy cars?” Five-year-old Tad wrapped a red sports car with a white pipe cleaner and hung it on the ficus in Kevin’s office. “I never see trees with cars.” His small brow wrinkled. “Or ninjas.” His role-playing favorite.

  Sunshine Mayor Kevin Hadley stopped working on the road-repaving budget and turned his chair to face his son. “Do you know what Santa likes?”

  Tad solemnly shook his head.

  “Santa likes Christmas to be fun and full of surprises.” Surprises weren’t so fun to politicians.

  Like the news that your wife had been unfaithful. Or that she considered you boring, in and out of the bedroom. Or that, despite all that, she still wanted to be married to you. As if your shared aspirations of climbing the political ladder to Washington, DC, could survive that.

  Their divorce was final. Ironically, that had coincided with his party floating an invitation to run for state assembly from his district. All Kevin had to do was tell them he was ready and pass a few background checks and interviews to earn their support. Not one to leap before he analyzed the situation, Kevin hadn’t told anyone about the conversation, not even his parents.

  “What are you going to get me for Christmas?” Tad brought a fire truck over and stood at Kevin’s side, trying to look innocent and reinforcing all the love Kevin had in his heart for him.

  I’d do anything for Tad.

  On the outside, Tad was a precocious, sturdy kid, big for his age. On the inside, he was made fragile by his parents’ divorce, struggling a bit at school and seeking attention more than he had in the past.

  “All I can tell you is this, Tad.” Kevin leaned down and whispered, “The present you’ll get is a surprise.”

  “Daddy.” Tad climbed into Kevin’s lap, continuing to wrap the fire truck with a pipe cleaner.

  Footsteps sounded on the staircase from the first floor of the town hall. His father filled the doorway, still looking vital and hale at sixty years, despite his white hair. “Kevin, I need a moment.”

  “Grandpa!” Tad tumbled to the floor and scrambled across the room to hug him before returning to decorate the ficus.

  “I’ve only got a minute, Dad. I have a meeting with Everett.” He and his city manager had decided to convene on the Saturday after Thanksgiving to speak their minds on the controversial development project they were supporting. “How did you get in?” Kevin was sure he’d locked the door downstairs behind him.

  “I used my key.” Dad shrugged. He’d once been mayor too. Politics and furniture-making had been family businesses for three generations. “Listen, about this distribution center you’re considering…”

  Kevin sighed. Since he’d been elected nearly a decade earlier, everything about his public service had been smooth sailing, approved and embraced by almost everyone. And then came the dissolution of his marriage and JPM Industries’ proposal to build a distribution center on the outskirts of town. Now everyone had an opinion about his life and his leadership.

  “It’s the wrong choice for Sunshine.” Dad moved his hands as if smoothing a tablecloth one final time before company arrived.

  End of story, Dad meant.

  It was far from the end for Kevin. “Do you want to elaborate on that?” Because everyone in Sunshine was telling Kevin it was the wrong thing for the town but no one would articulate why.

  “We’re a small ranching community.” Which was essentially code for Dad not liking change.

  The distribution center would bring much-needed jobs and tax revenue to Sunshine, not to mention it would look good on Kevin’s political résumé. He’d need that to make the move to the state level.

  “Thanks for your input, Dad.” Before his father could accelerate his DEFCON level to emergency mode, Kevin turned the conversation in a new direction. “Are you out shopping with Mom? You know, I told her not to spoil Tad.” Their only grandchild.

  “I wrote a long list to Santa,” Tad said, right on cue. “Ms. Sneed mailed our class letters to the North Pole last week.”

  Kevin made a mental note to ask Mary Margaret what had been on Tad’s long list, although something ninja-related was a safe bet.

  “Grandma was going into the pet store.” Kevin’s father ruffled Tad’s dark brown hair. “She promised not to buy anything.”

  A twinge of worry plucked a muscle in the shoulder of Kevin’s throwing arm, threatening to cramp. “Rosalie had poodle puppies for adoption in the window.” And she was one of the best salespeople in town. “Given I’m never home during the day, any pup she picks up will be living at your place from eight to five.”

  “Your mother knows my rules about dogs,” Dad said with the blind confidence of a lord who thought he ruled his castle. The elder Hadleys were a one-dog household. And Chester, their Labrador, had many years ahead of him. “Now, about the distribution center…” Dad’s cell phone chimed with a message. He stared at his phone, swore, and hurried out the door, mumbling something about Chester being his only fur baby.

  Kevin chuckled, confident Dad would stop Mom from getting a puppy. They we
re all too busy for new household members, especially this holiday season.

  Tad hung another car on the ficus next to a twinkling white light. “Can I have a puppy for Christmas? All ninjas have puppies.”

  “No.”

  “But, Daddy.” Tad returned to Kevin’s side and leaned on his thigh, digging his elbows in and smiling for all he was worth. “I’ll keep it at your house and take care of it always.”

  “No puppies.” At least he and Barb could agree on that.

  Another set of footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  “Merry Christmas.” Everett, his city manager, said hello to Tad and sat down across from Kevin, shedding his jacket and red knit scarf. He was a rangy man, a decade older than Kevin. His brown hair was always shaggy, and his clothes were always rumpled, but he was as good as, if not better than, Kevin when it came to running Sunshine. “Rosalie is having a huge sale, plus the rescue shelter is running an adoption fair, and I promised her I’d only be gone for thirty minutes.” He and his wife were a unified team.

  Like Barb and I used to be.

  Or perhaps that had been a lie too.

  “Let’s get to it, then.” Kevin reached for the folder with his notes on the development project.

  Heeled footsteps struck the wooden stair treads.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” Barb walked through the door to Kevin’s office as if she owned the room. His ex-wife looked as if she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. A hair stylist by trade and the owner of the town’s only beauty salon, her blond, tailored appearance was designed to wow. “Funny how no one told me there was a development meeting today.”

  Kevin swallowed his annoyance.

  “Mommy, look. Look-look-look.” Tad grabbed Barb’s hand and tugged her over to the ficus. “I’m making Santa a surprise tree.”

  “You are indeed.” Barb hugged their son and wisely handed him another toy car to prep for hanging. “It looks fabulous. But it’s not finished, is it?”

  “This isn’t your meeting, Barb.” Kevin suspected she’d been shopping downtown and had seen Everett enter the town hall. He couldn’t imagine how else she’d have found out about their appointment. “How did you get in?” For his own sanity, he was going to have to change the locks on the doors to town hall.

  Barb didn’t bother narrowing her eyes or tossing her hands. She sat down next to Everett and set her ginormous pink leather purse on the floor, slipping out of her thick wool coat. “Don’t be stubborn, Kev. You’re facing a huge issue before Christmas with an election year looming. One wrong choice and you become replaceable, sending our dreams of higher office down the drain. You need me here.”

  “The city won’t make a wrong choice.” But Everett pressed his lips closed at Barb’s cold stare.

  “My career and I are fine on our own,” Kevin reassured his ex-wife.

  “Ms. Sneed asked us what we want to be when we grow up.” Tad had wound so much white pipe cleaner around a car that nothing but the grill and taillights were visible. “I’m going to be the mayor.” He stretched to hang it on the highest branch. “Or a ninja.”

  “Honey, you can be anything you want to be.” Barb swiped Kevin’s paper calendar from his desk and perused December. “But if you’re going into politics, dream about being president of the United States.” She dropped the calendar back on the oak surface. “Kevin, really. You’ve allocated too much time to events hosted by the Sunshine Valley Widows Club. Everyone knows that’s the local dating mart. You need to look above all that.”

  “Above all what?” Kevin said in a hard voice.

  Barb rolled her expertly lined eyes. “Romance.”

  “Here comes the kettle,” Kevin mumbled, finding a small mint in his desk drawer and taking his time to unwrap it. “I’m supposed to be celibate because you couldn’t honor our wedding vows?” Not that he’d had romance on his mind when he’d agreed to help the Widows Club. “Besides, it’s only two events.” He’d agreed to judge a poetry slam at the retirement center and act as emcee for a formal ballroom dance. Widows Club events were good for mingling. And mingling earned votes.

  Barb blinked false eyelashes. “Your voting public expects you to be above reproach, like a much beloved priest.”

  Everett adjusted his glasses, looking like he’d rather be anyplace but in the audience of this post-marital showdown.

  “You’re not a priest, Daddy.” Tad turned to look at Kevin. “You don’t have a white collar.”

  “From the mouths of babes,” Kevin murmured, allowing a Cheshire cat smile to grow on his face.

  “You know what I mean.” Barb huffed. “Don’t give the public a reason not to vote for you.”

  “I always followed your advice regarding my political career.” Kevin hoped his gaze was turning as hard and closed-off as his heart. “You’ve always told me to avoid gossip and bad press, which is why I divorced you.”

  Barb gasped but it was a princess intake of breath, meant to warn those in her immediate vicinity that she was displeased and that reparations needed to be made.

  Kevin was done bowing down to Barb.

  “Tad, you and Mommy need to leave. I’ve got lots of work to do.” Kevin closed his calendar. “I think Mommy should take you to the Saddle Horn for a mile-high whip.” The diner’s signature hot chocolate was served with inches of whipped cream on top.

  “Daddy.” Tad slid a guarded glance toward his mother. “You know mile-high whips are only on Sundays.”

  “Tad,” Kevin teased, “you know they serve them every day on Thanksgiving weekend. You should get one.”

  “Ninja mile-high whip!” Tad wrestled himself into his jacket.

  “You know we need to limit Tad’s calorie intake.” Barb didn’t budge, not her butt and not her businesslike expression. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  “Mommy!” Tad ran out the door and down the stairs. “Thanksgiving is special!”

  Kevin shrugged. “If you don’t want to take him to the Saddle Horn, you might want to check on my parents at the pet store. I think Mom sent a picture of a puppy to Dad via text. And she was shopping for Tad.”

  “Oh, for cryin’ out loud. Your mother is too impulsive.” Barb hightailed it out of there, leaving Everett and Kevin to get down to business in private.

  Chapter Two

  I knew you’d be in soon.” Ricky Parker, the thrift store manager, had been slouching on a stool behind the counter, but when he saw Mary Margaret enter the store he sat up. “Haven’t seen you in three weeks.”

  His greeting didn’t lift Mary Margaret’s spirits. Nor did being in the secondhand store, which had aisles packed with a jumble of used merchandise and competitive bargain shoppers.

  “Time is a commodity I’m very short on.” Mary Margaret dodged a family of five and made her way around an inflatable snowman. She set her purse on the counter and unloaded what she’d brought to sell. “I’ve got my wedding ring. Derek’s wedding ring.” Had she been wrong not to bury it with him? “My great aunt Bunny’s ruby earrings. An old iPod. A flip phone. And…”—she dug around the bottom of her bag—“a personal metal detector.”

  Ricky’s eyes lit up. “Are you looking for your usual? To sell?” Not pawn.

  “Yes.” She hated that she’d become a regular, selling off possessions to make good on Derek’s debt.

  Material possessions don’t define you. Her father’s words sounded like they were being delivered from the pulpit.

  But a few material things can give you comfort in dark times, Dad.

  She was running out of things to sell.

  “You’ve been holding out on me,” Ricky said on a gasp-wheeze. His emphysema made him a man of few words. He placed her jewelry on a scrap of red velvet and thrust his brown-checked shirttails behind him as he leaned over for a closer look. “This is better than what you brought me last time.” Gasp-gasp.

  Good-bye, plain wedding band. Good-bye, princess-cut diamond and ruby chips. Good-bye, vestiges of a former life.<
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  Mary Margaret drew a breath as labored as Ricky’s. “How much?”

  “Gee…I don’t know.” Ricky regarded her with the same intensity he’d given her possessions, as if trying to suss her level of desperation. “Flip phones are actually being made again. The earrings are clip-ons. And your battery’s dead on the iPod.”

  “It works. I swear.” On her husband’s grave. Ugh. She sounded in dire need of cash. Take a breath, Mary Margaret. She did. “Those earrings are bound to move at the holidays. And the new flip phones open like a book and cost a fortune.”

  He tsked. “I can give you a thousand bucks.”

  “A thousand? That’s all? I could make more than that in one night…” Dancing. She’d financed her college education dancing in a burlesque revue at a club outside of Denver. She ran a hand beneath her hairline at the back of her neck, tracing the scar there, hearing her father’s damning words.

  Wicked. Sinful. Her father wasn’t shutting up today.

  I kept my clothes on, Dad. And being good at burlesque is an art form.

  It was easier to argue years later, especially when she’d only seen her father one time since her college graduation. Mary Margaret rubbed the back of her neck. Performing burlesque was no more risqué than the dancing done in most music videos. The moves were suggestive, the costumes cheesy, and some pieces removable. But there were no private parts revealed.

  Being a burlesque dancer…

  Those were the days when she hadn’t worried about making her money stretch to the next paycheck, when she’d dreamed of building a life with Mom, away from her controlling father.

  Burlesque. Was that even trendy anymore? She’d heard about a club opening in nearby Greeley.

  Ricky stared at Mary Margaret, waiting for her to complete her sentence.

  She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of gossip fodder. “I mean, I could make more than that in one night waiting tables at Shaw’s Bar & Grill.”

  “You wish,” Ricky scoffed, knowing that wasn’t true. The local bar and honky-tonk appealed to conservative-tipping clientele. He sat back on his stool. “Twelve hundred. That’s my best and final.”