Nothing Personal (The Kincaids)

by James, Rosalind

  She went around the final curve, pulled to the curb. Saw her grandma’s car parked beneath the neat carport, and smiled a little at the sight of it. Alec had got the white Corolla right, he’d just got the generation wrong.

  Her grandma had a new lawn ornament, she saw. A donkey, a basket on its back planted with pink petunias, standing amongst the neatly trimmed bushes that filled the tiny area at the front edge of the mobile home. Well, he could keep the windmill and the gnomes company.

  By the time she’d emerged from the car and gone around to the back to pull out her suitcase and the gifts she’d brought, her grandmother was coming down the wooden steps of the deck that Grandpa Henry had built for her when Desiree was a little girl. Dixie wasn’t hustling, like she usually did, and she rested a hand on the wooden banister as she descended. But her smile creased her thin face, caused her rosy cheeks to round into apples.

  And then her grandmother was reaching for her, her bright brown eyes sparkling with joy, and Desiree felt the lump rising in her throat again as her grandmother’s arms enfolded her. She was home for Christmas.

  The First Noel

  She was surprised the next day, and a little alarmed, too, when her grandmother suggested that they skip their usual midnight service and go to church on Christmas morning instead.

  “It’s getting a little hard to stay up that late,” Dixie admitted. “Besides, it’s good to shake things up now and then. Keep me from turning into a boring old lady.”

  Since Dixie was wearing her silver sneakers at the time, smoking one of her endless Virginia Slims, her bright red lipstick drifting into the creases around her lips, and caroling merrily along, out of tune and not caring a bit, with “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer,” Desiree didn’t think there was any danger of that.

  “How’s your dad?” Dixie asked when the song ended, peering through her reading glasses and poking the needle through another bright red cranberry, pulling it along the long thread to join the others.

  “Fine, I guess.” Desiree put her own needle through a kernel of popcorn, but it disintegrated in her fingers.

  “You talk to him for Christmas?”

  “Yeah, he called me.”

  “Is he still working at the Ford dealership?”

  “I think so. We didn’t really talk that long.”

  Her grandmother put the needle down, looked at her over her glasses. “Did he ask for money?”

  “When does he ever not ask for money?” Desiree destroyed another kernel and gave up on the popcorn for the moment. “Well,” she amended, “he hinted. You know, that it was too bad he couldn’t come visit, him and Marybeth, because plane tickets are so expensive these days. Because he’s missed me so much.” She stabbed at another kernel, felt the satisfaction when her needle sank through the plump crispness, and pulled it down the thread.

  “Did you give it to him?” her grandmother asked quietly.

  “No.” She stabbed another kernel. And she got this one too.

  So there had been no late-night carol singing, no warm light shining from midnight church windows. Instead, Desiree was making her annual church visit, singing “The First Noel” together with the rest of a packed house on Christmas morning. Which was fine. Although it had been a little disconcerting to see Alec in the first pew, together with what must have been his entire family. He hadn’t noticed her, but she hadn’t needed to wait for him to turn around to recognize that dark head.

  Of course he was here. His father was the minister. She was sure that this was a command performance, just like it was for her. She’d say hello afterwards. How hard could that be? And then goodbye. And then she’d go home with her grandmother to start their Christmas. To open the presents in front of the little artificial tree, looking fairly bedraggled by now, but not replaceable.

  “It’s got plenty of life left in it,” Dixie had protested when Desiree had suggested buying a new one, maybe some new ornaments too. “And what would I put on it that I’d like better than these things? Christmas is about memories, and my memories are right here.”

  So it was the shabby little tree again after all. With the popsicle stick snowflake, painted white and covered with silver glitter that had mostly fallen off by now, that had been her gift to her grandparents in first grade. And the canning ring, her seven-year-old gap-toothed picture filling the middle of it, hanging from its limp red ribbon. And all the rest of them, each one lovingly unpacked, reminisced over, and hung with ceremony last night. Plus, of course, the long strings of popcorn and cranberries they’d created with an extra bowl of buttery popcorn nearby “to keep us going,” as they’d done every year since Desiree could remember.

  They’d play cards later to the accompaniment of Dixie’s collection of country Christmas CDs, and, eventually, she’d help her grandmother cook dinner. Not turkey, of course. Just chicken. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had turkey. Not since they’d become a family of two.

  And she would know that somebody loved her. That somebody thought she was perfect the way she was. That she was special. That she was irreplaceable. And she’d know she had somebody to feel that way about too.

  She felt her eyes misting over as the last sweet notes of the carol faded away. It was the music, and the smell of the evergreens that decorated the ends of the pews, and the time of year. It always got to her, lowered her defenses, left her open and exposed.

  And after the service, it wasn’t hello and goodbye after all.

  Alec had been standing with the rest of his family at the edge of the heating system’s reach, just inside the church door, while his father stood on the porch and shook hands, offering a word to every member of the congregation on their way out.

  “Desiree.” Alec’s smile looked genuine. “See, I knew we were destined to meet when we were up here. And Mrs. Foster.” He shook hands gently with her grandmother. “Nice to see you again, ma’am. Merry Christmas.”

  She beamed back at him. “Merry Christmas to you too. I hope you’re taking a real vacation while you’re here with your folks. Seems like every time I talk to Desiree, she’s working, no matter how late it is. Maybe you can persuade her to that it’s OK to have some fun, and she doesn’t have to work quite so hard. But then,” she added with a chuckle, “you probably do it too. It’s really too bad. You should both be out enjoying life. You’re only young once.”

  Desiree saw the smile that Alec’s brother wasn’t quite quick enough to hide. Because that had to be Gabe, standing beside a pretty brunette. He was a little shorter than his twin, but still plenty tall, six foot or so. Quite a bit broader, too. Those were some shoulders. Not as handsome as Alec, but, wow. Just as hot.

  “I keep telling Alec that myself,” he said gravely, the humor still lurking in the dark blue eyes that were a perfect match for his brother’s. “Introduce us, bro.”

  “And you and Alec work together, Desiree?” the brunette, who turned out to be Gabe’s fiancée Mira, asked once Alec had complied.

  “Our CFO,” Alec confirmed. “Runs our operations, too. Desiree’s the real boss. Pushes us all around.” He shot a sly glance at Joe, who smiled a little at that, nodded a hello to Desiree and came over to meet her grandmother, all politely enough. He’d come to church too, then. Quite the member of the family.

  Alec’s sister, too. Alyssa, that was her name. She’d been a year behind Desiree in school, which would make her three years younger than her brothers. Just as good-looking, the same blue eyes and dark hair, and, luckily for her, Alec’s slim build instead of the bulk of her father and Gabe. She’d played a lot of sports in high school, and she’d been surprisingly friendly for one of the cool kids. That was about the sum of Desiree’s recollection.

  A few more minutes of chat, then Alec’s mother, bidding farewell to a young couple with a baby and coming over for her own introduction. Still a remarkably handsome woman, her hair a light brown to her husband’s black, medium height and slim where he was towering and burly, and the source of he
r children’s blue eyes.

  It was all a little overwhelming, this parade of Kincaids. And then the last parishioner had left, Alec’s father had stepped inside, duty done, to join the group, and Desiree and Dixie were still there.

  “We should go,” Desiree said. “Let you start your Christmas.”

  Dave Kincaid laughed, a booming sound that resonated all the way to the arches of the high ceiling, to the tall stained-glass windows and traditional wooden pews. “This is actually a fairly big part of our Christmas,” he pointed out, eyes teasing. “Still got a good dinner to eat, though. That’s another big part. But how are you, Desiree? I don’t think I’ve seen you since last Christmas. I’ve stayed caught up through your grandmother, of course. And I hear you’re doing some good work, keeping our bad boy on track.”

  “Trying to,” she said, unable to resist smiling back. “He’s pretty much a law unto himself, though. But I do try.”

  “Hey,” Alec protested. “I’m all buttoned down these days. Nose to the grindstone. It’s all about the job.”

  “Hmm.” Desiree had to tease a little herself. “All?”

  “Most.” He grinned down at her, and she had another of those flashes of heat, right there in church, with his parents watching. And Susie Kincaid’s sharp blue eyes didn’t miss a thing. Desiree caught the way Susie’s gaze met her husband’s, and she cringed a little inside.

  “We should get going, Grandma,” she said again.

  “Before you go,” Susie put in. “We’ll be doing a big lunch tomorrow, one last day with all the kids around. Would you two like to come over and join us?”

  “Oh,” Desiree instantly demurred. “I’m not sure . . .”

  “Oh, please do,” Susie insisted. “It’s quite the coincidence that you and Alec have ended up working so closely together, isn’t it? I’d love to hear more about how it’s all going down there. You know we can’t get that much out of Joe,” she said with a laughing glance across at him that elicited a grin in return. “And Alec never tells me anything, of course. So do come. Noon?”

  Desiree glanced down at her grandmother, saw her smile of pleasure, and succumbed. “Yes. Thank you. That’d be fun.”

  “I’ll bring my Pistachio Jell-O Salad,” Dixie decided. “That way you won’t have to worry about dessert.”

  “Oh, don’t bother,” Susie urged. “It’ll mostly be leftovers anyway, and I have Gabe to help me, and Mira now too. Which is lucky, since I’ve never been able to get Alyssa to care a thing about cooking. And I’ve got Dave, of course, to do the really dirty work, get the meat off the turkey carcass for me. We’re all set.”

  “So what’s your job?” Desiree asked Alec. “Where are you in this picture?”

  He heaved a sigh. “They let me take out the garbage and set the table, that’s about it. I’m a total menace in the kitchen. Sometimes I’m allowed to wash dishes, but only if we’re not using the best glasses.”

  “Well, we’ll look forward to seeing your table-setting job, then,” Dixie told him with a twinkle. “That’ll be a treat. And I will bring my Jell-O salad. My mama always told me, never show up empty-handed.”

  “I’m going to need a couple things for my salad,” Dixie said the next morning.

  Desiree took another sip of coffee, thought longingly about a latte. She was too relaxed to go hunt one down, though. Her third day off in a row, and she felt like she could lounge around in her bathrobe all morning long. She sure got lazy fast when she gave herself the chance. Good thing she almost never did have the chance. She’d never get anywhere.

  “What?” she asked belatedly.

  Her grandmother had been bending to look through the cans in a kitchen cupboard. She stood up, gave her chest a little pat, and sank into a chair next to her granddaughter. “I’m out of pistachio pudding mix. And Cool-Whip and crushed pineapple, too. I used the last of it when I made my salad for Pinochle Night last week. I’m going to have to go to the store.”

  “I’ll go,” Desiree said. “But maybe . . .” She hesitated. She remembered that lunch with Alec, the dinner too. She had a feeling that Pistachio Jell-O Salad wasn’t going to be his favorite. It sure wasn’t hers.

  “Maybe I could buy a cake, or some brownies, or something,” she suggested. “So you wouldn’t have to cook again. That way you could take it easy today.”

  Her grandmother flapped a hand at her. “Oh, pssh. I could make my Jell-O salad in my sleep. And the best part is, making a double recipe’s just as easy as making a single one. It’ll be real Christmasy, once I put the maraschino cherries on top. I’ll put it in the red Tupperware, and it’ll be, whatchamacallit. Festive.”

  “All right.” She might as well succumb to the inevitable. And Alec’s parents, veterans of hundreds of church suppers, had probably eaten Dixie’s Jell-O salad before. In fact, based on his mother’s alacrity in declining the offer, Desiree was sure they had. “Need me to go right now?”

  “If you don’t mind. WinCo’s got pretty good prices these days. Walmart’s cheaper, but WinCo isn’t bad.”

  “I’ll go to WinCo, then.” Because the Chico Walmart on the morning after Christmas—not exactly a prime vacation destination. “But you know,” she added, giving it her usual valiant effort, “you don’t have to shop at the very cheapest place anymore, Grandma. You can even live it up, go to the deli. Whatever you want. If you need more money to do that, you just tell me.”

  “Go buy fancy things I don’t need? Why would I do that? Besides, you should be putting that money away for a rainy day.”

  “But I have it,” Desiree pleaded. “Really, Grandma. It would be OK.”

  “It’s never OK to waste money,” her grandmother said firmly. “It’s enough to know that I’m not going to get it all rung up, and then have to ask the girl to put something back. That’s good enough for me.”

  And that had been the end of that discussion.

  “Do you need anything else?” Desiree asked when she’d pulled on a pair of jeans and grabbed her jacket.

  “No, we should be fine. Plenty of leftovers from Christmas dinner.”

  Yes, there was some dry chicken left. And gravy that had come out of a packet, and cranberry sauce wiggling in the bowl, its cylindrical shape imprinted with the indentations left by its can, and frozen green beans mixed with undiluted cream of mushroom soup, with weird fried onions sprinkled on top. All of Grandma Dixie’s traditional Christmas favorites.

  She’d buy a bag of lettuce at the store, Desiree decided, some fresh vegetables, and make a salad to go with the chicken tonight. She loved her grandmother more than anyone else in the world. But no question, Dixie Lee Foster was nobody’s idea of a gourmet cook.

  Eating the Jell-O

  Desiree brought the car to a stop, set the brake and reached behind her for the big red plastic bowl, its lid carefully sealed to protect her grandmother’s decorative touches. She stepped out onto the tree-lined street as her grandmother did the same, a bit more slowly, beside her.

  No sidewalks here. Smaller, older houses on big lots, and none of the yards would be appearing in any ads for professional landscaping services. It was all a little shabby, a little sleepy. But there was nothing the least bit sleepy about the scene in front of her.

  It was all motion and noise, the thwack of the basketball on the asphalt, grunts and exclamations and pounding feet. Alec’s brother and sister darting to left and right, juking and feinting, dribbling and passing a basketball to each other with obvious skill, guarded by Alec and Joe. Alec in Gabe’s face, aggressive, bumping his twin, his hands reaching out to grab a ball that Gabe, clearly not a bit intimidated, continued to deny him.

  “Come on, Dog Head,” Alec taunted as Gabe pivoted, dribbled around him in a quick series of moves. “Shoot.”

  But Gabe didn’t. Instead, he fired the ball to Alyssa. No match for Joe in size or strength, but with some skills of her own. She whirled, and the ball left her hands, sailed between Joe’s outstretched arms, arced up and fell thro
ugh the basket with a swoosh.

  Alyssa whooped, did a little booty-shakin’ dance across to Gabe, and bumped hips with her brother. “Nothin’ but net, baby. Nothin’ but net.”

  The backboard looked like it had seen some years of hard use. Covered with flaking white paint, it was fastened onto what must once have been a telephone pole that had been sunk into one corner of the big driveway, facing out onto the street. Desiree could easily imagine six or seven teenage boys out here, their size and their energy and their noise spilling out into the neighborhood. The silence must have echoed when Gabe and Alec had left home.

  There wouldn’t have been room to play in the driveway anyway, not today. Not with four cars in it. An older sedan that must have belonged to the siblings’ parents, an SUV with some splatters of mud, a little yellow subcompact. And the gleaming black Mercedes that could only have been Alec’s.

  The man in question grabbed for the ball, turned to throw it in to Joe, and saw Desiree and her grandmother for the first time. Sent the pass to his brother instead, who grabbed it with quick, sure hands, and jogged over to greet the women.

  “Hi,” he said with a grin as he approached. He lifted the neckline of his faded gray T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing a few inches of flat abdomen that had Desiree staring despite herself. His dark hair was mussed from the game, and he hadn’t shaved yet today, the shadow of beard showing black against the tanned skin of his jaw. And yes, those dress shirts had been hiding some serious muscles. The bulge of biceps and triceps was barely visible under the edges of his sleeves, but the thin cotton fabric couldn’t conceal the shape of his shoulders, and there was nothing at all covering up the heft of his forearms. He wasn’t as bulky as Gabe, but those arms were fine.

  And the rest of him wasn’t bad either. He and his brother clearly had more than those blue eyes in common, because they could both sure fill out a pair of tight button-fly Levi’s.