by Trixie More
Now, she bought what she wanted. And if she had a little bit of an entitlement feeling, well, that might explain the absolutely insane decision to write that check against her father’s account. Shaking her head at her own crazy, she pushed her money woes aside. It was Christmas.
Her father opened the grand finale and stared at the box. It was a single cup coffee maker, and suddenly, she saw it through his eyes, confusing and intimidating. He had made coffee in the same pot for years, but he would never make coffee with this. She stood and went over to him, taking the big box away.
“Oh, my goodness, Dad! That’s the wrong gift!” Her heart squeezed at the relief on his face.
“Some girlie thing, then?” he asked her with a big smile.
“Oh yes, yes. This is for Dorothy.”
“Oh, well, sorry I opened it.”
“That’s no problem, I can re-wrap it.” Allison set it aside. “Are you happy with what you got?”
“Allie Girl, you always do too much.” He tapped the card he had given her. “Hope that’ll make up for it.”
She hugged him. “It sure will. Merry Christmas, Dad.” He hugged her back, his arms still feeling strong around her.
“Merry Christmas, my girl.”
The donut shop on Boston Post Road was open on Christmas morning. Good for Derrick, not so much for the folks inside.
“Extra-large, black.” The man at the drive-through flashed a white smile at him, and Derrick put his change in the tip jar, got his truck in gear and, with the coffee to bolster him, headed for his parent’s house. He was tired this morning. How long had it been since he’d stayed out so damn late? A sign of age, right there. He smiled. He hadn’t felt old last night as he slid his fingers beneath Allison’s waistband, giving her twenty back. Sure, he’d wanted to return the money, but he’d have to be dead to not notice the silken feel of her skin beneath his fingers. His grin widened at the memory of his promise to her. He was really looking forward to checking for it later. Maybe he’d stop over the shop and tug on her pants, threatening to look for it. That would get a rise. Imagining her reaction lightened his mood.
He put on his blinker, the sound ticking away the seconds he had left before all the morning quiet would be broken before he had to greet his family, his father. Derrick let his mind go to more pleasant topics, specifically, that kiss. Better yet, the slow burn during the ride in the truck, her leg bumping against his, the way she let him lace his fingers through hers, rest their hands in his lap. He’d spent quite a bit of time hoping her fingers would move just a bit, brush across him, there. Being hyper-aware of her, unable to act on it, with her father there, with her fragile emotional state, had made his state of mind more alert to her. He must have glanced at her a hundred times during the ride.
Turning onto his parent’s street, Derrick adjusted himself in the cab. He didn’t want to think about this morning. Last night was a much better topic. He’d never hooked up with a woman like her before. Maybe that explained his attraction. Most of the girls he met seemed, well, like girls. They calibrated their actions to suit him, and that didn’t suit him at all. Ashley had been the last person he’d been with who seemed to just be herself around him.
He grimaced to himself at the memory, her going off to college, him waving goodbye from her driveway, knowing they would never weather the distance. To hell with it. Last night, had lit a fire in him. Allison sure wasn’t planning her days, her appearance, her words, around what he thought and that was so much better than finding out years later that the person you loved was a stranger. Nobody in the world could have that experience with bossy ass. He let his mind go once more to the feel of sliding his palms over her curves.
Well, as nice as the thoughts were, his parent’s house was in sight, and he had obligations. He let thoughts of Allison go.
Parking by the curb ensured he wouldn’t get boxed into the driveway. He shoved the truck into park and cut the engine, twisting the keys free of the ignition. His long legs made the step to the ground easily, and he grabbed up the two big shopping bags of gifts from behind the seat. Get in, give the gifts, eat Tessa’s amazing breakfast, hit the road. If he were lucky, he’d get a Christmas run in this afternoon. He’d already told Tessa he wouldn’t be staying for dinner.
The house was decorated with pine ropes and white lights, his mother’s excellent taste, and Tessa’s exemplary work. Derrick passed David’s car as he went around back. Sophia’s was probably in the garage. From the lights and sounds coming from the kitchen, the family was already up. He crossed the porch and let himself in.
“Hey, ’bout time you got here,” David came over and took one of the shopping bags from him.
“Hey,” Derrick said. They carried the bags into the formal living room, where only one piece of furniture was large enough to hold him. An overstuffed chair, he knew for a fact, his mother had bought to make him comfortable. Shopping with her for that damn chair was one of his favorite memories, a rare day when she wasn’t consumed with baby Sophia or driving David around. He no longer thought it an accident that his father made a point of sitting there any time they were both in this room. He’d fixed that, by almost never being in here.
The tree was epic, as always, probably requiring an engineer to get the thing into the living room where it soared past the crown molding, stopping with just enough room for the star on top. He set down his bag, not bothering to unload the gifts. David set the other bag down. Piles of wrapped boxes filled every space beneath the branches and spread, left and right, beyond the tree.
“Been here long?” Derrick asked as they headed back to the huge kitchen table, where, he expected, a buffet fit for royalty would be laid out. He could hear Rose chattering.
“Got here last night.” David glanced at him. “Tessa had a nice snack made. We played cards for a bit when everyone came home.” For a minute, Derrick thought he might say more, but David stayed in safe territory. “Everything at the bar close up OK?”
Boom. Just like that, Derrick could feel his leg wedged between Allison’s thighs. Feel her mouth on his neck.
“Neighbor had trouble. I drove them home.” The two men entered the kitchen.
“Oh my God, Derry.” Sophia was shaking her head at them. “You can’t tell a story worth beans.” She was selectively picking the smallest toast, the smallest sausage, pouring a dot of syrup beside it. He grabbed a fork and plunked two big pancakes on her plate. “Hey! I can’t eat all that.”
“I’ll help,” he said and gave Tessa a side-armed hug, kissing her cheek soundly as she patted his chest.
“Get off me, you oaf.” She was smiling broadly, and Derrick finally felt normal. He gave her a squeeze. “Merry Christmas, Tess.”
“Merry Christmas, D.”
Derrick greeted his grandparents, his mom, said good morning to his father.
“There was smoke coming from Allison’s Kitchen last night,” Sophia was saying to David. “Derry went over and found her father burning the shit out of something.”
“No telling what,” he said, piling his plate high with everything from quiche to pancakes.
“Yeah, seems her dad might be a bit confused,” Sophia said, trying to put her pancakes on his plate. He lifted it out of reach.
Angelo was on his way out of the room but paused, “Everything OK?” he asked.
“Fine, Poppie, just smoke,” Derrick patted him on the back and followed him to the table.
“So, the guy just tried to burn the place down?” Behind them, his father’s voice, laced with incredulity, followed him.
“Not really,” Derrick said.
“I’m amazed at how stupid people are,” Spencer continued. “Had a guy come in the other day, complete blockage in his neck, never been for a checkup in his life. Are these guys for real?” His father plunked down in his seat. “Nobody thinks anymore.”
“Guess you can retire,” Derrick said. His father glanced at him. Derrick made an innocent face. “No need for brains.”
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David laughed.
“That’s certainly true where you work,” his father said.
“Here we go.” Angelo gestured with his fork. “Guy forgets he’s warming soup and you two make it about yourselves.”
Banter continued around the table, but his grandfather’s words reverberated in Derrick’s mind. Was he as self-centered as his father? Did he bait his father just to keep attention on himself? He couldn’t exactly leap from the table and drive away, but the fact remained, he’d be leaving as soon as he possibly could.
Chapter 9
Allison handled the next couple of days by keeping her dad with her. She either stayed at his place, or she brought him to the shop with her. Occasionally, Allison bullied him into riding along on deliveries with her and for once, her total bitchiness was a plus. Being with him every minute helped explain to her how she’d gone so wrong. He was best in the morning and didn’t start to really get wacky until dinner time, and at dinner time, she was usually thoroughly engrossed in work.
He had always been a regimented man at home and wholly absorbed in his work. Working was where he lost track of time, became obsessed and as a girl, Allison had just grown up used to his ways. Now, she saw, those strict routines, doing the same thing, the same way, in the same house, masked his growing confusion. He saw his coffee pot, patted the side like he always did, and finding it cold, emptied and washed it like he commonly did. When he thought it was dinnertime, he went to the refrigerator and ate the first thing he found.
Growing up, she’d prepared meals for them both, leaving a plate on the top shelf for him to heat up when he came home. As often as not, he ate it cold. Now, she sent him back with food from the shop, and he must have been living off of that. Bags of coffee packs, milk, eggs, ziti, bread, sausage were sent home. Sometimes they ate at Mastrelo’s. It never occurred to her that he had stopped going to the store. He didn’t take any medications, rarely went to the doctor, didn’t drink or smoke.
Had he been puttering around his house, waiting for her to come and get him, give him food and send him home? She agonized, trying to remember if she’d ever left him alone long enough to go hungry. She cursed herself and had flashes of panic as she pictured him trying to cook, maybe omitting to turn off the gas or worse yet, forgetting something greasy, unattended on the stove. Her only consolation was the security and monitoring system. It had been the first improvement he’d made to their new home.
“Yo, Miss Boss!” Marley’s voice broke Allison’s reverie. “I said, do you want me to heat the garlic bread for this pickup or do you want to leave it for them to do at home?”
“Huh? Oh, don’t heat it. When they come to pick up, I’ll ask them.” Allison returned to chopping onions, hearing the happy tinkle of bells above her door and getting a tight feeling in her gut. It was a few days after the first of the month, and she needed five hundred more dollars if she wanted to pay January’s mortgage payment on time. Allison was a little bit behind on every month’s payment. If she didn’t make enough to get the rest of the payment, she’d be a full month behind. She chopped harder.
“You wan’ me to get that?” Marley asked. Allison started to respond, but the sound of Dorothy talking to her father came drifting in. She wiped her hands on her apron.
“I got it,” she replied and headed out front.
Dorothy was standing in the door to Allison’s office, dressed in tight black athletic leggings, a long silver sweater and of course, high heeled half boots. The boots had glittery snowflakes down the side. Allison rolled her eyes.
“You had a sparkly pink backpack in school, didn’t you?” she asked.
Dorothy turned around with a big smile on her face. “You know it, girlfriend! I still have it somewhere,” she laughed, “if you need to borrow it …”
Allison waved a hand at her, making a face. “Ugh, you rich girls.”
Dorothy laughed again. She seemed so comfortable in her own skin sometimes, so light-hearted. Allison pushed the slightly envious thoughts aside. Dorothy was also insanely generous, and Allison was grateful to have her as a friend.
“Hey, what brings you here?”
Dorothy cut her gaze into the office, where Allison’s father sat, comfortably reading in his chair. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
Curious, Allie followed her friend inside the steamy kitchen, redolent with onions and basil.
“I was talking to Mom about your issue with your dad,” she said.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that …” Please don’t let this be something else I can’t reciprocate for, she prayed. At the same time, her mind wildly wondered if the very wealthy Johansens might just be about to offer to pay for something to help her dad. Grr. She was a mess. She didn’t want charity, and she wasn’t a child, praying for someone to come and save her. She tamped down her silliness and said, maybe too briskly, “So, what’s up?”
Dorothy looked at her with that half-smile she sometimes had. The one that reminded you she was an adult, and an intelligent one in her own right. Allison looked away from her friend and headed back to her onions.
“Well, I did,” Dorothy replied. “My mom sent this over.” She tried to hand Allie a piece of paper with a woman’s name on it.
“What’s this?” Allison didn’t take the paper. She returned to her chopping instead.
“This is Sarah Greenberg’s number. She has two sisters, and together they own a companion service.” Dorothy wandered over to the stove, where the never-ending pot of tomato sauce simmered. Dot took a roll, tore off a piece and dunked it in the sauce. Marley bustled over and put a lid on the container. Dorothy laughed.
“You could have just told me no.”
Allison ducked her head, hiding a smile.
“Anyway, my mom is sending Sarah over to evaluate your dad and help you set up a schedule.”
This was too much. “I didn’t ask for that,” Allison said. How much would something like that cost?
“My mom gets a little bit stubborn when she thinks she’s got a Christian duty of some sort,” Dorothy said, as if that explained things, wandering farther into the kitchen. Marley watched the blond woman closely, and Allison watched Marley. She caught Marley’s eye and shook her head at her. Marley made a face. Dorothy, unaware of it all, opened the refrigeration unit.
“Hey, you didn’t tell me you make cheesecake!”
“We don’t,” said Marley at the same time Allison said, “I bought it.”
Dorothy’s face fell. “So you’re selling it?”
“Yes!” This time they were in unison.
“Anyway, I need to know when Sarah can stop by your dad’s place.” Dorothy shut the door and looked at Allison expectantly.
“I didn’t ask for this,” Allison said again. “I don’t know if I can afford it, or if he can afford it.”
Dorothy leaned against the worktable. “Looks to me like you can’t afford not to have help.”
Help. Allison almost laughed in Dot’s face. That was a good one.
Instead, she said, “How much is it?”
“I don’t know, depends.” Dorothy pushed past Allison, apparently heading out. “It’s hot in here. When can she come?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Allison said. It wouldn’t hurt to find out about help. They couldn’t keep up with this much longer. Sheepshead Bay was too far for Allison to travel back and forth with her workload.
“Great. Aren’t these boots so cute?” Dorothy waggled her foot in Allison’s direction. The doorbells tinkled again.
“Putting fake snowflakes on boots seems a little redundant,” Allison groused, “and you can’t actually wear those in the snow.”
Dorothy beamed. “I know! But I think they’re A. Door. A. Bull!” She shook her foot again, making the flakes sparkle. “I think Flynn is going to love them.” She put her foot down and gave Allison a sideways squeeze, against which Allison had no defense because she was covered in onion juice.
The kitchen door opened, reveali
ng Mr. Construction God, in all his plaid and denim glory.
“Hi,” he said.
Dorothy’s eyes sparkled as she gave him the once-over. “You must be lost.”
“He’s not lost,” Allison snapped.
“I came to pick up the check for my grandfather.”
Allison’s stomach clenched. “You’ll have to come back. I’m covered in food, and I’m not going to drop everything to write you a check,” she snarled.
Dorothy’s blue-green eyes widened at her. “Um. OK, then. I’m out of here.” She sashayed past Derrick and Allison’s emotions roiled. Gratitude for Dorothy’s help, fear of how much further into debt she might go, mixed with another kind of fear as Allison saw Derrick watch Dorothy’s bottom exit the kitchen. Dot turned just outside the door and waggled her fingers at Allison. “OK, tomorrow morning, nine a.m.,” she called. She glanced around at Derrick. “Nice to meet you.” And then she was gone.
“She has a face, you know,” Allison snapped, and the infuriating man just laughed.
January afternoons at the bar were quiet and slow, just the way Derrick liked them. It was a perfect time to work on the Splash-o-Matic. He smiled to himself while he worked, trying out more names for the grease guard. Fry Saver? Grease Boss? Bossy Butt? He stopped for a second and then decided to just go there. He kept working on the guard; he was trying to get the metal clips on the sides to keep the guard in place, but in his mind, it was Christmas Eve at the shop next door.
Do it again, he’d said. Allison hadn’t complied, and he liked that about her. His gentle bumping, as if they were longtime friends, had worked and he liked that too. Of course, Derrick had known she was exhausted, but the sly, sideways glance she gave him had brought out a feeling of happiness inside him. That was all the opening he needed, that and the gas money.
