by Janet Dailey
An hour passed before she frowned and turned toward the window. A loud conversation had started below—teenagers, by the sound of it. Joking, cursing, all-around full of themselves. Paula got up to see, switching off the table lamp.
There was no curtain to hide behind, but she doubted the boys below would notice her standing behind the glass. They had already triggered the motion-sensor lights illuminating the parking lot. Paula realized that Edith’s grandson was with them.
There were two others she didn’t know. By her guess, they were a few years older than Brandon. One had a straggly blond mustache she could see from up here and a lip piercing that glinted in the harsh light. The other had a black Mohawk and blotchy skin. Probably acne.
The blond boy took out a pack of cigarettes and tapped out one for himself with a practiced move, sticking it in his mouth before he offered the pack to his pals.
Brandon hesitated—she knew him well enough to know he didn’t smoke or at least he didn’t do it around his grandmother. He took a cigarette when the second boy did, huddling with the others around the flicked lighter.
Paula was tempted to sic Edith on him. Choose your battles, she told herself. This one wasn’t hers. Brandon coughed and waved at the smoke, as if it were bothering his eyes and not his throat. Faker.
The boys walked aimlessly through the lot and stopped at Zach’s pickup, the largest vehicle in it. They leaned against the side and slid down, crouching to stay out of the wind.
The idle talk continued but not so loudly. Still, a trick of the wind carried the gist of it to her high above.
Paula saw a long shadow come through the parking lot gate and recognized the man who made it. Zach strode quickly toward the driver’s side door, auto-unlocking the cab.
The beep startled Brandon, who stood up. The other two scrambled away and left him there. But Paula could still see them on the other side of the next vehicle. She edged closer to the window to hear better.
Zach looked about as surprised as Brandon did. “What are you doing there?”
“Nothing.” The teenager tossed the cigarette away, still coughing.
Paula wondered why he didn’t back away.
Zach took a jacket out of the cab and put it on, keeping an eye on Brandon. Then he swung himself up into the back of the pickup, lifting the padlock on the tool chest as if he wanted to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with.
“Nice truck,” Brandon said.
“Not new but I like it. Had it a long time,” Zach answered. The terse exchange stopped for a few seconds while he climbed back out.
“I was just looking at it,” Brandon ventured.
The other two boys, who were feeling bold or maybe just cold, came forward. “Yeah. Us too. We’re together.”
Zach shrugged, unimpressed. The three boys looked like pipsqueaks next to him. “So why are you hanging around a parking lot? None of you look old enough to drive.”
“He is.” Brandon jerked a thumb at the oldest of the boys.
Zach took in that reply as the two others stepped forward. Then they made a run for it, laughing like hyenas. Brandon looked after them and then at Zach.
“Honestly, we didn’t do anything.”
“I hope you have a reason to be here,” was all Zach said.
“My grandma’s inside.”
Paula was glad Brandon’s obnoxious friends hadn’t stuck around to hear him say something so naïve.
“Really.”
“Her name is Edith. You can ask her if you don’t believe me.”
“Oh.” Zach’s gruff tone altered but not by much. “What did you say your name was?”
“Brandon.”
Zach gestured him away from the truck. “After you. Let’s go inside.”
Paula watched the two of them head through the gate at the front of the Christmas House. Slight as he was, Brandon seemed to be about half the size of Zachary Bennett. But he hadn’t backed down or run away, and he’d answered honestly when questioned.
She had to give him credit for all three. Paula decided not to tell Edith she’d seen him smoking.
She gathered up her things and headed downstairs. The hustle and bustle of construction got louder as she reached the second floor and then the first. There was Norville with the cashbox. The old man was chatting with a young dad in charge of several kids. Zach and Brandon were nowhere in sight.
“They all yours?” Norville chuckled. He looked over his glasses at the children.
“The four with red hair are,” the dad answered. “The other two might as well be—they’re over at our house so much.”
Paula stood in the hall, listening for a moment before she went to find Edith.
“I see the resemblance,” Norville said, peering up at the younger man. “That hair and them freckles do match. Now, I have to tell you that we ain’t but half finished with some rooms. So if you want to come back another night—”
There were wails of disappointment from the children, who Paula guessed ranged in age from kindergarteners to first and second graders.
“Nope,” said the dad with a laugh. “How much is it for all of us?”
Norville turned the placard toward the group. “Ten for the whole family. The other two youngsters are included.”
“I have a better idea.” Paula walked over and stood on Norville’s side of the table. “As our first visitors of the evening, how about free admission?”
The dad had a twenty halfway out of his wallet. “Seriously?”
“If you come in free tonight, you can come back another night and see all the displays. Bring your friends.”
The twenty went back into the wallet. “I like the way you think,” the dad said.
“Hold your horses, kids,” Norville said with a twinkle in his eye. “I have to stamp the back of your hands so we know you didn’t sneak in here.”
The children obliged, thrilled to get a star each.
“You tell your mommas that’ll wash right off in the bath,” he added, setting aside the stamp and inkpad.
Off to the side, Paula caught a glimpse of Brandon, who gave her a guilty look. There was no way he had seen her at the upstairs window, but Zach could still be looking to talk to Edith. In a teenager’s mind, a parent/guardian/ friend of the family was in the same camp. Paula was inclined to stall on what could turn into a prickly conversation.
“Let me find someone who can take you around, sir,” she told the young father quickly. “You look like you could use a little help.”
Paula bent down to murmur in Norville’s ear. “Where did Edith go? Is she still in the Snowbunny Suite?”
“Here she comes.”
Edith approached, not seeing Brandon, who faded back into the wallpaper. Teenagers had the knack. Paula had been good at disappearing herself.
“Hi, kids!” Edith said. “Are you all one group? Oh, my.”
Paula provided a fast explanation, and Edith instantly took the family under her wing. She led them away as Norville shook his head at Paula. “Now why’d you do that?”
“For good luck. If six kids tell their friends, that’s at least six more families with one or two kids, maybe more, plus their friends, coming through the door. If they tell their aunts and uncles and grandparents, and we get some couples and single people, too, that cashbox will fill up fast. Do the math.”
Norville chuckled. “It does kinda make sense if you don’t think about it too hard.”
She unfolded a chair and took her place next to Norville. “How much do you keep on hand to make change?”
“About a hundred, all told.” Norville patted the lid of the box. “Ones, fives, tens, a couple of twenties. My theory is that folks with kids usually have the right amount handy to save their sanity.”
“Maybe so. But I’d like to keep it all safe. Maybe we can build a better box. I wonder where Zach Bennett got to,” she said.
“That tall fella? Last I saw, he was in the kitchen with the baker lady.”
Paula
felt a tiny, unwanted twinge of jealousy. It had been a baker man when she’d been there.
“He musta heard you mention his name, Paula. There he is.”
She looked to where Norville nodded and saw Zach coming through the kitchen door behind a white-haired woman with an apron tied around her generous middle. Paula remembered her as one of Edith’s friends from the senior center. Her pointless crush on him—she had to admit that she had the beginnings of one—was safe for now.
The second Zach saw Paula over the baker’s shoulder, his blue eyes fixed on her. He handed over a basket of glazed gingerbread cookies as the baker thanked him and went down the hall with it. He headed for the card table.
“How are we doing?” he asked. The question was general, not directed specifically to either Norville or her. But his gaze was still on Paula.
“Thanks to her, we haven’t made a cent,” grumbled Norville. “She let seven people in free. Said it was good luck or something.”
Zach caught the old man’s wink and grinned. “Was that the group I saw go by with Edith?”
“Yes,” Paula replied. “Hey, I’m glad you stopped by. I was hoping you hadn’t left yet.” She held up her security checklist. It would be nice to get the first thing on it taken care of as soon as possible. “I have another project for you.”
“Okay.” His deep voice had a noncommittal ring. That wasn’t a yes or a no.
“Nothing difficult, of course.” She decided to go for it. “You brought woodworking tools, right?”
Act innocent, she told herself. He didn’t need to know she’d spied on him from on high. If he’d opened the padlock on the steel toolbox, she could have given him an inventory of his gear.
“Yes. They’re in the back of my truck. What do you have in mind?”
Paula indicated the cashbox. “I think we could use a bigger one. This is too easy to swipe.”
“I never take my eyes off it,” Norville protested.
“But you’re not always going to be here,” Paula told him.
“Where’s your faith in mankind?” the old man wanted to know.
That slow smile stole across Zach’s face. She hoped he wasn’t going to tell on her for pulling him over without much of a reason.
“Things happen around the holidays,” she said to Norville. “It’s no reflection on you. So what I was thinking—”
Zach lifted the cashbox. “We can’t bolt this to a metal card table. I’m thinking you need a new table with a built-in drop slot. Box above, box below, if you follow me.”
“Yes, but—”
He didn’t seem to be listening to her. “The cash you don’t need could go into the lower box from time to time. Keep some back to make change. We would need, oh, planks, sawhorses, some scrap wood for the two boxes. Easy to do.”
“Sounds good,” Norville said with enthusiasm.
“No one can steal a whole darn table, Paula.”
“No. They can’t.” She didn’t bother going into her idea. It wasn’t as good.
“Want me to start now?” Zach asked her.
She couldn’t really tell if he was kidding or not. “Do we have the lumber?”
“I think I can find some.”
He turned as the outer door opened. Several rosy-cheeked kids, middle-schoolers, blew in with the wind at their backs. They stopped to hold the door for their parents.
“Hey, more customers,” Norville said happily. “Paula, you could be right about the good luck.”
She wasn’t going to argue with that. The kids ran to the table, unwinding scarves and jamming hats in their pockets. The parents and a solo friend paid the full admission.
Norville took the ten and the five, putting them in their respective compartments. Hands stamped, the group sorted themselves out just as Edith turned a corner with the redheaded family.
“You’re just in time,” she called. “These folks got a little bit of a head start, but I can show you what they saw when we’re all done. Join us.”
Paula turned to speak to Zach, but he had gone. She sat down again. Norville watched the door as if he expected hordes of visitors to burst through, but the front hall was quiet again, except for the Christmas carol the old man was humming.
The heavy tread of workboots broke the near silence. Zach reappeared holding several long planks balanced on one shoulder, two sawhorses over the other, and a canvas bag of tools in that hand.
“Should I start now?” he asked.
Paula knew she’d been one-upped by him. She didn’t mind all that much. Not if she got to look at hardworking brawn while she ate her humble pie.
“Sure,” she said. “I mean, I’m not in charge around here, but sure.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Everyone else seems to be improvising.”
“That is a fact,” Norville said dryly. “I can help, Zach, if Paula don’t mind keeping an eye on the money.”
“Not at all,” she said.
She sat back with her arms crossed over her chest and watched the two men put together a tabletop in record time. Zach notched two planks for the drop slot and sawed the pieces for two boxes. Norville tapped in finishing nails at the corners and added hinges and small latches to the lids.
“That about does it,” Zach said. “Rough and ready, but she’s done.”
“We can bang everything into place right now and ask Brandon to put on a coat of primer tonight,” Norville said with satisfaction. “She’ll be ready to paint by tomorrow.”
Paula noticed a faint change in Zach’s expression at the mention of Brandon. She still didn’t know if he had verified the boy’s relationship to Edith yet.
“Where is that kid? Brandon?” Norville called. His creaky voice echoed in the front hall. He waited for several seconds. “I don’t think he left, not without his grandma.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Zach said. He unfolded the sawhorses and set the planks on top of them, using flat brackets to bolt them together. “Hmm. We could save time and paint if Edith has fabric to put over the table part.”
“Edith?” Norville asked. “She has enough blasted fabric and rickrack and glitter to open a craft store. I helped her carry in a dozen bags this morning.”
Paula nodded in agreement. “I’ll ask her when she comes back,” she told Zach.
Enough time had passed for the first and second group to have visited all the theme rooms. Paula could hear the laughter mixed in with oohs and aahs. Edith’s voice floated over the others. She was in her element, telling the children everything they wanted to know.
Slowly, the children and adults from the two groups began to drift back into the front hall.
Norville took up his place at the original card table and put on an official air. “Y’all looked like you enjoyed yourselves.”
The redheaded dad shepherded his offspring and their buddies toward the door. “Hate to leave. But these kids are having a sugar rush. The bakery lady let them have anything they wanted.”
“Uh-oh,” Paula said.
“Not a problem,” the man assured her. “They had dinner before we came.”
The kids were looking curiously at Zach. “Are you making a display?” one asked.
“Nope. Just a table. We need a bigger one for in here.”
“That’s for sure,” the man told him. “I’m featuring the Christmas House on my blog. Here’s my card. I’ll post the review tonight.”
He fumbled in a pocket and took out a couple of cards, handing one to Norville and one to Paula.
“Holy cow. You’re Denver Dave?” she asked, looking up at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I like to go incognito. And I usually don’t get recognized. But yes, I am the one and only Dave Friedrich, famous freeloader and events reviewer,” he said, making a joke out of it.
Norville’s gray eyebrows went up. Zach paid attention without saying anything.
“Seriously, we had no idea,” Paula said. “You really were our first visitors. I’m so glad you liked ever
ything.” On autopilot, she walked the excited kids and the dad to the door. “Come back again,” she said.
“We will,” the kids chorused. “We made him promise.”
Dave gave her a sheepish grin in farewell. “Had to. They can’t wait to see the rest.”
The second group took a little longer to depart. The youngsters tumbled over each other as their parents struggled to get them back into their mittens, hoods, and scarves.
“I’m hot!” one complained.
“You won’t be when you get outside,” a mother said.
Zach stopped working to watch the chaotic exodus, his hammer in his hand. “I don’t know how moms and dads do it,” he said, almost to himself, when everyone had gone.
“One day at a time,” Norville replied. “And on the last day, when they’re grown and gone, you wish you could do it all over again. Then you come to your senses.”
Zach laughed. “How many kids did you have, Norville?”
“Two sons and a daughter. They do me proud, but I’m glad it’s just me and the wife now. We like having the house to ourselves.” He looked at his watch. “Speaking of that, she was expecting me home an hour ago. Mind if I head out, Paula?”
“Go ahead. See you tomorrow night.”
“You bet.” He rose stiffly and went to the front closet to get his coat.
In another few minutes, Paula was alone with Zach Bennett.
Chapter 3
Zach didn’t say anything as he concentrated on finishing the table, smoothing down the rough edges of the cut planks with a piece of sandpaper. Paula watched. He had great hands, long-fingered and strong, with big knuckles that had their share of nicks and scrapes.
“Is that what you do for a living?”
“Carpentry? Not really,” he answered, not looking at her. “Most of the time I help run the family ranch. It’s hard to make a go of just that, so we all do other things when we can.”
“We meaning . . . ?”
“My older brother Sam. He just got married to a New York girl who loves Colorado. They go betwixt and between. And my sister Annie is a ski instructor in Aspen. But the ranch is the home place. My parents still live there.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It’s beautiful. How about yourself? You from Denver? Sisters and brothers?”