Not What I Expected

by Jewel E. Ann

  On another eye roll, I turned, opened the driver’s door, and climbed inside.

  Kael leaned inside and kissed me slowly. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  I smiled and rubbed my lips together while fastening my seat belt. “You too. Are you making a fancy dinner with all the trimmings?”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “No. Not for two people. I bought a rotisserie chicken at the store yesterday to make soup.”

  “Chicken noodle?” My nose wrinkled.

  “Yep.”

  “On Thanksgiving?”

  Another chuckle. “Yes. On Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s …” I gazed out at the woods. “Sad. That’s sad, Kael.”

  “Sad would be popcorn and a turkey roll from Smith’s.”

  My head whipped to the side. “Asshole.”

  “Duck.” He smirked.

  My phone chimed with a text, and I glanced at the screen.

  Bella: You OK? It’s been over an hour.

  “Shoot. It’s Bella wondering where I’m at.”

  He narrowed his eyes at the screen. “Tell her the truth.”

  “You idiot. I’m not telling her the truth.”

  “She didn’t ask for your location. She asked if you’re okay. Say, ‘yes,’ and tell her you’re on your way home.”

  “And when I get home?”

  “Tell her it’s the holidays, and holidays are filled with surprises.”

  I grunted a laugh. “And later when she wonders about the surprise?”

  “Oh, Mrs. Smith. I’m afraid you think your kids are more interested in your daily activities than what they really are. She’s eighteen not eight. By the time you get home, she will have forgotten that she was even worried about you for a brief moment.”

  I texted her saying I was on my way home, but I shook my head while doing it. “My husband died in a car accident on a snowy night in December. Her concern is not that fleeting.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  After starting my Tahoe, I glanced at him and found a smile that didn’t scream “I killed my husband, and the least I could do is be a goose. But I’m not a goose. I’m a fucking duck!”

  “It’s life.” I lifted a shoulder.

  “I don’t mean for this to sound like anything but a sincere compliment. But you moving on enough to allow yourself…” his eyes shifted to the backseat for a quick second “…this. It says a lot about your strength to persevere.”

  Yes. I was amazing. A true saint. The world’s best wife and mother. I deserved some sort of award. “That’s kind of you to say. And maybe a little biased since you’ve been the recipient of my strength and perseverance.”

  “It’s not a bad gig.”

  “Thirty. Single. Living life on the fly. Having sex with whomever whenever it suits you. Yeah … not a bad gig. Now go make soup for your dad.” I reached for the door handle, forcing him to take a step backward.

  “Better bring your A-game tomorrow. I have some killer Black Friday specials going on.” He smirked.

  “Santa Claus comes to Smith’s on Black Friday. Photographer. Free candy. Prize drawings. If I were you, I’d take the day off, so you and your staff don’t get bored.”

  “Game on.” He winked and shut my door.

  As I put my Tahoe into reverse, he knocked on my window.

  “Yes?” I rolled down the window.

  “Milk, Mrs. Smith. Don’t forget you left for milk.” He strode to his truck to get my milk.

  That was close …

  Chapter Sixteen

  When he turned the bedroom light on at five in the morning, an hour before I had to wake up, I felt like he was silently asking for a divorce. It was a ‘lightbulb’ moment for me.

  * * *

  “Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for this time we have together and the food you’ve provided to nourish our bodies. As we approach the anniversary of Craig going home to be with you, may you continue to comfort our hearts. Amen.” I opened my eyes and shared a genuine smile with my kids and the three additional young women around the oval dining room table.

  Bella wanted to set a place for Craig and light a candle in his memory. So we did.

  “Can I make a toast before we begin?” Finn asked, pushing out of his chair and lifting his glass of sparkling cider.

  “Sure,” I nodded.

  He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “To Mom …”

  I died.

  My mind imagined a toast to Craig or an unexpected wedding proposal to his girlfriend. I never expected to hear my name come out of his mouth.

  “Thank you for filling his shoes. There hasn’t been a single second since he died that I’ve felt even a tiny bit less loved. And while I miss him beyond words, I’m so proud of the way you’ve kept him alive in this house, at the store, and with your love.”

  All the tears flowed freely, not only from my eyes but from everyone else at the table.

  “To Mom,” my other three children chimed in.

  Finn … he knew. He had always known. I never expected that from him. I think part of me imagined him holding an eternal grudge over the fight … the request for a divorce. He questioned my right to fifty-percent of things. My, how my young boy had matured in a year. I hated to think how much of it was forced upon him from his father’s death.

  “How’s business so far?” Linc asked as we started eating.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Just okay?” He raised a brow.

  “There’s competition. A cool food specialty store that’s like something you’d see in a bigger city. It’s called What Did You Expect?” Bella seemed a little too excited about the store that was trying to put Smith’s out of business.

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded at Chase. “It’s not good. Epperly isn’t big enough for two specialty stores.”

  “But Kael is so nice.” Bella continued to play devil’s advocate.

  “Kael?” Chase frowned.

  “Yes. He’s the owner. He was actually here this morning. You would have met him had you not been sleeping in forever. He cleared the driveway. And he does all kinds of nice stuff for people. I’m pretty sure he and Amber are a thing.” Bella and her rumors.

  I hoped they were rumors.

  “Are you sure about that?” I asked as casually as I could while focusing on my green bean casserole, stabbing at it with a little more force than was necessary.

  “Amber seems to think so.”

  “How old is this dude?” Linc asked.

  “Thirty,” my expert daughter answered right away.

  “And Amber is what … nineteen?” Linc continued.

  “She’s twenty.”

  “Ten years. Wow. He’s preying on the young ones.”

  Bella rolled her eyes. “Ten years is no big deal. They’re both adults.”

  I liked the new direction of the conversation, even if it was about Kael and Amber. On the odd and awful chance that anyone found out about my new pastime, knowing how my kids—and maybe most of Epperly as a whole—would react was a good thing. Sort of.

  “So you would date him? I mean … if ten is okay, is twelve? Fifteen?” Linc asked Bella.

  “Stop. You’re being stupid.” Bella shook her head. “But yeah … I’d date him in a heartbeat if I thought Mom wouldn’t have a heart attack.” She shot me a smirk.

  I mirrored her smirk, but mine was more from nausea, not any sort of orneriness. Kael and my daughter.

  No. That didn’t sit well with me.

  He was in the middle—Bella twelve years younger and me twelve years older.

  “So, Haven … you’re thinking med school?” I asked Chase’s girlfriend.

  I had to get the picture of Kael and Bella out of my head.

  Kael and Amber.

  Kael and anyone else.

  Monogamy was ingrained deeply into my personality. It was how I was raised. It wasn’t teaching an “old dog new tricks.” It was rewiring my brain.
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  Black Friday.

  Smith’s biggest sales day of the year.

  Until everything went sideways.

  Santa had an early case of the flu. The photographer’s uncle died, and she had to cancel. And when I opened the boxes of candy canes, they were broken, missing some of the wrappers, and littered with mice droppings.

  “It’s fine. We’ve got this,” Bella tried to reassure me.

  To give our employees a long weekend, the kids helped at the store, as they had done for years before Craig died. Customers loved stopping by to catch up with our children. But I feared my children—as wonderful as they were—would not be enough to attract the usual crowd.

  Santa guaranteed parents coming with their young kids. And that led to purchases.

  “Where’s Santa?” A young child burst with excitement as customers poured into the shop the second Linc unlocked the front door and turned on the neon Open sign.

  “He’s …” Sick? I couldn’t say sick. Did Santa get sick? Would it have scared young kids to think of him getting sick? If he could be sick on Black Friday, then he could be sick on Christmas Eve. “Running a little late. I think he stopped for hot chocolate.”

  Linc’s eyes widened as he stood behind the young girl and her mom.

  I grabbed Bella’s arm. “You need to get on your phone and check with your friends. Someone has to own a Santa Claus costume in this town.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Yeah. I doubt it.”

  “Call Marilyn Hubert and ask her if we can borrow Leonard’s costume.”

  “Why? Are you going to dress up?”

  I gave her a tight grin as customers milled around closer to the register. “If need be, yes.”

  No. I would not be Santa. Leonard was easily two hundred and fifty pounds, and maybe six feet two inches. I was just over five-three and a buck twenty-five in weight.

  “Whatever.” Bella escaped into the back room while I fielded all questions about Santa and the missing candy canes.

  “He’s coming.” I held firm to that promise. “And instead of candy canes this year, we have chocolate.”

  “We do?” Finn mumbled behind me.

  “Yes.” I grabbed the basket of individually wrapped truffles at the end of the counter. They were a dollar a piece. Fifty cents my cost.

  “You’re giving those out?” the mom asked.

  “Of course.” I smiled.

  “Cha-ching,” Finn said behind me.

  The little girl grabbed three.

  “Just one, sweetie,” her mom said.

  “But I used to get three candy canes for Christmas past, Christmas present, and Christmas future.”

  Way to go, Craig.

  “Of course you get three truffles.” I smiled.

  “Cha-ching. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.” Finn was just asking to be put in timeout.

  I moved my hand behind my back and flipped him the bird.

  After the girl and her mom moved on to look around the shop, I turned toward him.

  His jaw hung open.

  I didn’t swear. And I didn’t give people the bird. At least … that was the mom he used to know. Things changed.

  All things fuck took over my life. I used the word. I signed it with my middle finger. And I did it with Kael Hendricks.

  I liked fuck.

  For a moment, I considered getting a T-shirt that said as much or maybe a bracelet or necklace with fuck engraved someplace. The one around my neck at that moment said WWJD. I would keep that one for Sundays and grief recovery meetings.

  “Did you seriously just give me the middle finger?” Finn whispered.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pressing my lips together, I blinked innocently several times.

  His mouth curled into a grin. “Who are you?”

  I was the woman who let a man go down on her at the end of a gravel road on Thanksgiving.

  “I’m your mom. Now go see if Bella’s having any luck with the Santa situation.”

  The cha-chings started to add up, especially when customers came into the store, realized Santa wasn’t there, grabbed three fucking truffles, and left without a purchase.

  “No luck.” Bella frowned, tossing her phone onto the counter like it was her phone’s fault that we couldn’t get the Santa costume.

  “You just couldn’t reach them?”

  “No. I reached them. But they already loaned it out to someone else.”

  “Who?”

  She shrugged.

  “Santa’s across the street!” hollered one of the customers, pointing to the window.

  I craned my neck to see. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Mom!” Bella gasped.

  My language startled another one of my children.

  “Him.” I glared out the window to the entrance of What Did You Expect? with a growing line … There was Santa and a woman dressed up as an elf taking photos.

  Kael Fucking Hendricks and one of his employees emerged through the entrance of his store with trays of hot drinks and what looked like some sort of goodies—probably that caramel apple bread or peppermint bark. They handed it out to everyone waiting in line.

  In line for Santa.

  In line for photos.

  In line to buy newer, hipper specialty foods.

  We were over.

  Not that we were really anything more than wild animals who liked to screw, but that was over.

  He could have Tillie, Izzy, Amber or anyone else in Epperly. Okay, not Bella. But literally anyone else. I didn’t care.

  I couldn’t let him fuck me and my business. Not anymore.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Not me. You.”

  “Me?” Bella squinted at me.

  “No.” I exhaled. “It can’t be you. That would be too suspicious.”

  “What would?”

  “Amie. I need to call Amie.” I grabbed my phone and headed toward the back room. “Watch the register.”

  Amie answered on the second ring. “I heard.” I didn’t have to see her to imagine the cringe on her face.

  Small town. Of course she’d heard that Santa was not at Smith’s this year, but instead an imposter across the town square.

  “Cindy told me. But you can’t be mad. You’re sleeping with the guy.”

  “We have never ‘slept’ together, and we never will. It’s sex—was sex. Whatever it was or wasn’t is now officially over. So I can definitely be mad that the one day … the one day I had to keep Smith’s afloat for the year has been ambushed by him.”

  “It’s not his fault Leonard got the flu.”

  “It’s his fault that he stole the costume! How did he even know to ask Leonard for it? I just found out this morning that Leonard is sick.”

  “Oh … didn’t you know? Kael is Leonard’s neighbor. You know how chatty and kind Marilyn can be. I’m sure she offered it to Kael the second she knew Leonard wouldn’t be able to be your Santa.”

  “She should have offered it to me!”

  “Agreed. But I’m sure she figured you wouldn’t be able to pull off Santa quite as well as Kael.”

  “I would have found someone else. And Kael isn’t even the one wearing the costume. He’s too busy serving hot beverages and delectable goodies to his customers. He’s fucking me on every level, and I’m done. I need you to activate Plan B.”

  “Plan B?” Amie chuckled.

  “Yes. I need someone to get sick from something in his store.”

  “You said that wasn’t your game.”

  I sighed. “Yes. When I thought we could survive the loss in profits leading up to Black Friday and the final sprint until Christmas. When I thought the novelty would quickly wear off, and his overpriced oil and vinegar would be too trendy for this town. When I thought Santa Fucking Claus would be at my store today.”

  “Whoa … nice holiday language.”

  Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples. “Yesterday, Finn gave a toast. He went on and on about how proud he was of
me, and part of the reason is because I’ve kept the store going. I’ve kept our family going. I’ve stayed in the same house. I’ve taken care of his grandparents. And he knows … he knows the truth about the argument that happened before Craig died. So it meant that much more. It’s not like Chase or Linc saying the same thing because they don’t know. Which kills me that they don’t know, but it would equally kill me if they did know. But Finn knows. And he still said it. I can’t be responsible for his father’s death and, only a year later, be responsible for the family business closing its doors while I let our competition literally screw me in every way possible.”

  “Well … okay … wow. In every way possible? Does that mean—”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Amie sniggered. “No. I don’t completely know what you mean. I think further explanation is needed. But we’ll sort out those details later. For now, I’m your person. I will get sick and save Christmas for Smith’s.”

  “Don’t sound so dramatic. You don’t actually have to get sick.”

  “To sell it … I do. I have to get sick.”

  In spite of my brewing anger at the situation, I chuckled. “You can make yourself get sick?”

  “Yes. I have some emetic herbs. Harmless, but they will cause vomiting. I’ll head to his store, browse around, sample a little bit of everything and … boom! I’ll get sick. In his store. It’s genius really. It won’t be a minor rumor that I got sick from something at his store. There will be the visual for everyone there. Cameras. Social media. He’ll be out of business by the end of the week.”

  Her plan cinched the already tight knot in my stomach. “I don’t know …”

  “Elsie! You can’t say that. If you weren’t letting him screw you in very naughty ways, would you be thinking twice about this plan?”

  Yes. I would have had many second thoughts about her plan. I wasn’t vindictive by nature. I wasn’t out to destroy anyone.

  I was …

  Desperate.

  Scared.

  Drowning.

  “We never had this conversation.” I ended the call and hugged my phone to my chest as I closed my eyes. Being mean made me feel physically ill. I felt it after I completely unloaded on Craig the day he died.