by Beth Andrews
He decided to throw on his coat and see what they were doing.
“Good morning,” he called out. The person, bundled from head to toe, startled and turned to face him.
It was Maeve.
“I don’t understand you, either,” she said, her words muffled by her scarf.
“Good morning to you, too,” he repeated cheerfully. “Want to go in?”
“Do you have the key?”
“There’s no key. The city took over the house because of unpaid taxes, remember? It had been abandoned for years. I didn’t have one made because I was going to bulldoze the place.”
“So, how do we get in?” she asked.
“Lucky for you, your partner had tools and took care of that earlier. Let’s go.” He led the way and opened the door.
Aaron watched as Maeve took in the garbage-strewn living room. There were holes in the plaster. Raw wires hung from the ceiling where there had probably once been some sort of light fixture. Beneath the clothes and bags that littered the floor there was a carpet. A pumpkin-orange shag rug that had probably been all the rage in the seventies.
Maeve picked her way slowly across the floor and peeked into the kitchen. There were cupboards with no doors, dirty dishes in the sink and more garbage everywhere. The area that should have housed a table had torn boxes. The linoleum was a cool seventies gold and had huge gashes in it. He couldn’t fathom why someone would have ripped up chunks of flooring like that, but he guessed it didn’t matter. It would have needed to be replaced regardless.
He’d already decided to talk to his uncle about the supplies, which he’d pay for. It was the least he could do for this family.
“I’m a fool,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She had been a little naive, but the situation wasn’t as awful as she seemed to think. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Nothing a Dumpster won’t solve.”
“I thought I’d come in a couple weekends, do some painting and sprucing up, maybe fix the front porch, and then we’d turn the keys over to Josie and Boyd. It wouldn’t be the Taj Mahal, but it wouldn’t be this—” she waved her hand, indicating the whole house “—either. In my mind, I imagined them seeing it for the first time on Christmas Eve. There’d be a tree in front of the window. It would be covered with lights and ornaments. There would be presents. Someone would be dressed up like Santa. They’d think we brought Carl to see Santa, but then he’d ‘ho-ho’ and hand them the door key. In my mind, I could see their look of surprise and then happiness as they understood what it all meant.”
She tried to hide her disappointment from him, but Aaron could see how close to crying she was.
If asked he’d have said he found crying annoying, but that was before Maeve. All he wanted was to pull her into his arms and comfort her.
He shoved his hands into his pockets in order to resist the urge.
Maeve swiped at her eyes, stood up straight and faced him. “I have obviously spent too much time between the covers of books, reading fictional stories where there’s always a happy ending. This was dumb. Thanks for the offer, Aaron, but do whatever you wanted to do with this house. Bulldoze it and make storage for your uncle’s store. Bringing in a bulldozer is probably the kindest thing you can do for this house.” She turned and started for the door.
“Maeve, wait.”
She stopped and shook her head. “Really, it’s okay. I’ll see you at the library.”
She left.
Aaron could see the room the way Maeve had. But he could also see the things she hadn’t seen. The house had a solid foundation and a dry basement. What Maeve was looking at was cosmetic. Plaster that could be repaired or replaced. The ugly carpet that hid hardwood floors. All the place needed was time and effort.
Aaron headed back to the store. Black Friday sales would bring in the customers. He intended to lend a hand with the crowds. But first, he had some phone calls to make.
* * *
MAEVE HAD PASTED a smile on her face as she went over the winery’s inventory.
Her boss, Gabriel, was over the moon with their Black Friday sales. No, they weren’t a huge department store with their kind of numbers, but he’d sent everyone on the winery’s mailing list a coupon and they’d had a steady stream of customers all day. Most were buying more than their regular bottle or two of wine, ostensibly stocking up for their holiday celebrations and purchasing gifts.
Her cheek muscles ached from maintaining the smile she didn’t feel but wore as she went through the motions of holiday cheer. All she could think about was that wreck of a house and her silly dreams of making it a home by Christmas.
It was ridiculous, when she stopped to think about it. She’d been so mad at Aaron for outbidding her, but in reality he’d saved her. She’d worked so hard to save against some future disaster and she’d almost thrown her entire financial cushion away on that money pit.
Yes, she’d had the best of intentions, but good intentions weren’t enough to keep a roof over anyone’s head. She knew that better than anyone.
She bought a bottle of Gabriel’s Perry Bicentennial wine. She’d take it to Aaron as a thank-you.
“Are you okay?” her boss asked.
“I’m fine, thanks. And you?”
“Better than fine after today’s turnout. But you are definitely not fine. If you need something, you know you just have to ask, right? I’ve got broad shoulders.”
Gabriel was a nice man. When Tori had met him, she’d tried to set the two of them up, but Maeve had put the brakes on that immediately. Dating Gabriel would be like dating her big brother.
“Thanks, Gabriel,” she said. “But I am fine. I almost made a fool of myself, but fate stepped in and saved me.”
“And are you taking that wine to fate?”
She smiled what felt like her first genuine smile of the day. “Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me fate’s name, so I can check him out?”
“How do you know it’s a ‘him’?” she countered.
“Because that smile wasn’t for a girlfriend,” he said in a knowing way.
“You’re nuts, but thanks.” Gabriel’s concern was enough to lift her spirits ever so slightly. Maybe it didn’t matter so much that she failed to save the world. She had tried.
* * *
A SHORT TIME LATER, she parked her car in her driveway but didn’t even bother going into the house. She did stop in at the RV to check on Josie on her way to the library. “How are you today?”
“Okay. Bored. I’ve read Where the Wild Things Are about thirty times.” As if on cue, Carl growled. “That’s his roar,” Josie added.
“Why don’t I take your wild thing with me to the library? The after-school crowd will be arriving soon.”
“I didn’t think there’d be school today because of Thanksgiving.”
“There isn’t. But a lot of parents still had to work and those who didn’t had kids running off their pumpkin pie all day. I’m pretty sure I can think of one or two who would be happy to take a go at running Carl ragged for you.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very library-like activity.”
“The beauty to operating the library is that I can do what I want. The second floor has a quiet room. I’ve got tables set up there and comfortable reading chairs. But the downstairs is pandemonium between three and five-thirty. Everyone in town knows if you want a quiet browse at the library, do it after dinner. Your wild thing will fit right in with the rest of the crew.”
“Thank you, Maeve. You’re a good friend. You’ve done so much for us—”
“Shh,” Maeve said. She felt like a fraud. She hadn’t done much of anything, but given them someplace to park their RV and fed them a Thanksgiving meal. “I wish I could do more.”
She wrapped
up Carl and carried him across the parking lot to the library. She dug through her bag for her keys and had just unlocked the door when a gaggle of kids came into view.
“Miss Maeve, guess what?” Mica Williams called as she sprinted toward her. Mica’s big brother had become especially close to Sebastian and Lily. Through him they’d taken the whole family under their wing.
“This week was letter M week,” Mica said, “and today I practiced even if I wasn’t in school. I made letter M pictures with M&M’s and monkeys, but I made two pictures of me, one for Daddy and one for you.”
“You made me a picture?” Maeve asked. “Well, let’s get inside so you can show me.”
“Who’s that?” Mica pointed at Carl.
“This is my friend Carl.” The toddler growled at the sound of his name. “He’s two and he’s been reading Where the Wild Things Are. That’s his wild-thing growl. He’s come to help me at the library today.”
Mica eyed the toddler. “I don’t think he’s gonna be much help. He drooled on you.”
Maeve brushed at her damp shoulder. “It will dry.”
She put Carl down, stripped off his coat and hung it on one of the hooks she’d installed on the interior wall. Then she took off her own. “Do you need help?” she asked Mica.
Mica shook her head and shrugged out of her coat, as the rest of the kids came in and did the same.
“Everyone, this is Carl. He’ll be my assistant. Since there was no school, why don’t you all get some toys, or color for a while, or look at a book. Then I have a treat. We’re starting a new book for Christmas. One of my all-time favorites.”
The kids all sat down at tables. Joe Williams, Mica’s older brother, was there, along with their other sister, Allie. Carl found the bucket of blocks and set about happily stacking them as Maeve walked from child to child.
“Miss Maeve, here you go.” Mica thrust a ragged-looking picture at her. There was a blonde stick figure and standing next to her was a taller stick figure with a mass of red squiggles.
“You put me in the picture?”
“Yeah, Mica starts with M, and Maeve starts with M, too. That’s what my brother said.”
Maeve smiled. “You’re right, it does.”
She leaned down and hugged the little girl.
“I wish you were my mommy,” Mica said. “Or Miss Lily. You guys would never leave a little girl, like my mommy had to.”
These were the kinds of situations Maeve hated. She never knew how to respond. Aaron walked in. He seemed pleased with himself and said, “Sorry. Am I late?”
“For what?” She disentangled herself from Mica and stood.
“To hang out here at the library, with you, rather than leave you to take care of everything on your own.”
“I’m not on my own,” she said, looking around at the room filled with kids.
Carl chose that instant to pick up a block and throw it right at a table of girls. The girls shrieked, which made the other kids laugh. Carl thought it was a great game and grabbed another block, but Aaron sprinted over and stopped him midthrow. “Come on, Carl. Let’s build with the blocks, not throw them.”
Maeve returned her attention to the other kids, but she couldn’t help sneaking glances at Aaron. Soon, he wasn’t only entertaining Carl. The other kids gravitated toward him.
She never would have pegged Aaron Holder for a pied piper, but she had to admit it looked good on him.
Soon the kids started to chant, “Story! Story!”
Aaron joined in. “Story!”
“All right,” Maeve conceded, picking up the book she’d hidden behind the counter. “Grab a carpet square.”
The kids ran straight to the pile of squares that Aaron’s uncle had donated. “Me, too?” Aaron asked.
“If you like.” She took her seat and read out loud from The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson.
She was afraid that Aaron would inhibit her storytelling. But as she got going, she forgot he was there. She read the first two chapters, glanced at the clock and promised, “More on Monday. Cleanup time.”
The kids groaned, but went about returning their carpet squares and putting away the toys. She might have relaxed the quiet rule, but she strictly enforced a no electronics rule. Sometimes she wished they had a couple of computers, especially for the kids who didn’t have them at home, but it was all she could do to keep newish books on the shelves. She didn’t bother worrying about what the library couldn’t afford.
“So, I was right,” Aaron said from behind her.
“Where’s Carl?” she said, rather than ask him what he was right about.
“He’s with a bunch of girls. They’re playing house and he’s the baby.”
She scanned the room and spotted Carl sitting next to a pile of stuffed animals, which she guessed were the other babies.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Aaron prompted.
She looked back at the disarming man who was suddenly everywhere she turned. “Ask you what?”
“What I was right about,” he said.
“I’m sure you feel you were right about so many things that it’s going to take some time for you to narrow it down to one thing.” She smiled so he would know that she was teasing him.
“You are a natural storyteller. I could see bits of it at Riddlefest when you talked about The Hobbit. You set the scene so vividly.”
She didn’t know what to do with his praise. It made her uncomfortable, knowing he was watching her and paying attention to what she did. She shrugged.
“I was right about that, and you were right about the house, creating a foundation.”
Maeve shook her head. “I meant it. It was a lovely dream, but there’s no way I can realistically get it ready for Christmas. And odds are Josie and Boyd won’t want it, anyway. Boyd’s heart is set on going to North Dakota.”
“Don’t,” he said sharply. “You’re a dreamer. I don’t know much about you and I certainly don’t understand you, but don’t ever change that.”
“You’re wrong. I’m many things, but at heart, I’m a realist.”
“Let me put this in a way a librarian will appreciate and understand. You are Don Quixote. You see the world the way it could be. The way it should be. This library is a case in point. You saw the need and you dreamed the dream and here we stand. But you’re right. You were a realist in that you didn’t wait for it to magically reopen. You opened it. You did it all on your own and you continue to do it all on your own.”
“No,” she said. “I have help.”
He scoffed. “I met your help. Tori, your personal matchmaker who doesn’t even live in Valley Ridge, and a few other people who fill in for you on afternoons or the rare weekend you’re busy with something else.”
“It’s not a big deal. If I weren’t here, I’d be home. I read here. Otherwise, I’d be reading there. It’s only a change of venue.”
“I didn’t see much reading going on today. I saw supervision and encouragement. I saw interest and the occasional hug. The only reading I saw was the book you read to the kids.” He paused a moment and said, “Keep dreaming about the house. I’ll follow your lead and help. I’m sure others will help, too, if you ask. If you let them.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “And if Boyd is determined to go elsewhere to look for work, I’m sure there’s sombody who can be the foundation’s first home owner. I was going to head over to Boyd’s house—the RV, I mean—when I was done here. Boyd came in to the store today, you know. I’ve offered him full-time work, at least through the holidays.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you didn’t need help.” Boyd was proud. He wouldn’t take a handout.
“It seems that I’m going to be busy setting up a foundation and renovating a house, so I won’t b
e able to be as hands-on anymore at the store and one of my other guys is leaving soon. We can use more trained help.”
How could she argue with that? This was a chance for Boyd to have a real job. A real chance.
“Do you really think we can get the house done in time for Christmas?” she asked.
Aaron smiled with all the confidence she’d lost the moment she’d seen how bad the house looked. “I do. And though I don’t know you that well, I suspect asking for help isn’t your forte. But this once, you’re going to need it.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that.
Aaron said softly, “I suspect half of Valley Ridge would rally to your aid if you only asked.”
He was right; asking people for help was so not her thing.
Out of the blue, he said, “How did you end up homeless?”
“My father died and we lost the farm.” Maeve might have left her explanation at that, but there was a look in Aaron’s eyes asking her to continue. The man was giving her a house, so how could she ignore him? “Mom tried to keep it going after Dad died. She didn’t want me to have to leave the only home I’d ever known. But she couldn’t keep up with the payments. We put most of our belongings in storage and lived in a short-term rental for a while, then in the car. Until—”
“Until?”
She decided that Aaron Holder posessed insatiable curiosity. If she kept talking, he’d keep asking questions and pressing her for more. Better to dole the stories out in smaller increments. “I told you something personal about me. More than I’ve ever told most people.”
He didn’t look satisfied.
“So, do you understand me any better?” she asked.
“No. But it’s like writing a program. I’ve added another bit of data. Eventually, I’ll have enough bits that I’ll be able to put it all together. So when can you start work on the house?”
“You’re really sure you want to do this? I mean, it sounded like a great idea to me, but then I saw the reality of it when we walked into the house. Christmas is only a month away.”
“I looked beyond the mess and saw the potential. I’m sure.”