Christmas in Kentbury

by Claudia Burgoa

  Something was wrong. My stomach dropped, but I didn’t ask any questions. I rose from my seat grabbing my things and left the classroom.

  “Talk to me, Mom. What’s going on?” I asked, rushing toward the dorm.

  “Harrison will explain everything,” she said, her voice breaking.

  My limbs tingled as the anxiety in her voice spiked.

  “I want you to remember that we love you,” she sobbed. “I love you so much, Scotty. You're my strong, sensitive boy. Please remember everything I taught you. I’ll be watching you from the moon and I’ll love you forever.”

  I froze. Shocked by the finality of her words. My pulse slowed down as she repeated the words she said when she tucked us in when we were younger. A phrase that she made up from two of the books she used to read us when we were little.

  “Mom, wait.” I felt sick to my stomach. “What do you mean?”

  My limbs tingled. Fear rushed through me as I waited for an answer. For some reassurance that they’re going on a long trip, but I’d see them soon. Panic buzzed in my ears, every second that passed felt like a year.

  “I need you to be the glue of our family, keep everyone together.” I heard her cry, and my father murmuring in the background.

  “I can’t, Chris,” she wailed, calling Dad.

  “Mom?”

  My father answered. “It’s time for us to leave, Scott. I’ll take care of her. You help Harrison take care of your brothers.” I could still hear Mom in the background, crying.

  His voice was dry, sad… desperate. He didn’t break as he reminded me of their will. The lawyers, the safe, all the essential details.

  I remained mute, trembling.

  Still.

  Unable to understand what’s happening.

  “I love you, son,” he said. “Be the bridge. Stay strong.”

  My parents used to say that I was the link between my brothers. I was the one who kept the peace—or started the biggest fights.

  “I love you both,” I mumbled as the line went dead.

  My oldest brother, Harrison, called me almost immediately. “I have no idea what’s going on, Scott. Two planes crashed into the towers. There’s a rumor that we’re under attack. Maybe this is war.”

  I huffed, pushing away the sadness. Keeping my shit together while we spoke. “Not another one of your conspiracy theories, Harrison. You need to stop making up shit.”

  “This isn’t a joke. The World Trade Center is burning down.” He stopped, exhaling several times. “Raging fire is consuming the steel and glass along with all the people who are trapped. Mom and Dad included. We need you back.”

  I reached my room, opening the door I began searching for my duffle bag.

  “Dad mentioned it; I’m already packing.” I used my cool voice. If I wanted him to treat me as his equal, I had to show him that I was strong.

  “Good. Jensen is locating a car service for you. From this point forward, we are in charge. You can’t lose your shit. I’m picking up Hunter from school.”

  Harrison was planning, making decisions and pushing away all his feelings. I had to do the same and be ready for what would happen next. For a couple of hours, I allowed myself to cry. I cried until my eyes dried. Until I felt strong enough to help Harrison and care for Hunter and Fitz.

  I adjusted, as everyone expected. Harry’s rage was so intense that he chose to enlist in the army. Leaving the company to me. I didn't mind taking over, even when he had the experience. Everything I do in regard to Everhart Industries is with my brothers in mind.

  “They warned me that you’d be cryptic.”

  I arch an eyebrow toward the phone. Who is she talking about? I’m curious, but I resist asking. I want this interview to be over soon. I text my brother, Fitz while I wait for her next question.

  Scott: Fitz do you have the contracts ready?

  “I think I got most of my answers,” she sighs on the other line. “For my last question, I’ll be quick.”

  “What fulfills you?” she asks. “I’m sure there’s more underneath. CEO suits you, but what makes you…you. What makes you want to be a better Scott Everhart?”

  I turn to my computer screen, holding the phone with one hand and clicking the mouse with the free one until it wakes. The home screen is the snapshot of the one person who fulfills my dreams, my fantasies, and my life. She’s the one who makes me want to be a better person.

  Hazel Beesley

  Her long brown locks draped over her bare shoulders. Those mesmerizing hazel eyes stare at the camera, and her smile is wide and bright. Of all the unforeseeable curveballs thrown my way, she’s the biggest, brightest and best I’ve had to confront in my entire life. She’s the most terrifying challenge, and the most amazing reward. My heart aches with her absence, just like my skin withers without her touch. She makes me want to be a better Scott Everhart.

  “My family,” I don't elaborate any further. “If that’s everything, Miss Krauss, I have a plane to catch.”

  “Your relationship status is on the do-not-ask list, but is it true that you’ll be merging your company with Beesley Enterprises?”

  My pulse accelerates as she’s about to ask about Hazel. She’s not up for discussion. I dislike when people try to pry into my personal life, but I hate more when they drag her along.

  “Is there some insider information you’d like to share, Miss Krauss?” I counter. “The last time I checked, Grant Beesley isn’t planning on retiring.”

  “Well, no, I assumed since Miss Beesley, his granddaughter, and you—”

  “I think you have all you needed, Ms. Krauss,” I grind my teeth, keeping my temper under control. I exhale, trying to relax my shoulders as I massage my temple, calming my tone. “Turn the draft into my public relations department for review, have a nice day.”

  I punch the speaker button ending the call before she has a chance to respond and dial my younger brother’s number.

  “You’ve reached Fitzhenry Everhart, you know what to do…beep,” his voicemail picks up on the fourth ring.

  Fuck!

  I grab my cellphone and try a couple more times. Each call does nothing but add to my anger.

  “I swear … Scott,” Fitz yawns. “What do you want?”

  “The contracts for the acquisition,” I say, refreshing my inbox. “You haven’t sent anything yet.”

  “It’s three in the freaking morning.”

  “In California,” I protest, checking my watch. I have a flight to catch in less than two hours. “I have to review them and signed them before noon.”

  “I have plenty of time—”

  “The contracts, Fitzhenry.”

  “You can’t expect me to have everything ready every time you snap your fingers.”

  I exhale, rubbing my face. He’s got to be fucking kidding me. He’s not just my brother, he’s my lawyer. I should’ve sent them to Hunter.

  My fingers are already typing the message before Fitz has a chance to respond.

  Scott: Can you check your email, I sent you a couple of contracts. They need to be signed today. I need you to read my notes and amend them.

  Hunter: As I told you the last time, we restructured the law firm. Fitz oversees the business, entertainment, and International cases. Not me.

  Scott: But you are a lawyer, Everhart Industries is also yours, and I need them today.

  Hunter: Do you ever sleep?

  “Why the fuck are you sending them to Hunter?”

  “Because the acquisition of Byrne and Murray Consultants closes tomorrow. They need the contract today—by noon. You should’ve sent them over to me before you left for San Francisco,” I reprimand him.

  “I was busy helping Hazel get her shit together. Do you remember Hazel?” He uses a sarcastic tone. “Not that you’ve paid much attention to her, but she moved out of New York.”

  Of course, I remember her. I remember everything about her. I remember the first day I met her the summer she came to live with her grandfather,
Grant Beesley. He has been my mentor and a huge supporter since my parents died.

  “Your point?” I feign disinterest, he doesn’t have to know that the distance between Hazel and me is killing me. Being without her causes pains in my chest so deep I didn’t know I could feel. She’s not mine anymore.

  “You’re an insensitive asshole,” he declares.

  “Look, I have a company to run, a plane to catch, and you haven’t finished the one thing I asked you to do days ago.”

  The sound of tussling of sheets and movement comes from the other side of the line. “Fine, I’ll get them ready. Give me an hour. Anything else?”

  “Yes, I’ll send you a list.”

  After hanging up, I email him the list of what I needed to be done ASAP. Then send another to Hunter.

  Scott: The company isn’t just mine, you have to put a little more work into it, Hunter.

  Turning off my laptop, I stuff it in my backpack and make sure I don’t forget anything before heading to my room. Once I check my bag, I close it and roll it into the living room. The grandfather clock next to the glass doors indicates it is fifteen minutes past six. I have a couple more minutes before the service car arrives to take me to the airport.

  Fitz: I sent you the first one, email me any changes or the signed copy.

  I move toward the terrace, where my mother used to spend most mornings. The sky is dark gray, and the ground has a thin layer of snow from last night’s flurries. The place looks dead during the winter. I don’t know if Mom would approve of it if she were alive. The child in me believes that my parents’ spirits are around the house—watching me, protecting me.

  “Would you be okay with what I’m about to do?” I glance around the house, asking no one—yet waiting for their approval. I believe they would. My parents always told me to fight for what I loved, to never give up unless someone is getting hurt by my actions.

  I regret not being open to the possibilities of more when we were together. I let Hazel slip away from me. Now, I’m missing the best part of myself and wondering how I’ll manage to regain her trust. Worst of all, I pushed her closer to the one person who can take her away from me.

  “I’m going to fight for her. Wish me luck,” I whisper before heading out the door.

  Two

  Hazel

  "Begin with the most terrifying of all things, a clean slate. Then look, every day, at the choices you are making, and when you ask yourself why you are making them, find this answer: 'For me, for me.'" ― Anna Quindlen

  Finally.

  I’m exactly where I want to be, San Francisco.

  My heartbeat races with excitement. This is a new step, a clean slate and the possibilities of what’s coming make me all jittery inside. I slow down my pace as the traffic light changes, stopping at the corner of Marina and Fillmore St. I take a deep breath delighted with the view. To my left is the Golden Gate Bridge hiding behind an early morning fog. For a few beats, I close my eyes, filling my lungs with the salty breeze.

  I didn’t know how much I missed being on this side of the country until I came back. I’ve longed for the sight of the Pacific Ocean in the mornings. I remember my old routine: surfing before I going to school and finishing the day at the beach, watching the sun go down right where the ocean meets the sky.

  It’s time to start the life I planned when I was growing up—live in San Francisco, marry my high school sweetheart and have five children.

  Well, not everything. We married. He ruined everything.

  Now, it’s only me and the future I’m about to write.

  “Future,” I mumble, pushing my head away from the dark thoughts.

  The chimes of the traffic signal make me open my eyes, and I continue my way to the park. Before starting my daily jog, I adjust my earbuds, press play and stretch before I begin to run. My chest loosens. My entire body awakens as my feet touch the asphalt. I go at the speed of the catchy bass line. The madness inside my head disappears, giving me time to forget about what everyone thinks and move forward.

  When I run, I’m not worrying about taking care of anyone. I’m not worrying about making anyone happy or saying the right thing. I’m only worried about putting one foot in front of the other.

  Each new song pushes me forward, empowering me. They remind me that I’m stronger than my heartbreaks. My pace is steady, and I’m feeling invigorated.

  My watch beeps, I look at my wrist, and it’s my sister, Willow.

  Willow: This is your ten-minute warning, expect my call.

  The screen flashes again, telling me I’ve reached the two and a half miles goal. I slow down, finishing the third lap around the park before she calls. My older sister can only take so much of my absence before she goes motherly on me—and vice versa.

  “Hi,” I greet her as I answer her call.

  “What happened to ‘I’ll call you as soon as my plane lands in San Francisco’?”

  “I texted,” I defend myself, poorly. “That should count.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Not when I’m having trouble comprehending this move. I love San Fran too, but it’s no Manhattan. It isn’t home anymore.”

  “Sorry, Wills.” I sigh. “It’s a great opportunity for me, I didn’t want to let it pass.”

  She huffs.

  “Well, over ten years ago I took a chance and look at all my accomplishments. This will be the same.”

  “Our parents abandoned you. You were penniless. Our grandfather offered to pay your tuition,” she recalls.

  I remember all of it, I bite the sarcastic remark.

  “That’s different from packing up your life and moving because one of his companies is having problems.”

  She’s right about some of it. When I was a senior in high school, Dad decided that I could make it on my own. Thankfully, my grandfather offered to pay my tuition if I attended Duke, his alma mater, instead of Stanford—and a summer job in his offices, in New York City.

  “One day he’ll retire, I have to know how to manage e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.” Some days the fear that I would disappoint him is crippling.

  “True, but you can do it from here,” she insists. “You’re leaving your career and your family behind, Bee. What’s going on?”

  What’s going on?

  She wants to know why I packed up and left. It’s not one specific thing. Career-wise, I’ll show my grandfather I can manage without his supervision. Plus, I need a break from the emotional rollercoaster of a relationship I left behind.

  “Grandpa worries about you,” she continues. “The Everharts look a little lost—including my husband.”

  “That’s not possible. Hunter never looks lost. Unless he’s without you,” I counter rolling my eyes. Like the good actress she is, Willow’s dramatizing the events. “Harrison is on vacations with his wife. I honestly doubt they care.”

  She laughs. “They care. We all love you.”

  “And I love you too,” I reassure her.

  “But tell me, what are you expecting to accomplish with this trip?”

  “I…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I didn’t know when I moved to New York.”

  My relationship with my grandfather had been a Christmas card with a twenty dollar bill every year since I can remember. A couple of phone calls a year for our birthday and Easter. But when I arrived, I got not only a caring, loving man who worried about his grandchild, but also the Everhart brothers. Their parents died when they were younger. My grandfather took them under his wing. Just like the four of them did to me when I arrived, making me an honorary Everhart.

  “You built a life. Your friends live here, your family,” Willow says. “You’re a successful businesswoman. Why move to the other side of the country? Are you trying to prove something?”

  I remain quiet. Thinking about the last few years. Suddenly, the pang of melancholy and homesickness for New York hits me right through the chest, squeezing my heart. It’s the nostalgia of missing my grandfather’s daily greeting—our morni
ng chat while I brought coffee to his office—and dinner with the entire family. My eyes prickle with tears.

  “Bee?” Willow calls my name, as my ears ring slightly. “I believe there’s much more to a simple, ‘Gramps needs me to be here.’ I mean, you moved to San Francisco. You’re near Elliot again after all these years. Things between the two of you ended pretty bad and you…”

  And I broke into tiny pieces, she doesn’t say for me.

  “Are you okay with that? Knowing you could bump into him.”

  Am I?

  I don’t think so.

  The sensation of ants marching through my limbs envelops me as the thought of seeing Elliot McFee again startles me.

  Why is she bringing him up?

  Cold sweat travels down my spine. It’s here, the rush of adrenaline surging through my veins. The anxious feeling that something is wrong with my body as my heart pumps blood faster. Slowly, I count my breaths, inhaling and exhaling with the same rhythm.

  I’m okay, I’ll be fine, I repeat inside my head while walking faster.

  I should bring back the old rule, we shall not speak of him. After Elliot and I broke up, I didn’t talk about him for a long time.

  “Hazel, are you still there?”

  “Yes,” I respond with a loud voice. Finding my strength and confidence, I bring back the woman I am now, not the broken young girl I was.

  “My ex-husband is part of my past, Willow.” My voice is firm, convincing. “I’m aware that he lives in Santa Cruz, only a couple of hours away from here. Well, at least he used to live there. The chances of seeing him are pretty slim.”

  “You sound so sure of yourself. But I know you. What is really going on with Hazel?” She uses the classic severe big sister voice.

  “Nothing is going on, Wills,” I say, spotting a black sedan right in front of the building where I live.

  Fitz Everhart leans casually next to it. His cropped dark blond hair is wet. Fitz, like his brothers, is extremely handsome. He’s not a model, but I swear the four of them should’ve been. Their faces would have been on every magazine in every country. He has a sharp jaw, chin, and cheekbones. On either side of his straight nose are two clear blue eyes. He’s tall, but lean. Today, he wears a blue navy suit and a pair of aviator sunglasses. He looks ready to take down someone in court, even though all he’s doing today is coming into the office with me. I love he’s prepared for my first day at work. I couldn’t do it without him.