Christmas Treasures (9781101558720)

by Kinkade, Thomas; Spencer, Katherine

  He knew that what he had to do now was try his best and savor the short time he had left with Gina, store up the memories to last the rest of his lifetime. Still, he couldn’t help having a glimmer of hope. Maybe, if they just had a little more time together, they could find their way across this chasm.

  Regina was so eager for his interview with Sam Morgan to work out. He just hoped he didn’t disappoint her.

  Richard parked on the street in front of the Bramble, then walked down the gravel drive to the woodworking shop. He knocked on the door, hearing the sound of power tools whirring. When nobody answered, he pushed open the door and peered inside.

  The place was dim, with a few bright shop lights hanging from open beams and rafters, the original barn interior. Sawdust filled the air, and the scent of freshly cut wood lured him. A tall man wearing a shop apron worked at the lathe. He paused and looked over at Richard, then pulled off his work glasses. His hair was dark, flecked with gray, and his eyes a startling shade of blue.

  “You must be Richard Rowan,” he said in a friendly tone.

  “That’s me,” Richard answered.

  “Come on in. I’m just fooling around with this cabinet. I also repair and refinish antiques, in between the bigger jobs. Ever work on furniture?”

  Richard shook his head. “Just our own stuff. If a drawer breaks or something. They’re not antiques, believe me.”

  “That’s all right. There’s not too much of that. I do it mostly as a break. I design furniture, too. But I don’t have much time for that.”

  Sam showed him a small table with gracefully curved legs. The top was inlaid with redwood, maple, and something that might have been mahogany. The design was both traditional and original at the same time. Richard ran his hand over the tabletop. It was a fine piece of furniture.

  “That’s very good work,” he said simply.

  “Thanks.” Sam walked over to a battered old coffeemaker. The plastic had more than a few paint and varnish stains. “Want some coffee?”

  Richard could not imagine what the coffee from that machine tasted like. “No, thanks. I’m good,” he said politely.

  Sam poured himself a mug. “My sister told me that you just moved to town. From Pennsylvania?”

  “That’s right; Stover. It’s about a hundred miles outside Pittsburgh. My wife inherited a house up here from a distant relative and”—we had nowhere else to live was the flat-out honest rest of the sentence—“we thought we could fix it up and flip it,” he said instead.

  “Molly mentioned that. Good idea. The market is slow now, but houses still sell if the price is right,” Sam added optimistically. “Maybe you’ll be lucky and just the right person will come along. There’s a market lately for summer homes, selling to people from Boston mainly. Maybe you could sell it that way.”

  “Maybe we could. I never thought of that,” Richard replied. It did make sense. Cape Light was only a couple of hours from Boston, but still very rural and close to the water. He doubted the market for summer homes was booming, but it gave them more opportunity.

  “The town is quiet now, but it’s a great spot in the summer. A lot to do, a lot more people around—sailing and fishing, going to the beach,” Sam said. “Your kids are going to love it.”

  Richard wasn’t sure they would be here that long but didn’t want to seem disagreeable. “I’m sure they will,” he said. “We hardly ever got to the shore, living in Pennsylvania.”

  Richard thought Sam must be busy with his work, but he was acting as if he had all day to shoot the breeze with a perfect stranger. He was so friendly and relaxed. Richard had been in a lot of job interviews over the last year or so, and this was certainly unlike any other.

  Sam sipped his coffee. “Molly told me you’re a civil engineer.”

  “I worked for the county, but with budget cuts I was laid off. The job market is terrible in my field right now. Nobody seems to be hiring.”

  “Yeah, I hear it’s pretty rough out there. I don’t have any real engineering work, but if you have some experience with construction, I’m starting a new project and can definitely use someone with your skills and knowledge base.”

  “I’ve got lots of experience with construction. I worked on building sites all through high school and college, and I supervised construction when I worked for the county.”

  “Sounds good. I just won a big bid, the Silas Basset House. It’s a fine old mansion in Newburyport that’s going to be turned into a museum. It’s been closed to the public for the last two or three years, but the village just got a grant from the state and I got the job to work on it.”

  Richard liked working on old houses. That’s why he didn’t mind working on the place Regina inherited.

  Sam walked over to a cluttered desk and pulled out a photograph. “Here, this is the house. It’s set on a large piece of land near the harbor. A merchant built it. He used to go up to this turret with a spyglass and watch for his ships to come in.”

  Richard gazed down at the photo. It was a magnificent old place, though even in the small photo he could make out crumbling masonry and boarded-up windows. There was clearly a lot of work there.

  “Maybe that’s what I need, a turret and a spyglass, so I can see when my ship comes in,” Richard said dryly.

  Sam laughed. “Well, you can watch from there on your lunch breaks if you want to join my crew. I have about three or four other guys, most of them master carpenters, who work on the older houses around here. But we don’t have an engineer or anyone who’s done heavy construction. Sounds like you would bring some extra skills to the table. I’m pretty much offering every man the same wage, though with your degree, I’m sure you usually earn more.”

  Sam named the figure, and he was right: It was less than Richard usually earned, at least in his former position. But it was much more than he was earning right now, which was zero. Richard knew he wasn’t in any position to bicker, especially since the wage was generous, more than he expected from such a small operation.

  “That sounds fair,” Richard replied. “Thanks for the offer. I accept. When would I start?”

  “How about today? I was just going to take a ride up there to meet with the rest of the crew.” Sam took off his shop apron and left it on a hook near the workbench. “Are you free?”

  “That’s fine. I’d like to see the place and meet the other guys before we start working together,” Richard said.

  “Okay, we’re on. Welcome to my world, Richard.” Sam offered his hand and Richard shook it. “I’m glad you came by. That was lucky for the both of us.”

  “I hope so,” Richard said.

  Was Sam Morgan always this positive and sunny? Richard had never worked for anyone with this much energy and enthusiasm. As he followed Sam outside, Richard thought about how he would describe Sam to Regina. She would be happy to hear he got the job. He could hardly wait to tell her.

  A SHORT TIME LATER, RICHARD SAT IN THE PASSENGER’S SEAT OF SAM’S truck as they headed up to Newburyport. Sam had been raised in Cape Light and was a perfect self-appointed guide to the area, pointing out places of interest and entertaining Richard with bits of local history.

  “These are the famous marsh flats. Photographers come from all over to take pictures out there. There are even a few famous paintings of this place hanging in museums. It’s a real magnet for birders and kayakers, too. Every year a few people get lost out there. But we usually find them,” he added with a grin.

  Richard looked out the window at the marshland, the tall, gently waving grass that was a golden color this time of year. He could see why the setting was so inspiring. He could also see how a person could get lost out there. The view was serene and calming. A flock of birds with long wings rose from a distant shore and flew across the sky. Richard watched them, mesmerized. They looked so graceful and free.

  “What kind of birds are those?” he asked Sam.

  “Oh, those must have been kites. If you plan on staying up here, you ought to get
yourself a book. They have some good ones in town showing all the local wildlife.”

  Richard just smiled in reply. He wasn’t sure he would be here long enough to make the book purchase worthwhile. But that wasn’t the sort of thing you confided to a new employer.

  They turned off the main road, then drove down streets with grand old Victorians built side by side. Then the village center of Newburyport came into view.

  It was set on a hillside that swept down to a long, busy harbor. The entire town was visible from a distance, looking a lot like a folk-art painting, Richard thought. Sam told him that the town had been founded in the colonial period, which was obvious as the truck bounced down narrow, cobblestone streets with gabled brick townhouses set close to the sidewalk.

  A large white church with a tall steeple was the town’s centerpiece. It stood on a hilltop, and Richard could not help but admire it and wonder what it looked like at night with the steeple lit. “That’s quite a church,” he said as they drove by. “A real classic.”

  “It’s the jewel in the crown of this town,” Sam agreed. “But there are many jewels in this particular crown,” he added, “and we’ve been entrusted to restore a very valuable one.”

  They drove down toward the harbor and soon arrived at the Silas Basset House, where the rest of Sam’s crew was waiting. Sam introduced the men: Frank and Wendell, who were both in their late twenties, and Johnny, who was about his own age. Richard felt nervous meeting so many new faces at once, but Sam’s upbeat manner as they toured the property and all his ideas and plans captured everyone’s attention.

  Sam spoke to them as if they were a team, each with a valuable talent to lend. Sam, Richard noticed, had a good eye for architecture and design. He wondered if Sam had ever wanted to be an architect. What mattered, though, was that he already respected Sam’s ideas and opinions. That was important to Richard. In the last year, he’d had to work under people who were either inexperienced or incompetent, and he found it incredibly frustrating.

  When the meeting was over, Sam talked a little more about the hours and responsibilities everyone would have and their deadline to finish the project. “This building is over six thousand square feet. That’s a lot of ground to cover in the next few months.”

  “Yeah, but at least we all have work for the winter,” Frank said happily.

  The other men laughed, and Richard could tell they had all been thinking the same thing.

  “Yeah, we do. And it starts on Monday. You’re all good with that, right?” Sam asked, gazing around.

  Everyone agreed they could start. Richard was relieved. That meant he would see a paycheck very soon. He’d be happy to tell Regina that, too.

  After a few questions, the other men left and Richard and Sam headed for Sam’s truck.

  “How about some lunch back in town?” Sam asked.

  Richard shrugged. “Fine with me.” It was after one. He was hungry and hadn’t packed a lunch. Which he would start doing on Monday.

  “I know just the place.” Sam was looking out at the road, but Richard saw him smile. “The Clam Box. Have you tried it yet?”

  Richard didn’t even know what Sam was talking about. “No, not yet.”

  The truth was, they didn’t eat out unless it was an emergency. Certainly not just for fun. They still hadn’t finished the load of groceries Warren and Marion Oakes had brought with them on Sunday. Regina had become a very resourceful cook and rarely wasted a crumb.

  “You have to eat at the Clam Box at least once, or you can’t really say you’re a Cape Lighter. The place is low on atmosphere, but most people like the food.”

  “I’m not fussy. Sounds fine.” As long as it’s cheap, Richard thought.

  They soon arrived at the village where Sam drove down Main Street and parked his truck in front of the Clam Box. It was a classic old-fashioned diner, silver with red trim, the kind that had been very common when he was growing up but was now rare. A sign above the big plateglass window said THE CLAM BOX, and one in the window read BOXED LUNCHES TO GO. TRY OUR FAMOUS CLAM ROLLS.

  The eatery was crowded, though it was almost two o’clock. There were booths near the window and along the far wall, and tables, too. A long white counter with old-fashioned stools stretched back from the doorway.

  As they walked in, a little bell over the door sounded. A teenage waitress with dark eyes and a long ponytail met them with menus. “Hey, Sam. Table up front okay?”

  “Sounds perfect. We can watch the world go by.”

  She led them to a booth next to the window. Richard took a seat and opened his menu but was distracted by the view. Beyond a block or so of shops and offices, he saw the snow-covered village green and harbor. A large Christmas tree stood at the end of the green, and off to one side, a stone church.

  Regina had told him that she walked down to the harbor on her lunch hour and went into some of the shops. He could tell she liked the town. It was a pretty spot, he had to agree. They could have done worse than landing in a place like this by accident.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asked, setting silverware on the table.

  “I’ll have some of Charlie’s wicked coffee, Zoey,” Sam said.

  “Some coffee here, too,” Richard replied, though he hoped that by wicked Sam meant good and strong, not wicked on his stomach.

  When she left, Sam watched her for a moment. “That’s Charlie Bates’s daughter. She goes to school part-time and works here. She was a runaway, and he and his wife took her in last winter.”

  Richard was impressed. “Lots of people want to help someone in trouble, but they rarely go to those lengths.”

  “Charlie’s wife, Lucy, is a sweetheart,” Sam explained. “I think she had to persuade him. But you have to give the guy credit, right? Our oldest son, Darrell, is adopted,” Sam added. “My wife and I were having problems starting a family and Darrell came along. He was only nine. It just seemed the right thing to do. As soon as it was all decided, Jessica got pregnant with Tyler,” he added with a laugh. “You never know, right?”

  “No, you never do,” Richard agreed. He wasn’t used to such personal conversation with a guy he didn’t really know, but maybe that’s just the way people were around here. He had heard New Englanders were not very friendly, even snobby. Sam Morgan was exactly the opposite. Richard, though, wasn’t built that way. It took him a while to open up, even to a good friend.

  “How many children do you have, Richard?”

  “We have two: Madeline, who’s twelve, and Brian. He’s six.”

  “Nice. Our youngest, Lily, is two. It’s a sweet age. I’m trying to enjoy it with this last one. They sure grow up fast. Darrell is already sixteen and starting to think about college. I’m going to need a few more of these big renovation jobs to foot that bill,” he added.

  Richard forced a smile and nodded in agreement. College tuition . . . He couldn’t even think about that. He and Regina were in survival mode now. Every dollar they had once saved for the kids’ tuition had already been spent on necessities. He felt guilty about it, as if he had somehow cheated his children. But what choice did he have? You couldn’t not feed your kids.

  Zoey returned and took their orders. Sam ordered a turkey club, and Richard decided to try the clam roll.

  “He’s new in town,” Sam told her. “He’s never been here before.”

  “I’ll tell Charlie not to screw up,” she promised. “The clam roll can be pretty good if he does it right.”

  Richard thanked her and handed back the menu. He wondered what he was getting into here and if he should have stuck with a plain hamburger.

  “What sort of projects did you work at your last job, Richard? Roads and all that?”

  “Mostly roads and bridges. I drew up plans for a lot of the new construction and renovation work, and supervised what we built. Then there were budget cuts, and the construction stopped and I was dropped back to part-time, then laid off altogether.”

  “Too bad. A
lot of people have had it rough in this economy. They say it’s coming back, though.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But too late for some of us.” Richard didn’t mean to sound bitter. He might get another job someday, but he would never get his old job back. He missed it. He missed the people there and his sense of belonging.

  “How long did you work there?” Sam asked.

  “Over ten years.”

  “That’s a long time. But maybe you’ll get something else up here that you like as much. Maybe even more.”

  “Maybe,” Richard said, agreeing for the sake of it. He didn’t actually believe it.

  “I’ve had a dip in my workload, too,” Sam admitted in a more serious tone. “I’ve had to branch out, diversify, take jobs I don’t normally do. I guess being a small operation, you have more flexibility. So it’s easier in some ways to weather these things.”

  “That’s true.” Richard liked Sam. It was hard not to. But he couldn’t help thinking that Sam Morgan didn’t have a clue about the bad breaks he’d been through. Losing his job and then his house. The setbacks and disappointments he faced trying to find work. Losing the respect of his wife . . . and even her love. It was easy for Sam to be so upbeat and cheerful. It looked like life had treated him pretty well.

  Zoey brought the food to the table. “Bon appétit, fellas.” Her tone was a bit sarcastic and typically teenage. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Just some water to wash down this fine cuisine,” Sam answered in an equally wry tone.

  Richard felt himself smiling as he took the first bite of his clam roll. He noticed Sam waiting for the verdict.

  “Not bad,” Richard said as he swallowed. “I like the sauce.”

  “Charlie’s Secret Sauce, you mean,” Sam said with a grin. “Listen, if he comes over, please don’t tell him you like it. He’ll go into this long rant about how he tried to have the recipe copyrighted or patented or something and sell it in supermarkets and it didn’t work out. He thinks he’s going to be the next Paul Newman and make a million dollars with that stuff.”