by Toni Blake
She looked at him like he was becoming addle-brained. And he probably was, or he wouldn’t have to ask, and he wouldn’t find his own life so much of a surprise. “Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “somebody has to. And nobody really wants to. But . . . you were good to me when I was a little girl, and despite how mean you are, I guess I’ve kept a soft spot for you all this time.”
“That’s good of you,” he said, only now becoming aware that his voice had turned gravelly over the forgotten years.
The lovely young woman before him appeared stunned at his words. “You’re right—it is good of me. You’ve never even acknowledged that before. Thank you.”
He felt embarrassed—by this bitter person he’d apparently become, so bitter that no one wanted to be with him, so bitter that he’d somehow blocked it all out. So he only nodded in reply.
“Well, you’re set for the week, and I have to go.”
“Where’s the phone?” he heard himself asking. “Maybe I’ll call Mike. Or Logan. Or maybe even your dad. Maybe we could all get together, play some cards, drink a beer.”
Again, Sophie just tilted her head, her expression one of confusion. “Uncle Adam, you haven’t talked to Mike, Logan, or my dad for years.”
He blinked, dumbfounded. “I haven’t?”
She shook her head, still looking worried that he was losing it. And he felt like he was, more with each passing minute. “You had a big falling out with them when I was a kid—don’t you remember? They got tired of your attitude.”
Adam sighed, feeling all the more weary. Yet he didn’t want to just keep sitting here—he had the impression he’d been doing that for far too long. “Well then . . . maybe I’ll go into work for a while. I could use some fresh air.”
But Sophie only appeared all the more concerned. “You haven’t worked at the landscape supply in a long time, Uncle Adam.”
“No?”
“Jacob and Joey took over the business years ago. And you’re darn lucky they’re good enough to keep a roof over your head and food in your mouth.” Then she stopped, looking sad, and she almost seemed to be talking to herself when she said, “ I might need to let them know, though . . . ”
“Know what?” he asked when she trailed off.
She gave her head a short, troubled shake. “Well, you don’t seem quite yourself today. They’ve talked about it for the last few years, but now it might really be time for them to consider moving you to . . . ”
Again, she didn’t finish. But he heard her unspoken words clearly enough. He was old. He was useless. He was bitter. And now he wasn’t even in his right mind. His boys wanted to put him in a home.
And he suffered the urge to argue—but the more he talked with Sophie, the more he began to understand the pain he must have heaped upon all the people in his life. It was all murky, distant-feeling, and yet . . . he instinctively knew that the angry fist squeezing his heart had been there for so long that he couldn’t even remember why, only that it wouldn’t let go and was something he’d lost control of decades ago. He wasn’t sure he deserved any mercy.
“I’ll see you next week,” she finally said, turning to go.
“Sophie, wait,” he rushed, stopping her.
She paused at the doorway, looking back.
“Your mother. How’s your mother? What’s she doing now? Did she ever remarry? Is she happy?”
Grown-up Sophie looked more stunned by this than by anything else he’d asked. “You don’t remember?”
Even the effort required to shake his head left him tired.
“Mom’s doing well enough,” she said, but her pursed lips and shaded eyes told him there was more. “She’s still running Destiny Properties and making a killing. And she’s bought and refurbished another Victorian in town—that’s the seventh one now. But no, she never remarried. No matter how many men pursued her over the years. And deep inside, she’s never really been happy since she divorced my father. But the funny thing is . . . growing up, I always got the idea that her unhappiness had more to do with you than with him.”
Adam’s heart broke. He’d so wanted to find out that Sue Ann had ended up happy, leading a full life brimming with passion and love. “Tell her I said hello?” he asked.
But Sophie’s eyes darkened further at the request. “I don’t think so, Uncle Adam. The very mention of your name always makes her sad.”
Adam flinched awake on his sofa. Then he looked around the room. Low flames burned in the fireplace across the way. Nothing smelled musty or looked uncared for. And the scent of pine from the tree he’d put up—for the sole purpose of having a late Christmas with the twins when they came home, he recalled—filled his senses.
Whoa. It had all been a dream. He wasn’t old. It wasn’t too late.
It wasn’t too late to stop himself from becoming a crusty old geezer no one wanted to be around.
Like other dreams he’d had lately, this one had felt startlingly real—frighteningly real. He even raised his head to take a good, thorough look around the room to ensure once again that the place was fairly tidy, not dust-covered, and that everything was as it should be. On the mantel he spotted both his sons’ second-grade pictures. Okay, good. And out the window in the driveway he caught sight of the truck that said BECKER LANDSCAPING on the door. He’d driven it home from work today because his parents had borrowed his pickup to bring home a new mattress. Okay, also good. He was still only thirty-three. He had plenty of life left ahead of him. And plenty of time to treat the people around him right.
Which meant, plain and simple, that he had to snap out of this Scrooge thing once and for all. Maybe his holiday season hadn’t been everything he’d hoped, but that didn’t mean he had to take it out on everybody else. And it hit him then that facing his troubles with anger was like . . . well, not really facing them, period.
Sitting up, he gave his head a brisk shake and tried to wake up completely. Only problem was, he still felt pretty Scroogy. Happier than he had a minute ago, of course, when he’d thought he was a crotchety, lonely old man. But sometimes you couldn’t just shake a mood simply because you wanted to.
Okay, how do I shake it? Really shake it? For good this time?
His first move, he decided, would be getting out of the house. At the moment, Adam felt like being around people. Whose heads he would try not to bite off. Because being around people was a lot better than sitting in a dusty rocking chair watching the paint peel off the walls.
Grabbing his keys and a coat, he walked out the door not really knowing where he was headed. Sue Ann’s? Nope, bad idea. He was still crazy about the woman, but he hadn’t seen her since she’d thrown him out of her house, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t even welcome on her doorstep right now. The landscape supply? Nah—there was work he could do in the office, but it was getting dark out and it would be as quiet there as it was here.
Finally, as he backed out of his driveway, he decided he’d go where all Destinyites headed when they needed to socialize a little after dark: the Dew Drop Inn.
Ten minutes later, he pulled into the gravel parking lot, much of it covered with a thin layer of packed snow. The simple one-story building sat outside town and looked surprisingly inviting with Christmas lights in the window and a blanket of snow dripping from the roof to form a few icicles on one side.
The parking lot was moderately full and when Adam stepped inside, he found several tables taken and a few people at the bar. Springsteen’s “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” played on the jukebox near the door. And unfortunately, though he spotted plenty of people he knew in passing, he saw no one at the Dew Drop tonight who he’d generally sit and drink a beer with or shoot the bull.
Okay, so much for socializing. Still, lifting a hand to return a couple of waves from guys he knew as customers of Becker Landscaping, he eased onto a bar stool—then found himself taking in the shiny red garland lining the mirror behind the bar. It seemed familiar for some reason.
And then he realized
why. It was the same as in his dream, the dream he’d had of his friends talking him down here at the Dew Drop. The same, even though he hadn’t been in the place since before Thanksgiving. Okay, that was officially weird. But he quickly decided not to ponder that too hard or he might start feeling like he had in that last dream a little while ago, like he was losing it. When, in fact, his goal was to finally start getting it back.
“What’ll ya have, darlin’?” Anita Garey asked him. As usual, the lady bar owner sported a tight top that showed off her shape, this one green and sparkly—for the holidays, he guessed. She was a flashy sort of woman, not the norm for Destiny, but folks here had taken a liking to her since her arrival a couple of years ago—and especially since she’d started dating Police Chief Tolliver—and Adam was among them.
“Bud Light,” he told her.
Reaching under the bar, Anita grabbed a bottle, smoothly removed the top, and placed it before him. “Cheer up,” she said. “It’s almost Christmas.”
Damn, that was how ingrained his mood had apparently become—he was clearly wearing it on his face without even knowing it. “I’m trying,” he told her honestly. “That’s why I’m here. Thought it would do me some good to get out, be around people.” Then he met her gaze. “I haven’t had the best December.”
“I’ve heard,” she said.
He sat up a little straighter. “You have?”
The lady barkeep just shrugged. “Well, I’ve heard you, uh, haven’t been yourself lately. Something about your little boys being away for the holiday?”
And then—damn. He remembered. He remembered the hush-hush secret he’d heard: that Anita Garey had once had a little boy herself, and that he’d been abducted by her ex-husband over twenty years ago.
And he thought about the years of pain she’d endured if it were true.
And the words Sue Ann had once imparted about his boys, that night at the cabin—At least you know they’re coming back—echoed through him in a whole new way, like the resonating clang of a bell.
God, he’d been selfish. And small. And sure, his Grinchiness had extended beyond just missing the twins—it was about divorce and the state of his life in general, and then it had become about Sue Ann, too—but still . . . Sue Ann was so right. His boys would be home soon. His life would be back to normal. And yeah, not having her in his life was kind of killing him now that he realized how badly he wanted her there—but when he thought of what the woman standing behind the bar had suffered, was still suffering, it just put everything in a new perspective.
“Um, yeah,” he finally said, but felt almost ashamed to have griped about that when Anita’s little boy hadn’t ever come home. “And . . . some other stuff, too. But I’m realizing that I need to count my blessings and snap out of it, you know?”
Anita nodded knowingly. “Me, I find that life is about ninety percent attitude. You just gotta keep your head held high and focus on the positive.”
“You’re right,” Adam said, admiring her more than he could fathom. “You’re absolutely right.” If he ever lost his boys . . . God, he couldn’t even imagine it. But something that felt a little miraculous to him had just happened. In that moment when he’d remembered Anita’s son, he’d really snapped out of his mood. That last dream had started it, for sure. But this . . . this went beyond that. His kids would be home soon. And until then, they were both healthy, and safe, and happy, and with people he trusted. Not everybody had that. Anita didn’t have that. The realization of just how fortunate he was, in so many ways . . . well, it suddenly felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders, once and for all.
Anita crossed her arms over her ample chest. “That was easy. Usually takes me a little longer to talk somebody out of their troubles.”
“Well,” Adam told her, suddenly feeling a lot more like himself—like he’d been with Sue Ann at times recently, like the guy people knew and liked—“I guess I was on the verge. And I just needed to take that last step.”
When the bar’s front door opened again, Adam looked up to see Mike and Logan walk in. As they shook off the cold and Mike unzipped his jacket, they both caught sight of him—and merely lifted their hands in casual waves, then took a couple of stools at the end of the bar, nowhere near him.
He started to feel pissed—but then he remembered. “I still have one problem, though,” he said, switching his focus back to Anita. “I’ve been treating people like crap. I mean, look—my friends walk in here and don’t even want to talk to me.”
Again, Anita just shrugged. “So make it up to them.”
“How?”
She just gave her head a saucy tilt and told him, “Guys are easy, darlin’—send ’em a couple of beers. It’s how men kiss and make up.”
“Huh,” he said. Then, “All right. Two Bud Lights for my buddies.”
A few minutes later, Anita delivered the beers, and Mike and Logan lifted them in his direction. In response, he picked up his half-empty bottle and joined them at the end of the bar.
“Thanks for the beer, dude,” Logan said.
“Consider it a peace offering,” he replied.
Mike angled a glance his way. “This mean you’re back to normal?”
He could only shrug. “Trying to be.”
Mike narrowed his gaze on Adam then, to ask, “So what’s been your problem lately anyway?”
He could have dished up a few different answers. But for some reason he decided to go with the most recent. “Woman troubles.”
Both guys balked, clearly surprised since they didn’t know he was seeing anyone, and Logan said, “What woman?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try us,” Mike said, and Adam instantly decided he’d picked the wrong problem to share. Because, yeah, there wouldn’t be any crime in telling them about his involvement with Sue Ann, but she’d probably feel funny about it—even if he knew he could trust these guys not to say anything. And he’d always been the type to keep romantic difficulties to himself anyway—it just seemed private.
So he finally said, “Nah—let’s talk about something else. You guys ready for Christmas?”
The next day was the last day the landscape supply was open before the holiday, and since the following day was Christmas Eve, Adam planned on closing early. Besides the fact that customers were few—only the occasional person who needed a last minute wreath or greenery for a mantelpiece—he figured Chuck wouldn’t mind having an extra half day to himself. Unlike Adam, Chuck had a big family to spend time with over the holidays—and in fact, his older brother was on leave from the Marines and had gotten in to town just a couple of days ago. But Adam was truly no longer bitter about his own holidays—he was glad Chuck would enjoy his Christmas; he deserved it.
So when Chuck came into the office around noon after sweeping the parking lot, and asked, “Mind if I take my lunch now?” Adam said, “Sure, and in fact, take the rest of the day off.”
In response, Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Really. Go spend the afternoon with your brother.”
“Um, okay—and thanks,” he said, face red from the cold.
Adam then reached into a drawer at the desk he sat behind and pulled out an envelope, which he held out to Chuck.
“What’s this?” Chuck said cautiously as he drew it, almost hesitantly, from Adam’s hand.
Adam gave his head a slight shake. “Nothing big. Just a little . . . Christmas bonus, guess you might call it.” The truth was, he had never given a Christmas bonus in the past because business was lean through the winter months and it hadn’t seemed prudent. This year would be just as lean, but he needed to show his employees that he appreciated them, especially after this past month.
Adam hadn’t necessarily intended for him to open the envelope right now, but Chuck tore into it anyway, then pulled out a hundred-dollar gift card for the large grocery store in Crestview. His jaw dropped. “Wow, Adam. That’s . . . generous.”
/> Maybe. Kind of. But he knew Chuck still lived at home and that his family had suffered from the hard economic times of the past few years. And he wanted to ensure that Chuck’s mom could make a nice Christmas dinner for them all. So he just said, “You’re a hard worker. You always show up on time. You never complain. So just want to show my appreciation.”
Chuck’s mouth remained open in surprise, but now it was probably because Adam hadn’t been this nice to him in a while. “Well, um, thanks.”
Just then, Tyler Fleet walked into the office. He was off today, but Adam had called him that morning and asked him to stop by. “Hey,” Tyler said, lifting his hand in a wave.
“Hey—thanks for coming on short notice,” Adam told him, then dipped into the same desk drawer to extract another envelope. “Christmas bonus,” he said, passing it to him.
“Really? Wow, cool,” Tyler said, also ripping right into his. Inside were two tickets to an upcoming Xavier University basketball game. The school was a couple hours’ drive away, but Adam happened to know Tyler was a fan of the team that consistently made it into the NCAA tournament. He also knew Tyler had never been to one of their games. “Holy crap,” he said when he saw them. “This is freaking awesome.”
Adam just shrugged. It had been easy enough to get his hands on the tickets, and . . . “Well, I know I haven’t been the easiest guy to have as a boss lately. Truth is, I’ve been taking my personal problems out on you guys—and lots of other people, too—and that sucks. So I hope maybe this’ll do something to make up for it and show you both that I’m glad to have such good workers.”
“Um . . . hell yeah,” Tyler said, still clearly excited over the basketball tickets.
And Chuck said, “Could happen to anybody, man,” then held up the gift card. “This’ll make my mom real happy. In fact, maybe my brother and me’ll go get a big turkey to surprise her with.”
After Chuck and Tyler left his office a few minutes later, Adam got up and turned the lock on the building’s front door, as well as flipping the OPEN sign in the window to CLOSED. And it was quiet again. And he was alone again. And the overcast day outside—damn, looked like it might snow some more—left the office dimly lit.
