“I had a hard time dealing with it. My uncle was like a big brother to me. He disappeared when my family lived in Chicago. We searched for him nonstop for years, but it was like he vanished into thin air. My dad was eventually transferred to LA. It had taken such a toll on everyone that we decided, as a family, not to talk about it to our new friends and neighbors. I would have said something to you if I hadn’t promised my parents.”
“Of course. That’s completely understandable. I’m sorry for what you’ve been dealing with all these years.” Charley tried to imagine what that would have been like. Jack was an only child, as was she. Since his uncle had been like a brother to him, his disappearance had to have been even more devastating. “Have you come across any new leads since you became a detective?”
“Not any that amount to much. My uncle worked in construction, so he went where the work took him, but it was almost always in or near Chicago.”
“Was he married?”
“No, which I never understood.” Jack got that distant look in his eyes again. “He loved kids, loved family. That’s why he always spent Christmas with us. He’d come over on the weekends, and he and my dad would map out a decoration design. They’d string lights together and we’d all trim the tree on the first night, but that was just the beginning. On Sunday, after church, they’d haul out the big stuff from the attic—five-foot nutcrackers, two train sets, flying angels, talking moose heads... It often took them a couple of weekends to complete, but after they finished, every inch of our house screamed Christmas. When we moved to LA, we couldn’t bring ourselves to carry on the tradition without him.”
“I imagine that would have been very difficult. I wouldn’t have wanted to, either, but now I understand why you and your family never decorated your house for Christmas.”
“You thought I was a Scrooge.”
Charley gasped, throwing a hand to her cheek. “Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. I feel awful that I teased you about it!”
“And every time you did, I almost told you.”
“Will you forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive. You didn’t know.” He inhaled a deep breath before shifting his focus to the Christmas scenes around them. A father and son were throwing snowballs at each other. A family of four walked by as the mom and dad were asking their kids what they wanted to get Grandpa for Christmas. In the distance, horses were pulling a sleigh across the town’s snow-covered bridge. “My uncle Bill would really love St. Nicholas.”
“I’m sorry if this is tough on you, being in a town that’s nothing but Christmas.”
“I’m fine.” Jack caressed her hand, then wrapped it around his arm while they strolled along, linked together. “This place actually reminds me of the good times I had with him. He was always teaching me different skills of his trade. He’d say, ‘A young man needs to have a plan.’ He loved to build miniature towns for model trains, carve airplanes and sailboats out of wood, and construct dollhouses for sick kids at the hospital. I was terrible at all of it.” He shook his head with an embarrassed laugh. “But Uncle Bill would say, ‘Don’t worry about it, young man. Being good at something takes time, and there’s always tomorrow.’”
“He sounds like he was a wonderful uncle.”
“He was, and still is.” Jack heaved a long sigh. “My gut tells me he’s out there somewhere.”
“Then you’ll find him.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “You will.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, not that I’ve earned it. I haven’t come close to cracking the Scrooge Legend.”
“I haven’t exactly, either. Why don’t we forget about that for a while longer and do something Christmassy?”
He lifted a brow. “What do you have in mind?”
She needed something that would completely distract him from the sad reminder of losing his uncle, something that would take his full concentration. “I got it!” She pressed her hands together. “Time to test your memory, Mr. Brody.”
“You’re talking to a detective. I think I got this.”
“Oh, you think so? Tell me, what was the activity I wanted to try in high school?”
“That narrows it down to two or three dozen options.”
“Ha-ha.”
“I can probably rule out hang gliding and water-skiing. Mind giving me a hint?”
“Okay, Detective, here’s your last clue. You said you wouldn’t be caught dead doing it in a million years.”
He scratched his head, seeming lost at finding an answer when his eyes suddenly fixed on her. “Oh, no.” He groaned.
A huge grin spread across her face. “Oh, yes.”
A half hour later, Jack appeared to be doing all he could to remain standing on tiny steel blades at the edge of the town’s frozen pond. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
Charley’s hands were flying in all directions, striving to maintain her balance as well. “Yeah, me neither,” she said regretfully. “I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
A rowdy group of kids came out of nowhere and swiftly raced by them, followed by a young girl practicing an advanced figure skating combination.
Charley and Jack looked in both directions before they hesitantly stepped onto the ice right as three future hockey players blew past them, joking around by trying to push one another to the ice.
For a split second, she saw a look of terror in Jack’s eyes, and she held back a laugh.
“Shouldn’t one of us know what we’re doing?” He cautiously took one step forward.
“What’s the fun in that?” she said, following him.
Within seconds, Jack’s body jerked uncontrollably and Charley reached to steady him. As he regained control, she yelped, losing her balance. Jack, with his fast reflexes, grabbed hold of her before she fell.
“We must look like a comedy act.”
“I hope no one’s recording this because I’ll never live it down.” He immediately scanned the area for any phones pointed at him.
She threw her arms out for balance and hit him in the face. “I’m so sorry.”
She almost did it again, but he swiftly blocked her. “Maybe we should try this together.”
“Good idea.”
He took hold of her hand, and they stepped out on the frozen pond.
She tightened her grip on him. “Please don’t let me go.”
“Never.” He flashed her that disarming smile of his.
She wobbled violently. He helped steady her, but wobbled a bit himself. They finally found their balance together, taking one step and then another. They were no longer flailing about recklessly because they were walking on the ice instead of skating.
“This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” He stared intently at the ice while everyone else was flying by them.
“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think we’re actually skating. We need to glide more than walk.” She gestured to the other skaters for examples.
“Got it. Right foot first?” She nodded, and they took off, gliding together, at last getting the hang of it.
Exhilaration rose up and spread across her cheeks. “We’re doing it, Jack. We’re skating!”
He laughed, loosening up. “We’ll be speed skating before you know it.”
They traveled a few more feet before Charley ran over a bump formed in the ice and lost control, taking Jack down with her. “Ow!” she cried out.
“I second that.” He moaned through gritted teeth. Staggering to his feet, he waited to get his balance before helping her up.
She brushed off the ice and her wounded pride. “Fun fact: over fifty thousand people sustain injures on the ice every year.”
“You’re telling me this now?” Jack gawked at her, and she shrugged. “I don’t think you understand the meaning of a fun fact.”
“Sure I do.” Her mouth twitche
d with a playful smile. “People don’t call me The Cold Hard Facts Queen for no reason.”
He chuckled. “Here’s a real fun fact. Ice-skating is great exercise.”
“Oh? And you know this from personal experience?”
“Heck, no.” He swatted the thought away. “I read it in a fitness magazine.”
She laughed. “One point to Jack Brody.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mary sat at her desk in the office with the phone cradled on her shoulder. “Yes, I have you booked for two weeks, leaving on the seventeenth of February.” She wrote the reservation down in her book. “Have a very Merry Christmas, and we’ll see you in the New Year.” She hung up and stared at the ever-growing pile of clutter she once called her office.
Joe came around the corner with a scroll in his hand. “Looks like we have a Christmas wish to help fulfill.”
She gasped. “Are you serious? It’s been years since we’ve had one.”
“At least five,” he said, leaning on the doorframe.
“What’s the wish?”
“A family reunion, and it’s for one of our own. Do you want to take a guess?”
“Hmm.” She leaned back, thinking. “It has to be someone who’s familiar with the original purpose of the mailbox.”
“Correct.”
“Is it someone older?”
“Correct, again.”
“Mrs. Murphy?”
“You’re getting colder.”
“Mr. Clarkson?”
“Even colder.”
“I’m never going to guess. Who is it?”
“Our handyman.”
Her jaw dropped in shock. “Mike?”
“Yup.”
“It’s about time.” She let out a relieved breath. “I thought we were going to have to cast the wish for him.”
Joe laughed. “I did too.”
“Our sweet Mike.” She played with the collar on her blouse. “Does this mean his family lives here?”
He skimmed the scroll. “Unknown.”
She sighed. “I hate it when our boss doesn’t tell us everything.”
Her husband arched a brow at her. “Do you really?”
“I guess not. I would miss seeing the magic in action.” She hoped Mike had a large family so she could plan a big blowout reunion. “Oh! I just realized something. The magic might have already started.”
Joe tilted his head. “How so?”
“I’ve had Mike out here an awful lot lately. Already three times this week, and he just so happens to be working upstairs right now.”
A big grin took over Joe’s face. “You know what this means?”
Mary rubbed her hands together in excited anticipation. “We’re going to have a front row seat.”
* * *
Charley and Jack inched their way toward the bed-and-breakfast, clearly stiff and sore.
“I need a hot bath,” she moaned with barely enough energy to be heard.
“Professional ice skaters we are not.” He wasn’t moving any better.
“Do you mind if we scratch ice-skating, or any form of skating, off our list?”
“Done,” he said with lightning-fast speed, which made her laugh, but the laugh hurt her ribs, which made her groan.
She stopped in front of the porch stairs, cursing under her breath. “Did the number of steps double while we were gone?”
“C’mon, Grandma.” He gingerly grabbed hold of her waist, easing her up to the front door.
She couldn’t help but wonder if this was how they were going to move when they were in their eighties. Would they still be in each other’s lives then? Would they be good friends or could she dare dream that they might be something more to each other? The chemistry between them was undeniable, but their time together was up when her free week ended. They lived separate lives in different states. She needed to keep that in mind if she didn’t want to get hurt again. At the same time, she couldn’t dismiss the fact that they had found each other after fourteen years. Wasn’t that worth exploring?
Jack let out a big exhale as they finally reached the top step. “I’m guessing we should skip our planned stakeout,” he said, pushing open the front door for her.
“Why?” She feigned a sudden burst of energy as they hobbled inside and tackled the stairs to the second floor. “We’ll be sitting, not moving, not skating, with hot coffee. Sounds like a great way to spend the evening to me.”
“When you say it that way, yes, it does.” He stopped at Charley’s door to drop her off. “You go take that hot bath. I’ve got some work to do, but how about we head out around seven for dinner, followed by a stakeout afterward?”
“Dinner and a stakeout.” She nodded. “A perfect night out.”
* * *
After Charley disappeared inside her room, Jack let out a groan and limped down the hallway, feeling the pain in his hip, his shoulder, his ankle. He’d definitely need to take some ibuprofen and a hot shower. He reached inside his jacket for his room key when he realized that his door was propped open. “Hello?” he called out.
A heavyset man appearing to be in his fifties came out of the bathroom with his toolbox in hand. “Afternoon.” He huffed, slightly out of breath. He mopped his brow with a handkerchief before shoving it back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t have any more trouble with your shower. The water leak is all fixed, young man.”
Jack stilled at the handyman’s choice of words. If Jack hadn’t just been talking about his uncle, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. How many times had he thought he’d seen or met his uncle when he had some random interaction with a middle-aged man? Too many to count—and he’d been wrong every time.
“Much appreciated,” Jack said as the handyman lumbered past him toward the door. It’s not him. Let the guy go. But he couldn’t. He’d rather be wrong, yet again, than to always wonder. “You know, your voice sounds familiar. Have we met?”
The man turned around and studied Jack’s face. “I...don’t know.” He squinted and cocked his head, as if he were trying to place him. “Have we?”
For a moment Jack could not speak. The handyman had the same blue-gray eyes that both he and his uncle shared. “You remind me of my uncle Bill.”
The man stood there, rooted in place, his eyes searching Jack’s face. “Yeah? How so?”
“Uh...” Jack knew that if they ever met again, his uncle might not recognize him because he was no longer a ten-year-old kid. But if the man standing in front of him were his uncle, he apparently didn’t recognize his own name, either. Jack rubbed a hand over his brows, feeling a little embarrassed. “It was just the way you said ‘young man.’”
“Oh.” He laughed. “I seem to say that to any male younger than me. For obvious reasons.” He laughed again.
He’s right. It’s not him. Jack cracked a smile. “It’s a common phrase.”
“Yeah.”
Yet, he’s still standing here. Was there a glimmer of recognition, after all? “You know, we also have the same blue-gray eyes.”
The handyman took a few steps closer to Jack and stared at the color of his eyes. “Hey, you’re right.” He blew out a surprised breath. “What do you know? I’m Mike, by the way.” He extended his hand.
His name is Mike? “Jack.”
“You know, you do look a little familiar. Did you stop by a barn a few days ago, trying to find the B&B out on Noble Fir Road?”
Jack dropped his head down. “Mike, yes. Of course. I should have recognized you. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I should hope I look different when my face isn’t covered in grease,” he said. “I take it you never found that B&B, since you’re staying here.”
“I did, but they had a flood, so I moved over here.”
“And then you had a shower leak. Maybe it’s you, Jack.”
He laughed. “I see your point.” Was he feeling like he knew Mike from briefly meeting him before or could he really be his uncle?
“Well, if you have any more problems, tell Mary to give me a holler.”
“I will. Thanks, Mike.”
Jack closed the door and threw his hands on his head. Is that him? He walked over to the window and waited for Mike to leave. If he really was Uncle Bill, why would he have changed his name to Mike? Jack often wondered if his uncle’s disappearance had anything to do with the neighborhood where he had lived. Chicago was no stranger to organized crime, and his uncle’s area had ties to the syndicate. It would, at least, explain the name change.
Jack spotted Mike in the driveway, getting into what appeared to be a ten-year-old pickup. He tried to make out the license plate as Mike drove away but too many Christmas decorations blocked his view. Jack expelled a big breath and turned from the window.
Was he reading too much into it? The man had blue-gray eyes and used his uncle’s favorite term “young man.” He’d also used one of his grandmother’s phrases when Jack first met him at his barn.
He fired up his computer and launched the age progression app in order to add forty pounds to his uncle’s photo. The program recalculated the image, widening his uncle’s face, and making him appear heavyset. Jack stared in shock at the result. The man looked strikingly similar to handyman Mike.
Chapter Seventeen
Charley was lacing up her boots when a text pinged in on her phone. She retrieved her cell and opened it.
Hi Charley, it’s Jack. Mary gave me your number. I’m sorry, but I can’t make dinner. Something’s come up with work. I hope you understand.
What? He couldn’t tell her in person by walking down the hallway and knocking on her door? Why was he bailing on her? Everything was going so well. They’d been doing a pretty decent job reconnecting—opening up to one another, laughing together, skating together. They’d held hands—and he’d taken her hand, not the other way around. Was he having second thoughts? Why else couldn’t he face her?
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