by Mara Jacobs
“Why are you packing so soon? You don't leave for Spain for another three weeks,” Petey said.
“We think we’ll go to Florida first. Katie’s parents are down there for the winter now, and we thought we’d bring Peaches to them, seeing as it is her first Christmas.”
“Like when? When would you leave?” Petey asked, coming out of his chair, and approaching Darío.
“We’re going to drive this time, take our time. We’re planning on leaving Thursday. ” Which was three days from now.
“No. No way,” Petey said. “You can’t leave until Sunday at the earliest.”
Charlie wasn’t sure what kind of agreement Petey and Darío had come to about the staffing and management of the driving range, but he thought Petey was handling all of that now that he was living in the Copper Country full time. From what Charlie had seen, Darío seemed more of a silent partner who stayed out of the day-to-day operations and only used the range for his own practicing when in town and it was too cold to go to a real golf course.
“Why does it matter if we wait until Sunday?” Darío asked. “Is there some reason I need to be here for the driving range?” Apparently Darío had the same impression Charlie had of Darío’s responsibilities to the joint venture.
Petey waved a huge hand of dismissal. “Range, schmange. I’ve got this thing running like a well-oiled machine.” Charlie and Darío looked around the structure. Petey had done a great job with the place so far. And it seemed to Charlie like Petey really enjoyed the time he spent working on growing the business.
“You’ll miss our party if you leave on Thursday,” Petey said. A tiny bit of hurt was in his voice.
Charlie had a flash of the invitation to Petey and Alison’s holiday party that was sitting on his own desk. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I meant to tell you I wouldn’t be making it.” He couldn’t really remember if he was supposed to RSVP or not. The invitation had arrived the day after Charlie had gotten back to the Copper Country from his trip to Port Huron for Thanksgiving. He’d been in a shitty mood all the way back and the following day at work. When he saw the invitation to what would be a fun party, but full of couples in love, he’d thrown the damn thing on his desk where it still sat.
He didn’t have other plans for Saturday night, but he knew he did not want to be anywhere near the joviality that would come from a Petey-hosted party.
“No. No, no, hell no,” Petey said. He pointed a finger at first Darío and then at Charlie. “You are both coming to our party on Saturday.” His finger moved back to the Spaniard. “You. You’ll head to Florida on Sunday.” Back to Charlie. “And you. You will put on a suit and tie and show up at my place. I don’t care what kind of funk you’ve been in for the past few weeks. You will be gracious and kind to Alison, and have fun, goddamn it.”
“It’s just that I—” Charlie’s words died as Petey shot him a look that no doubt had had NHL players quaking in their skates.
“Zip it. This is Alison’s chance to show off the house. The house that she has—thank you, Jesus—chosen to share with yours truly. She’s really happy with how the renovations went and she wants to share our home with all our friends for a little holiday cheer.” Darío started to open his mouth when Petey added, while looking at Darío, “And if it would make your woman happy to have her house full of her friends, then don’t tell me that you wouldn’t make it happen.”
Darío closed his mouth. “Sí, I would.” He sighed. “We will leave on Sunday.”
“Thank you,” Petey said, then turned his stare to Charlie.
“I barely know Alison,” Charlie said.
“You grew on her. And you drew up the changes to the house for us. She wants you there,” Petey said, shrugging, like if that was what Alison wanted, who was he to question it.
And apparently Charlie wasn’t one to question it, either.
He could launch into how being around couples having fun would sting like a son of a bitch right now, but then he’d have to talk about that night, and he wasn’t prepared to do that yet. Even to these two men that he’d grown fairly close to over the past eight months.
It was still too raw, too fresh. It wouldn’t help to relay the good parts—they played over in his mind constantly. But so did the day after, when he’d gone back to the diner to see the woman he knew was going to be someone significant in his life, only to find her gone, with no word on how to find her.
He’d felt like a dupe, a total idiot. The feeling hadn’t gone away on the 8-hour drive back to Houghton. And hadn’t lessened much in the ensuing weeks.
Petey moving toward him pulled Charlie out of his maudlin memories. Before the hulk could take another step closer, Charlie put up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll be there. Do I need to RSVP or anything? I can’t remember.”
“Consider yourself accounted for,” Petey said, then turned around and started wheeling the chair back to behind the counter. “Bring a date if you want,” he added, though he didn’t turn around.
Good thing, because Charlie couldn’t cover the twinge of pain that rushed through him, knowing the only woman he would want as his date to Petey and Alison’s party was hundreds of miles away and hadn’t wanted to see Charlie ever again.
Chapter Two
I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
~ Sylvia Plath
“Here Gran, let me help you,” Phoebe Robbins said, leaping up from the couch to help her grandmother Clea, as she entered the room.
Her grandmother waved her off, but Phoebe hovered over the older woman until she reached the couch and settled on it. “I just had to get out of that bedroom. I was going stir crazy.”
“You’re doing so great, Gran. Who would know you had a stroke just a few weeks ago.”
“Mini-stroke,” Gran corrected her. “Not much more than a fainting spell, really.”
“Hardly,” Phoebe said, but she knew better than to argue with her grandmother. The woman was tough as nails, and Phoebe had assumed Gran would outlive both Phoebe and her older brother, Finn. So, when she got the call on a Saturday morning a few weeks ago that Clea had suffered a minor stroke, Phoebe had been shaken to the core.
And then she’d packed her bags.
Clea and Finn had raised Phoebe, giving up a lot to make sure Phoebe was taken care of. She knew they’d shielded her from her alcoholic mother’s neglect. There was no way she wasn’t going to come back and help with Clea’s recovery, even though Finn had told her she didn’t need to.
But she did need to. She needed to repay all that Gran had done for her. And Finn too, for that matter. Finn, who had two great kids from his wreck of a first marriage and baby Sam with his wife of almost two years, Lizzie.
Who was now coming in the door of the trailer after a quick knock. “Hi, guys, just thought I’d— Clea, you’re up! Should you be up?” Phoebe’s sister-in-law Lizzie asked as she entered the room, making sure to stand on the entry rug. Even the short walk from Finn and Lizzie’s farmhouse across the yard to the trailer put a packing of snow around Lizzie’s Uggs. As Gran answered Lizzie with her stock “I’m fine, fine,” Phoebe watched a chunk of snow fall from Lizzie’s boot onto the entryway rug, a puddle already forming. It reminded Phoebe of that magical night such a short time ago, and a pang of regret went through her.
She shook her head, as if to shake away the memories that had haunted her nights these past weeks. And her days. And, well, hell, just about any time she was conscious. Wait, she dreamt about that night with Charlie, too, so technically all the damn time.
“You are looking good,” Lizzie was saying to Gran as she kicked her boots off and took off her coat, draping it over a kitchen chair. She made her way into the living room to join Phoebe and Gran. “Which makes me feel better about stealing your companion for the night.”
Huh? Phoebe looked at Lizzie. “Me? Steal me? What for?”
“I need a date for my friend’s party tonight. And you,
my dear sister, need a night out.”
“What about Finn?”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You know your brother. He hates stuff like this. And I have to go, they’re my best friends. And I want to go. It’ll be fun. Alison hasn’t let us in the house since they started the renovations. This is the big reveal. When I mentioned to Finn that you could go in his place, he jumped at the chance. He’s getting some of Sam’s stuff together and then they’ll be over to stay with Clea until we get home.”
Being around Lizzie’s friends, people she’d met briefly at the wedding and Sam’s first birthday party a couple of months ago, didn’t sound like a great night out to Phoebe. But then sitting home and thinking about Charlie and that perfect night didn’t seem like such a great idea, either.
“I don’t have anything to wear. I think I have some heels, but I didn’t bring any dresses or anything.”
Lizzie was already nodding. “I thought of that, and I have a plan. I assumed you wouldn’t have packed your party clothes when we called about Clea. You’re just about Alison’s size, so I called her and asked if she had anything you could borrow.”
Phoebe had met Alison twice. She did seem about the same size, but still. “I barely know the woman. And it’s her party. I’m not going to just barge in and rummage through her closets.”
“No, of course not. We’re going to get there early. She needs a hand with some of the set up anyway. We can do that and then find you something to wear.”
Phoebe was getting to know her sister-in-law better in the past three weeks since they’d been in such close proximity helping with Gran. She narrowed her eyes at Lizzie. “Is this just some elaborate plan so you get to be the first to see Alison’s house?”
Lizzie waved her hand as if Phoebe were crazy, but there was a small flush of red on Lizzie’s cheeks that seemed to be more from embarrassment than the walk over from the house. “Of course not. This is the best plan. Finn gets to stay home, and you get a night out. Win-win.”
“I don’t know…”
“I think you should go, honey,” Gran said. “You’ve been stuck here with me ever since I came home from the hospital.”
“And I’ve loved every minute of it,” Phoebe said honestly. Her grandmother had needed minimal care, and a nurse had come to look in on them the first few days after Gran had been discharged. After that, Phoebe had been more of a waitress than a nurse. And she knew how to waitress.
She’d also loved reconnecting with her grandmother on an adult level, having left the Copper Country when she’d turned eighteen. Sure, she’d been home for holidays here and there, and Stevie’s and Annie’s—Finn’s older kids—occasional birthdays, but for the most part, she’d been a child when she’d last spent this amount of time with Gran.
And yet, part of her still felt like a child, wanting to put her head in her grandmother’s lap and cry over a boy, like she used to in middle school.
“Yeah, maybe it would be good to go out,” she said to Lizzie, who clapped in delight.
Finn entered the trailer then, fourteen-month-old Sam in his arms. When Sam saw his mommy clapping, a big smile crossed his face, and he started clapping, too.
“That’s right, big guy, give the ladies a hand,” Finn said as he dropped a diaper bag from his shoulder to the same chair on to which Lizzie had dumped her coat.
Sam stuck a mitten-clad hand in front of him. “Hand,” he said, proud of himself, looking around for praise.
“Yes it is, my bright boy. Very good,” Lizzie said and rose to take Sam from Finn’s arms. Phoebe’s brother took off his own coat and then proceeded to peel Sam’s jacket from the wriggling boy as Lizzie held him.
When Finn had Sam’s coat and mittens off, Sam reached one hand to Lizzie’s cheek and said, “Mama,” with boisterous good cheer. Lizzie smiled and nodded, turning her head to kiss Sam’s hand. The little boy then reached out with his other hand and placed it on Finn’s chest. “Da.”
“Yes, Sam. I’m your Da,” Finn said. He looked past his son, who had a hand on both Finn and Lizzie, to his wife. The look of intimacy that ran between them made Phoebe look away. It was good to see her brother so happy. He’d had a lot of hard years due to his first wife and Annie’s health issues. There wasn’t a man in the world who deserved a break more than Finn.
And Lizzie had been his break. And his love.
Phoebe again thought of the night with Charlie—of the intimacy that had erupted so quickly and yet so naturally between them. For a moment that night, she had thought she’d met her break.
And then the phone had rung early Saturday morning with Finn calling about Clea, and Phoebe had packed up her car, paid her roommate for the rest of the rent, called the diner to quit without giving notice and hit the road.
No way to find Charlie—completely her own doing. Damn it.
She sighed and rose from the couch. Lizzie put Sam on the ground and the little guy wobbled his way the three steps to Phoebe’s legs, which he grasped for leverage and then hugged. “BeeBee,” he said with glee.
“BeeBee can’t play with you right now, Sammy,” Phoebe said, bending down to rub his little back. Such a sweet thing. “BeeBee has to get beautiful,” she added, rolling her eyes at Lizzie. She then led Sam to Gran and made her way to the back of the trailer to get what little she had to party prep with.
“Yay,” Lizzie said. She turned to Finn and said, “You’re off the hook. Phoebe will go with me.”
“Well, yeah, I figured. That was your plan, after all.” He reached for his wife, who went willingly into his arms. Phoebe watched from the doorway to her bedroom as her brother hugged his wife and whispered something into her ear. Lizzie swatted at Finn’s arms, but returned his grin.
“It’ll be late,” Lizzie said, pulling away from Finn, though not very hard. Finn pulled her back to him and kissed her soundly. “Wake me,” he said to her with a very purposeful look and released Lizzie, who was smiling.
Phoebe turned and entered her room. Determined to go to the party and have a good time, she looked around to see what might be salvageable for a night out within her accessories and shoes. She’d have to hope something in Alison’s closet would work for her. Because seeing Finn and how much he loved his wife just brought back pangs of how much she’d like that in her own life—someone special, someone to connect with.
She’d thought that maybe she’d found it.
But no.
Chapter Three
There has been only one Christmas—the rest are anniversaries.
~ W. J. Cameron
“You know you didn’t have to come home, Phoebe. We would have looked after Clea,” Lizzie said as they drove to her friend Alison’s house.
“I know. But she did so much for me—so did Finn. It’s time to come home and help. Besides, I wasn’t leaving much behind.” Which was true. Her life hadn’t exactly worked out like she’d hoped.
After graduating from Houghton, she’d wanted to get out of Finn’s hair. Finn, who by that time already had Stevie and an AWOL alcoholic wife.
College hadn’t been an option, for both academic and monetary reasons. So, she’d moved to Flint first, and then Detroit, and had started waitressing. Once she’d turned twenty-one, she’d got on as a cocktail waitress at one of the casinos. It’d been good money for someone without any college education. She’d roomed with a couple of other girls that she worked with. They’d done the clubs and party scene in their early twenties. But then the Detroit economy tanked, and she’d been laid off. She moved to Port Huron with her then boyfriend.
One of many loser boyfriends to whom she gave more of herself than she ever came close to getting in return. They’d broken up six months later, but by that time she liked Port Huron well enough to stay. So, she’d moved in with yet another roommate, waitressing at the diner she’d left in the lurch when she’d come back to the Copper Country a few weeks ago.
“Well, it’s been great having you home, really getting to know you. I know Cle
a, Finn and the kids have loved it, too.”
“Me too,” she answered. It was true. It’d been great spending so much time with family. Reconnecting with Stevie and Annie, her nephew and niece. Stevie hadn’t started school and Annie hadn’t even been born when Phoebe had left for down state. Now Stevie was sixteen, Annie was an active twelve, and baby Sam stole Phoebe’s heart on a daily basis.
“So, the ‘not leaving much behind’ statement? Are you considering moving back permanently? It would be so great.” Lizzie voiced the sentiment Phoebe had been feeling of late.
“I’m thinking about it,” she said. Lizzie gave a little squeak of approval. “Don’t tell Finn. I’m not sure yet, and I don’t want him nosing in. I’m almost thirty. I can make these decisions myself.”
“Of course you can. Finn knows that.” At Phoebe’s snort of disbelief, Lizzie added, “He does. Truly. It’s just he’ll always be protective of you, Phoebe. He’ll always want what’s best for you. But ultimately he just wants you to be happy. If that’s in Port Huron, he can live with that.”
“I wasn’t all that happy,” Phoebe said with more sadness in her voice than she realized she felt.
The car was silent for a bit as Lizzie drove them out of Houghton toward the road that ran along the canal where Alison and Petey Ryan had renovated his waterfront house. To make it their home. Apparently they’d been living together since last winter in Alison’s cute little cottage on the other side of town, heading toward Chassell. Phoebe had spent a day there last summer with Lizzie, Finn and the kids.
“Did Alison sell her house?” she asked, suddenly interested.
Lizzie shook her head, not taking her eyes from the snowy road. “No. Not yet, anyway. She’s debating whether to try to sell or just hang on to it for a while. They just moved into Petey’s place a week ago. He’d been renting his place out when he was gone for the season. When they decided not to rent it this year and that they’d live there instead of her place, they took the opportunity to make some changes to it.” A smile lit across her face. “I secretly think they were turning it from a bachelor man-palace into something more kid friendly.”
