Christmas Blessings

by Katherine Spencer

  Darrell smiled. He knew Charlie was joking, but he really wanted a definitive answer. “Has the council talked about it lately?”

  “It’s come up a few times—every time the neighbors complain it’s an eyesore or kids get caught hanging out there. But that old heap isn’t exactly a priority. Some on the town council think we should put it up for sale. A developer might buy it. But this village gets into such an uproar about new construction. Developers don’t like that. They don’t like to work here. Sooner or later, someone will see the potential. But we have a lot of other issues to worry about right now, more important than that pile of bricks.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Darrell said, feeling excited to hear the town owned the building and had no plans for it. “Do you think I could take a look inside sometime?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I don’t see why not. If it’s safe to walk around there,” he added. “I’ll speak to Inspector Hepburn for you. He’d have the final say about that.”

  “That would be great. I’d really appreciate it, Charlie . . . I mean, Mayor Bates.”

  Darrell thought Charlie could tell he was just being flattered, but he seemed to eat it up anyway. “That’s okay, Darrell.” Charlie patted Darrell’s shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do. Say hello to your dad for me. Maybe I’ll stop by and see him sometime. I’ll surprise him with a nice clam roll. I bet he’d like that.”

  Darrell knew for sure his father would not. His father vehemently disliked the Clam Box specialty and would not enjoy a visit from Charlie either. But Darrell smiled politely. “I’m sure he’d be surprised by that.”

  Darrell said good-bye to Charlie and left Village Hall feeling buoyant and encouraged. If the town owned the property, maybe he really could get something going with the warehouse. More than just a school project. Much more.

  Darrell had a real vision for the place that was growing in clarity and detail with each passing hour. He could hardly wait to get home and begin working on his plans.

  • • •

  Darrell did his share of after-dinner cleanup, then headed to his room. He was eager to start working on the plans he had for the warehouse. Eager enough to miss dessert, though he did grab a brownie and an apple on his way out of the kitchen.

  “Hey, buddy—the Celtics are on tonight,” his dad called out. “Don’t you want to watch the game?”

  Darrell turned in the doorway. “I have some work to do for my classes, but call me at halftime.”

  “I’ll watch with you, Dad,” his younger brother, Tyler, said. His father reached out and ruffled Tyler’s hair. “That goes without saying. Go get our hats and meet me in my cave.”

  Glad to see that his father would have some company to cheer with him and yell at the TV screen, Darrell headed upstairs with his laptop and a sketch pad on which he had outlined a few ideas.

  Darrell had already sent pictures of the building from his phone to his computer and worked with the different aspects of the property on his sketch pad. Until he got inside the structure, many questions remained. But there was still a lot he could do with the information he had on hand.

  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard his brother calling from the bottom of the stairs. “Dad said to tell you it’s halftime. Celtics are up by six, but Isaiah turned his ankle.”

  Isaiah turned his ankle? That wasn’t good. “Okay, Ty. I’ll be right down.”

  Darrell saved his work, snapped the laptop closed, and brought it downstairs. He found his father, Tyler, and their chocolate Lab, Daisy, on the leather couch in his father’s office, in front of the TV. His dad and Ty were wearing Celtics hats, and Daisy wore a green bandana.

  “Hi, guys. I forgot my hat.” Darrell took a seat in an armchair next to the couch.

  “It’s right here.” Tyler walked over to their father’s desk and handed Darrell his hat. “I’m going to make popcorn. Call me if the game starts.”

  “Good idea, Ty. Bring me a glass of water? I need to take some pills,” his father said. He turned to Darrell. “I’m glad you’re keeping up with your schoolwork. Did you finish what you needed to do?”

  “It wasn’t homework exactly, Dad. But it’s something I think I can use for my senior project. I found this old warehouse near Aunt Molly’s neighborhood. I took some photos and had a ton of ideas about how it can be renovated. Like those big warehouses on the waterfront in Boston?”

  “Sure, I know what you mean. It’s amazing what they’ve done to that waterfront. It was nothing special when I was young,” his father agreed without looking at him. Sam was half listening to the sportscaster rehash the first two periods of the game and half listening to Darryl.

  Undeterred, Darrell brought up the photos of the warehouse on his computer and one of the sketches he’d done of a possible renovation into an apartment complex. He held out the computer for his father to see. “Here’s what it looks like now. And here’s one of my ideas for renovation.”

  His father glanced at the screen. Then back at the TV. “Nice. That’s very interesting. Where is this place?”

  “Just off the Beach Road. Not far from Willow Tree Estates. I heard that it used to be a cannery.” Darrell knew the full history of the place was interesting but didn’t think his father was paying enough attention to appreciate it. “The building inspector might let me go inside and look around.”

  A commercial came on, and his father looked back at him again. “You be careful walking around an old place like that. Make sure he says it’s safe, okay?”

  Darrell nodded, disappointed that his father was missing the entire point. The possibilities of this property were mind-boggling. At least to him they were. He thought his father, of all people, would appreciate that. But it seemed like a bad time to show him and explain his ideas.

  Just as Darrell snapped his laptop closed, a tiny pink piglet raced into the room. It ran in a circle around the coffee table and darted under his father’s desk, giving out small but earsplitting squeals every few seconds. Daisy sat up and barked. Sam rested his hand on her head and held her back from jumping off the couch.

  “Easy, Daisy. I know you love ham, but it’s not good for you,” he joked.

  Darrell’s little sister, Lily, was in hot pursuit. “Hold Daisy back, Dad. Pinky broke through her barrier. I guess she got over her cold.”

  “Great news. Maybe we should make her some more chicken soup. Oops . . . don’t tell the chickens. And Pinky might feel bad eating soup made out of a roommate.”

  “Dad! That’s not nice!” Lily was under the desk, trying to grab the baby pig, who darted from side to side, nimbly remaining out of reach.

  Darrell’s mother stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. “Very funny, Sam.”

  “Just answer one question. Why isn’t that pig out in the barn with her little pig friends?”

  “The space heaters aren’t working very well. I told you yesterday, remember?” His father nodded, but Darrell could tell he didn’t really remember. “It didn’t matter much during the day, it was so mild out. But the temperature really dropped tonight. It’s too cold in there for her. She’s still on antibiotics.”

  Before his father could answer with another wisecrack, Lily emerged from under the desk, cradling the baby pig. “Here she is, Mom. I caught the little rascal.”

  Lily handed the pig to Jessica, who cradled her gently. “You bad girl. Back in your barrier.”

  “See you later, Pinky.” Sam grinned and waved good-bye.

  Tyler came in with a bowl of popcorn and a glass of ice water for their dad. He set both on the coffee table and took his seat on the sofa, on the other side of Daisy. “Did the game start yet?”

  “No, but you missed a good halftime show,” Sam joked.

  “What?” Tyler looked confused. Sam just laughed and yanked the bill of Ty’s cap down below his eyes, making him laugh, too.
The rest of the game was exciting. Darrell was glad he had come down for the second half. It was fun to watch sports with his father and brother. He definitely missed that when he was away at school. Even though he watched plenty of games with his friends, it wasn’t the same.

  The game was a nail-biter right down to the wire. With two minutes left, the Celtics were trailing by three points. Their three-point shooter had gone cold but could tie it up with one shot. And win it all if he went to the line for a foul shot.

  Sam sat on the edge of his wheelchair, his cap turned backward for a late-game rally. “Come on, you guys. Pass the ball! Bradley is wide open. Pass the ball, for crying out loud!”

  Finally, the ball was passed, and the star player tossed the ball in a long arc. It headed for the basket, perfectly aligned for a three-point, game-tying shot.

  Suddenly the screen went black. There was no picture or sound.

  Darrell, his father, and Tyler sat stunned, then looked at each other. “What in the world?” Sam shouted. “What’s going on now?”

  “Looks like the cable went out, Dad.” Darrell walked over to the TV and clicked the remote. “It’s got power, but it’s lost reception.” He turned to his father. “Maybe a line went down or something. Maybe there’s a problem in our area.”

  His father sat back in his chair, looking glum and exasperated. “Just at the biggest moment of the game. What luck.”

  Daisy sat up and barked. Darrell’s father looked over at the dog. “Even Daisy is annoyed.”

  Suddenly Daisy jumped off the couch and ran to the TV cabinet. She sniffed under the edge of the cabinet, then ran around the side and sniffed at the back.

  Darrell saw a large brown-and-white lop-eared rabbit squeeze its way out the other side of the cabinet. Then it hopped in a flash across the carpeting and out the door.

  Tyler jumped off the couch and followed it. “Buster! He’s been hiding behind the TV cabinet the whole time. Lily couldn’t find him, but she didn’t want to tell Mom.”

  Tyler disappeared in pursuit of the rabbit. Darrell held on to Daisy’s collar so she wouldn’t follow, too. He leaned over and looked behind the cabinet. Just as he suspected, the cable wire had been gnawed through.

  “Don’t tell me.” His father covered his eyes with his hand. “The rabbit chewed the cable wire.”

  Darrell winced. “Looks like it.”

  His mother walked into the room. “I heard you found the rabbit. The kids thought he wandered out of the house, but they didn’t want to tell me.”

  “I wish he had wandered out. He chewed right through the cable, and we missed the end of the game. A very exciting game,” his father added, his voice growing louder. Darrell could tell he was annoyed now. His patience and humor about the animals had worn thin. Sam could put up with a lot, but it was never wise to come between him and one of his favorite teams, like the Celtics, Red Sox, or Patriots. The critters had crossed the line tonight.

  “We’re lucky he didn’t get hurt, chewing on that wire,” Jessica said.

  “Depends on how you look at it. I hear roasted rabbit can be very tasty,” his father replied. “Any other animals on the lam I should know about? No cats about to spring out of a closet? No goats in the bathroom?”

  “Maybe I can cut the cable wire down and splice it together again,” Darrell offered. “I’m sure they’ll show the ending on the post-game show.”

  Sam let out a long sigh. “Sure, Darrell. It’s worth a try.” He looked at Jessica again but didn’t say anything.

  “If that doesn’t work, I’ll call the cable company and get a repairman here tomorrow. I’m sorry the rabbit ruined the game for you, Sam,” his mother said. “But I really couldn’t help it. I didn’t even know he was missing.”

  “I understand.” His father’s tone was overly patient, Darrell thought. “I think I’ll just go live in a zoo. At least I’ll know what to expect.”

  Jessica shrugged and turned to leave the room again. “Suit yourself. But I doubt you’ll find any cable TV there either.”

  His father looked at him and rolled his eyes. A man-to-man look that made Darrell laugh. “I’ll go get the wire splicer and see if I can fix this mess.”

  “Thanks, Darrell. Just promise me one thing. If your wife ever asks if she can start an animal rescue center, think it over carefully before you answer.”

  Darrell laughed. “I’ll definitely remember that.”

  “I hope you do, son. I sure hope you do.”

  • • •

  Darrell had just pulled up in front of the Turners’ house on Thursday morning when his cell phone rang. He checked the screen and saw it was a call from his father. The first of many for the day, he knew by now. “What’s up, Dad?” Darrell greeted him.

  “Inspector Hepburn called. He said he can go to the Turners’ this morning for the inspection.”

  “Fast service. His assistant told me sometime this week.”

  “Maybe your chat with Charlie Bates yesterday helped. Just make sure you stick around until he comes. Don’t leave for lunch or anything. We need that certificate, and he might have some questions.”

  “I got it covered, Dad. No worries.” It wasn’t that his father didn’t trust him. Not exactly. He was just a bit of a control freak, especially after his accident. Darrell tried not to let it bother him. Most of the time, it didn’t.

  “I know, I know. No worries,” Sam parroted him. “That’s what you always say.”

  “But it’s true,” Darrell replied.

  “Sounds good. Keep me posted,” his father said, ending the call.

  True to his word, Inspector Hepburn arrived at the property at half-past eleven. The inspector reviewed the wiring, circuit box, and other details of the new electrical system. He also checked the carbon monoxide and fire alarms, which were hardwired into the construction. He had a few questions, which Darrell fielded easily. Finally, he took out the certificate, made a few notations, then signed and stamped it. “Here you go,” he said, handing Darrell the paper.

  “Thanks. And thanks for coming this morning. Your assistant said you might not make until the end of the week. Or maybe early next.”

  “My schedule opened up a bit. And Charlie put in a good word for you,” he admitted. “I was sorry to hear about your father’s accident. I hope he’s recovering quickly.”

  “He’s doing very well, thanks.”

  “That’s good to hear. Charlie said you asked him about the Tillerman property. Is your father’s company interested in doing something with it?”

  Darrell quickly shook his head. “No, sir. It just caught my eye. I’m studying architecture. I thought it might make a good subject for my senior project. I could do a mock renovation of the building, a conversion to apartments, or something like that.”

  “I see. A developer approached the town a few years ago with an idea like that. But he got cold feet. Nobody’s been interested since. The place is still a solid structure, last I looked,” he added. “I think it could stand up to a renovation. Some of these old places aren’t worth the bother.”

  Darrell felt his heartbeat quicken. “Do you think I could look around inside? I would be very careful, and I wouldn’t take very long.”

  “Sure, why not? I’d be interested to see how it’s holding up myself. Can you meet me out there this afternoon? Say, around two o’clock? I have an inspection to do in that direction. I’ll be done by then.”

  “That would be perfect. I’ll be there,” Darrell promised.

  “Very good. See you then, Darrell,” the inspector said.

  “Right. See you,” Darrell replied. He was so excited, he couldn’t say another word.

  • • •

  Darrell arrived at the Tillerman cannery a few minutes before two p.m. The forecast was calling for snow. It was due to start around dinnertime, but the air already felt frosty
and the sky was heavy with dense, gray clouds. The mercury was definitely at the freezing point. Or lower. Darrell was eager to get a look inside the cannery before the snow started. He wanted to walk around the outside of the building again, too, but decided to wait until the inspector arrived.

  He checked his phone and found a text from his father, warning about the snow and reminding him to turn the heat higher in the empty Marino house, the jobsite where his father’s accident had happened.

  Darrell quickly tapped back his usual reply. No worries. Got it covered, Dad. He looked up from the phone to see a black SUV pull up. Inspector Hepburn sat behind the wheel, wearing a yellow hard hat.

  Darrell had his own hard hat and picked it up off the passenger seat before hopping out of the truck to meet the inspector.

  “Ready for the grand tour?” the inspector greeted him.

  “Absolutely. I have my hard hat, floodlight, and camera.”

  “Take one of these. The air might be bad in there.” Inspector Hepburn handed him a face mask and put one on, as well. “Okay, follow me.”

  Instead of squeezing through an opening in the fence, as Darrell had done a few days ago, the inspector led Darrell to a gate in the fence. He took out a key ring and opened the padlock that was slipped through the fencing on a long chain.

  Hepburn pulled open the gate and let Darrell walk through first. Then he led the way to a metal door on the side of the building, secured by another big padlock. He had a key for that lock, too, though the door was stuck and it took the two of them pushing with all their weight to ease it open.

  They both turned on their floodlights. Darrell waited outside while Inspector Hepburn took a few steps inside. He coughed a few times, then signaled for Darrell to follow. “Musty in here. Make sure that door stays open.”

  Darrell turned back to the door and propped it open with a broken wooden chair he found near the doorway. Then he followed the inspector and stepped into a dark, cavernous space.

  The inspector flashed his light around. Darrell saw large pipes running along a high ceiling, cables and wires hanging, and long steel tables that looked like parts of an assembly line.