A Snowy Little Christmas

by Fern Michaels

  After the divorce, he decided that if he couldn’t actually do the thing he felt passionate about, he could at least continue to coach. Once word got out that Evan Becker wanted to coach softball and baseball, he had offers from Little League to the local community college. With Connor in grammar school, he picked the teams that would fit into his schedule. Working for yourself had its advantages. He could arrange his time so that he and Connor had something to share.

  He thought back to his relationship with Alicia. They had met during the summer between his junior and senior year at the University of Oklahoma. She was from Schenectady, a year younger than he was but also a rising senior at Oklahoma. Strangely enough, they had not known each other at Oklahoma but had met at a party in Utica after a college league summer baseball game, and romance followed. During their senior year, they were inseparable. Alicia, the social-butterfly cheerleader type and Evan, the star center fielder who batted .450 his senior year with eighteen home runs and fifty-three RBIs while leading his team to the NCAA Division I national championship. They married right after graduation, and he reported to the Houston Astros’ Pacific Coast League team in Round Rock, Texas.

  During his second game, he broke his arm in a freak accident when he, the second baseman, and the shortstop all went after a pop fly behind second base and collided. The injury not only put an end to his fledgling baseball career but also, he now realized, to his romance.

  When Evan was benched and told by the doctors and specialists that he could no longer swing a bat in a manner consistent with being a professional baseball player, the excitement that had marked their young lives collapsed. Granted, people lose much more than a job or a career, but the loss of his proved to be the deal breaker in their romance though the marriage continued for a number of years.

  After he was cut loose by the Astros, the University of Oklahoma offered him a graduate assistantship to continue his design studies and be an assistant coach for its championship baseball team. They spent the next three years in Oklahoma, where Alicia gave birth to their son. When his studies were over, and while contemplating what to do next, Evan received a phone call from his cousin Reed in Croton. Reed had been working construction and decided to open his own contracting business, and asked Evan if he would consider going into partnership with him. Evan decided to accept Reed’s offer and move his three-month-old son and wife back to New York State.

  That’s when things really began to sour. During their time back in Oklahoma, Alicia had been spending his $300,000 signing bonus as if that level of income were going to continue, and by the time he had finished his studies, their credit cards were maxed out. He tried to reason with her, but she persisted in demanding the lifestyle she had become accustomed to on the basis of the bonus. The arguments increased in volume and intensity over the course of the next few years after they had returned to New York. She couldn’t understand why he couldn’t get a job in baseball “like one of those guys on TV who talk about the games and the players and give play-by-play descriptions of what’s happening.”

  Evan tried to explain that those jobs went to people who had experience, not guys who get cut from a team after their second game in the minors. Besides, he had no interest in becoming a sports commentator. Alicia’s blistering language still echoed in his head. “If you really loved me, you’d try harder!”

  One night, when Evan was sitting on his son’s bed, Connor asked him why Mommy and Daddy didn’t like each other. Evan was struck by the innocent but cutting words from his little boy. He saw the dismay on Connor’s face and knew something had to change. So he asked Alicia for a separation. She had a fit and blamed him for everything, which only confirmed that getting a divorce would be the healthiest course of action for all of them.

  When the divorce became final, they had no assets, and he would be paying off credit card bills for years. It was almost comical, therefore, when Alicia told the judge that she was entitled to alimony because Evan could be making more money but wasn’t trying hard enough. The judge was stunned by her bizarre demand. She had a college degree, was almost the same age as Evan, able-bodied, and perfectly capable of finding gainful employment. The judge had no sympathy. “Get a job, young lady,” he told her. “Use your brains to support yourself. Your ex-husband is only responsible for child support. Period.” It was a victory for Evan. All of it.

  He finally relaxed his shoulders and headed to his usual stop for a quick bite to eat. Then he’d go home and start working on the estimate for “Miss Bossy Pants.” He smiled to himself, recalling her voice and self-deprecation. He had to admit, she was cute. More than cute, actually. And she was coming back for the holidays. That’s when the wheels began to turn.

  Chapter Four

  There was a squeal of glee as Lisa and Jessie hugged and kissed each other on each cheek. “So good to see you!” Jessie was beginning to feel less isolated and overwhelmed. Lisa had been her best bud through elementary and high school, and they still kept in touch with weekly phone calls. When Jessie had left for Penn State on a volleyball scholarship, Lisa enrolled in the local community college to study nursing. During her last year, when she was thinking about completing her studies at a four-year college, she met Kenny, a sophomore at SUNY Albany who had grown up in Montrose, and fell head over heels in love. Luckily, he did also.

  So instead of continuing her studies, Lisa moved to Albany, got a job as a home health aide, and moved in with Kenny while he finished studying for his accounting degree. They got married in August after graduation and moved to Croton, where he took a job with a local accountant. Three years later, she gave birth to her first child and Kenny took over from his boss, who had decided to retire to Arizona. The good news was that she and her hubby were still crazy about each other fifteen years after they had first met.

  “What a day. My head is spinning.” Jessie plopped herself into one of the old red leather barrel-shaped chairs. She loved the Pour House. It was a throwback in time, with old photos of the town, model ships, a dartboard, and a small standing shuffleboard table. “Rosemary, the real estate agent, was terrific. She’s going to help me organize a book giveaway over the holidays,” she said, with a sigh of relief.

  “That’s a great idea!” Lisa chimed in. “It should be fun. We can decorate the front porch like we used to.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m only going to be here for a little over two weeks, and I imagine I’ll be engulfed in packing whatever is left and working out details with the contractor.”

  “Which contractor did you call?”

  “Evan Becker.” Jessie took a small pull on her glass of water, not wanting to reveal her almost secret crush.

  “Evan Becker? He’s quite a scrumptious piece of man cake!” Lisa stated with certainty. Her gaze lifted across the room. “Speaking of Mr. Scrumptious, he’s across the room right now.” Lisa immediately put her arm up to wave, but Jessie caught it in midair. “What?” Lisa quizzed her.

  “Nothing. I just don’t want to get too chummy with someone who is going to work for me. You know, keep it professional.” Jessie tried to hide her private interest, but the blush on her face gave it away.

  “Ooohhhhh . . .” Lisa gave her a sideways glance. “You’ve already inspected that big hunk o’man.” She couldn’t help but tease her old pal.

  “Shut it,” Jessie said with a smile. “Yes, I found him very attractive, which makes me think I should get a second opinion.”

  “On what? That he’s handsome?”

  “No, silly. On the construction work.” Jessie motioned for the waitress while she tried to keep Evan from spotting them. “By the way, how do you know Evan?”

  “He coaches the kids’ baseball team.”

  “Ah. And you never thought of mentioning him to me?” Jessie chided her.

  “I thought you were off men for now.”

  “I feel like that’s been a career.” Jessie slumped farther down in her chair.

  “Time to dust off your per
ky self and get out there!” Lisa, who had settled into life as a stay-at-home mom and looked more matronly than perky, had always admired Jessie for being in shape and keeping a good attitude no matter what.

  “Yeah, yeah . . . one of these days.”

  “What about Match—” Lisa was just about to recommend online dating when Jessie interrupted her.

  “Don’t even go there!” Jessie realized she had raised her voice a little louder than normal. “There’s no diving into that dating pool!”

  Lisa laughed out loud. Jessie continued, “Rosemary and I were discussing this earlier. Considering that the divorce rate is hovering around fifty percent, there still seems to be a drought of eligible men. Have you seen some of these guys?” Jessie sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Why do men think a photo of themselves in a hot tub is alluring? It’s gross!” The two doubled over in laughter.

  Lisa sat up straight and scoped the room. “Yep. The only thing worth looking at is looking at us right now.”

  “Oh no . . . Did he actually see us?” Before she could finish the sentence, Evan stood and started walking toward them.

  “Dang it. I didn’t even brush my hair!”

  In a conspiratorial whisper, Lisa leaned in again. “You look fine.” Sitting taller, she continued, “Well hello, Coach Becker!”

  “Good evening, Lisa. Jessie. Nice to see you both. May I buy you a drink?” Evan seemed taller with Jessie seated. Almost Paul Bunyan-like.

  “Sure. Thanks. Want to join us?” Lisa threw that out immediately, as Jessie kicked her under the table.

  “Yes, please do.” Jessie made the obligatory remark.

  “Thanks, but I have to get back to the office. I have an estimate to write up, but I wouldn’t mind a rain check next time you’re in town.” He nodded toward Jessie.

  “I think we can arrange that.” Lisa was all over this, returning the kick and almost knocking the table over.

  Jessie smiled. “Yes, that would be nice.”

  “Great. I’ll look forward to it. I’ll have Nancy put your cocktails on my tab. Have a good evening.” He gave them a two-finger salute. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “He can touch me anytime,” Lisa said dreamily.

  “Aren’t you the comedienne?” Jessie finally felt she could exhale.

  “Hey, I may be happily married, but I’m not dead!” Lisa chortled, almost knocking over her glass.

  Chapter Five

  Confident she’d covered her bases with Rosemary and Evan, Jessie packed her weekend bag and began her trip back to Philadelphia. During the drive, she realized she had said “no diving into the dating pool” twice in a single day. Plus she heard that story repeatedly on the air. Maybe she could do something to change that, and the idea of speed dating came to mind. It saved a lot of time instead of fishing for love on the Internet.

  She reviewed the process in her head. The number of women and men who attended would determine the number of small tables, with one woman seated at each table. The tables would be numbered, and the women sitting at them would remain seated while the men moved from one table to the next. Each couple would spend ten minutes talking, a bell would ring, and the men would move to the next table. Everyone would have a card, so they could take notes as to whom they might want to see again. At the end of the event, the participants would turn in the card, and the host—who would be Jessie—would send private e-mails to all the participants as to who wants another opportunity to meet. The only snag was when/if someone didn’t get any requests. She’d figure out some sort of consolation prize—maybe a free personal half-hour phone session with Dr. Richie. Since her radio show was available to stream on several different sites, she could promote the event to people in the Croton area that way, in addition to putting it up on the local Patch. Lots of lonely people during the holidays, and she wanted to spread some cheer.

  As she crossed the Betsy Ross Bridge, she finally had most of the logistics figured out. She could do the book giveaway party, have the bookcases either moved or removed, then host the speed-dating night. She then wondered if she was taking on too much. Nah. It will keep my mind occupied, she thought to herself. She would need to rent a few tables and chairs, get some pads and pens, and stands for the table numbers. Easy-peasy. . . she hoped.

  When she got to her apartment, she dropped her bag and immediately called Lisa.

  “Okay, Miss Smarty Pants, Miss Bossy Pants calling. I have an idea.”

  Lisa knew the translation—“And you will help me.” “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Speed dating!” Jessie said gleefully.

  “Speed what?” Lisa sounded perplexed, so Jessie began to explain, trying to elicit enthusiasm from her friend.

  “Oh, I get it. Musical chairs, kinda.” Lisa was trying to be supportive.

  “Yeah. Kinda.”

  Chapter Six

  Like every year before, the hallway the ad agency shared with the radio station was chock-full of jingle bells, wreaths, reindeer, elves, ubiquitous garland, and the stealthily hung mistletoe. Jessie would always chuckle, wondering who was trying to kiss whom because no one seemed to know where the mistletoe came from. She suspected that the source was Ziggy the weatherman. He had a secret crush on Valerie the receptionist, who in turn seemed to have some interest in Ziggy. But he never made a move. Maybe this year. Jessie was always thinking in the most positive light.

  It was two weeks before Christmas, and each night, the phone calls during her talk show became more frequent and desperate. The oddest call was one in which a woman was upset because her boyfriend did not want to go to her family’s house for any of the holidays. Jessie, aka Dr. Richie, explained that a lot of people feel stressed during the holidays, and meeting someone’s family is stressful in itself. Too often, people put too many “special occasions” on top of the holidays, creating a giant panic attack waiting to happen.

  Then, about an hour later, another woman called with the same issue. Jessie gave her the same explanation, but the woman persisted. “We’ve been dating for four months, and he hasn’t wanted to meet my family, not even my twin sister! And her boyfriend doesn’t want to meet the family either! It’s not like we’re weird or something!”

  Jessie got a little bit of a chill. “So you’ve both been dating men who have an aversion to meeting the family?”

  “Yes. Roger missed the Labor Day barbecue, and now he won’t come to Christmas dinner. My sister’s boyfriend says it’s too soon for him—they only started dating about a month ago. We’re both single. She’s divorced, and I’m a widow.”

  Listening to the woman’s voice, Jessie guessed the caller to be somewhere in her fifties. “Have you ever seen a photo of your sister’s boyfriend?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Isn’t it odd that with everyone having a camera on their phone, your sister hasn’t shown you a photograph?”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” The woman sounded befuddled. “Believe it or not, we don’t do a lot of social media . . . we’re not very tech-savvy. Kinda old-school. I have to confess, I hardly ever text. But now that you mention it, Roger won’t let me take any photos of him.”

  Jessie was beginning to get a creepy feeling about the situation when the light bulb went on in her head. “I have an idea, but it may make you uncomfortable. This is what I suggest: You and your sister get together and bake some cookies. Then you both bring them to Roger’s house as a surprise. This way, he won’t have a choice about meeting her.” Jessie was regretting the words as they were falling out of her mouth, but confronting the issue was the only way to clear up this situation, which she felt involved a grand deception.

  Three days later, during her show, she got a frantic phone call from a man who admitted that he had been dating twins behind each other’s back. He insisted it was an honest mistake the first time he met Emily. He was at the grocery store and thought she was Elizabeth. When he realized he had mistaken her for her sister, he failed to mention that he knew her and introduced himsel
f using his nickname, Bucky. They flirted, and he asked her to have dinner. After several dates, he realized he needed to make a choice. Trying to rationalize his behavior, he decided he wanted to set things right with Elizabeth; he had decided she was the one for him. Unfortunately, he was in hot water now.

  Evidently, when the sisters got together to bake the cookies, they had discovered they both had a boyfriend living at the same address. Coincidence? That would be a big no. Rather than get angry with each other, they decided to teach him a lesson. They thought of switching up and going to see him, but agreed that the switching-identities bit had been overdone. And, they wanted to see the look on his face when he was with both of them at the same time. So instead of cookies, each prepared a fruitcake heavily laden with nuts and baked them until they were hard as a brick—even harder than the usual fruitcake, that is.

  When Roger/Bucky/whatever his real name was opened the door, he was surprised by identical women with what seemed like two identical blocks of raisins, dried fruit, nuts, and spices. Each took a turn throttling him with the baked goods and mashing them into his beard.

  He continued to whine about his predicament and said it was “an honest mistake. I really love Elizabeth!”

  Jessie simply replied with, “I hope they left the nuts in the shells,” hit the red, one-inch square DUMP button on the console, and disconnected him.

  They called it a “dump button” so the host could dump the caller if they became abusive. It sat just a few inches from her microphone and came in handy when necessary. Luckily, the need to use it rarely arose, but there was a certain sense of gratification when it did. It was like the good old days, when you could slam the phone down on someone. Now with cell phones it wasn’t the same just hitting END. No drama in that and not very satisfying.

  As she wrapped up the final call, Brian gave her a signal, and she signed off.

  “Wow. That was crazy.”

  “Yeah. I know. I think I may have stepped out of line there, but I didn’t know what else to tell that woman. My instincts were correct, unfortunately. I hope I didn’t start a family feud.” The studio phone line was lighting up again, but it was after the show went down. Both of them glanced at the blinking light.