All They Want for Christmas

by M. K. Stelmack

  “It took the police to finally get the previous tenants out. Auntie Penny put new locks on the place, and that was two years ago. We were too scared to rent it out and then too broke to fix the place up.”

  “Last time I was out here was summer a year ago,” Krista said. “I don’t remember it being boarded up.”

  “Windows were broken this summer,” Bridget said. “Vandalism.”

  Krista tapped her pointed boot on a broken tile. “Needs new flooring, too.”

  “You could probably lay carpet right over this,” Bridget said. “Commercial or Berber wouldn’t be much.” Was she talking them into staying? She either loved her sisters or had not an ounce of self-preservation.

  “I’d go with planking,” Krista said. “It’d suit my purposes better.”

  “What? Why? What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t want to say anything yet, because I haven’t got it all figured out, and I don’t want you guys shooting it down.”

  “We won’t shoot it down,” Mara said and gave Bridget a firm look.

  “I promise I won’t,” Bridget said. Even if she should.

  “I was thinking of a spa.”

  Bridget felt her eyebrows rise and she forced them back into position. “Okay.”

  “Something small, of course. It would just be me. But I did take aesthetician courses, you know. And I worked in other studios. And I’ve been on enough modeling sets to know the gig. I can even cut hair. How’s the wiring?”

  “Good,” Bridget said. “This unit has electricity. Wait. Don’t distract me. I thought you said you had a life in Toronto. What gives?”

  Krista rubbed the toe of her boot against the loose tile. “Oh, well...”

  Mara crossed her arms. “Philip.”

  Krista opened her phone and scrolled, then showed her sisters an Instagram post. It was of a heap of clothes outside a dumpster. Bridget read the caption. “‘What happens when the ex doesn’t believe me.’”

  Bridget felt a hot rush of outrage. “He threw out your clothes?”

  “Yep. I told him that I was thinking about moving here and... I guess I wanted to see what his thoughts were. He said I had twenty-four hours to get my crap out of his place. That was Sunday. I told him to give me a few days to make arrangements, and then this morning, he posts this.”

  “What. A. Jerk.”

  “You didn’t tell me,” Mara said. She sounded surprised, and Bridget didn’t blame her. Telling anything to one of them was like telling them both.

  Krista scrolled and then held up her phone. “Here. You can be the first to see this.” Mara grimaced at what she saw, and Krista switched to exhibit her phone to Bridget.

  It was of Philip kissing a girl in sequins as she artfully held a wineglass. Bridget read aloud the caption underneath. “‘Catching some under the mistletoe.’”

  “What a self-obsessed, narcissistic, arrogant poser,” Mara said with uncharacteristic viciousness.

  Krista’s eyes brightened with tears. “I wish I’d figured that out ten minutes after I met him, instead of ten months.” She swiped at her eyes. “Anyway, now I’m looking at other options.”

  “Are you sure—” Bridget began.

  “Washrooms are back here, aren’t they?” Krista interrupted and went deeper.

  “About those—” Bridget hurried after her, and nearly slammed into Krista on a fast retreat.

  “Yeah, you’ll need a plumber or an exterminator. Probably both.”

  At the front of the building, Krista breathed again. “I can’t do this. Even with minimal fix-ups plus having to buy the equipment, I can’t swing it.”

  “Perhaps I could cover costs,” Mara said.

  “No,” Bridget and Krista said together instantly.

  “You two haven’t even seen the unit upstairs,” Bridget said. “Take a look before making any decision.”

  They clambered up the back stairs that wouldn’t have passed inspection, and crossed the entrance where a door should’ve been. She could hear Jack on the roof. Good—noise meant he hadn’t fallen. Worse than being scared of heights was being scared for people she cared ab—For other people on the roof. “This has all the windows. And, as you can see, is quite spacious.” Good grief, she sounded like a Realtor. Selling swampland to her sisters.

  “There’s no floor,” Krista said the obvious. “Like none.”

  It had been stripped down past the underlay. “The pipes burst last winter and the place flooded.” Water seeping through the ceiling had been the first sign that the tenant had done a scamper. There was a huge water stain on the ceiling of the kitchen now, but at least it’d been caught before spreading to the dining area. Small mercies.

  “Carpet, pipes, paint, door,” Mara listed off. “Anything else?”

  “Well, the reason the pipes burst is because of the windows,” Bridget said. “See?”

  Bridget showed them the full quarter-inch crack where the seal had dropped away from the window frame.

  “Wow,” said Krista. “It’s a wonder the windows haven’t fallen out.”

  “Are you heating these places?” Mara said.

  “Yeah, I run it through a separate vent.”

  “That must jack up your heating bill big-time,” Mara said. “Does Jack know about this?”

  “Know about what?” Jack entered through the doorless frame. His voice was mild but Bridget heard the edge.

  “Mara wanted to know if you’d seen the place,” Bridget said quickly.

  “I haven’t.” He gave it a once-over. “It’s unfit for occupancy.”

  “At least you can breathe in this one,” Krista said.

  “So I take it neither of you are going to take Penny up on her offer?” His tone was casual.

  “They don’t need to decide right now,” Bridget said. “There’s a lot to think about.”

  “Most of which involves money no one has,” Krista said, disappointment clear in her voice.

  “Look,” Bridget said, “if money wasn’t an issue, if say, tomorrow you won the lottery, would you go ahead and do it?”

  “Duh,” Krista said.

  Mara expressed the same sentiment with more kindness.

  “But,” Jack said, “that’s not going to happen.”

  Bridget set her hands on her hips. “Did you come here just to tell us what we’d already figured out ourselves?”

  “I came to say that I have to pick up the girls from school.”

  “Where are you with the lights?”

  “An hour or two more, but by the time I get through at the school and get them settled at the house, it’ll be too dark to be up on the roof.”

  Snow was forecast for tomorrow, and who knows when he could do them after that. “How about I go get them?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “I told them I’d be there. And it’s only Sofia’s second day.”

  “How about I pick them up and bring them straight back here for them to check in with you? Serve them up cinnamon buns.”

  “Meanwhile,” Krista said, “I’ll help Jack with the lights.”

  “No. You’ll fall and break your neck,” Bridget said.

  “There’s still the window trim to do,” Mara said, sliding between them, somehow managing to shoot both of them quelling looks.

  Jack sighed with a faint smile. “Is this what it’ll be like under the management of cousins?”

  “Welcome to an organized, considerate and meaningful existence,” Bridget said. “Back soon.”

  She made it two steps before he said, “Park along the side street, the one where Mano lives. And Sofia’s through the west entrance. Her class gets out ten minutes before the other grades. Wait there for Isabella.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She took another step.

  “Isabella has an agenda and a home
reading book. Ask her if she has them. She’ll know what you mean.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Oh, and check to see Sofia has both mittens. She only has the one pair and it’s supposed to snow tomorrow.”

  “I know.” She managed three steps.

  “And make sure Isabella sits in the booster seat. She’s still seven pounds short of the required weight.”

  “Can I go now, Mrs. Dad?”

  “Huh. I’ll see you three in a bit.”

  You three. A common phrase, like he said it all the time. It was just a little scary how the man she’d seen only seven times in the past dozen years was fitting so easily back into her life.

  * * *

  BRIDGET JOINED THE parents hanging outside the kindergarten door like relatives at an airport gate. The door to the classroom was closed, though she could make out the teacher giving last call for folders, backpacks and “whose mitten is this?”

  Jack was right to worry about missing mittens.

  Bridget looked around. Moms her age chatting quietly or corralling toddlers. A couple of dads, one holding a baby under his arm like a football. She didn’t know any of them. Kidless, she was out of touch with a whole sector of the Spirit Lake population. If she and Jack had married, she might have been one of them.

  One mom holding a baby and a toddler wrapped around her leg smiled. “You’re the new girl’s mom. My name’s Jolene. I saw her this morning when I dropped off Grace. Sofia, right?” She laughed and her baby giggled, too. “Grace loves to meet new people.”

  Bridget picked through the blast of facts. “Uh, I’m not the mom.”

  “Oh, you’re not? I’m sorry. You two look alike.”

  True. Same brown-black hair. Same brown eyes and brown skin.

  Bridget shook her head. “No, I’m—” Not Jack’s friend. Not Sofia’s stepmom. She caught the flash of the big diamond wedding ring on Jolene’s finger. Definitely not that.

  “I’m Sofia’s dad’s business partner.” That was a mouthful. “Jack and I co-own Penny’s, the restaurant. He’s there now.”

  “I love that place. I mean, I’ve heard so much about it. I’d go there in a heartbeat but...this little guy—” they rubbed noses “—is an absolute terror in public.”

  A customer too scared to come in case her child got out of hand? If she was worried about that, it meant others were, too. “We love kids. They eat for free on the weekends.”

  They didn’t. Jack was going to kill her.

  “From seven to eight. In the morning. From now until Christmas.” There. “To go with our Christmas menu.” Dead again, this time by Mano.

  “That’s sounds great. We’ll be by.”

  And since she was well and truly dead, Bridget added for everyone to hear, “This weekend, ten percent off to all families with kids five and under.”

  The kindergarten door opened. Parents and kids were reunited and Bridget watched the easy pairing of kid to parent. The joy on the young faces, the affection on the parents’, the chatter about wet socks and snacks and what they would do now. When Sofia appeared, she looked around for Jack, not noticing Bridget. Her eyes widened in panic.

  Bridget crouched. “Hey, Sofia. Here I am. Jack couldn’t come today, so he asked me to pick you up. You and Isabella.”

  Sofia, in her oversize pack and sock feet, stood there. Then she stepped back, closer to the teacher. The teacher rested her hand on Sofia’s shoulder. And squared her shoulders. “Hello. I’m Ella Simmons. And you are?”

  “Bridget. Bridget Montgomery. I work with Jack. At Penny’s. He’s tied up, so I offered to get Sofia. And her sister.”

  “Does their dad have you down as an alternate?”

  “A what?”

  “He would have had to sign a form, giving you permission to pick up the kids.”

  Of course. It had never occurred to her, not having picked up kids before. Probably Jack had forgotten, too, given this was his first week dealing with the Canadian school system.

  Sofia kept staring. Bridget knew Sofia knew her. Sofia had started to smile at her lots, even asked for milk this morning. In English. Last night Bridget had told them a bedtime story.

  The buzzer sounded for the dismissal of the other grades. Isabella would soon be here and clear up matters.

  “I’ll call Jack, and he can talk to Sofia. Tell her it’s okay.”

  The teacher nodded, tight-lipped. “Sure. You do that.” She kept her hand on Sofia’s shoulder. “But we’ll need to sort this out at the office.”

  The call went to Jack’s voice mail and Bridget left a message, just as Isabella wandered up, carrying her jacket and boots. She looked beat—her eyebrows were upward slashes, and her mouth was drawn down. Uh-oh. Everyone in the Montgomery household had discovered that Isabella got hangry if kept from her postschool snack. Bridget fought the urge to hustle them away. “Hi, Isabella. I’m here for you and Sofia. Take you to the restaurant, where Jack is. Get a cinnamon bun into you.”

  Isabella looked at her with glazed eyes. How much had she understood? “Isabella, are you—”

  The teacher took Isabella and Sofia down the hallway and into the office of the principal, Ms. Melanie Lever, leaving Bridget to look at them through the office window. Isabella slumped onto the office couch. Not good.

  Bridget rapped on the door and then let herself in. “Look, I know we need to sort this misunderstanding out, but could we give Isabella a snack, please?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer and reached for Sofia’s backpack. “Sofia, do you have any snacks left over? Anything to share with your sister?” Nothing but wrappers and a dirty thermos and soup spoon.

  “I’ve noticed she likes her food,” Melanie Lever said. Whatever that meant. “We keep snacks on hand. Just a moment.” She stepped out and Bridget took the opportunity to dial Jack’s number again. Voice mail. She called Krista. Maybe she was still there and could shout to Jack. No answer. Of course. Both of them up on the roof putting up her freaking decorations. She called Mara.

  “Yes?”

  “Mara! Are you still at Penny’s?”

  “No. I’m walking back to the house.”

  “Listen, can you go back there and get Jack to call me? I’m at the school but I can’t take the kids because my name isn’t on the form. He needs to come here after all.”

  Melanie Lever returned with two small plastic sandwich bags of cereal. “Two kinds. Which would you like, Isabella?”

  Isabella shook her head. Why were both kids pulling away from people trying to help them?

  The principal laid the bags on the couch within Isabella’s reach. “I’ll leave them here in case you change your mind. So.” She turned to Bridget. “I understand you work for their father?”

  Before Bridget could answer, Isabella stood and grabbed Sofia’s wrist and dragged her from the office. “Where are you going?” Bridget called, following them out, the principal right behind.

  Isabella didn’t answer, but continued out of the reception area and to the front doors, Sofia being towed along. At least they had their boots and jackets.

  Bridget caught up to Isabella outside at the street crossing. The crossing guards from the older grades raised their stop signs to signal traffic. Isabella did a quick left-right check and stepped onto the crosswalk without the go-ahead form the guards.

  “Wait!” Bridget called.

  Kids began to spill across and the student guards waved their signs to bring order back to the situation. Bridget caught up to the girls and trotted behind them. “Okay, you’re away from the school, Isabella, but where are you going? I can take you there.”

  Sofia looked over her shoulder at Bridget, her lower lip wobbling.

  Bridget began to talk to keep a connection going. Jack, where are you? “I don’t blame you for running away from school. You stayed longer than I usu
ally did. I’d go to Auntie Penny’s for lunch and half the time never went back.” Bridget didn’t know how much Isabella was getting of this, but she thought her steps slowed, enough so that Sofia wasn’t running to keep up anymore.

  “I know what it’s like to be lonely, Isabella. I was lonely today, too. I didn’t know anybody at the school except for you and Sofia, and I’ve lived in this town for a lot of my life. And I run a restaurant. You’d think I’d know everybody. I don’t blame you for feeling weirded-out.”

  Isabella stopped. “I am hungry. I want Jack.”

  That she could help with. Bridget pointed to the large pinkish building straight ahead. “See that place? We need to go about five more blocks from there.

  “Or—” she pointed in the opposite direction “—we go back to school. We get in my car, and then drive.” She mimicked driving. “To Jack.”

  Sofia squealed suddenly and charged down the street. What now? Jack. Running to them.

  He’d made them the happiest three people in all of Spirit Lake.

  * * *

  THIS, JACK THOUGHT, was why he’d brought the girls to Spirit Lake. Not for the death of a woman he was supposed to think of as his mother, not for the contents of her will, but for this moment. The four of them—the girls, Bridget, him—gathered at a booth in the restaurant, eating cinnamon buns. The late-afternoon light on the lake outside. Them together inside, pulling apart their treats and licking sticky fingers. And every now and then, his foot or his leg happening to bump against Bridget’s.

  He smoothed his hand over Sofia’s static-shocked hair and asked in Spanish, “Did Bridget put enough icing on the bun?”

  It was Isabella sitting across from Sofia who answered. “Yes. Every one is perfect. Better than the last.”

  Jack was about to translate the compliment to Bridget when he came up with a better idea. “Isabella, you tell her. I’ll give you the words.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time today he’d asked Isabella to speak directly to Bridget. Before meeting the three of them outside the school, he’d already been filled in by Mara and then the principal. His run over—he was getting a vehicle as soon as he could rub two nickels together—had ended with Sofia slamming into him. He could still feel the jolt of her body as she crashed into his arm, the tightness of her arms around his neck. His first real hug from her.