The Husband Maker Boxed Set

by White, Karey

  CHARLOTTE: THAT’S TOO BAD.

  ME: I’M SCHEDULED TO WORK A HALF DAY.

  I waited for a reply and when twenty minutes had passed with no response, I tried again.

  ME: I WORK UNTIL ONE.

  She still didn’t text back. I considered leaving it there. I could sooth my conscience by telling myself I had tried to arrange something with her for Thanksgiving, but that wouldn’t make me feel better if she ended up spending the day alone.

  I felt like smacking myself in the head. I was lying to myself. Of course I was worried about her being lonely and far away from home, but I actually longed to spend the day with her. I didn’t want to be alone either and we were friends. Why not spend it together?

  Maybe it would even give me a chance to let her know why I wanted her to go home. If she understood I was thinking of her best interests, maybe she wouldn’t be so stubborn.

  ME: IF YOU DON’T HAVE PLANS, WE COULD HAVE THANKSGIVING TOGETHER. AS FRIENDS. NO SENSE TWO FRIENDS SPENDING THE DAY A HUNDRED YARDS APART AND ALONE, RIGHT?

  I suspect my overuse of the word friends should have been a clue to me that Charlotte wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance that this was a friendly invitation. There was still no response and the entire time I casted a woman’s wrist, I kicked myself for extending the invitation. When I had a moment, I texted her again.

  ME: NO WORRIES IF YOU ALREADY HAVE PLANS. IT WAS JUST AN IDEA.

  It was late afternoon when Charlotte finally replied.

  CHARLOTTE: SORRY. I WAS AT WORK AND I COULDN’T CHECK MY PHONE. THANKSGIVING SOUNDS GREAT. DO YOU HAVE TIME TO GO GROCERY SHOPPING TOGETHER OR SHOULD I TAKE CARE OF IT?

  ME: I COULD GO IF WE WENT DURING LUNCH TOMORROW.

  CHARLOTTE: I’LL BE AT WORK THEN. I’LL JUST GO TOMORROW NIGHT AND WE CAN COOK IT TOGETHER AFTER YOU GET OFF ON THURSDAY. IF YOU DON’T MIND EATING DINNER IN THE EVENING INSTEAD OF THE AFTERNOON.

  ME: I DON’T MIND. WHERE ARE YOU WORKING?

  CHARLOTTE: HALLMARK, BUT IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. IT’S JUST A TEMPORARY THING AT CROWN CENTER. I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT IT ON THURSDAY. LET’S EAT AT MY PLACE SO I CAN HAVE SOME OF THE FOOD GOING BEFORE YOU GET THERE.

  ME: SOUNDS GOOD. BUT DON’T DO IT ALL. LET ME HELP.

  CHARLOTTE: ANY SPECIAL FOOD REQUESTS?

  ME: I TRUST YOU.

  ME AGAIN: JUST SO WE’RE CLEAR, THIS IS BECAUSE WE’RE FRIENDS. IT DOESN’T MEAN I THINK YOU SHOULD STAY HERE. I STILL THINK YOU SHOULD MOVE BACK HOME.

  There was a long pause, and I wished I could take the last text back.

  CHARLOTTE: YOU’VE MADE YOUR POSITION VERY CLEAR.

  Charlotte

  “I’ve got a rack of pretty papers and a box of buttons,” I said to the seven children seated around my table. “Each of you need to pick out 15 origami papers and 10 of these tiny buttons.

  “What about the star?” asked a pretty girl with cornrows.

  “When your tree is finished, I’ve got a special bag of stars and you can choose one.”

  The children scrambled to the rack of papers, eager to be first to choose, even though it didn’t matter. There were plenty of papers to go around.

  This wasn’t exactly the kind of job I’d been hoping for when I applied at Hallmark, but it was a foot in the door, and I needed the money. On top of that, my first couple of days had been fun.

  Imaginarium was a child’s dream. Instead of being dragged all over the giant shopping plaza while their parents shopped, children were brought to Imaginarium, where they could make craft projects and watch movies. The walls were black and filled with glow-in-the-dark chalk drawings. Colorful pendant lights illuminated each station. A large corner was filled with bright beanbags and a television the size of a small movie screen. I had been hired to work one of the craft tables through the holiday rush. Today we were making a rolled paper Christmas tree.

  “Excuse me.” A Chinese boy tapped my arm. “Why are we making a Christmas tree? Shouldn’t we be making something for Thanksgiving?”

  “Well, Thanksgiving is tomorrow, so if we made a Thanksgiving project, you’d only have one day to enjoy it. But since we’re doing a Christmas tree, you’ll be able to hang it up the day after Thanksgiving and enjoy it for a whole month.”

  “Ah.” He pointed his finger at me. “That makes very good sense.” He carried his papers to the table and waited for the rest of the children to make their selections.

  For the next hour, we rolled papers and glued them to a foam core back. Then the children decorated their trees with the buttons and finally picked out a star from the bag of jeweled stars.

  I worked with five sets of children throughout the day, and when I left, I was tired but happy. The children were an entertaining and challenging mix of well-behaved, quizzical, precocious, and downright difficult. It was harder than the pantry at Escape, but much more enjoyable than the construction equipment company. I refused to compare it to Jayne Fife.

  I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. That was almost worse than an eight hour shift since it seemed that all of Kansas City had decided to do their Thanksgiving grocery shopping at the same time. And possibly at the same grocery store. It was so crowded, and for people who were supposed to be feeling thankful, most of them were pretty grouchy.

  I collapsed onto the couch after I unloaded the groceries and opened my laptop. Since I wouldn’t be with my family tomorrow, I wanted to send them a message. I began typing an email.

  Dear Family,

  Today will be the first Thanksgiving we haven’t been together, and I’m sitting here tonight wondering if I should have accepted Will and Gina’s offer to fly me home. Thank you both for the offer. I definitely would have taken you up on it if I weren’t coming home in just four weeks for Christmas.

  I will be here thinking about you tomorrow. Angus is coming over after he finishes at the hospital, and we’re cooking Thanksgiving dinner together, so at least it will feel like I’m with some family.

  I imagine you’ll probably read this during the Thanksgiving circle, so I want to tell you a few of the things I’m thankful for this year. Forgive me if my list is long, but since I’m not there, I’m giving myself permission to go on longer than if I were there.

  1.I’m thankful that you all were willing to support me going to Scotland, even though you were worried. That trip was good for my soul and if I ever win the lottery, I’m taking you all to the Isle of Lewis.

  2.I’m thankful for the cutest niece and nephew in the world. Man, I cannot wait until I get to hold and play with you two cute little people.

  3.I’m thankful for Flynn. He turned out to be such a wise, unselfish friend.

  4.I’m thankful for Will and Gina and McKayla and Connor. I’m so lucky to have such wonderful brothers and sisters.

  5.I’m so thankful for Mom and Dad. Sorry I’ve been such a worry to you this year. I’ll try to make next year worry-free.

  6.I’m thankful to be here so Angus doesn’t have to spend Thanksgiving alone.

  Tears were streaming down my face, and I wiped them onto my sleeve. In spite of slashed tires, a distant Angus, job insecurities and homesickness, I’d mostly kept it together since I arrived in Kansas City. I was due for a good cry, and it would be better to have it tonight than tomorrow when Angus was here. If I cried in front of him, it would convince him he was right about me going home.

  No, I would cry tonight, and then tomorrow I would be on top of my game. I finished my email home.

  I love you all and hope you have the best day ever. Enjoy the day and eat an extra scoop of Mom’s stuffing for me.

  Love, Charlotte

  Angus arrived just before two, freshly showered and looking way too handsome in khakis, a green plaid button-down shirt and a navy pullover sweater. His hair was damp, and he smelled clean and spicy. If he hadn’t made such a point of letting me know we were eating together as friends, I might have thought he was trying to smell good for me. Oh well. I’d enjoy it either way.
r />   With only two of us, the portions we made were small, but we still had to make everything. Angus took a small turkey to cook at his apartment and we baked a pumpkin and apple pie in my oven.

  “Tell me about your job with Hallmark,” Angus said as he cut up potatoes.

  I whisked Mom’s cream sauce recipe as it slowly heated on the stove. “Have you heard of Imaginarium? At Crown Center?” He hadn’t, so I told him about the job and the crafts the children did. “It’s kind of a glorified babysitting job while their parents do their Christmas shopping, but most of the kids are cute and it’s fun.”

  “And you’re using your artistic talents.”

  “Sort of. It’s more crafty than artistic.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “I hope so. Anyone can roll up paper and glue buttons. I hope not everyone can do what I do, or I’m pretty dispensable.” I pulled out my phone and showed Angus a few of the trees the children had made.

  “Is this a permanent job?”

  I searched Angus’s face to see if this was a loaded question, but I couldn’t read anything there other than curiosity.

  “I’m working until the twenty-third. I’ll fly home on Christmas Eve. I don’t know if they’ll want me to come back after Christmas or not.”

  “Do you hope they do?”

  I thought about it. “It’s certainly better than some things I could be doing, but I’d rather be designing cards or gifts for Hallmark. But at least my foot is in the door. My check is signed by Hallmark. That counts for something, right?”

  “Today crafts with kids. Tomorrow get well cards. I’m glad you’re going home for Christmas.”

  Everything we said was so fraught with uncertainty. I wanted to analyze every sentence and know what meaning Angus was attaching to it, but I didn’t want to ask, so I just kept the conversation moving. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

  “I have to work, so Mom and Dad are coming out here.”

  “Oh, good. I was worried you’d be here alone.” It had almost kept me from booking my ticket.

  I turned off the stove and poured the cream sauce over a pan of green beans. “I have to work on Christmas evening, but I’ll have the morning with them and they’re staying for a little over a week, so we’ll get to spend some time together.”

  “Are they staying with you?”

  “I’m thinking I might sleep on the couch and give them my bed. Save them the cost of a hotel.”

  “I’ll be gone. They should stay here. Then they won’t have to pay for a hotel and you won’t have to sleep on a couch and be exhausted for work.”

  Angus thought for a moment. “How long are you going to be gone?”

  “I’m staying for three weeks. Mia and Graham are getting married December 27 and Kyle and... Oh, did you get invited to Kyle and Wyatt’s wedding?”

  “Yeah. Thank goodness I’ll be here working. Please tell me you’re not going?”

  I shrugged. “They invited me. And it will probably be really nice.”

  An awkward silence followed. I knew Angus didn’t approve of me going to exes’ weddings. He had seen me struggle through them more than once. But this was different, wasn’t it? This time I could go knowing I was in love with someone else. But I wasn’t sure how that someone else felt about me anymore, so maybe it wasn’t so different.

  “I’m sorry I won’t be there.” His voice was quiet and serious.

  “Yeah, too bad. Of course they’ll have fantastic food. They’ll be serving a lot of important people.”

  Angus huffed and put down his knife. “Charles, that’s not why I wish I could be there.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. I wish I could be there so I could talk you out of going. It’ll be hard for you.”

  I shook my head. “I’m over him, Angus. And I like Wyatt. I’ll be okay.”

  “Don’t go. Send them a card. Let them get on with their lives without you having to act happy for them.”

  “But I am happy for them.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t go, but suit yourself.”

  Angus was so frustrating. How had he managed to turn an offer of a bed for his parents into a guilt-trip about attending Kyle and Wyatt’s wedding? “We weren’t talking about the wedding. I was offering my apartment to your parents.”

  Angus’s smile was sheepish. “Sorry. Yeah. They’d probably prefer that to a hotel, and Mom already said they refused to kick me out of my bed. This would keep us from fighting about it.”

  “I’ll change the sheets and leave you my key before I go.”

  Angus cleared his throat, a habit I recognized. Angus often cleared his throat when he wanted to say something and he wasn’t sure how it would be received. “Have you considered staying when you go home?”

  I ignored him while I pulled the pies out of the oven and placed them on a towel on the counter. When they were out of my hands and I was sure I wouldn’t be tempted to throw one of them at Angus, I responded. “I have a great idea.” Angus looked curious. “Why don’t you remember that I’m a grown up and let me decide where I’m going to live.” I tried to keep my voice light, but he must have known he’d touched a nerve because he held up his hands in surrender.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. No more pushing you to go home.”

  “Thank you.”

  “At least for today.”

  I shook my head. “Why don’t you take your bossy, stick-your-nose-in-Charlotte’s-business self in and turn on the football game.”

  Angus found the game, and we worked and watched together for a while without talking. It was actually nice to be together without listening to him lecture me about going home.

  We turned off the television and ate dinner at about six. Angus said a prayer over our modest feast and offered thanks for the food, for our families, and for good friends.

  With only two of us, dinner was over and my kitchen sparkling by eight o’clock.

  “We should go to a movie,” Angus said, taking me completely by surprise.

  “That sounds fun.”

  An hour later we were sitting in a terrible movie about a man who’d crossed the mafia and had a hit out on him. It was supposed to be intense and exciting, but some of the lines were so poorly written it was difficult not to laugh. It didn’t help that Angus would nudge me with every bad line. At one point the hero was eating an ice cream cone when the villain stepped up behind him. “You think this is a good time to be eating ice cream?” he asked in a menacing voice.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” The hero had a defiant look on his face.

  “Eat slowly, because every lick tastes like death.”

  Angus elbowed me at the same time that I snorted and collapsed into a fit of giggles.

  “Shut her up,” someone stage whispered behind us.

  Angus waved his hand and whispered, “Sorry.” Then he leaned over to me and through his laughter said, “Get control of yourself before you get me in a fight.”

  It was a struggle, but we managed to get through the rest of the movie without making a scene.

  It was almost like the day had made Angus forget that he didn’t want me here because as we walked to the car after the movie, he put his arm around me for a brief moment and squeezed my shoulder. “This was a nice day,” he said, and then instantly dropped his arm and put his hands in his jacket pockets.

  I wanted to link my arm through his and snuggle up to him, but I had learned the last night I saw him in San Francisco that it was a bad idea for me to push things. I didn’t want to drive him away, so I put my hands in my pockets, smiled, and said, “It was a very nice day.”

  Angus

  I put Braxton Chandler’s latest x-ray up on the light box for Dr. Winters to see. “It’s going slower than I had hoped,” I said. He studied the darker area around the hip socket and nodded.

  “There has been some improvement in the inflammation, but I concur. Not enough to move him to a brace.”

  “I wanted to get your o
pinion before I go break the bad news.”

  “Bad news?”

  “Braxton is having a hard time with the traction. He’s so bored, he’s acting out and it’s been tough for him and his parents. Especially his mom.”

  Dr. Winters nodded. “It’s hard to be tied down for that long. You should talk to the mother. See if you can find something that will help make these last several days a little more bearable.” He looked again at the x-ray. “I think you’re probably looking at four or five more days.”

  How was I going to break the news to Braxton and his mother? When I’d stopped by his room last night, she had followed me into the hall and joked about anesthetizing him for the remainder of the traction. He was sick of cartoons and movies and books.

  It was only the day after Thanksgiving, but someone had decorated the nurses’ station with red and silver tinsel. I glanced in a hospital room and saw that a patient had a small Christmas tree set up in the window.

  And then I had an idea.

  Although it seemed like a good idea, my first inclination was to ignore it. It would require Charlotte’s help, and I was determined not to initiate too much contact with her. How could I get her to go back to San Francisco if she thought I needed her here? No. I could figure out something else without having to bother Charles.

  I heard him before I reached the room. The sound was surprising because thus far, Braxton had demonstrated his unhappiness with his situation by being sullen or hostile. I stood outside the room and listened as he cried. His mother made soothing sounds, but nothing could console him. It was easier to ignore the anger and moodiness, but the broken-hearted weeping of a six-year-old was harder to take.

  I took a deep breath and walked into the room. It was worse than I had thought. Braxton wasn’t the only one crying. Tears were also streaming down his mother’s cheeks. And now I was supposed to tell them they had four or five more days of this? I fixed an understanding smile on my face.

  “Good morning, you two.”

  Mrs. Chandler quickly wiped away her tears. “Hi, Dr. Barclay.”