Homespun Christmas

by Aimée Thurlo

  Myka took a slow, deep breath, then made that first call.

  Joshua sat down and tried to look busy with his smartphone, curious but not wanting to make her self-conscious. She was pushing her fears back and doing what had to be done. That was Myka in a nutshell, and he was crazy about her.

  When she looked up, apparently on hold, she reached out for him. He smiled and gave her hand a light squeeze.

  Ten minutes later she hung up and jumped out of her chair and into his arms. “We did it! Grabel and Sons accepted the discount and even increased the follow-up order they initially gave us! Apparently, upper management had already decided we’re somebody they want to deal with on a regular basis. We can still provide them with products for this holiday season, which was their biggest concern.”

  He twirled her around, stopped, and taking advantage of the moment, kissed her. The softness of her lips and the slight coffee taste on her tongue drove him crazy. His blood racing, he tightened his hold. She was as strong as the mountains, yet in his arms she was both vulnerable and soft. He was crazy about her, and maybe he always had been.

  Robyn stepped into the office, stopped short and smiled. “Finally, something good. Way to go, guys!”

  He eased his hold on Myka immediately and stepped back. “Lousy timing, Robyn,” he grumbled.

  She laughed. “I’ve got some good news, so maybe that’ll make it better. The high school kids are here. They’ve split up, and half of them are helping with the cleanup and restoration while the others film our ‘rebirth.’ They’ll be here for about a week, so heads-up. Cameras will be everywhere, so don’t get caught off guard.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Myka said with a grin. “That video is going to mean lots of free publicity for HMI and you can’t beat that.”

  “The counselors at the high school have asked us to consider offering some business internships come spring, not only to their distributive education classes, but also to the art students. It turns out quite a few of the kids are interested in traditional Rio Grande crafts. I think we should go ahead and say yes.”

  “I think so, too, but one thing at a time. We need to become fully operational again, play catch up and meet our deadlines.”

  “Of course.” She smiled. “I also spoke to the buyer for Traditional Southwest. She said that she trusts us to give her quality merchandise and the delay won’t be a problem.”

  “So Lou Martel of Vintage Lane will be the last call,” Myka said, and told her about Grabel and Sons.

  “That’s great!” Robyn replied.

  “It’s a start,” Myka said, “but we still have a long, hard road ahead.”

  * * *

  BY THE END of the next day, all the distributors had accepted new deadlines along with the discounts. HMI’s bottom line had taken a hit, but it was one they could weather, especially because they’d been insured. A claim had already been filed, along with extensive photo evidence of the damage, courtesy of the high school students.

  Joshua came into her office about three-thirty, just as she was backing up the day’s bookkeeping entries. “Everything’s working out, isn’t it?”

  “You bet,” she said, updating him on the latest news. Instead of elation, though, Myka saw something else in his expression and a chill ran up her spine. “What’s wrong?”

  He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back. “I wanted to tell you that the Santa Fe firm I interviewed with has narrowed their selection to five candidates. I made the first cut.”

  “Sounds great.” Her heart sank, but she was determined not to show it.

  “Yeah, the projects will be challenging and they pay well, but I’m not so sure I want the job anymore. I’m already doing the kind of work I love. When I look at the restoration projects I designed, I feel like I’m part of this town.”

  “You are!” Myka said.

  “But once those projects have been completed, then what? There isn’t enough business here for someone in my profession, not until I make a name for myself.”

  “Maybe,” she said, growing quiet because she didn’t want to pressure him. She straightened the folders on her desk and avoided looking at him.

  Silence stretched out between them.

  “Have you made any plans for Thanksgiving?” he asked at last.

  Myka glanced at the calendar. “Ohmigosh. That’s tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “I’ve been so busy here, I just put everything else on hold.” She took a breath. “Come over tomorrow and we’ll watch some football and have Thanksgiving dinner at my place. What do you say?” She stopped, her eyes widening. “That is, providing I can find a turkey or ham at this late hour.”

  “The menu won’t matter, but we really should celebrate. We both have a lot to be thankful for.”

  “Okay, then let’s get going.” She grabbed her purse, called Bear, who’d been sleeping on his bed in the corner, and headed to the door. “If there’s one turkey left in this town, we’ll find it.”

  “If all else fails, we can celebrate with turkey TV dinners.”

  “No, I’m not settling,” she said, sticking out her chin. “We’re going to find a way to celebrate with a traditional meal worthy of Norman Rockwell.”

  * * *

  MYKA AND JOSH visited all the grocery stores within thirty miles of Independence, but there were no turkeys or hams to be had. Out of desperation, she called the local restaurants that would be open for Thanksgiving, but all were booked.

  “Sally’s Diner in Painted Canyon was almost sure they could find two stools by the counter for us—eventually,” she said, putting the phone back into her jacket pocket.

  “You were right to turn them down. I’d rather defrost the hamburgers in my freezer and cook them out on the grill. That’s really our best option now—short of ambushing a wild turkey, that is,” Joshua said.

  She looked out the window at the sky. “Come on, please? What’s one more miracle?” she asked softly.

  Joshua smiled, then glanced back at the dog in the rearview mirror. He was sitting up on the bench seat. “Think Bear can scare up a rabbit for us?”

  “No way. He’s no hunter. He’d turn vegan if he had to be on his own.”

  “So that’s that.”

  “We have one shot left,” she said, suddenly getting an idea. “Mind you, our chances aren’t good, but it’s worth a try. Let’s go talk to Betty.”

  They arrived back in town after sundown. As they pulled up in front of the inn, Betty was just coming down the steps.

  “Hey, guys!” she greeted. “I’d invite you in, but I just locked up. I won’t have any more guests until Friday, and this weekend we’re booked completely.”

  These days, Betty looked like a new woman. Her smile was brighter, and there was a spring in her step. “That’s great news. But I need a favor for tomorrow.”

  “Name it and it’s yours,” she said instantly.

  “Better wait until you hear,” Myka warned with a smile.

  “After what you two have done for me, I’ll help however I can.”

  “Remember last fall when you said Will had bagged a wild turkey? You froze it, but you also said that if times were good, you were having ham this year because it’s Evie’s favorite.”

  “Which is why tomorrow, Will, Sophie, Evie, Daniel, Grandma and I are having a huge spiral ham. If you haven’t made plans...”

  Joshua spoke first. “We have, but the problem is we both forgot about the turkey. We’re planning a traditional meal—down to the football games. I got this new TV...”

  She laughed. “I hear you. Plus it’ll be particularly good for both of you to get away from everyone and breathe,” she said. “Follow me home and I’ll give you the turkey, but it’ll be frozen solid. You’ll need to put it
in a water bath pronto.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Myka said. “And Betty, thanks so much!”

  “It should be just the right size for the two of you, but I wouldn’t mention that in front of Will. He was so proud, you would have thought it was a five-hundred-pound bird.”

  * * *

  THEY WERE ON their way back to Myka’s with the turkey a short while later. “If you’ve really got a new TV, maybe we should put this bird in your sink overnight. I’ll bring dessert and fix dinner at your place tomorrow.”

  “You gonna make one of those pecan pies your mother used to bring over?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got all her recipes and everything I need in the cupboard. I’ve also got potatoes we can boil up and mash. We’ll make it work,” she said as he pulled into her driveway.

  He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “I think that should be our motto.”

  She laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t forget to dress up for dinner—cowboy style. Your best boots, jeans and maybe that leather vest.”

  “I like the way you think.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss.

  As he drew back, his gaze stayed on hers a moment, and Myka sensed that he was troubled.

  “Something else is on your mind. What is it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” he said.

  “Then when?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  * * *

  ONCE HE WAS back home, Joshua watched through the window as Myka fed the sheep then hurried back into her house. If he took the job in Santa Fe, he’d be leaving a piece of his heart behind.

  Joshua expelled his breath in a hiss as he looked around the house. It had been emptied of clutter and rearranged to suit his needs, but it was still far from the kind of home he’d envisioned for himself. Yet he was happy here and there was a lot to be said for that.

  Adam Nez had switched dreams and never looked back. Maybe it was time for him to take a good long look at himself and figure out what he really wanted. He was no longer the same man who’d left for college bent on taking the world by storm.

  Hearing a knock on the door, he went to answer it and found Daniel waiting there.

  “Saw your truck and figured you might like company,” he said, holding up a six-pack.

  “Come in. Any friend bearing brews is welcome. Want a glass to go with those?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Joshua walked over to the fireplace and stacked kindling to build a fire while Dan went to the kitchen for a bottle opener.

  “The one thing about Dad’s place is that the heating system’s not that efficient. Without a wood fire, the place gets cold,” Joshua said. “He’d intended to put in a wood pellet insert once he got too old to chop wood.”

  Daniel nodded, silently handing Josh an opened bottle.

  He didn’t disturb the silence that fell between them as he lit the fire. It was clear that something was troubling Daniel.

  “I don’t know how I got roped into this,” he said at long last, taking a swallow of beer.

  “What’s up?” Joshua stepped back from the hearth.

  “You know Betty and I are friends, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said, then grinned. “You here to ask me to be your best man?” He held up the bottle in a mock toast.

  Daniel choked but still clinked bottles with him. “Man, we’re nowhere near that, not yet. I came to talk about you.”

  “And Betty?” Josh stared at him. “You want me to ask her out?”

  “Will you shut up for a second and just listen, bro? I’m here ’cause I promised Betty I’d talk to you.” He took a breath. “She’s worried about Myka, and maybe she’s onto something. Is it true you interviewed for a job earlier this week?”

  Joshua raised his eyebrows. “How did you—” He smiled and nodded once. “I get it. I remember seeing Grandma at the gas station and she commented on my suit and tie. I never told her where I was going, but I guess I didn’t need to.”

  “Nothing stays secret around here,” Daniel said. “Here’s the thing. I’ve known you for a long time, and these past few months you’ve been happier than I can ever remember. So why are you still hunting for a job elsewhere? Myka needs you here.”

  Joshua shook his head. “She can handle the company without me. It’s her dream,” he said. “Being an architect is part of who I am. Work here, though satisfying, will be far from steady.”

  “Is nothing else important to you right now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you in love with Myka?”

  “Yeah, and she knows it.”

  “So you’ve told her?” Dan asked.

  “Once.”

  “Maybe she needs to be reminded.”

  “Maybe,” Joshua said, unconvinced. “But if I relocate, the most I could give her is a long-distance relationship.” He paused, added a log to the fire, then continued. “Myka knew I’d leave someday and she’s not interested in anything permanent. She’s never asked me to stay.”

  “I hear you, but women are really strange about stuff like this. They reason things out differently. Perhaps she’s been hinting and you haven’t been listening close enough. Or maybe she’s waiting for you to say something more.”

  “I doubt that. You know Myka—she speaks her mind.”

  “In business, yes, but this is personal. You’re walking onto emotional territory, and when that happens, all the rules go out the window,” he said. “You need to think hard about what you’re doing or not doing. You could end up blowing everything.”

  Joshua sighed. “I’ll see how things go tomorrow.”

  “You don’t really want to leave town—leave Myka—do you?”

  “You ask too many questions,” Joshua said, but he grinned to soften his words. “Now get going with the rest of that beer before you get roped into helping me clean this place. Myka’s fixing Thanksgiving dinner, but we’re eating here.”

  “Your new TV wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would it?” he asked, pointing.

  “Yeah, but sharing dinner was her idea.”

  “Likely story,” Dan said, heading to the door.

  “Have a good holiday,” Joshua said.

  “Grandma Medeiros and I will be joining Betty and her family, so I’ve got what I want. Figure out what you want before it passes you by. A guy’s got to grab what he can before it’s out of reach.”

  As Daniel walked off, Joshua considered what his friend had said. There’d been a time in his life when he’d wanted it all—but his definition of “all” had changed.

  After straightening out the den, which didn’t take long because he’d already gone through the place twice, he decided to take a break. Trying to sort out his thinking, he lay back in the easy chair and watched the football recap for the current season. He took a long swallow of the cold one in his hand and put his boots up on the hassock.

  He’d left town to become an architect and pursue his goals. He’d wanted to create a legacy—something that would continue long after him. He’d imagined becoming a twenty-first-century Native American Frank Lloyd Wright, at least.

  Then that chapter of his life had ended and he’d been forced to return home with his tail between his legs. Despite that debacle, he’d turned things around and had ended up achieving what he’d wanted, though admittedly, in a way he’d never expected.

  He pictured the facelift he’d given Main Street, and the other buildings being renovated with his stamp on them. He’d left to find a legacy, but maybe it had been here all along.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BY THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, the turkey was still frozen solid. Myka stood at Joshua’s sink, staring down at it. She tapped it
with her knuckles and it felt as hard as a cinder block. Clearly, things were moving a lot slower than they’d planned.

  “Guess we should have thawed it in hot water,” he commented.

  “It’s too late for that,” she said and sighed. “The good news is that we now have a Christmas turkey.”

  “We could try to microwave it for a while, or heat up some oil in a kettle and fry it on the grill out back,” he suggested.

  She laughed. “No, I don’t want to set fire to your house. I’ve had enough smoke and flames to last me a lifetime. Let me browse through your refrigerator for ideas.”

  “Good luck. At least we’ve still got dressing, mashed potatoes, salad and pies. How about a vegetarian Thanksgiving?”

  “Hold on,” she said, looking inside his fridge. “I just found a packet of turkey hot dogs.”

  “Yeah, I picked those up by mistake. I had a craving for a good old-fashioned grilled hot dog. Then I realized I’d bought something for the calorie counters. In my book, turkey dogs are one step above soy burgers.”

  “Well, at least we’ll have turkey represented on our plates. Let’s go back to my place to eat, then come here to watch the game and have dessert. What do you say?”

  “Sure. But why eat at your place?”

  “If we can’t have a turkey bird, I want to use my great-grandmother’s china. What’s actually on the plate won’t matter as much then—the china will make all the difference. Mind you, it’s not expensive or fancy. The bottom says, Made in Hungary so I don’t know how or where she got them. But Grandma valued them. She brought the entire set from Maine as part of her trousseau.”

  “I never saw you as the type of person who needs a formal setting.”

  “I’m not, but I do like having those plates around. They’ve traveled more than I have. Can you imagine all the places they’ve seen?”

  “Is that what you want to do someday—travel?”

  “I think I would,” she said. “There was a time when even the thought of leaving home terrified me. I didn’t like change of any kind. Things seemed perfect just the way they were.”