by Cheryl Wyatt
“It’s not you. It’s him. I doubt he’ll tell you the truth. I’m familiar with teenagers.”
“It’s not like we did much damage,” Cameron shot back.
“Cameron. Show some respect.” Holly corrected her son. “You will not speak to an adult that way no matter what the situation is. Understood?”
Cam nodded and stared at the floor.
“Now, what did Cameron and Patrick do?”
“They spray painted my garage door.” The man scraped his hand through his short hair as his gaze penetrated hers.
Cam had picked the wrong person to mess with.
Bile caught in her throat. Cameron had gone too far this time. The chat with the principal this morning had confirmed her son was heading down the wrong path. Holly felt powerless and overwhelmed by his attitude and change in personality. Inhaling sharply, she fought for control.
She was out of ideas on how to break through the wall Cameron had built around himself lately. Where communication had been easy when he was young, the moment he turned twelve and hormones kicked in, he’d turned inward and quit talking to her other than a few grunts here and there or to ask for money. “You spray painted Mr. Pellegrino’s garage? Why?”
“Because I wanted to.” Underneath all of Cameron’s bravado, Holly sensed him ready to implode. His eyes flashed with anger, hurt and panic, emotions she identified with on a daily basis.
Tagging was a minor offense in Dynamite Creek, Arizona, and usually had some kind of monetary fine—something she couldn’t afford right now. “That’s not a good enough answer. I believe both Mr. Pellegrino and I deserve to know the truth.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the man shift his weight and continue to flex his hand as if testing out its strength while he glanced around the store.
“Because I heard that he’s going to evict us. This is Dad’s place. He can’t do that.”
“What? Where did you hear that?” The gnawing sensation took hold in her stomach and refused to let go as the realization hit. Mr. Pellegrino owned the building. She’d never met her landlord because he was supposed to be in Afghanistan. Jared had set everything up, and the past two years she’d signed the contracts with someone named Nan Emrey on the owner’s behalf.
She knew she’d have to deal with her rent issues sooner rather than later, but she’d thought it would be with Nan, not the six-foot male taking up more space in her shop than she was comfortable with. And now, thanks to Cameron, that time had probably come; not that her son was responsible for her failure to pay the rent. The place Jared envisioned all through college and during their early married lives was about to disappear. More sadness consumed her. ’Tis Always the Season was one of the few remaining ties they had to Jared.
She stared into Mr. Pellegrino’s immobile expression and shivered before she broke contact and refocused on her son.
“I heard it from Delany Wilson.” Anger choked his voice and emotion hovered in his eyes. “She told the whole class. She said we were going to lose everything—the business, the house, our car—and end up living out of a grocery cart in the park across the street.”
“That’s not true, Cam.” They weren’t in danger of losing the house yet, because Holly had paid her mortgage and her maxed-out home-equity loan before her rent. “Mr. Pellegrino is not going to evict us from our house. Only the bank can do that. I promise you, though, no matter what happens we will not be living out of a grocery cart.”
Holly had no idea what the future held in store for them. She did know that even if they had to eventually walk away from the house, they would not be homeless; both she and Jared had family in Tucson. She’d refused to let Cam know about all the money problems because she wanted to let him remain a child for a bit longer. Maybe she was doing him a disservice.
Cam wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve. Holly didn’t correct his actions, hoping he didn’t realize that she hadn’t mentioned anything about the store. A quick glance at her landlord confirmed he’d caught on to her son’s words, and their gazes met and held a few seconds before he glanced away. She knew this conversation was far from over, but she hoped Ethan wouldn’t bring up the issue in front of her son. She had enough to deal with.
“Promise?”
“Promise. Why didn’t you come to me, Cam?”
“Because I can’t talk to you. You’re always distracted. Or worried. Or busy.” Cameron pursed his lips and flailed his arms.
Holly wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. Truth became claws of pain that ripped apart what remained of her heart. In spending so much time worrying about the house and the shop, she’d lost focus of her son.
Pulling Cam to her again, she put her arms around him and held him gently, cradling him. “I’m so sorry, honey. I—I don’t— I’m sorry.” Holly just stood and held her son. A tear slid from beneath her closed eyes. Cam squeezed her back, his thin body reminding her that he was just a child who needed help in understanding what happened around him.
Ethan cleared his throat. Holly still had to deal with the situation that had brought him here in the first place. No matter what Cameron was going through, she couldn’t condone his behavior and needed to get a handle on it quickly before it spun further out of control.
Releasing her son, she lifted his chin and stared into his unhappy eyes. “I’m still upset by your actions at Mr. Pellegrino’s house. You know what you did was wrong.”
“Yes,” Cam agreed halfheartedly.
“Good. And you know there’s going to be a consequence.”
“But—”
“No buts.” After wiping her hands on her jeans, she glanced at her landlord, surprised to see such compassion before his expression closed. “We’re going to Mr. Pellegrino’s house this weekend to remove the graffiti. Patrick, too, as soon as I talk to his parents.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Holly took a step back and openly stared at the man. With his arms now folded across his chest and his legs spread shoulder-width apart, she deemed him another force to be reckoned with. The tick in his jawline and the immobile line of his lips didn’t help, either.
“It is necessary.” She placed her hands on Cam’s shoulders and spun him around to face the man. “My son needs to be held responsible for his actions. Why else would you have brought him here if you didn’t want some sort of resolution, Mr. Pellegrino?”
“Please, call me Ethan. Point taken. I’ll stop by tomorrow to set up the details.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin and stared at her baldly. But it was the words he didn’t say that concerned Holly. Her gut told her that when Mr. Pellegrino—no, Ethan—came by tomorrow, he’d have her eviction notice ready to add to the pile of past-due invoices underneath her counter.
* * *
“Welcome to ’Tis Always the Season.” Holly glanced up from her computer the next day. When she saw who stood at the threshold of her shop, her heart began to beat rapidly inside her chest.
“Afternoon.” Ethan Pellegrino took up more space than he should. A small gust of wind carried in the snowflakes and made her shiver, but that wasn’t what stole her breath away and froze her spine into a straight line. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the counter.
His expression matched the snow-laden clouds in the sky behind him. Not surprising, since she knew the nature of his visit today. She’d been expecting him, but that still didn’t make today’s conversation any easier.
Ethan rubbed his left hand over his five-o’clock shadow and broke eye contact for a moment. Hesitation danced over his features as he let out a sigh. “I won’t sugarcoat the situation. I was going to come by at the end of the week. Yesterday’s incident made it that much sooner. You know I’m here to collect the past-due rent as well as talk about the garage.”
Holly stared at a bare spot on the counter. Heat stung her
cheeks, and humiliation draped across her until the butterflies in her stomach begged for release. Four months behind in rent and more than one hundred and twenty days past due on most of her invoices, it had only been a matter of time. She’d just hoped she could get through Christmas and figure out another game plan before she had to close. “I know. Thanks for not bringing it up in front of Cam yesterday.”
“I’d like to think I have more tact than that.”
Her newly designed flyers on the counter caught her attention. Her idea was a good one, and people would hire her. People who came into the shop told her she had a flair for decorating, and she’d learned quite a bit from all the classes she’d taken at the local community college when they’d talked about opening the store. In about an hour, Cameron would come sullenly through the doors after school, and she’d had hopes they could fold, stuff and stamp the envelopes after he’d finished his homework. Unless Ethan gave her a reprieve, they’d have to scrounge boxes from the local market instead.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have the rent. But I’m working on it. I just need a bit more time.” Her voice squeaked and her fingers gripped the counter until her knuckles gleamed white. Jared had died with a life-insurance policy in place, but that had been eaten up by both their medical bills from the car accident, and things had been tough these past two years despite the social-security benefits. The rent due to Ethan had gone toward her mortgage payments, and the payments to her vendors had gone to her utility bills.
His expression remained detached. Unless he held her stuff as collateral, she could still sell the merchandise online and coordinate her decorating services from her home. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was the only fair thing to do. He needed a renter who could pay the rent, and it would be easier for her to not have to worry about it anymore. But to give up Jared’s dream... It would give her more time to focus on her son. She knew what she had to do even though the words were hard to form. “I’ll vacate immediately.”
A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across his features but didn’t match his words. “How much time do you need?”
Closing her eyes for a brief second, and knowing this was for the best, Holly shuddered at the thought of boxing everything up. Jared’s hopes and dreams packed into a dark world and crowded together, lifeless, with no one to enjoy them. She fingered the carved baby Jesus ornament by the old-fashioned cash register that Jared had given her the day they’d opened the store, determination filling her every movement.
She would find everything in the store a new home and maybe bring in enough money to pay her mortgage and provide her son with a Christmas present this year. Straightening her shoulders, she flipped her hair back and met his gaze. “Well, if I can run a going-out-of-business sale for a few weeks, that should help. The rest I’ll auction off online, along with the trees and fixtures. Today’s November 3. Can I have until the end of the month?”
“Isn’t this supposed to be your busy season?” When Ethan used both hands to pick up the Santa snow globe from the counter and shake it, Holly noticed the scars covering his entire right hand and disappearing under his sleeve. When she saw the nubs where his fingers should have been, she bit her bottom lip. Now she understood his hesitation yesterday about shaking her hand. More heat claimed her cheeks, because she’d assumed he was being rude. What had happened? And did she really want to know?
Yes... No. Holly warred with her answer as compassion filled her. The scars looked fresh, but she didn’t have the time or the energy to open another place in her heart right now. Cameron and her money issues took up just about everything she had. She looked away, and from inside the globe, the jovial old man, the commercial epitome of the season, mocked her with his sack of presents. “It should be, but nothing’s been busy since the economy went south.”
Staring at the bits of white swirling around in the liquid inside the glass, Holly was reminded of her life right now. Drifting along but spiraling downward, resting at the bottom until someone came along and shook things up.
Like Ethan.
Not that she could blame him. Business was business.
When Ethan shook the globe again, she caught him looking at her over the top of the smooth glass. Lines were etched into the skin framing his deep blue eyes, but she sensed he had nothing to laugh about these days, either.
Her breath stalled, leaving her struggling to push away the strange, forgotten emotion gripping her heart. Moments passed before she managed to blink and break the effect he had on her. The snowflakes he’d carried in with him had melted, creating drops of water that glistened in his short, dark, wavy hair and on his jacket. Her instincts were to dust off the moisture so he wouldn’t catch a cold, but she refrained from leaning across the counter and touching him with anything but her gaze. A day’s growth of beard hugged the contours of his strong jaw, the intensity of his expression broken by his slight frown.
“What are these flyers for?” Ethan set the snow globe back on the counter, picked one up, then stared at the words.
Releasing her breath, Holly refocused on what should be the most important thing to her right now—making an income to pay her bills. “It’s an advertisement for a holiday home-decorating service for people who are too busy to do it themselves this time of year.”
“That’s an interesting concept.” Ethan looked around the store pensively. An awkward moment passed between them as another Christmas carol filled the air. “Will it bring in enough money for you to get caught up?”
Holly found herself staring back into Ethan’s blue eyes and felt a current threatening to pull her under. She floundered, trying to free herself from its grasp. Ethan Pellegrino confused her. She shrugged to relieve the tension building in her shoulders and arms. “Honestly? I have no idea, but I have to try.”
The wind kicked up beyond the glass door, which protected them from the cold, even though the temperature seemed to drop inside. She shivered and pulled her black sweater tighter. Snow started to accumulate on the lawn across the street. Maybe she’d close up shop early and try to make it home once Cameron arrived from school. It wasn’t as if she’d have much business this afternoon anyway, and they could take care of the flyers anywhere.
Ethan scraped his good hand through his hair and contemplated his next move. What was another month in the scheme of things? The thirty-six-hundred dollars was just a drop in the bucket of what he needed to operate his dog sanctuary, bring rescued dogs over from Afghanistan and introduce them to, or in some cases reunite them with, their new owners. “You can stay until the end of the year.”
How could he kick her out before Christmas? Not only would he have a hard time reconciling that with God, Ethan also had his mom to contend with. She wouldn’t take too kindly to him evicting the woman during the holidays.
“Thank you.”
Ethan looked away from Holly’s open expression and soft, feminine features to stare at the scars on his hand where his fingers used to be. He’d been one of the lucky ones. Along with the chaplain he was assigned to protect, two of his other comrades in the convoy in Afghanistan had been killed; one of them had been a father and the other a newlywed.
Why the Lord chose those three to die mystified Ethan. If anyone should have been called home, it should have been him. Nobody depended on him or needed him. If anything, he needed someone else since returning home from rehab. Buttoning a shirt and learning to write with his left hand continued to challenge him. Determination forced its way past the dissatisfaction as he shifted and flexed his injured hand. God had a plan for him, and it revolved around the new canine shelter.
“It’s not a problem.” Ethan would find the money owed from the rent elsewhere, especially since in his gut, he knew Holly wouldn’t ever get caught up. Someone said charity began at home. Well, right now this was as close to home as he was going to get. He could still advertise for a renter, but with the three other stor
efronts available along the main square, it might take a while. As long as Holly made her utilities, what difference was it going to make? Peace settled inside him as he feigned interest again in the snow globe.
Dark blond hair fell to her shoulders and framed her pale face, accentuating the dark circles under her green eyes. The black sweater she clutched around her only made her appear more fragile, as did the fact she barely came up to his shoulder. A light dusting of freckles endeared her to him more than he was comfortable with.
The woman looked as if she needed a break right now. The urge to shelter and protect her almost brought him to his knees. While his stint as an army chaplain’s assistant had come to an end, he couldn’t help who he was. He needed to think of something else.
“So your last name is Stanwyck. I knew a Jared Stanwyck. Any relation?”
When Holly nodded, his hope chose a quick exit.
“My late husband.”
His mom had told him about Jared’s car accident a few years back, but she’d failed to mention he’d left behind a wife and son. Another reason he couldn’t evict her any sooner than the end of the year. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. How did you know him?”
At her lost expression, his heartbeat accelerated. He picked up the carved wooden ornament sitting by the cash register. It was better than the similar one Jared had done in high school during shop class, but he’d recognize the talent anywhere. “We grew up a few blocks from each other and played ball together in school, but pretty much lost touch after graduation. I went into the military. He went to Northern Arizona University.” He stared at her and then his injured hand. “If anyone... Never mind. I see Jared’s work got better.”
“It did. I used to have a lot of his stuff here, but it’s all sold, except for one of his earlier pieces. I’m sorry for your loss, as well.”
