Jingle Bell Hell (Bad Luck Club)

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I’ll remember,” I murmur, and then I very happily shut the door behind her and sit in front of my computer.

  But before I get started, I call Ms. Duckworth to cancel Aidan’s involvement in her organization and also to give her a piece of my mind. They should have disclosed Jace’s ex-con status. No, they shouldn’t have allowed an ex-con into a program like that in the first place. After I’m done ranting, she says she understands, but she sounds sad. And she spouts off about extenuating circumstances and safety protocols. She’s nicer about it than I expected, and somehow I find myself apologizing to her for no longer wanting to use their services.

  After we hang up, I work up a quick text to Nicole.

  I think this was all a mistake, Nicole. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t be the person you want me to be. I need to get it together for my son. I can’t be…

  Buying vibrators. Lusting after cons. But I can’t bring myself to write either of those things, so I just delete those last three words.

  I feel a weird tinge of disappointment as I send the text, but if I’ve learned anything today, it’s that I’ve been swimming in waters that are perilously deep. Just how deep, I’m about to find out, I suppose, as I set my phone down and return my attention to my computer.

  Jace Hagan isn’t what you’d call a common name, and he mentioned where he’d grown up—Sydney, North Carolina—the other day at the Chocolate Lounge. It takes me no time at all to find an article about his arrest.

  As I begin to read, I can’t help but frown, tapping the desk with my pen.

  I didn’t expect this.

  That car he mentioned? The one he’d stolen?

  It happened sixteen years ago.

  A rare car, the kind of old vehicle collectors go nuts over, was stolen from Lester Montague, the owner of the biggest construction company in the county. It was found the next day, completely wrecked—bashed with hammers, the engine removed, the seats slashed and splashed with paint—which suggested it was no random crime. If Jace had sold the car, he would’ve made big money, but he’d destroyed it instead. He’d gotten away with it too, until the “friend” who’d helped him steal it came into hard times and turned him in.

  Jace went to prison for something he had done as a kid.

  As far as I can tell, he hasn’t even broken a traffic law since he turned twenty-one.

  I feel something inside of me softening. When he first told me, my mind was swamped with dozens of doomsday scenarios that would probably put Josie’s predictions to shame, but this…

  He made a bad decision—an incredibly shortsighted and stupid one—but he’s not a supervillain intent on exploiting nonprofit organizations to corrupt Asheville’s youth. If anything, it’s obvious that what he did, and the punishment for it, were very personal.

  Oh God, did I make a mistake?

  I may not want Jace spending time alone with my son—the last thing I need is for Aidan to get any ideas about (a) theft, (b) revenge, or (c) the best ways to destroy something expensive—but I didn’t need to publicly humiliate him. Now that the worst of the panic has left me, I find myself thinking of the look in Jace’s eyes after I accused him—loudly—of those terrible things. My worst fear is that I’ll be stared at, talked about, hated, and I did that to him. If I hadn’t reacted so impulsively, so monstrously, maybe we could have worked something out—hot chocolate dates, like we had at the Chocolate Lounge. Outings with the three of us. But now?

  There’s a weird pulse of longing in me, maybe because I’d wanted that with Glenn, in the beginning—family outings where we’d bring Aidan to a pumpkin patch, ice skating, or to sit on Santa’s lap. But Glenn had always told me I was “better with Aidan,” and he’d come up with some reason why he couldn’t join us in any such family activities. Especially when it turned out that Aidan didn’t feel comfortable wearing borrowed skates, sitting on the laps of pretend Santas, or being anywhere there was shouting and loud, piped music. Last Christmas, Glenn didn’t even decorate the tree with us.

  I’m being foolish, of course. Absolutely ridiculous. Jace wanted to spend time with Aidan, not me, and now I’m pretty sure he never wants to see me again. Which means I have to tell Aidan that he can no longer see the one friend he’s made in Asheville who isn’t tied to us by blood or in a committed relationship with one of my sisters.

  My phone buzzes with a text, and for one wild, irrational moment, I’m sure it’s him. Maybe he’ll tell me what he really thinks of me. Maybe he’ll say that Glenn was right to leave me. Maybe…

  I let my heart slow a little before I turn the phone over, but the text is from Nicole.

  HA. No. You are not off the hook. In fact, my sources tell me you had lunch with some super-hot dude. Your son’s buddy? I’m hoping this means you’ve “run some laps.” Next meeting is Friday. Drinks. I know Aidan is going to be in Charlotte, so no excuses.

  She’s bossy as heck, but I find myself smiling.

  I guess it’s because she didn’t give up on me, even though I’ve given her every reason to.

  At least I still have one of my sharks. Tina is clearly her source, which is embarrassing given the way we dashed from the restaurant, but at least Tina didn’t overhear my awful outburst by the food truck.

  Okay. And I can confirm the purchase has been made.

  She responds with an eggplant emoji.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to think up the right blend of distraction and consolation for my son. Because I know Aidan’s going to be upset.

  Jace was right. Aidan’s father abandoned him. Santa abandoned him by being fake. And now yet another man is about to slip out of his life. This time, it’s my fault, and I don’t intend to dodge the blame, even though my son already blames me for the loss of his father and holiday magic.

  Still, I was hoping we’d make it home before he mentioned Jace.

  It’s not my lucky day.

  “I painted an ankylosaurus for Jace today,” Aidan says. We’re stopped at a red light, and I glance at him in the rearview mirror. There’s a brightness to him today, like the bulbs on a Christmas tree. “He seemed really interested in their mating habits the other day at the Chocolate Lounge. I made one for you too, Mom, but my teacher said I should save yours for Christmas.”

  “Honey,” I say, feeling a wrenching sensation in my chest, my cheeks growing hot. The very last thing I want to do is hurt him, and yet I seem to keep doing it. The pain of dimming his sparkle is worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. “Jace won’t be coming to the library tomorrow. We had a disagreement, and…” I swallow. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think he’s going to be able to be your buddy anymore.”

  “A disagreement?” he asks, his voice rising. He’s messing with his zipper, although the belt of his booster seat is getting in the way. That’ll only make him feel worse. “Why were you even talking to him? He’s my buddy, Mom. He said so. He can’t stop seeing me. I was going to tell him about the therizinosaurus’s claws tomorrow.”

  For a second, I can imagine them sitting together like they were the other day, Jace’s head bent toward Aidan, the look on his face one of interest and affection rather than glazed-over boredom, and another stab of pain lands in the general vicinity of my abdomen.

  Could I try apologizing to Jace?

  Could I suggest supervised outings?

  Mary, you basically accused the guy of being a pervert. Then you told him you’d have him arrested if he ever came near Aidan again. Short answer: no.

  Still, there’s no denying that the guilt weighing down my shoulders isn’t just from disappointing Aidan.

  But I have to say something to my son, so I settle for, “I’m sorry, honey. I’m really sorry. We can try to find someone else.”

  “I don’t want someone else,” he says, his voice rising again. There are tears in his eyes, and his cheeks are probably as red as mine are whenever Jace is around.

  It’s all I can do to keep calm, but it won’t help either of us
if I start crying. So I take a deep breath as I make the turn toward our rental house.

  “Jace is supposed to be there. I need to give him his dinosaur.”

  “I’ll see if I can figure out a way to get it to him.”

  “You better, Mom,” he shouts, a couple of tears escaping his eyes. “Santa can’t get it to him because he’s not real.”

  “I’ll find a way,” I say, more firmly, although I cringe at the thought of approaching him, or even Ms. Duckworth from Butterfly Buddies. Will she look at me the way Molly used to when she’d call me Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary?

  It wasn’t a compliment.

  “I don’t like this, Mom,” Aidan says, his voice loud and shaky as I pull onto our street. “Nothing’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

  I know he isn’t just talking about Jace. Or about Asheville, and tears finally fill my eyes. “I know,” I say. “I know. But we’re going to find our way, Aidan. We’re going to be okay.”

  As if my words brought them into being, I see Molly and Maisie on our stoop, their bright hair—golden red and red red—shining in the low winter sun. I told them everything, of course, or at least everything minus my inappropriate reaction, and both of them agreed to come over to help make this night fun for Aidan. I’m surprised to see Molly’s boyfriend, Cal, is with them—Maisie’s husband, Jack, had to stay home with Mabel, so I figured they’d both come alone—but maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe Cal can meet with Aidan tomorrow afternoon and blunt his disappointment about Jace.

  “Look,” I say to Aidan, hoping it will be enough, “your aunts are here to see us, and they brought Uncle Cal.”

  “I’m not ready to get out yet. I don’t like you, Mom.”

  The words sear into me like a blaze of fire, but I know what he means—I don’t like you right now—and I don’t blame him. I’m not exactly keen on myself. “Okay, but I think they’re here to have dinner with us.”

  “It’s 4:30,” he says as if explaining something to a small child. “We always have dinner at 6.”

  “So they’ll spend time with us until we’re ready to eat,” I say. Then, in a fit of inspiration, I add, “Your Aunt Molly brought your favorite pie.”

  “How do you know, Mom? We haven’t even gotten out of the car yet.”

  Because I’d arranged for it to happen, but I just say, “I’ve got a good feeling about this. Your aunt Maisie is holding something too. I’ll bet it’s dinner.”

  “You don’t know that,” he scoffs. “She could be carrying anything.”

  He’s right—it’s in a brown cardboard box. But she promised to bring his favorite mac and cheese, which consists of buttered macaroni and cheese sauce on the side. God bless both of my sisters. They’re the very best part of being in Asheville.

  But they’re not the only good part, a voice whispers. And I find myself thinking of Nicole. Of Hilde. Of Dottie. And of those brief moments when I thought Jace could maybe be a friend—and those other moments when I fantasized about the benefits thing.

  “Okay,” Aidan says softly. “I’m ready.”

  I know what that means—I have to be too.

  So I inhale a few deep breaths, and by the time we get out of the car, I’m ready to smile and greet our family. Everyone exchanges hellos, Aidan hanging back a little, although he does make a point of looking in Maisie’s box (the metal baking tray inside is covered). We head inside together, which is when I remember our crappy Charlie Brown tree.

  Of course, Molly and Maisie notice it immediately. They exchange identical Mary’s losing it looks, and I honestly can’t blame them. It’s a crappy tree, even though I’ve turned the naked side toward the wall, and they know Aidan and I have never left a tree bare for this long. Almost a week.

  “Maybe we can help you decorate your sad, pathetic tree?” Molly suggests in an upbeat tone.

  “That would be really fun!” Maisie says with almost convincing cheer. She takes the pie from Molly and heads into the kitchen with our dinner feast.

  “Trees can’t be sad, Aunt Molly,” Aidan says seriously. “They’re trees. We saved it from a woodchipper.”

  “I can tell,” Molly mumbles.

  Cal clears his throat and wraps an arm around her waist. “It has fine, strong wood. It would have been a shame to leave it for the chipper.”

  Aidan considers this for a moment and then nods. “Still, we’re not going to decorate it.”

  Because he wanted to do it with Jace.

  They know not to push him, thank God. To my surprise, as if their actions were choreographed, Molly leads Aidan over to his new Lego set—a limited edition T. rex versus ankylosaurus set—and Cal and Maisie sit me down at the dining room table with some hot cocoa Maisie must have brought in a thermos.

  God bless her, there’s a bit of whiskey in mine. I don’t have any, so she must have brought that from home too.

  “I figured it out after we spoke, but I placed a cat with Jace a few years ago,” she says.

  “A cat?” I ask in confusion. Her animal shelter is called Dog is Love—she doesn’t come by many cats, if only because she’d have nowhere to keep them.

  “I know they’re not my usual, but I found this one zipped up in a duffel bag inside a dumpster.” Her voice shakes a little as she says it, with the rage she feels on the cat’s behalf. “I wasn’t about to trust anyone else with him.”

  “But you trusted Jace with him…” I say, feeling the weight of that. Because Maisie isn’t the sort to send an animal off with just anyone, especially an animal she suspects was abused.

  “I did. They had a connection, and he seemed as pissed off by what had happened to Bingo as I was. Jace didn’t have to disclose that he was a felon, but he did. I spoke to a couple of his neighbors”—her mouth twists wryly—“and they told me in no uncertain terms that I’d be a fool to turn him down.”

  I feel another stab of guilt. He didn’t have to tell her, or me, about his past, and yet he did. It’s a kind of honesty I envy.

  She tilts her head, studying me. “I seem to remember him being quite handsome.”

  I choke on my saliva, feeling like I’ve swallowed my own tongue. “Well. I guess. I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

  She stifles a laugh, because honestly, who isn’t into that kind of thing, and I feel heat in my face as I turn to Cal with a questioning look. I suspect he’s not just here to play Molly’s babysitter.

  He gives a slight nod. “Molly told me everything.”

  “Of course she did,” Maisie and I say, practically together. Our little sister can keep a secret, but she’s also a talker.

  His smile is fond. “Anyway,” he says, “I’ve heard of Jace too. He used to work for a real shithead, but he changed jobs. The guy he’s with now is an acquaintance of mine, and Chuck mentioned Jace a couple of times. Thinks a lot of the guy. He told me he got a bad rap. Chuck said he’s a hard worker. Underused.”

  I might not be a criminal lawyer, but I know some. The system only pretends to be fair, and it’s obvious Jace pissed off the wrong person. His actions were immature and inexcusable, but he was right when he said he’d paid for his crime and then some. Three years is a lengthy sentence for stealing a car, even more so because the crime was committed so long ago.

  I didn’t treat Jace fairly, and he’s someone who’s already gotten plenty of that. I need to apologize to him, even though the thought of seeing him again, of confronting him after what I did, makes me want to tuck my head between my legs again.

  The newly perverted part of me, woken by Jace and maybe Nicole, suggests I’d prefer for his head to be between my legs, but I’ve never…I don’t…

  “Thanks,” I say to them, gulping spiked hot chocolate to tame the burning in my cheeks.

  “Now, about that tree,” Maisie says, contemplating the bare branches. “We need to do something about that.”

  I sigh. “I’m waiting until he’s ready.”

  She’s already suspicious about Jace, so I don’
t want to tell her about the whole I’m not decorating it without my buddy fiasco. Still, I can’t help but wonder if Christmas is ruined for Aidan forever, and if I took that away from him too.

  She shoots me a worried look. “Just like you’re waiting to tell him about Glenn?”

  “Exactly,” I say shortly. Both of my sisters think I need to tell Aidan that Glenn’s not coming back. Ever. But he’ll want to know why, and I can’t tell him that his father doesn’t want him. I just can’t. Not yet, anyway. I’d prefer that he blame me for sending Glenn away.

  And there’s still a chance that he’ll change his mind, if there’s any truth to what Glenn’s parents, Tom and Ruth, have told me. Not about me—oh God no, I’d never take him back—but about being a part of Aidan’s life, however distant. I want that for Aidan, even if I hate the thought of ever sending him to stay with someone who’s been so careless with his feelings.

  The rest of the evening goes relatively smoothly, and Aidan’s eyes widen with wonder when it turns out dinner is mac and cheese just the way he likes it.

  “How did you know?” he marvels, as if I’m a wizard. I can’t help but think of Tea of Fortune, of Dottie’s “readings.” I suspect she was right about Jace, about the sadness and grief in his past, but her reading for me was nothing but wishful thinking.

  Glenn wanted me because he saw me as a suitable wife. No man would want me for me.

  But Aidan’s still gaping at me in amazement, waiting for an answer.

  “A woman can’t give away all her secrets,” I reason.

  Before my sisters and Cal leave, I ask Cal about spending tomorrow afternoon with Aidan, but he says he has to oversee the installation of a kitchen island at one of his flip houses. Molly rolls her eyes.

  “He’s been spending way too much time at that house.”

  “You’re jealous of a house?” he asks, nudging her. His eyes are dancing, and the warmth in them steals my breath. Yes, it’s obvious Cal might as well be Uncle Cal. He’s not going anywhere.