Christmas in Destiny
Page 7
Going to the fridge, he pulled out some milk, courtesy of Grampy, and poured it over a plastic bowl of cereal with a pull-off lid, also courtesy of Grampy from the store below. A white plastic spoon from the drawer made the meal complete and he stood eating by the window, staring out on a snow-covered Destiny morning in his gray boxer briefs.
He caught sight of a woman in a ponytail walking up the sidewalk and for a second thought it was Candy—or Candice, whatever—but just as quickly realized he was wrong.
So he’d noticed the girl yesterday at Edna Farris’s house. Big deal. A guy could think a woman was pretty without being into her. Hell, why would he be into someone who didn’t seem to want anything to do with him?
She knows you’re trouble. She can tell.
He’d acted to Grampy like the chick was just paranoid, but in fact, Shane couldn’t really blame Miss Candy Cane for wanting to keep her distance. He guessed some people could just see the truth about him faster than others.
He didn’t understand a lot about life, and it didn’t seem to be getting any clearer. He didn’t understand what had made him such a rotten kid that his mother hadn’t wanted him. He didn’t understand why a nice old man was being so kind to somebody who didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t understand how the hell he’d ended up stuck in this saccharin-sweet little town with only a few sad dollars to his name.
But he was going to at least try to find out the answer to the last one this morning.
Finishing the cereal, he tugged on a pair of jeans with a black T-shirt, and put a warm zip-up hoodie over it. Adding his coat, he headed out the door in back and down the wooden staircase, still slick in spots despite the work he’d done on it with a snow shovel. Thrusting his hands in his pockets to keep them warm, he started up the sidewalk toward town square.
He’d noticed the Destiny National Bank every time he’d walked or ridden past it, but this time he pulled open the door and went inside the old one-story brick building.
Stepping up to a teller’s window, where a short, balding man asked what he could do for him today, Shane said, “I’d like to find out if you have a safe deposit box in the name of Shane Dalton. Or Gary Dalton.” His father.
The man looked a little surprised, like anyone walking into this bank should know whether or not they have a safe deposit box, but he turned to a computer and started typing. A moment later, he said, “No, afraid not. Any other names you want me to check?”
Shane couldn’t think of any. “Don’t suppose there’s any sort of savings account or anything under one of those names, either.”
The man shook his head. “I did a general search, and we don’t have any accounts for Dalton at all. Anything else I can help you with?”
Shane shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling discouraged. He’d hoped against hope that this might reveal some answers. But maybe this was why he’d waited a couple days to come—knowing that a no would be a letdown. “Any other banks in this town?” he asked.
The man shook his head. “Several in Crestview, but we’re the only bank in Destiny.”
Damn, this Crestview people referred to seemed to be a metropolis in comparison—but his father hadn’t sent him to Crestview; he’d sent him here, to Destiny. So if there was anything waiting for him anywhere, it was in this town, not some other one.
“Thanks anyway,” Shane said woodenly, then turned and exited the building.
The church was a short walk away, and Shane was about to start in that direction to see what he could help with next—when he spotted the Destiny Library across the square, next to the police station and community building. On a lark, he headed that way.
He’d already done some Googling on his phone, trying to tie his father’s name to Destiny—with no results—but locating a bank of computers in the library, he approached one and took another shot at it. Looking on a big screen was easier, and maybe he’d missed something before.
He was scouring the search results in vain when a middle-aged librarian in a red sweater adorned with tiny Santa Clauses approached him and said he looked perplexed. “Can I help you find something?”
She had a nice smile, a gentle way about her—so he explained same as he had to Miss Candy Cane about his father sending him here with nothing to go on. As well as the additional heap of nothing he’d found so far.
She led him to the library’s genealogy section, saying, “I’ve never heard of a Dalton family in Destiny, but why don’t we look in some of the reference guides to be sure.”
She did, and he did, too, alongside her—but no go.
The librarian peered up at him. “Could there be any other family names to look under?”
Shane thought about that, felt a little embarrassed, and just said, “No. Not really.” Not really because I don’t even know enough about my family for that. He didn’t know his mother’s maiden name. He didn’t know his father’s mother’s maiden name. He knew nothing.
He thanked the nice lady for her help and walked out the door feeling at a dead end. Yep, this was why he hadn’t been in a rush to start searching out answers. Because he’d feared there wouldn’t be any. And it would mean he had indeed come to this godforsaken place for absolutely nothing. “Dad, if you were alive and well right now,” he muttered as cold air blasted him in the face, “I’d kick your ass.”
He didn’t mean that, of course, but hell—this was fucking frustrating.
Just then, his pocket trilled and he realized it was his phone. A surprise because who the hell could be calling him? Though just as quickly, it hit him that he’d given his number to Rachel Romo and Mick Brody to keep in contact about repair work—so he pulled out the phone . . . only to see the name of the one other person on the planet whom he’d recently talked to on it: Donnie V.
Shit.
He punched the button to answer. “Donnie V.,” he said in greeting, attempting to sound a little more upbeat about the call than he felt.
“Where the fuck are you, man?” Donnie V. asked in a thick Hispanic accent. “Wasn’t you due here by now?”
Damn it. He should have called down to Miami and let the guy know his situation, but he’d actually been busier than expected most of the time since getting stuck here. He stopped walking, stepped up under the marquee at the Ambassador Theater to get out of the wind. “I’ve had a setback,” he explained. “Been postponed.”
“What the fuck postponed you, man?” Donnie V. didn’t sound the least bit understanding. In fact, he sounded a lot more like an ass than in previous conversations.
“Had an accident. In a blizzard. Fucked up my truck and waiting on repairs.” When the other man said nothing, Shane added, “But I’m still coming. As soon as I can.”
Donnie V. let out a long-suffering sigh. No sympathy for blizzards in Miami apparently. “The thing is, man, I need you here, was counting on you. You get that? Carl said you was dependable, but already, I see you letting me down.”
Shane’s jaw clenched slightly. “Look, this was beyond my control, but I’m dealing with it. It was one hell of a freak snowstorm.”
“I don’t really give a fuck about no freak snowstorm—it’s not my problem. My problem is a shop that needs a knowledgeable parts man. I was told that was you.”
“It is me,” Shane assured him. Even if part of him wanted to tell Donnie V. where he could stick his precious job. But he worked to keep his cool. The job was the endgame here, after all, the whole reason he was traveling across the country in the first place. “I’ll do solid work for you. And, uh, speaking of that, you never really told me exactly what the job is.”
“You know the gig’s gonna give you some deep pockets and have you livin’ large, so does it really matter?”
Hell. Every damn time he’d asked, he’d been given this same kind of non-answer. “Just curious,” he said now.
Donnie V. surprised him then by laughing and replying, “Let’s just say we deal in . . . high-quality auto parts. That good enough?”
Because the truth was that he’d begun to worry the place would turn out to be a garden variety chop shop. Even if for high-end vehicles, since Miami had more than its fair share of those. And maybe that was why he hadn’t pressed harder for an answer—he wanted his new start to be a clean one. As clean as a guy like him could have anyway.
And maybe it still would be—maybe he’d get there and find a completely aboveboard operation just run by a guy with a bad personality.
And if that was just crazy-ass wishful thinking . . . well, he didn’t have to do it forever. He just needed to make some money, get out of the hole his father’s illness had left him in. A little cash, plus some more when the house in Montana sold . . . and things would be better.
“So you’re still in?” Donnie V. asked him.
“Yeah, I’m in.”
“Then when you gonna get your ass down here?”
“As soon as it’s physically possible. You won’t be sorry you waited for me.”
On the other end of the line, Donnie V. stayed quiet a minute—and then finally said, “Listen, dude, because Carl vouched for you, and because I don’t trust any of the asswipes already on my payroll to run this place, and because I guess I’m feelin’ all generous and shit like fucking Santa Claus, you got until Christmas to get yourself to the Magic City. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“And on December 26, the job goes bye-bye.” With that, the other man hung up.
Shane shoved his phone in his back pocket, then his hands in his front ones. At last check with Mo, the ETA for repairs was the end of the week. That would leave another week plus change to get the body work done. And hell, as long as they made the damn thing drivable, even if that meant leaving before it was painted, that was all that mattered.
He could get to Miami by Christmas—and he would, come hell or high . . . snow.
Seven
“We’re going to give the biggest party this town ever saw.”
Uncle Billy, It’s a Wonderful Life
Some of the girls gathered at Under the Covers before the tree-lighting ceremony, mainly because it was a good place to keep warm before the festivities started. Candice arrived the same time as Jenny, Mick, and Dustin—and she and Jenny left the two boys with Mick’s friends on the square before ducking into the bookstore. Inside, Amy had holiday music playing—currently Elton John was inviting them to step into Christmas.
“Who’s this?” Tessa was asking Amy as they walked in. Tessa had just scooped a small pale grayish-white cat—little more than a kitten really—up into her arms from one of the easy chairs in the sitting area near the door. “Her face looks a little like Brontë’s, but fluffier.” Brontë was the cat Amy had pawned off on Tessa years earlier.
“This is Holly, the new cat I mentioned at the cookie party,” Amy said. “She earned her name by batting at the fake holly on the coffee table when I first took her in. And as you can see, she’s very sweet.” Then she glanced around the group—Anna Romo and Sue Ann were there as well—and asked, “Would anyone like a second cat?”
“No!” they all said in unison.
She looked offended. “You guys don’t have to gang up on me.”
“Face it,” Anna said. “When it comes to friends to shove stray cats onto, you’re tapped out. You need a new source of unwitting victims.”
Amy sighed. “Well, if you guys can think of anyone who might like a nice kitty, let me know. I’d like for this one to find a home by Christmas. Just because . . . you know, it’s Christmas. And everyone should have a home at Christmas.”
Just then, Rachel walked in, clipboard in hand. Other than at the cookie exchange, Candice hadn’t seen her without it since the blizzard and ensuing damage. At the party, she’d found out that Edna was babysitting Rachel and Mike’s daughter, a pretty little girl named Farris—Rachel’s maiden name—while Rachel helped spearhead the repair efforts.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” Jenny announced. “Because I have great news.”
“Well, Destiny could use some of that right about now,” Rachel said, “so spill.”
“Mick and I figured out the perfect place to have the annual Christmas party while the church and community building are under repair. Miss Ellie’s cottage! And she’s already agreed.”
Despite her advanced age, their neighbor-in-common had been hosting various Destiny events for as long as Candice could remember. Even if Miss Ellie’s daughters, Mary Katherine and Linda Sue, had long since done all the actual work involved. Miss Ellie loved the company, and gatherings at her home were a longstanding and much-beloved town tradition.
“And I know this will be different, being in wintertime and all, but I think with a little creativity, we can make it work!”
“I love it!” Tessa said.
“Me too,” Amy agreed. “It’s perfect.”
Rachel, standing near the door, began nodding, then glancing down at her clipboard. “Now all we need is someone to organize it. I have all the usual volunteers knee-deep in cleanup.”
And that was when Candice saw an opportunity and said, “I’ll do it.”
They all looked toward her, and Rachel said, “You will?”
“It makes sense, really. I’m her nearest neighbor, so it will be easy for me to work on the preparations. And I’ve . . . meant to get back involved with Destiny activities for a long time, so this is my chance.”
Once upon a time, as a younger woman, she’d been more outgoing in the community. Once upon a time before Bobby Wayans had decimated her heart. He’d damaged a big enough part of her that she’d just wanted to keep to herself for a while—and after that, it had simply become . . . habit. A thing that was easier to continue than to change. Lately, though, she’d begun feeling . . . a little lonely, and like maybe her life had become a little too quiet. So it was time to take that part of herself back, once and for all.
And the further truth was—the real opportunity here lay in being able to volunteer, do her part, but in a way that would keep her away from Shane Dalton. He and most people would be busy in town, at the church—while she would now be a few miles away, quietly planning a party on her own. There wouldn’t be any bumping into him. There wouldn’t be any skitters of sensation. There wouldn’t be any old memories and fears cropping up about past bad-boy mistakes and not wanting to repeat them. This was the perfect way to keep her distance from him until he was gone, never to darken Destiny’s doorstep again.
“It’s kind of a big job,” Rachel said, “but if you’re willing to take it on, that’s great.”
Candice nodded and said, “I am. I’m excited about it, in fact, and I promise I’ll throw a great party.”
“And we’re here to pitch in,” Sue Ann added. “Most of us have planned a few big events, so we can help make sure you’ve got all your bases covered, and take on some of the tasks.”
“And Mick can haul anything big you need from the community building or church basement—like tables, and Grampy’s Santa chair,” Jenny offered. It was a big, throne-like thing—complete with red velvet upholstery—that spent 364 days of the year in a storage room.
“Great,” Candice said with a smile, feeling like this was already starting to come together.
A few minutes later they all bundled back up and headed over to the square, leaving the little stray cat, Holly, behind. It was clear to see Amy felt bad about that as she put out food and water for the kitty, and plugged in a night-light before locking up the store.
Exiting out into the cold caused Candice to shiver and zip her parka all the way up. She and Tessa and Sue Ann made their way to the hot chocolate stand manned by Sue Ann’s daughter, Sophie, and a couple of other middle school girls, and as she took a steaming-hot cup between her mittens, she wondered if Shane Dalton had ever gotten any gloves.
Oh God, stop already. Why o
n earth do you care? He’s a big boy and can take care of himself.
“I’m so excited you’re planning this party,” Tessa said to her.
She met her pretty cousin’s gaze. “I know—me too.” Tessa knew her well, and though they’d never talked about it, she supposed the whole family was aware of how reserved she’d gotten over the years.
“Oh, there’s Adam!” Sue Ann said, pointing—and the trio made their way to Sue Ann’s classically handsome boyfriend, who stood with Logan and Mike Romo, coordinating the last few details of lighting the tree.
As the rest of them stood talking, Candice started thinking about the party plans and related tasks. There would be setting up tables at Miss Ellie’s and, as Jenny had mentioned, carting things from the church and community building with Mick’s help—in addition to the big items like tables and chairs, there would be smaller ones like the hot chocolate and coffee machines. She’d need to confirm with Grampy that he would reprise his usual role as Santa. And confirm with Caroline Lindley that she’d play the piano for caroling—and fortunately Miss Ellie already had a piano. And she’d enlist people to provide cookies and candies and cakes and breads, along with eggnog and some soda. Easy peasy.
And while the snow and cold would provide some unique challenges, she resolved to turn those challenges into blessings—find ways to make the party special because of them.
Maybe . . . there could be ice-skating this year, given the venue. Maybe she could hang lights in the trees and shrubbery in Miss Ellie’s English garden and they could put the Santa chair in her gazebo, along with a portable heater or two. She was going to make this the best Destiny Christmas party ever.
“Everything set?” Mick asked the other guys as he approached, carrying his son on one hip. “This kid’s getting sleepy on me already.”
Adam Becker looked around. “We’re ready to go—but we were thinking of having Chief Tolliver and Anita do the honors, under the circumstances. Have you seen either of them?”