All They Want for Christmas

by M. K. Stelmack

  Tanya winced. “There’s no wiggle room, I’m afraid. I’d recommend making a payment this month. In full.”

  She might be able to do that.

  “Back payments would stop the process,” Tanya went on.

  No way that was going to happen, unless there was a decent chunk of change in the will. There must be. There had to be. Auntie Penny had always expected the restaurant to pay for itself. That was why she’d resisted dipping into her savings. These financial problems would be solved in a matter of hours.

  Moving forward, Bridget could rent out the units attached to the restaurant. Auntie Penny hadn’t bothered to get new tenants when they’d closed up. Bridget had urged her to, but she kept saying it was more trouble than it was worth.

  Or had she willed them to Jack?

  “I’ll get a payment in this month. Back payments, too.”

  “That sounds great.” Tanya didn’t say it with much belief but Bridget let it go. Based on past performance, Bridget didn’t blame her skepticism.

  Onto the next order of business. “Do you have time to talk about Christmas Crates?”

  For the past nine years, Bridget and Auntie Penny had headed up an annual campaign to stuff crates for needy families in Spirit Lake. This year Tanya had volunteered to help Bridget organize the event. “It might be our biggest year yet, unfortunately. People have dropped names into the crate since the day I set it up.” Each year, a lidded crate was set up outside Penny’s for people to slip in their names or names of other families. “It could top fifty.”

  Tanya plucked at the corner of a page. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  Her tone was the same as it had been when she’d explained the financial situation. Regretful but unmoved. Bridget said it for her. “You’re dropping out.”

  “It’s not that I want to.” She was twisting the page corner now. “I don’t think I should.”

  “Because of your job here? Because of the restaurant’s finances? The two are completely separate. The campaign money is in a separate account and—”

  “My mother has cancer.”

  Bridget sat back.

  Tanya blinked hard. “I only found out a week ago. It’s small, barely there. They can probably get it with a few rounds of radiation. But I want to be there for her. And the campaign, it’s meaningful, but—”

  “It’s a lot of work. I understand.”

  “I feel bad.”

  “Don’t. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. Sleeping less than I should. This stuff makes you think about what matters in life.”

  “Yeah. Auntie Penny’s death has thrown me for a loop. I plan to dedicate this year’s campaign to her memory. Give me something positive to think about instead of how she—how it ended.”

  Tanya brightened. “You could totally use that to drive your donations. Her name carried a lot of weight in the community.”

  “I’m not worried about donations. There’s still loads of money from last year. Hey, since I have you, can I arrange to have her name taken off the account? I have the certificate.” Bridget had taken to carrying the death certificate like a driver’s license, she’d had to produce it so often.

  “Sure.” Tanya clicked her nails across the board. “Do you have your account number?”

  “No, but it will be under our names, labeled Christmas Crates.”

  Tanya pulled up the account. “Ah, here we go—” She frowned. “How much money did you say was in there?”

  “I haven’t checked it since last February. A little over ten thousand.”

  Tanya swiveled her monitor around for Bridget to see and moved her cursor to the balance.

  Fifty-two dollars and thirty-seven cents. Bridget suddenly felt light-headed. “No.”

  “I take it you knew nothing about this,” Tanya said softly.

  Bridget shook her head numbly.

  Tanya examined her screen. “It was one withdrawal. Looks as if she came in to this branch back in September. Exactly ten thousand dollars.”

  “She never told me,” Bridget said. “She never told me anything.” She couldn’t have used it for the mortgages. The last payment was made in August. Bridget had paid bills and wages through the restaurant account, and she would’ve seen the deposit of such a large amount.

  “I will verify her signature is on the withdrawal slip,” Tanya said.

  “It’ll be hers,” Bridget said absently, her thoughts on overdrive.

  “With your name also on the account, it’s best that’s confirmed,” Tanya said in her banker’s voice.

  “You mean, I could be held responsible?”

  “Nothing illegal has been done technically. You two didn’t ever form a charity, per se. No receipts were given out, right?”

  “No. It was just me and Auntie Penny. She was trusted as the day is long.”

  “Then you should be safe.”

  “But what about all the people who donated last year? What about all the families this year that need help? What do I say to them?”

  Tanya’s answer was a helpless, sympathetic shrug. In other words, “Sorry for your troubles.”

  * * *

  BRIDGET WAS NO CLOSER to answers when she came home. Everyone was already crowded around the supper table.

  “Bridget.” Deidre came around the table, her wide, paisley sleeves draping from spread arms, and hugged Bridget, short gray hair tickling her cheek. “How are you?”

  Maybe it was the absolutely horrible day she’d had or the unusually quiet concern in her adopted mother’s voice, but Bridget cinched her arms tight around Deidre’s slim waist. “I’ve been better.”

  Deidre pulled back to examine Bridget’s face. “I bet.”

  Her mother had always been this tender to Krista and Mara, but never to her. It felt good. Almost too good: tears started to build. She plunked herself down in the single remaining chair at the crowded table. Auntie Penny’s old chair.

  “Lasagna,” she said. “What a surprise.”

  Deidre took a seat at the other end of the table. Krista and Mara sat opposite Jack and his girls.

  “Hola,” she said to them. Sofia chirped back her “hello.” Isabella mumbled hers, and immediately returned to her food.

  “They don’t talk much when they’re eating,” Jack said.

  “Good idea,” Bridget said and smiled her thanks as Mara slid a square of lasagna onto her plate and then passed her the salad. Bridget reached for the bowl, then halted. Who was she kidding? She doubted her energy to choke down the lasagna. “Maybe later.”

  “How did the meeting at the bank go?” Mara said.

  “Not good.” Bridget gathered a forkful but couldn’t bear to lift it to her mouth. “Horrible, actually.”

  They must have expected her to explain because everybody stayed quiet. Where to start?

  “The restaurant isn’t doing well?” Jack said.

  Bridget glanced at the girls.

  “It’s okay,” Jack said. “I’m working on their English, but it’s low. They won’t understand.”

  Bridget forced down a mouthful before speaking. “This is it in a nutshell. Two months behind on the restaurant mortgage. This month will be the third. Three months behind on the house. The bank manager worries that if I miss this month on either the house or the restaurant, it could trigger a foreclosure given the pattern of missed payments that have occurred over the past two years. And, no, I didn’t know about any of this until today because Auntie Penny didn’t tell me and because—because I trusted her.”

  She could feel her voice go shaky and told herself to get a grip. The girls didn’t understand English, but they did understand tears. She exhaled. “And that’s not the worst part. Auntie Penny embezzled all the money from the Christmas Crates account.”

  Stunned looks all a
round.

  “How much?” Krista said.

  “Ten thousand dollars to the cent.”

  “But don’t you have access to the account?” Deidre said.

  “I do, but I never checked it. I only did today to take off Auntie Penny’s name. That’s when I discovered she cleaned it out back in September.”

  Jack set his elbows on the table, pressed his fingers against his temples. “Can you remember what day in September it was?”

  “The seventeenth.”

  Jack groaned, closed his eyes. “I know where that money went.”

  All eyes went to him. “I’d found contacts who could get me the adoption papers but let’s just say there were fees attached. I didn’t have the resources myself—that’s a whole other story. I texted Penny more to blow off steam than anything else. We’d kept in touch.”

  Bridget nodded. Auntie Penny and Jack had developed their own friendship, and Bridget had driven herself half-crazy over the years, torn between not wanting to hear about Jack and hanging on to every shred of news.

  “She said not to worry. She’d transfer me the money and sure enough there it was, ready for me to accept.” He blew out his breath. “That was on the seventeenth of September.”

  He fixed his blue eyes on her. “Bridge, I had no idea she’d taken from the charity fund. None. She said she had a little money set aside. I told her that I’d pay her back as soon as I could.”

  “Okay,” Bridget said. “When will that be?”

  Jack pushed away his plate. “Definitely not before Christmas. I’ve got to pay for a dentist, clothes and food for the girls. Gas. Childcare while I job-hunt. I am sorry, Bridge.”

  “But you sold your dad’s house when he died. That was only three years ago,” Bridget said, “and he had savings, didn’t he?”

  Jack’s head sank lower. “Let’s just say I trusted the wrong people.”

  Sofia slipped under his arm to squirm onto his lap. Isabella surveyed the somber expressions on everyone’s faces, and chewed on her lower lip.

  Jack murmured to Sofia and spoke to Isabella. Bridget didn’t catch a word, but it was reassuring enough for Sofia to return to her chair, and for them both to resume eating.

  They were the only ones left with any kind of appetite. To top it off, as everyone pushed back their chairs, Deidre said, as if talking about a book-club meeting, “Don’t forget we have the reading of the will at eight thirty.”

  As if the day could get any worse.

  * * *

  DEIDRE ADJUSTED HER eyeglasses and flipped through the will, her long legs folded up in an armchair by the fireplace “I guess I start at the top and read through. I’ve never done this before.” The Montgomery sisters’ dad had died of a stroke, without a will. When Deidre’s parents passed, Penny, as next-of-kin, had handled the will.

  It occurred to Bridget that Deidre’s entire family was gathered right now in the living room. All three daughters lined up on the couch, and each of them only had each other.

  And Jack, in the armchair twin to Deidre’s, had no one except his adopted daughters, now tucked into Auntie Penny’s bed. Here in Canada with him because Auntie Penny had stolen money intended for others. And Bridget was left to deal with the fallout.

  The will had better rain gold coins.

  “‘This is the last will and testament of Penelope Ann Dixon of the town of Spirit Lake in the Province of Alberta, made the sixth day of’ blah, blah, blah...”

  Deidre read on silently, as if skimming a salacious article. Bridget rested her head against the back of the couch. Deidre lifted her voice. “‘To Mara, my beloved niece, I bequeath full and clear title to the bay immediately above the restaurant with the legal description of’ blah, blah, blah, ‘subject to the condition of clause’ blah, blah, blah.”

  All eyes turned to Mara. “How...generous,” Mara said quietly.

  So much for selling the unit for a quick profit.

  “‘To Krista, my beloved niece, I bequeath the full and clear title to the bay immediately adjacent to the restaurant with the legal description of’ blah, blah, blah ‘subject to the condition of clause’ blah, blah, blah.”

  “Wait, what’s the condition?” Bridget said.

  Deidre flipped pages again. “Here it is. ‘The properties shall only be deeded to Mara Montgomery providing she operate a legal business for the space of one year from the time of her agreement to do so, which must be given no later than thirty days from the reading of this will.’” Deidre squinted. “Oh, there’s a place here for me to sign and date to confirm the reading.” She read on. “‘In the interim, it shall remain in the protection of the executor as named in this will. If Mara Montgomery chooses not to exercise the right to the property, or fails to fulfill the requirements, the property is granted to Bridget Montgomery.’”

  Deidre silently mouthed the next part, then said, “Basically, it’s the same deal for you, Krista. Also, you’re both allowed to switch properties within the thirty-day time frame.”

  Imagine, all three of them together, in the same building. It would be like the summer days when they were kids. Not just visitors in each other’s lives, but every-day family. Bridget could have them not just for Christmas, but for a movie on a weeknight, clothes shopping on a Saturday, camping on a weekend.

  “I was hoping just to get her funky jewelry,” Krista said faintly.

  “Nope,” Deidre said. “I get that. Right here. ‘To Deidre, my beloved sister, I bequeath my jewelry and all other personal effects not detailed in this will.’ Basically, her jewelry and underwear.”

  Krista opened her phone. “If it’s thirty days from the reading of the will, do I count today?”

  “I don’t think so,” Mara said. “It would have to be thirty full days.”

  Under her breath, Krista began counting off days.

  “I can tell you right now it’s December eighth,” Deidre said.

  “The date doesn’t matter,” Mara said. “At least, for my part. I’m going to decline the offer. The unit is yours, Bridget.”

  “Same here,” Krista said. “My life is in Toronto.”

  “Besides,” Mara said, “you could do with the money from the sale of the units. Or the rent, if you choose not to sell.”

  Yes, she’d have no financial worries. And no sisters close by. Bridget clamped her hands, one on each of her sisters’ knees. “No. Don’t. Make your decision based on what you want. Your problems are not mine.”

  Jack spoke for the first time since sitting down. “What do you want, Bridget?”

  “What does it matter? It’s not my decision.”

  Krista poked Bridget’s arm. “We know that, but if you could choose?”

  “I’d choose both.”

  “That’s not how life works,” Jack said, his voice quiet but relentless.

  “I know that, what I’m trying to say is that I would choose to have my sisters with me and I’d choose to have them doing what makes them happy and oh, I’d also choose to have a way out of the money mess I’m in due, in part, to what Auntie Penny chose to do for you. Does that answer your question, Jack?”

  He rubbed his thumb across his lower lip. She remembered his tell from when they dated. He was hiding a smile or some other emotion. “It does, Bridge.”

  “Nothing needs to be settled right this minute,” Deidre said, adding to Jack, “I’m sure there are certain hasty decisions you now wish you’d taken more time to make.”

  He winced. “Point taken.”

  Deidre brought the will back in line with her vision. “Anyway, here’s your part. ‘To Jack Holdstrom, I bequeath my share of the residential property located at—’” Deidre rattled off a lot number. “I assume that’s the house.”

  Bridget said, “It is.”

  “‘To Jack Holdstrom, I also bequeath my share of the restaurant known
as Penny’s in joint ownership with present owner, Bridget Montgomery.’”

  So. Just as Auntie Penny had said in her letters to her and Jack.

  “And that’s it,” Deidre said. She refolded the document and tucked it back inside a large manila envelope.

  So nothing for Bridget. No stash of cash. No secret account. It had been a foolish hope. If Auntie Penny had the money, she wouldn’t have drained the Crates fund. Bridget had half the house, but she’d paid Auntie Penny for it out of her wages. Same thing with the restaurant. In her own will, Bridget had bequeathed the restaurant and the house to Auntie Penny. To her sisters, she had settled on contents and cash, which amounted to nothing now. Time to revise her will.

  Krista waved to Jack. “Welcome to the Montgomery family.”

  No way. “Owning half the house and half the restaurant doesn’t make him family,” Bridget said.

  “About that.” Deidre slid out a small laminated document from the envelope. “What if he was Penny’s son?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HE MUST’VE MISHEARD. Jack looked over at Bridget and her sisters, side by side on the sofa. They stared at their newfound cousin with dubious fascination, as if he’d pulled off a magical trick they couldn’t figure out.

  Deidre clapped her hands on her knees. “I suppose you’re all dying for the details?”

  “Yes,” Jack gritted out.

  “I left home the September after graduation. Went to university, met Tom, dropped out for a trip abroad and not long after, became a mom myself. Penny stayed behind to help our parents run the family restaurant. She’d already worked there for two years and had taken over the business to the point our parents were taking their first holidays in twenty years.

  “I learned later, and I mean years later, from Penny that she was pregnant when I left in September. She stopped working for those months because she didn’t want to face looks and questions from the customers, she said. Our parents were ashamed enough.”

  Shame. Ashamed of him.

  “She had you down in Calgary with friends of our mom’s. February nineteenth.”