Thankful to hear myself think, I leaned my head back. Out of nowhere, a newspaper wad hit me on the side of my face. I grabbed a couch pillow and flung it like a Frisbee, connecting with Marisa’s right cheek. A pillow and cushion fight broke out, ending with both of us red-faced from blows to the head and wild laughter.
Still determined to create fire, we tossed in old folders, financial statements, canceled checks—anything we could find—hoping something would catch. The fire finally ignited.
After dinner, we sat in front of the crackling flames, shadows dancing on the textured ceiling. We didn’t say anything. Tonight was a spiritual night.
I pictured Reinaldo sitting in his sterile cell. I wondered if he thought about living the rest of his life behind bars. Only he knew if he was innocent. For now, he’d have to find a way to deal with incarceration.
I went outside to pick up another stack of logs. I looked up at the sky and saw a vivid star glowing between the spotty clouds. Knowing what night it was, what it represented, I felt humbled. As a teenager, I took solitary walks on Christmas Eve. On those nights, more than any other, I could feel a Godly presence in the world. Tonight, I had the same feeling.
“God, thank you for all you have given me, and for how lucky I am to share this life with my precious Marisa.” I prayed aloud while staring at the gleaming star. “I don’t know what to think of this voice I hear from Tiffany. I worry about Reinaldo. Help me to understand how you want to use me in this crazy world.”
Renewed and uplifted, I walked back in the house.
“I heard you outside.” Marisa scratched my shoulder. “I know it was a private moment, but I’m so proud of you for opening up in prayer. This is the night to do it. I’ll do the same before my eyes shut tonight.” She ran her fingers along the top of my hand. “It’s been an amazing year. Not all good. But we need to lay down our cynicism for at least one night and think about what’s possible for us, for the world.”
I took Marisa and held her tight. “It’s hard for me to put in words, but you mean so much to me.”
We fell asleep spooning each other, Marisa’s body cupped in mine, and my heart in hers.
Chapter Forty-Four
Cocooned with Marisa in our bed on Christmas morning, a loud clatter wrestled me from a deep sleep. The racket wasn’t coming from the rooftop. At least in my half-awake state I didn’t think so.
I rolled out of bed not wanting to wake up Marisa, who shifted her legs. I paused, unsure which direction to turn. The persistent rumbling sounded like a heavy-duty diesel truck. Who would be delivering furniture or an appliance on Christmas day?
I pulled down a blind from our bedroom, then rubbed my eyes. What the…? I wasn’t going to curse on Christmas day, at least not this early. I trotted to the front door and yanked it open.
“Pop, what the heck are you doing here, and what are those horses doing here?”
“Merry Christmas, son.” Pop grinned as he patted the side of one of two dark-chestnut Morgans eating grass in our front lawn. “I thought I’d surprise you and Marisa.”
He picked up the morning paper and tossed it to me, while I shivered in my boxers.
“By the looks of it, I think I accomplished that goal. I didn’t mean to shock you, just give ya a personal Merry Christmas.”
“You and your not-so-tiny reindeer,” I said. He came up and gave me two strong thumps on my back. Ever since Mom died, Pop had become more affectionate. Because we didn’t see each other often, his hug reminded me how much I’d missed it.
I led him into the house. Marisa, bleary-eyed, stood in the kitchen making coffee with a blanket around her.
“There’s your better half,” Pop said.
“Merry Christmas, Pop. Give me a hug,” Marisa said.
“Michael,” Marisa said looking out the front window, “I’m assuming you saw horses eating our grass?”
Pop and I both laughed. “They’re actually two of Santa’s most prodigious reindeer. They’re hungry after a long night traveling the world.” I winked at Marisa, then gave her a smooch on her cheek.
Marisa finished making coffee, then cooked us a southern breakfast: fried eggs, grits with red-eye gravy, oven-baked toast smothered with butter, and piles of bacon. The smell of the mouthwatering bacon filled the house, momentarily overtaking our tree’s evergreen scent.
“This tastes so good, reminds me of Michael’s mom’s breakfasts.” Pop took another bite of his grits and gravy.
“You know I never met her, Pop, but I’m glad you gave me her recipe book,” Marisa said.
Pop laid his hand on top of Marisa’s. “Thank you.”
“Are you going to tell us the real reason behind your trip south? It couldn’t have been to avoid the cold weather,” I said.
Pop bit into his fifth piece of bacon. “As you know, your Uncle Lonnie has twin grandsons, and they’ve been hoping Santa would bring them a horse for the last three years. They’re both twelve now, and he thinks they’re ready. I’ve been wanting to downsize the old farm anyway. Your place is about halfway, so I thought I’d make two surprise stops today.”
“Nice gesture, Pop,” I said. “You’re going to make a couple of kids real happy.”
Pop nodded and smiled.
I think he wanted to ask when he’d have grandkids of his own to spoil, but he knew the question was off limits. Marisa wouldn’t address the topic of producing grandchildren until a ring was on her finger. Period.
As we cleared the dishes from the filling breakfast, the doorbell rang. I thought the president of the homeowners association might have already written up a formal complaint for the horse invasion.
“Hey, Karina.” Karina held tight to her little schnoodle, Scruffy, named after Reinaldo’s daily five o’clock shadow, as Brent and Ricky stood like statues in the yard, staring at the horses. “Come in…out of the cold and away from the horses.”
“Thank you, Michael.” Karina waltzed in with more energy than I’d seen in weeks.
“Aren’t we forgetting a couple of little rug rats?”
“Oh, of course.” Karina blinked her eyes, like she’d forgotten her kids were still outside. “Brent, Ricky, come on inside.”
“But, Mom,” they both said in unison.
“That’s a one.” She held up a single digit and held a lasting sneer in their direction.
I shut the door and the bitter wind ceased, but the kids were just getting started.
“I can name him whatever I want, and I want to name him Lassie,” Ricky said, crossing his arms.
“Don’t you know that Lassie is a dog’s name? Geez, Ricky, you’re stupid.”
I shot a glance at Marisa, then over at Pop, who raised both shoulders.
“Hey, Marisa, Merry Christmas to you and Michael. And you must be the horse man.” Karina nodded toward Pop, who walked up and shook her hand. I completed the introductions.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to name him Rudolph. And I’m going to jump on him and he’s going to fly me into the sky.” Ricky flung his arm upward, a dimpled smile forming on his face.
But that didn’t last long.
“If that horse gets in the air, then I’m Santa,” Brent retorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his younger sibling.
“You’re not Santa!” Ricky took a swing.
“Well, that horse isn’t Rudolph, dork.” Brent pushed him back.
“Okay,” Marisa shouted, taking a quick look at Karina, who seemed oblivious. “Who wants a candy cane? Follow me. But you have to be polite and nice to each other.”
I released a breath, glad that Marisa noticed the kids needed some attention before a sibling war erupted. The kids marched in a line behind my frizzy-headed girlfriend still wrapped in a red blanket.
Karina watched the kids walk away, but didn’t say a word to either. She just continued where she left off. “Besides wishing you a Merry Christmas, I just wanted to say thank you,” she said.
I paused, looked at Pop
and back at Karina. “I’m not sure—”
“You got our Christmas card?” Marisa yelled from the kitchen.
“Actually, it was your recent visit that woke me up and helped me come to my senses. I’d been feeling so sorry for myself, I forgot I still had a lot to be thankful for, starting with my friends,” she said.
It was a nice compliment, but weren’t parents supposed to be thankful for their kids, even if they did fight like cats and dogs?
Karina gave me a hug, and Scruffy licked my face. The dog squeezed out of Karina’s grip and onto the floor, then immediately ran to the Christmas tree.
“Why don’t you take your coat off and enjoy Christmas day with us?” Marisa had walked back to the foyer, while both boys watched the horses through the front window, their sticky fingers smudging the glass as they licked their respective candy canes.
“Thanks for the invite, but I just wanted to drop in and say Merry Christmas. I’m actually leaving to go visit my mom in Stillwater.”
“All of you, right?” I eyed Brent and Ricky.
“Yes…uh, of course. All of us. Yes, all of us are headed up to Stillwater.”
“We had to get up extra early and travel on Christmas Day. No fun,” Brent said with his back to us.
Karina shifted her eyes for just a moment, but it appeared she had a filter that shut off any emotional response. Or was it an emotional connection with her kids that was missing? Something was off, that much was rather obvious.
“Everything okay?” I asked, knowing she’d think I was referring to her mom, but I’d actually meant that in a more general sense.
“Yes, she’s feeling pretty good these days. I would have left yesterday, but I met with Arthur yesterday morning, and we agreed I should take some time off. Michael, thank you for planting the seed.”
“We’re glad your mindset is so positive. When you get back, call us, and let’s get together,” Marisa said.
Positive? Positively unaware and clueless, I thought.
“Of course. Now where is my little Scruffy?”
We turned to see Scruffy grunting out a gift under the Christmas tree right next to the wrapped presents.
We all yelled. Karina blushed and ran to pick up Scruffy.
I cleaned up the feces but saw stains on the tree skirt. “I think this is a gift we’ll treasure forever.”
We escorted Karina outside and the kids scurried over to the horses, one of whom let out a visible snort. Ricky jumped back about three feet, then ran and hid behind his mom’s leg for security. Scruffy jumped out of Karina’s arms and began a barking assault on the monster horses. Minutes later, with her dog finally contained in the seat next to her, and the kids strapped in the back seat, Karina backed out of the driveway to head to Stillwater.
“Have a great Christmas,” she said through the open window. Scruffy leaned his head out and barked twice more at the horses.
I waved, then noticed the two kids swatting at each other.
“Did you see all that?” I asked Marisa as we closed the door.
Her brown eyes got big and she let out a tired breath.
“Did it just get quiet in here?” Pop chuckled as he was putting on his coat.
We returned the laugh. “Leaving already, Pop?” I asked.
“I need to get back on the road. I can’t wait to see the expressions on those boys’ faces.”
Marisa handed Pop a travel mug full of coffee. “I want to make sure that southern breakfast doesn’t make you fall asleep driving.”
We gave Pop a hug goodbye. I thumped his back this time.
“Love you, Pop.”
“I love you too, son. Merry Christmas to both of you.”
The door shut and Marisa and I just stared at each other.
“What the—”
“Don’t use that word on Christmas.” Marisa raised a cute eyebrow.
“Who was that? I’ve never seen Karina so out of touch with her kids. And no mention of Reinaldo either. It’s like he never existed.”
Two surprise visits on Christmas day, each headed opposite directions, possibly in more than just a geographical sense. Marisa and I had another cup of coffee and contemplated what we had just witnessed. We had no answers to Karina’s almost disturbing demeanor, only more concern—for her, the kids, and Reinaldo. And I couldn’t let go of my desire –my mission—to find Tiffany’s killer.
Knowing we couldn’t spend our entire holiday fretting over something we couldn’t control, I watered the tree while Marisa made herself busy in the kitchen. I approached her while she put glasses in the cabinet. I kissed the back of her neck and her shoulders quivered.
Marisa turned and leaned against me. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
She took my hand and walked me over to the tree. Then we shared our gifts with each other, wrapped and unwrapped.
Chapter Forty-Five
Chuck sat in his favorite leather chair, cushiony and molded to his aging, toneless body. He heard distant voices, as pockets of relatives celebrated and frolicked throughout his eleven-thousand-square-foot home. Damn moochers. His elbow resting on the weathered armrest, Chuck gnawed on his cigar. His in-laws had given him a new box of cigars for Christmas, Padron Family Reserve No. 45 Maduro. But he wasn’t allowed to light up in the house. Wife’s rules. Then again, it was Christmas. He could take a chance and try to find a safe haven somewhere in the house and smoke just one. If he got caught, though, his wife might cut him off for a year. He moved the gnarled cigar closer to his nose and took in the sweet, intoxicating aroma.
Chuck’s business had its element of risk, but he never thought his success had anything to do with chance. Oil and gas men might as well gamble on the Las Vegas strip. He considered himself a pioneer, a “change agent,” as a blowhard consultant might call it today. Most importantly, he’d convinced the board members he was indispensable. Which, of course, was true.
Chuck released a breath, debating how to approach his next dialogue with Victoria. Why delay the inevitable? He knew Victoria would want a timely update on the latest events, even on Christmas Day.
Chuck could hear music and voices in the background when Victoria answered.
“Merry Christmas to my favorite Jaguar-driving teammate.”
The background noise began to subside.
“Thank you, Chuck. I’m assuming you and your family are having a pleasant Christmas as well.”
“Knowing you aren’t one to wait, I thought I’d give you an update on the operation,” Chuck said. “You’re aware the deal closed two days ago. Turug’s team is now in control of J&W. They’ll begin the transition process within the week. Soon, Turug’s intentions will become public.”
Chuck wondered if Victoria felt regret for helping to broker the deal to sell the family business.
“I think that’s why Jeffrey and William are so excited. They believed they received an early Christmas present,” Victoria said. “By the time they pay off their debt, the few million dollars remaining wouldn’t keep this family afloat for more than three years.”
“Yes, Victoria, you are the visionary in your family.” Chuck sought opportunities to show his appreciation for her impressive business mind.
Chuck paused to take another chew on his cigar, thinking how to communicate the outcome of the interactions with the two zoning commission members.
“As you know, the first phase of the Tom Newhouse project went like clockwork,” Chuck said. “And, I’m happy to say as of yesterday, Tom has accepted our conditions. He knows he has two weeks to complete his task. I think Tony and his new operative did a bang-up job on this one.”
He paused to see if Victoria would understand his attempt at humor.
“Very nice, Chuck. Good to hear we roped in the zoning chairman,” she said. “What about the other gentleman? You never gave me his name.”
“Raymond Williams.”
“I see his trucks all over the county.”
“To be quite frank, we had som
e issues with Raymond. Tony and his operative did all the necessary research and planning on this guy. They discovered he was into porn, and our girl understood how to approach him. She even had the right props for the project.”
“What happened?” Victoria sounded annoyed. “Don’t tell me we have another dead person on our hands.”
Chuck placed his squashed cigar in a clean, marble ashtray. “It was a fluke sort of deal. Raymond took off his shirt and tossed it aside, and it just happened to hit one of the hidden cameras. Then, he got violent. Tony jumped in to restore order, but Raymond suffered some injuries.”
“Considering Tony’s propensity for screwing things up, I could have predicted we’d run into more problems with your slutty little plans,” Victoria said.
Chuck ignored the dig on Tony, although he had growing reservations about the man responsible for the group’s unsavory tasks. He knew he couldn’t find another person with Tony’s background, expertise, and downright guile. Still, he seemed to be getting more careless with each job.
“It’s not a lost cause. While Raymond is aware of the plot to seduce him and gather the related photographic evidence, he doesn’t understand the full picture, at least not yet. Tony is convinced Raymond will follow our instructions. By the end of the week, when Raymond begins to heal, we’ll formally secure his agreement using a method similar to what we used with Mr. Newhouse.”
“Has any of this gone public?”
“If you look at the bottom of today’s newspaper, you’ll see a small article.”
“Hold on, I have it right here.”
One minute passed.
“For now, we appear to be safe,” Victoria said. “It sounds like you’ve scared the pants off Raymond.”
Chuck knew he had finished the most difficult part of the discussion.
“And one more thing. To show we’re being as proactive as possible on this operation, we’re doing additional research on the media members. Usually, they tend to be rather idealistic, but Tony has some thoughts in case someone starts connecting dots.”
GREED Box Set (Books 1-4) Page 12
