Christmas at Home

by Carolyn Brown

  He stood up and reached for a steel tape fastened to his belt. A vision of someone grabbing a gun made her flinch, but she covered it well by throwing her hand over her mouth to cover a fake cough.

  He pulled a small spiral-topped notebook from the pocket of his chambray work shirt and began measuring and making calculations. “Twice as big? That’s a hell of a big addition.”

  “I need a big addition. Folks are waiting in the parking lot now because my max says three hundred or less. I want to be able to bring in more customers.”

  Holt made notations and measured some more. “Windows?”

  “No. Solid walls. No windows and no frilly curtains. I run a beer joint here, not a boardinghouse for proper little girls.”

  “Why?” Holt asked.

  “Because I like running a beer joint and I would not like a bunch of whiny little girls fussing all day long about having to learn the proper way to set a table,” she said.

  “Why no windows? It’s your business what you do for a living, lady, not mine. I’m just here to build an addition.” Holt grinned.

  “Sorry that I bit at you. I’m grouchy today. It’s not your fault. Drunks aren’t real good with windows. If they get into a fight before Luther can break it up, the walls don’t break. I’m going to clean while you figure, then we’ll talk when you get the estimate worked up,” Sharlene answered.

  Holt worked for half an hour, then slipped the tape back on his belt and hiked a hip onto a barstool. “I’ll take that beer now, Miz Waverly. If you like my estimate and can find me a rental house with a yard in Mingus, I can do this job for you.”

  “Call me Sharlene. ‘Miz Waverly’ makes me look behind me to see if my momma is in the place. Let’s see, it’s mid-August. I’d like to have it finished and ready by Christmas…” She hesitated because it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she’d give him her apartment if he could have it done by Thanksgiving.

  “You don’t know much about building, do you?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Not really. Is that not doable?”

  “I can get this done by Halloween if we have good weather. Probably within eight weeks, which would finish it by mid-to-late October,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “I’m figuring we can have it done in eight weeks, maximum,” he said.

  “How big is your crew?”

  “I’ve got three men who work for me. If it’s a long distance from home, we live in our travel trailers. If it’s close by, we commute. I see you’ve got some trailer spaces over there. Interested in renting two of them?”

  “Two? Why only two if you’ve got three men who work for you?”

  “Two are from up close to Wichita Falls. That’d be a pretty long commute, and they are both single so they don’t mind staying on the site. The other is from Palo Pinto. I reckon he’d rather commute since he’s married and has kids.”

  She nodded. “I’ve got plenty of spaces back there. Plumbing, water, and electricity go with the rent.”

  He glanced at the bar. “Pretty nice location for Kent and Chad. They’re brothers, by the way, and they’ll love the idea of being close to a beer joint so they can get a brew after working all day.”

  She set a beer in front of him. “Estimate?”

  He handed her the paper and tipped up the bottle.

  It was twenty percent higher than she’d figured but less than Merle had thought it could be. She could afford it. “I can live with these numbers. When can you start?”

  “Monday morning. I’ll call Chad, Kent, and Bennie and tell them. They’ll be here sometime over the weekend to get the trailers hooked up. We’ll get our equipment set up, the materials ordered, and hopefully get it stringed up and leveled on Monday. Then Bennie will begin the concrete work Monday morning. I figured you’d wrangle with me on the price. I allowed ten percent for some haggling room.”

  “Then take ten percent off. But I don’t want concrete floors.”

  He held up his palm. “I know what you want. The concrete is for the foundation. I know what I’m doing Miz… Sharlene.”

  “Then yes, we have a deal and you can start the job.”

  He set the bottle down. “Not so fast. I’ll need a place to live. I was renting a trailer up in Palo Pinto and I could commute, but the hot-water tank blew a gasket and flooded the whole thing. Owner doesn’t want to fix it so we’ve got to find a place to live. Find me a rental house by tomorrow and then we’ll have a deal.”

  Sharlene cocked her head to one side. “How about a side bet? You get the trailer spaces and a house free of rent if you promise you can get the job done by Thanksgiving. If you fail, then I get to take your rent out of the final payment. I’ll pay you half now and half when it’s finished. That all right with you?”

  He extended his hand. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

  She shook with him. “Good. I’ll get the keys from my purse.”

  “You own a rental house?”

  “I do.”

  “And where is this house?”

  “Which way did you come into town?” she asked.

  “From Palo Pinto.”

  “Did you see that house by the post office? The turquoise one with hot-pink trim and yellow porch posts? It’s got two orange rockers on the porch.”

  He shuddered. He’d seen the house all right and wondered what drunk had painted it. “So you own that white frame house just west of it?” he asked.

  Sharlene handed him the keys. “No, I own the turquoise one. It’s yours until the job is done.”

  Holt groaned. “How big is it, and does it have kitchen appliances?”

  She nodded. “Kitchen, living room, two bedrooms. Larissa left living room furniture in there. You can move it out into the garage out back of the Tonk or use it. Stove, refrigerator, and the washer and dryer are in the kitchen. You still interested?”

  “You think I’ll turn it down, don’t you,” he said.

  “Lord, I hope not.”

  “Are there any other houses in town?” he asked. He’d gladly pay rent to live in something that didn’t look like a human-sized Barbie dollhouse.

  She shook her head and grinned.

  “Okay, then, it’ll do until after Thanksgiving. Now there’s one more little matter we have to discuss before I actually take a check from you. I’ve got two kids. They’ll start first grade in a couple of weeks, but I bring them to work with me every day until then. They won’t get in your way, I promise. If that’s a problem, then the deal is off.”

  She frowned. “Ever think of a babysitter?”

  He shrugged. “Tried it. Didn’t work. Won’t try again.”

  “If that’s the only problem, then welcome to Mingus, Holt Jackson,” Sharlene said.

  * * *

  Holt picked up his sweet iced tea, sipped it, and then set it back down. He reached across the table and touched Nikki’s hand. Perfectly white-tipped fingernails, a nice diamond dinner ring, and skin as smooth as silk. She wore one of those little black dresses with thin straps and a ruffle at the knees showing off her legs, browned to the right shade from daily visits to the tanning bed during her lunch break.

  “So where are we, Holt Jackson?” She laid the menu to the side and looked him in the eye.

  Tonight her eyes were crystal blue and matched the color on her eyelids. Holt should have thought it was sexy, but it reminded him of the skin on a dead chicken’s eyelids. Three years ago in the fall he’d helped Kent and Chad’s parents kill and freeze a hundred fryers, and Nikki’s eye shadow was that exact same shade.

  “I like your eyes better their natural color,” he said.

  “My eyes, like my hair, change with my mood. Tonight I was blue thinking about how long we’ve been going out and how you run from commitment. And this week I wanted to be a blonde,” she said. “Would you ple
ase give me a straight answer?”

  “I’ve got the kids and they take a lot of my time. You knew that from our first date,” he said.

  The waitress appeared at their table. “You ready to order now?”

  “I’ll have the chicken parmigiana and bring a bottle of Principato Rosato wine,” Nikki said.

  “And you, sir?” the waitress asked Holt.

  “The lasagna, please.” He handed the waitress the menu.

  “May I suggest a bottle of Rocca delle Macie Chianti Classico Riserva with that?”

  “Sweet tea is fine. I’m driving so I’d better not be drinking,” he said.

  “Kids!” Nikki muttered.

  “It’s against the law to shoot the little critters, and I’ve taken a real likin’ to them so I don’t reckon I’d shoot ’em anyway,” he drawled.

  She jerked her hand out from under his and held both of them in her lap. “This isn’t going to work for me, Holt. It’s bad enough that you run all over creation with that job of yours, but now the kids…”

  He leaned back in the booth, lowered his chin, and looked at her from under thick, dark brows. “You knew what I did when we started dating.”

  “I guess I thought you’d change for me. I love Dallas and Fort Worth. You could do your little construction jobs in Dallas until you could find a decent office job,” she told him.

  He frowned. “I don’t want a decent office job. I love my job and my business, and I don’t like big cities.”

  The waitress brought their salad in a big chilled bowl and set it on the table between them, along with a basket of warm garlic breadsticks. She placed chilled bowls and plates in front of Nikki and Holt.

  “Would you please bring my meal in a to-go box?” Nikki said. “I won’t be eating here.”

  Holt put both hands on the table. “Nikki, I’m all they’ve got. I can’t forsake them,” he said.

  “There are dozens of good boarding schools. Couple right here in this area where they’d be taken care of and given a wonderful education. I attended them when I was their age. You don’t have to have them underfoot twenty-four seven.”

  He sighed. “But I like them underfoot all the time. That’s why I take them to work with me. I wouldn’t put them in a boarding school even if I had the money.”

  “I’ve got the money and I’ll pay for it. You commit. I’ll pay. Last chance. Going, going…” She hesitated.

  He shook his head.

  “Gone!”

  She picked up her purse and slid out of the booth. “I’ll pick up my dinner at the front counter. Have a nice life, Holt. You’re a good man, just not good for me.”

  “Goodbye, Nikki,” he whispered.

  * * *

  “One more tequila shot and I’m calling it a night,” Sharlene said.

  Her four friends all hooted.

  The tall blonde patted her on the arm. “You’ve been saying that for the last six. I haven’t seen you this wasted since the night we had the party in New York when you came home. Remember when you sober up that we are holding you to your promise to come see each of us and sign books in our town this winter. That’s only three months away, and we aren’t going to let you back out.”

  “I deserved to get plastered out of my mind when I got back stateside. You fair-weather friends left me over there the last two months all by myself. And I’ll be there. I’ll feel like a big celebrity signing books. Three months? What month is this anyway?” Sharlene slurred.

  The short brunette giggled. “It’s August 15, darlin’. Four years to the day since we left you in Iraq and came home without you. It wasn’t very nice of us to leave you like that, was it? But if they’d have given me a choice of staying and sleeping with Brad Pitt every night or coming home, old Brad would have been sleepin’ alone.”

  Sharlene laughed with her. “We got to do this more often.”

  “What? Get drunk?” Kayla asked.

  “No, get together and talk about it. No one but a vet understands what went on over there. Was it hard for you to leave behind?” Sharlene rubbed her eyes and smeared mascara.

  “Hell yeah,” Kayla said.

  Sharlene nodded. “I still hear the helicopters in my sleep.”

  “We all do,” Kayla whispered. “Bringing the dead and maimed to the hospital.”

  “That sound of them buzzing around haunts my dreams and…” Sharlene clamped a hand over her mouth. Not even her four best friends were privy to the classified ops she and Jonah shared. She’d been in hospital administration, and only she and a handful of top officials knew what else she did.

  “It’ll get better with time.” Kayla patted her arm.

  “When I’m so old I have demen…dement…whatever the hell that word is that means I can’t remember, I’ll still hear them,” she said.

  “Well, it’s midnight and I’ve got to drive this bunch to the airport in five hours so I’m going to call it a night for all of us,” said Maria, the short, dark-haired one of the group.

  “Not me. I’m going to sit right here and watch you all go. Just like I did back then. I’m going to drink one more beer and then go to my hotel. It’s just a couple of blocks from here. I’ll be fine,” Sharlene told them.

  “You sure?” Maria asked.

  “Sure as sand will sneak into your underbritches.” Sharlene laughed at her own joke. “Call me when you get home, all of you.”

  Group hugs. One more toast with one more round of tequila shots. One more suck on a lime wedge. And they were all four gone.

  Sharlene looked at all the empty bottles and shot glasses on the table. “Shhhtory of my life,” she muttered. She pushed the chair back, staggered to the bar, and slapped it with her fist. “One more Coors.”

  Holt could hardly believe his eyes. It couldn’t be Sharlene Waverly of Mingus, Texas, slapping the bar right beside him. He’d just visited with her yesterday and moved into her rental house that very morning. The kids had been elated to have a house again. Judd had done a jig all the way to the front porch when she saw the hideous multicolored house.

  “I’ll give you one more beer for your car keys. I can call you a taxi, but I can’t let you drive as drunk as you are,” the bartender said.

  “Over my dead body. I can drive an army jeep back to the barracks through a sharqi windstorm after an all-night mission. I can drive anything with four wheels and can shoot the eyes out of a rattlesnake at fifty yards, so give me a beer and I’ll drive myself to the hotel. Besides, it’s only two blocks from here,” she argued loudly.

  “She’s with me,” Holt said. “Give her a beer and I’ll see to it she makes it home.”

  “And who the hell are you?” Sharlene turned bloodshot eyes at him. Was there one or two fine-looking cowboys sitting on the stool? Dear God, was that Holt Jackson, the man she’d hired to add the addition to the Honky Tonk?

  “Don’t you remember me? I’m Holt, the man who’s going to put an addition on your beer joint in Mingus,” he said.

  “Well, slap some camouflage on my sorry butt and call me a soldier, I believe it is.” She picked up the bottle of beer and turned it up. “And you’re going to take me home?”

  “Wherever you need to go. Boss gets killed, I don’t have a job.”

  She set the bottle down with a thump. “Well, pay the man and let’s get out of here, Mr. Jolt Hackson.”

  The bartender waved away the bill Holt held out. “Her friends took care of their bill and paid for her last drink. They made me promise to call a taxi for her. She’s pretty wasted.”

  “Shit-faced is more like it,” Holt said.

  Sharlene laughed and stumbled when she slid off the bar.

  Holt hooked an arm around her waist and slipped his fingers through her belt loops. He led her outside where the hot night air rushed to meet them as if someone had opened a giant bake oven
in the parking lot.

  “Hot, ain’t it? That’s my pink VW Bug over there. Just put me in it and follow me to my hotel, cowboy.” She tried to drag him in that direction.

  “You are not driving anywhere, not even out of this lot, Sharlene.”

  “I been to Iraq. I could take you in a fight. I’m that good. Don’t let my size fool you,” she said.

  Holt grinned. “Where’s your hotel key? I’ll take you there, and you can get a taxi to come get your car in the morning.”

  She fumbled in the back pocket of her jeans and brought out a paper envelope to the Super 8 with the room number written on the outside. “If you look that way…” She squinted to the south and tilted her head to one side. “Nope, guess it’s that way…” She turned too quickly and fell into his arms. “There’s that sorry sucker. Do you reckon they moved the sign while me and my friends were in the bar?”

  Holt laughed. “Surprising how those things happen when you’ve had too much to drink.”

  “I’m not that drunk. I was worse than this when I came home from Iraq. They all came to New York to welcome me home. Did I tell you that I was in Iraq two years? They killed Jonah. Sand was everywhere. Blowing in my eyes and sneaking down my bra. It was everywhere. It was hot like this, only hotter. Take me to my hotel. It’s cool there,” she said.

  He put her in the cab of his pickup truck and drove to the Super 8. She was snoring when he parked.

  “Hey, wake up, Sharlene; you are home,” he said.

  She didn’t move.

  “Damn!” he swore as he opened the door and rounded the back end of the truck. He opened the door, and she fell out into his arms but didn’t open her eyes. He carried her like a bride through the front door, across the lobby, and down the hall to the right to her room. It took some maneuvering to get the key out of his shirt pocket without dropping her, but he managed.

  He laid her on the bed, removed her boots and denim miniskirt, pulled the comforter up from the side of the bed, and started to cover her when her eyes popped open. “Shhh, if you make a noise they’ll see us. You have to be very quiet. They’re up there but you might not hear them yet. I hate this place. I want to go home where it’s green and there ain’t burned-up trucks and bombed-out buildings.”