If the Fates Allow

by Annie Harper

  “Yeah. He didn’t come to terms with it until later and… she wasn’t keen on the idea.”

  “That’s a shame,” he said. “Thing is, I’m not too sure I’m keen on getting back in the dating game.”

  “But it’s Christmas!”

  “What does that have to do with—” Before taking off from the light, he shot a look at her. “Your love bomb and your Christmas spirit are still tangled.”

  She ignored him; of course they were tangled. That was the point. “But, Wes… walks in the snow and packages with pretty bows and eggnog under the tree.”

  “You know, some people like being alone at Christmas.”

  “Oh, come on. No one likes it; they put up with it. You said you were my age when—look, it was a long time ago, and maybe it’s time—”

  “How old do you think I am?”

  “You’re forty-six. Turn right up here.”

  “Huh. Someone did more than fix my résumé, I see.” The smile he’d been visibly fighting this entire conversation finally broke free.

  “Look, Uncle Tony is lonely, and you seem—”

  “Lonely?”

  “Well. Yes? And I think he’d make you laugh, and he loved James and the Giant Peach as a kid too…” She lingered and hoped that revelation would spark the ultimate flame. When he didn’t flinch, she rushed on. “And he makes the most amazing pasticciotti that should never go unshared.”

  “Pasticciotti?”

  “It’s these custard-filled pastry… pie… things, and they take forever and a day, and he destroys his kitchen and my waistline. He shoves them off on his clients because—” She stopped rambling. Wes was laughing, and they’d driven right by her house. She directed him around the block.

  “Does Uncle Tony know you’re trying to hook him up with a failed businessman?”

  “Who wants to write books,” she said, trying to encourage him.

  “But can’t pay his rent?”

  Karina sighed. “No. He’s as stubborn as you. Green house on the right.” Her dad’s old, rusty Town Car sat in the drive. “Aaand, the asshole’s home.”

  “Uncle Tony?”

  “My dad. I wouldn’t want you to meet an asshole. I like you. And I love him.”

  “I like you too,” Wes said. Karina made no move to get out. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “It’s not,” she lied, feeling the heat of him staring at her. “I thought it’d be nice. For both of you. You know, meet for coffee or, or a day at the gym.”

  “You need to stop reading all those romance books you shelve.”

  “Maybe you need to start reading more of them. In fact…” She dug through her bag and pulled out a book. “Here. It’s out in my name, but I know you’re good for it.”

  Wes flipped on the dome light. “How They Met. David Levithan.” He gave her a look that felt like a dismissal to her bedroom without dinner.

  “It’s all first-meeting stories.” She shoved the book closer to him.

  “He writes for teens, right?”

  “Yes, but I still like his books,” she said, as he flipped to the table of contents. “Will you at least think about it?”

  “About the book or your uncle?”

  “Define ‘it’ however you want,” she said, looking at her house with a lot less joy than she looked at Wes, or books.

  “You okay? The house is dark.”

  “Mom works nights. Dad’s probably in the basement. He tinkers around with his model railroad every minute he’s not at work.” When her dad wasn’t doing that, he was giving her shit about something. Wes’s car was warm. Wes was warm.

  “Does he hurt you?” Wes asked.

  “No. Not physically. He’s just a miserable bastard.”

  Wes didn’t stop staring; he tapped his finger on his steering wheel again. Karina still didn’t move. “I might be crossing a line, and, if I am, ignore me. We’ll pretend I never did,” he said.

  “Oh… kay.”

  “Give me your phone.”

  She did, and he typed as he spoke. “If you ever need anything, call, okay? I don’t feel good about dumping you here and pulling out of this driveway.”

  “I’m fine, Wes. I am. But…” She lifted the phone and pocketed it. “Thank you. Will I see you at the library soon?”

  “Yes. I can’t pay for the Internet until my damned building sells.”

  She was certain now. He had to meet Uncle Tony. They would fall in love instantly, of course, and, after a perfect Christmas together, she’ll visit their apartment and cook for them and happily watch whatever obscure sporting event they both loved. Maybe she’d convince Uncle Tony to get that darling schnauzer puppy he’s always wanted. A new family; it would be perfect.

  * * *

  On Thursday morning, Karina kept one eye on the clock and one at the disaster of the DVD section she tried to straighten. Edward Scissorhands hid in the Ms next to Moulin Rouge, and Scent of a Woman sat upside down behind Night at the Museum. She had a perfect matchmaking plan; the mess the patrons had left wasn’t doing a decent-enough job to distract her. She looked at the clock again: ten-twenty-five and no sign of Wes, but Tony stood at the holds shelf looking perplexed. She made herself busy.

  “Did you put this in my name?” Tony asked before she felt him near.

  “Possibly.” She stared at the row of DVDs that was so out of order, someone had to have purposely shuffled them. Uncle Tony stood quietly with How to Repair a Mechanical Heart in his hand. “You know I did. You haven’t used the library in ten years.”

  “It’s been maybe two.” He pointed to the title. “Mechanical heart… are you trying to tell me something?”

  Karina stared at him; of course she was. “You’ve been a grouchy curmudgeon, lately… grumpy as Old Man Peters, and he’s been alone for forty years.”

  “Since when have I been a curmudgeon? I’m friendly.” He stood up straighter, and Karina had to stifle a laugh; he looked like a stubborn ten-year-old who’s been told he didn’t do his history homework right. “I’m friendly and personable and—”

  “And miserable since Aunt Jodi kicked you out on your ass last year.”

  “Rina, it’s Christmas. Everyone’s into their own shit, myself included.” He looked at the book again. “My heart is not mechanical or in need of repair.”

  “That’s not what the book is about—not really.” She growled as she tossed two misplaced copies of Captain America onto her cart. “It’s about two guys who go on a road trip—one’s out, one’s not.” Uncle Tony’s look morphed from general impatience to cautious irritation. “Oh, come on. Give it a chance. I don’t like seeing you so down. And Wes is—”

  “Who’s Wes?”

  “The guy who owned Westland Sporting? I think you’d like each other.”

  “So you’re giving me a book about two—what, teenagers?—who go on a road trip.” Uncle Tony sighed and scanned the synopsis. “Huh. It does sound kind of good. I still don’t get how this is supposed to un-curmudgeon me.”

  “Books help me remember anything can happen.” She fixed the mis-ordering of six DVDs in two seconds; Tony peered to check her work. “And,” she said, pushing him out of the way to move to another shelf, “most times, anything has to start with me.”

  “Fair enough.” He flipped through the pages. “Speaking of anything, did you go to the tree farm again? Find out about Haaaiiillleyyy?”

  “Stop it. I have absolutely no reason to go back there.”

  It had taken her father a grand total of forty-eight hours to crush Karina’s high.

  “She was doing her job; a smile means nothing,” he’d said when he walked in on Karina telling her mom about Hailey the evening Wes took her home. This morning’s parting words, said out of the blue as she poured milk in her cereal, were equally discouraging. “No one your age
is going to want a simpleton library clerk. I’m telling you; you’re headed nowhere.”

  She’d heard it all before. After a while, his words became the air she breathed. A smile means nothing, simpleton, headed nowhere. Her daydreams of romantic holidays were meant for everyone else, not her.

  “You just said anything can happen.” Tony shook the book in her face. “Come on… blonde hair, pretty eyes, stellar bow saw skills. That has to come in handy somehow.”

  “She barely noticed me.”

  “She… oh, my god, who has the mechanical heart? She noticed you. Besides, you have matching hair.” He yanked a copy of Slumdog Millionaire out of the Ns and handed it to her. “Your patrons are pigs.”

  “They can also hear.”

  “Sorry. How can someone so hell-bent on hooking everyone else up be so oblivious to her own—” Tony stopped and dropped his emoting hands to his sides. “What’d your dad say this time?”

  “Nothing worth repeating, and I am not hell-bent.” Karina pushed her cart into the main aisle and glanced at the reading tables in Fiction, hoping to see Wes. No sign of him.

  Tony stepped behind her and whispered in her ear, “One, your father is a dick, and two, you sneaky shit. You were hoping that guy would be here, and we’d meet.” Karina grinned, big, fake, and desperate. “Oh, my god, you are worse than the people in those ridiculous Christmas movies Aunt Jodi loved to watch.”

  “I am not. I think you’d like him. Not my fault you’re so stubborn.”

  Tony reached for his wallet and shook his head. “I’ll take the book, but I’m not guaranteeing I’ll read it.” Karina kissed his cheek. “If you want to go to the farm, I’ll take you. Buy a wreath for your front door or something. Besides, it’s obvious you need some friends.”

  “I have friends—it’s movie night with the girls. You wanna come?”

  “No, thanks.” He lifted the book. “I have a new book to read.”

  After the DVD section was in perfect alphabetical order, and after she’d almost given up on him, Wes arrived. He shoved a couple of business books into the return slot and grinned at Karina as if he had a secret. The last book out of his bag was How We Met; he wiggled it in her general direction and shoved it into the slot.

  “Finished already?”

  “I am.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Wes grinned and winked.

  “Oh, my god, you are being such a boob.”

  Wes leaned his elbows onto the desk and pointed toward the bin. “Here’s something you don’t know about me; I am quite often… a boob.”

  “Did you like the book, Boob?”

  Wes grimaced. “Yes, I did. It was sweet and sometimes heartbreaking. I see why adults like Levithan’s books. He understands—” Wes waved his hand in front of his face. “—fluttery early-on stuff.”

  “That’s the best part, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Advice for your future—never go into business with your lover,” Wes said. “It kills the fluttery early-on stuff, and you’re left alone to run a business you were never sure you wanted.”

  “Ian?”

  Wes nodded.

  “Oh, I thought—” Karina leaned in and whispered. “I thought he died.”

  “He did. Two months after we split. At Christmas.”

  “Wes. My god, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He shrugged. “He finally had the hernia surgery he’d been putting off; something went wrong. His dad called a week later to tell me. There weren’t any services.” Wes shrugged again. The lingering pain was evident if for no other reason than he wouldn’t look Karina in the eye.

  “No wonder the holidays are so hard.”

  “I manage. But,” Wes said with a smile that was too bright and full. “I liked Levithan’s writing. He gets us.”

  They looked at each other for long, understanding moments until Karina patted his hand and broke the quiet. “You just missed my Uncle Tony.” Granted, it had been two hours; the meaning of “just” was irrelevant.

  Wes stared her down, shook his head, and grinned. “I owe you a thank you, by the way.”

  “Yeah? What for?”

  “I got a bite at the gym. I’m not sure what’s up yet, but I interview tomorrow.”

  * * *

  That Saturday afternoon, Karina stood near the reference section knee-deep in a project that, if she followed the directions properly, would become a life-size Christmas tree made of books. So far, it looked as if she had been trapped by a runaway literary stampede. Boxes of discarded books littered the floor. This had looked like a fun project on paper, but now she feared she bit off more than she could chew.

  “See, this is why I stopped decorating for Christmas,” Wes said as he stood near a stack of four stuffed boxes.

  “It is not why you stopped. Do you see any over-sized books in the box by your shoulder?” He shuffled through and pulled out three coffee-table books. She put them in place and asked if he got the job at the gym.

  “I’m going to start teaching some classes; see if it’s a fit.” He pulled the book she’d placed on hold for him from his bag. “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street,” he said. “Please tell me your uncle is not a barber.”

  “What’s wrong with barbers?”

  “Well, nothing—” Wes frowned at the book. “I mean, the idea of reading a graphic novel for the first time in decades is appealing, but ‘Demon Barber’ isn’t helping your cause.”

  “I have no other cause than to broaden your reading interests.” She put more books on top of the ring surrounding her.

  “You’re going to need to step out of there if you don’t want to become a permanent fixture.” He offered his hand, and she stepped out and gathered more books. “Also, you are not putting books on hold for me to broaden my reading interests. You are trying to finagle me into dating your uncle by softening my cold, bitter heart with sweet books. This,” he said, shaking the graphic novel, “does not speak to the appealing nature of your uncle.”

  “Okay, fair. But Johnny Depp is hot, and he was in the movie.” She grimaced at her ridiculous argument and slid a half-empty box onto the floor with a thud so loud the lady using the copy machine cried out.

  “Sweeney Todd kills people and grinds them into minced meat pie!”

  “You know the story then?” Karina grinned, wide and silly. He frowned in return. “Not all barbers are psychopaths, Wes,” Karina said as simply as if she had to explain snow fell from the sky, which it was doing again—while the sun shone.

  “Date my uncle; he’s not a psychopath,” Wes said, mocking her. “You need to take some marketing classes.”

  “You need to start showing up earlier in the morning or closer to closing to make this easier.”

  “Is that when he’s here?”

  She feigned interest in her tree-building directions—stack books in a circle decreasing in circumference to the top; fill center with more books as you go; decorate with twinkle lights and a topper—and mumbled, “Maybe.”

  Uncle Tony arrived first thing Monday morning. Karina was still in the midst of her opening tasks when the smack of a book on the desk jolted her away from her concentration.

  “I liked this one,” Tony said. “There should always be kissing marathons for old lovers.”

  “You think?” Karina checked in Two Boys Kissing and tossed it on her cart. “I can’t think of one ex I’d want to marathon House Hunters with, much less kiss for hours on end.”

  “Mmm, there were a few that got away I wouldn’t mind.”

  “But see, now you’re confident in who you are, you don’t need those boys from your past.” It was a cheap segue; she knew it. She wiggled her eyebrows in anticipation anyway. “I have an idea.”

  “I’m not sure I trust you.”

  She ignored him. “You qui
t yoga because you didn’t like the instructor, Tracy, yeah?”

  Tony squinted, clearly not ready to agree to much of anything.

  “She’s pregnant and quit,” Karina continued. “They have a new instructor, and he’s—well, he could be a lousy teacher, but he’s cute.” She stopped, caught herself blushing, and tried again. “Truth is, he’s the kind of gorgeous that makes lesbian me drop books, okay? And he’s sweet and your age and happens to be available.” The last word came out like a song.

  “And his name is Wes. You need to work on your subtlety.” He found his name on the holds shelf. “Dangerous Liaisons? Karina Ness, I swear to Pete—”

  She took the book and slid it to her coworker, Rhonda. “Check this back in for me; I miscalculated.” She walked him to the door before he could say another word; this was no longer a time for jokes. “Tonight at seven. I’ll come by after work, and we can go together.”

  “Don’t you always go with friends?”

  “We meet there. Lucy won’t go anymore because Tracy quit, and girls are stupid anyway.”

  “You like girls.”

  “I like to date and kiss and—” she blushed and tripped over her tongue.

  “Ha! I think you need to go find your lumberjane and ask her.”

  “Lumberja— I’m asking you, because I love you.” She rubbed Tony’s small paunchy belly, and he glared at her and stepped away. “You said you needed exercise.”

  “That was after Thanksgiving when I had eaten half a bird and an entire pie by myself.”

  “You did not.” Karina stomped her foot. She was so frustrated, she wanted to stomp it again. “Look, if nothing else, I think you and Wes would be good friends.”

  “I have friends.”

  “Can you stop being such a—a—”

  “Curmudgeon?”

  She leaned closer and whispered. “Asshole is what I was thinking, but sure, we’ll go with that.”

  Tony sighed and kissed Karina’s forehead again. “Tonight at seven?” Karina bounced on her toes. “Pick up a light dinner on the way. You’re paying.”