The Christmas Tree

by Allyson Charles

  His father clapped him on the back. “That’s right. You had dinner with the new woman. Well, answer Janice. How did it go?” He eased himself onto the sofa next to her.

  “Fine.” Colt stared pointedly at the two of them. “How was your dinner?”

  His father started coughing. He shifted a couple of inches away from Janice.

  She pounded on his back. “Now don’t get yourself in a tizzy. Just tell the boy that we’re an item and be done with it.”

  Chuck’s jaw dropped open and he stared first at Janice then turned his deer-in-the-headlights eyes on Colt.

  She sighed and shook her head. “It’s really not that hard.” She faced Colt. “Your father and I are an item, have been for a couple of months now. That’s not a problem for you, is it?”

  Colt bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to laugh at his father’s horrified expression. If he hadn’t been so amused at his father’s reaction, he would have been embarrassed himself at catching the two of them together. “Nope,” he managed to get out with a straight face.

  “And it won’t make working together awkward?”

  He shook his head.

  She patted his father’s knee. “See? It’s all fine. I don’t know why it’s women who have the reputation for worrying.”

  Chuck ignored her. “So, you said you wanted to talk?” His eyes pleaded with Colt to allow the change of subject.

  Colt was happy to move off the topic of his dad’s love life, as well. “Yeah.” He reached into his pocket and removed the harmonica. “I found this in Caleb’s truck. I thought you might want it.”

  Chuck reached out a hand stained with age spots. He opened the box and stared at the brass instrument. “His mouth harp. I didn’t know he still had it.” He cleared his throat.

  Janice squeezed his knee. “I remember that thing. Caleb used to drive me to distraction playing it when he should have been doing his homework in your office.”

  Chuck closed his bent fingers around the harmonica. “Thanks for bringing it to me.” He blinked rapidly. “Was there something else you wanted?”

  “Maybe some advice.”

  The old man straightened his back. “Advice? What about?”

  The blood pulsed rapidly through Colt’s body. He didn’t know how to broach the topic of wanting to keep Sadie in town. His father and he had squared off one too many times about Colt’s choices. He chickened out. “I found out George has been our leak. He was selling information about our bids to Carelli.”

  “George Kammer?” his father asked. Colt nodded. “I don’t believe it. I hired him before I left BB. He’s a good man.”

  “Maybe he used to be,” Colt said. He clenched his jaw. “He was threatening Sadie tonight. She saw him and Carelli together a couple nights ago and he didn’t want her to tell me that. I don’t care what sort of money troubles he’s having. He shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Is she okay?” Janice’s face creased in concern.

  “She’s fine. She’s a tough woman.” The tension in his body seeped out, replaced by warmth. She hadn’t backed down from her confrontation with George. Colt could learn something from her courage. He squared his shoulders. “Dad, she’s actually what—”

  “I just can’t believe it.” Chuck shook his head slowly. “I trusted that man.”

  “Hon, we all trust the wrong people at times.” Janice pushed her glasses back up her nose. “I liked George, too. Even went to a couple of his kid’s Little League games. We don’t know what pushed him to do this, but he betrayed BB and everyone who works there.” She turned to Colt. “Did you call the police?”

  “The police?” Chuck asked.

  “This was corporate theft. Interference with business contracts. Stealing trade secrets. I don’t know the legal lingo, but I’m sure what he did broke the law.” She threw herself against the back of the sofa, a bit of dust billowing from the cushion, and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I don’t think most of those are criminal offenses. I’d have to sue George to punish him and I don’t want to involve lawyers,” Colt said. His father bobbed his head up and down in agreement. “I did punch him in the face though. Not much of a punishment, but it felt damn good.”

  “Colt McCoy!” Janice exclaimed. “Your mother and father raised you better than that.” His father took her hand and squeezed, darted his eyes to Colt and dropped it like it scalded him. She picked his hand back up and held it firmly on her lap, rolling her eyes.

  “Remember, he knows we’re dating,” she said.

  “Right.” Chuck cleared his throat. “Sometimes people can learn more from a black eye then they ever would with months of talking. I raised my boys to know that there are some times you shouldn’t back down from a fight.” He and Colt shared a smile.

  Colt leaned against the wall, his body relaxing. Moments like these with his father were few and far between.

  Chuck looked down at his hand and rubbed the front of the harmonica, his smile slowly fading. A guilty look shot across his face, gone in a flash. He shifted in his seat. “But the situation shouldn’t have come to that. It was poor management that let this happen. George must have been selling this information for months and you’re just now cottoning on to it.” He pinched his lips together, the lines around his mouth deepening.

  Colt’s jaw dropped, along with his stomach. “You’re blaming me for this?” His voice grated harshly against his own ears.

  Janice flinched. “Chuck,” she said sharply. “That’s not fair.”

  “This is between me and my boy.”

  “Fine.” She stood up, her back razor sharp. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.” She stalked away, giving Colt a sympathetic smile before leaving the room.

  He clenched and unclenched his fists in the silence that enveloped them. “Dad—”

  Chuck raised a hand. “I’m just saying a good manager should know if one of his employees is having problems. Know the warning signs.” He sighed and closed his hand over the harmonica. “BB has been doing fine since you took over. I’m not saying otherwise. I just wish . . .”

  “That Caleb had taken it over? Yeah, you’ve made that very clear. If it would mean that he would still be here with us, then I wish that, too.” The blood was rushing to Colt’s head and he released a shaky breath. “But I can’t change what happened. You gave BB to me and I’ve grown the business every year since I’ve been running it. I really don’t know what else you expect of me.”

  Chuck’s eyes were cloudy, and he stared at a spot beside Colt’s head. “You’ve gotten too settled. If you run a business, you need to always be trying to do better. Keep adapting. You could learn a lot from your brother’s example. Caleb—”

  “Would have run BB into the ground!” Colt yelled. The years of frustration with his father, all the belittlements he’d received, every reply he’d bitten back trying to stay respectful, it all erupted from him. He had reached his breaking point. “Caleb was a great man and a great brother. But he was a horrible businessman, and you should know that better than anyone. The summers we both worked at BB, who understood the financials, our supply chain, the regulations we have to wade through? Caleb couldn’t take working in the office. He went out with the crew as soon as he could.”

  He paced back and forth in his father’s living room, the small space suffocating. “Hell, Caleb couldn’t even put together a P and L statement. And that was fine. It wasn’t his thing. But your trying to rewrite history and make him out to be the next Donald Trump of the business world isn’t going to fly anymore.” He turned and faced his father, who still sat on the couch, his face a blank. “You had one son who was a hero and another who is pretty decent at business. Why isn’t that enough for you?” His words broke on the question and Colt furiously blinked back his tears. He would not give his father another reason to think he was less than a man.

  “I can’t believe you feel that way about your brother.” His father still didn’t look at him. “To insult your brothe
r when he’s dead—”

  Chuck never got a chance to finish his thought. Rage spiked through Colt. With a roar, he spun around and slammed his fist into the wall behind him, the plasterboard denting under the force. He stared at the red smudges of blood marking where his fist had struck. His body trembled, the adrenaline, anger, and grief swamping him, making him nauseous. A gasp behind him brought him around.

  Janice stood in the doorway, a hand covering her mouth, her eyes impossibly huge behind her glasses. “Colt . . .”

  Holding up a hand, he shook his head. He could hardly swallow past the bile in his throat, much less speak. He walked toward her and she stepped out of his way, sympathy written all over her face. He paused in the doorway when she grabbed his forearm and squeezed, but didn’t look at her. He didn’t look back at his father, either. He couldn’t take seeing one more look of disappointment. He would have to apologize, to fix the hole in his father’s wall. But not tonight.

  He gently patted Janice’s hand, then eased it from his arm. The path to the front door lay unimpeded before him. Only an apology from his father could halt his steps now.

  Colt made it to his truck unimpeded.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Wait! Don’t go back there again . . .” The door swishing closed behind the city employee was her only answer. Sadie gritted her teeth and leaned against the counter that divided Pineville’s planning department from the annoyed citizens waiting to be helped. This was not how she’d expected to spend her Wednesday morning.

  She glared down at the condemnation notice lying on the counter. She had woken that morning, alone she might add, because Colt hadn’t bothered to come over or even call last night, to the sound of someone on her front porch. It had been a man, barely out of school by the looks of him, stapling a notice to her front door. He had handed her a copy and cheerfully avoided her questions. He didn’t know anything about the matter; he was just doing his job hanging the notice. Sadie could only clutch her robe in one hand, the condemnation notice in the other, and stare slack-jawed as he drove off with Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” blaring out of his car window.

  This property is condemned until further notice. It has been deemed unfit for human habitation and must be evacuated before the end of business today. The owner has thirty days in which to contest said determination . . .

  The words blurred before her eyes, the legalese making her head pound. Bottom line, the city would confiscate her property within thirty days. Why couldn’t the lawyers just write that?

  The petty bureaucrat whom Sadie called Stalin in her head, but whose name tag read Sam, sauntered through the door. He had been back and forth relaying her questions to someone in the other office—someone who apparently knew what they were doing—and bringing the answers back to her. The answers were never good.

  “Miss Wilson, I don’t know what else to tell you. Your property has been condemned under section fourteen-twelve of the building code. It has been deemed a danger to safety and welfare. Here is a form detailing your right to appeal.” He pushed a piece of paper across the counter to her with one finger. He quickly pulled his hand back, as though he was afraid she would bite it off. In her current mood, he was right to be worried.

  “But when was it determined that it was unsafe? Where was the hearing and why wasn’t I notified?”

  He sniffed. “This type of determination doesn’t require a formal hearing. The planning commission can look at evidence ex parte and make a ruling.”

  She exploded. “What evidence?” Tension roiled in her stomach. She had been here for forty-five minutes and still didn’t understand why the city had focused on her grandmother’s house. It definitely needed work, but it wasn’t a public danger. And a city official driving by would only see that the house needed a coat of paint. Something else was going on here.

  “You’re going to need to calm down, ma’am.” Sam wedged his right thumb between his belt and his considerable paunch and warded her off with his other hand. “I’ve told you what your recourse is: file an appeal.”

  “But where am I supposed to live in the meantime? And now I have to hire an attorney to fight this? This is BS.” She gripped the counter and leveled a seething glare at him. “All I’ve asked is how this came about. It doesn’t seem too much to ask to know who made this decision and why. You people want to take my house, after all.”

  Their conversation had been turning quite a few heads, and the noise level of the room had dimmed to a hush as everyone listened to the argument. Usually Sadie didn’t like to make a scene, but right now she didn’t care if she was getting more views than Miley Cyrus on a wrecking ball. “I’m planning on renovating the house, anyway. Everything will be up to code.” Logic probably wouldn’t appeal to this paper pusher, but she was throwing spaghetti at the wall, just hoping something would stick.

  “You can’t renovate while there’s a condemnation notice posted. But don’t worry. The city will pay you reasonable compensation when they take the property.”

  “What will that be? You’ve declared it uninhabitable, a disaster zone. The fair market value of my property has just plummeted,” she said.

  “Take it up with the appeals board. We’re done here.” He looked over her shoulder. “Next in line.”

  The woman behind Sadie inched her way to the counter, her gaze darting between the two. “I just have a permit application, but maybe I should come back at another time. Like when you’re in a better mood.”

  Sam included her in his beady-eyed glare and snatched the form from her hand. Sadie picked up her notice, the paper crinkling in her grip. Turning her back on the counter, she stalked toward the exit, jaw clenched so tightly her head ached.

  Sadie made it to her car, slamming the door shut. Was this some weird balancing act of karma? The sale of her business went through but she lost her grandmother’s house? She would have to get a lawyer. She would contact the man who’d handled her grandmother’s estate, see if he could do anything. She looked at her watch. But not right now. She was late for tree decorating. She pointed the car toward the town square.

  A brief glance at her cell phone confirmed there still was no message from Colt. She had called him this morning when she got the notice, but his phone had gone straight to voicemail. Her fingers itched to call him again, but she didn’t want to be that kind of girlfriend, needy and demanding. If she was even his girlfriend. In the safety of her car, she let out a scream of frustration. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  With one hand, she pried open the box of cookies she had brought for Colt. Jamming one into her mouth, she let the soft and chewy goodness ease some of her anger. She had made them for Colt, but she didn’t think the man would begrudge her one—her hand snaked out and grabbed another—okay two, of his cookies. She needed the comfort of sugar more than he did right now, of that she was certain.

  She turned down Main Street and the twenty-foot blue spruce popped into view. Everything else might be a jumble, but at least her task with the tree would be completed today. It was a giant check on her to-do list, and the satisfaction that entailed soothed her mind. She pulled into a parking spot and searched for Colt’s company truck. It appeared he was late, too. A city cruiser was parked half a block down and she walked toward it.

  Jerome eased his lanky frame out of the car, tapped a finger on his wrist. “You’re late.” His chocolate eyes twinkled. “I should report this infraction to Judge Nichols.”

  “If I still had a kitchen to use, I’d try to bribe you with cookies. As it is, will my deepest apologies do?”

  “What happened to your kitchen?” he asked, resting his forearms on the open door.

  “My house was condemned this morning. I have to move out by tonight.” She chewed on her lower lip. “It’s a good thing we’re almost done here because I need to pack up some things this afternoon.”

  “Condemned?” His eyebrows shot up under the knit cap he wore. “Why?”

&nb
sp; “You would know more than me. The . . . person down at city hall wouldn’t give me any information about why.” Just thinking about that man made her blood pressure rise. “All I know is that unless I hire an attorney and fight it, the city takes my house in thirty days.”

  He let out a low whistle. “You should ask Colt if he can find out anything. He has contacts in that department. In fact, I saw him there just yesterday, chatting with some members of the planning commission. If anyone can get you information, he can. Where is he anyway?” Jerome nudged her arm. “Sadie?”

  “Huh? Oh, I’m not sure. He isn’t answering his phone.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

  Jerome rubbed his hands together and blew briskly on his fingers. “I wonder if Colt’s heard about the new redevelopment plan. The station was buzzing about it this morning.”

  “Redevelopment plan?” Head spinning, she took a deep, calming breath. “What plan is that?”

  “The city’s changed the zoning for your neighborhood.” He shook his head. “Planning on allowing that multi-unit housing instead of just the single-family homes there now. Sounds like Pineville might be getting a lot more crowded.”

  Eyes glazed, she stared at the tree. “That’s too bad,” she said, distracted.

  “Well, I’ll let you get to it. I’m late for my rounds.”

  Nodding goodbye, she walked to the tree and started pulling out the remaining ornaments. Colt was talking to the planning commission yesterday and today her house was condemned. Could he have accidentally said something that resulted in this morning’s notice? And that new redevelopment plan . . . To heck with looking needy. She pulled out her cell phone and rang him again. Straight to voicemail. Leaving him a terse message to call her, she disconnected and chucked the phone into her purse harder than the expensive gadget deserved. Where was he?

  By the time he showed up an hour later, there was one small bag of ornaments remaining and Sadie was two pages deep on a new list in her notebook. Not that her fix-it ideas would likely sway the planning commission into uncondemning her house.