Jim let out a bark of laughter, feeling some of the stress depart his body. But he thought of Donna, Steve, and his friends in the military who still worked.
“May I offer some unsolicited advice?”
“Yes,” Jim said.
“You’ve got too much time on your hands. It can be difficult to transition from a forty- to fifty-hour work week to all the free time in the world. But there are a couple of cures for that. First, you could go back to work,” he said. When Jim grimaced in response, Mr. Brenneman added, “Okay, then develop some hobbies. What about genealogy?”
Jim scowled. “Running around cemeteries looking for dead relatives? I’m not too keen on some of my living ones.”
Mr. Brenneman laughed. “You’re a hoot. How about doing some volunteer work? All this time on your hands will only lead you to thinking about yourself. And that can sometimes lead to trouble. Now don’t get me wrong. A little bit of introspection is a good thing. But too much of any good thing is a bad thing. Think about other people instead. Help them out. You’d make a marvelous mentor.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jim said, looking away and shuffling his feet.
“There are lots of places right here in town that are screaming for volunteers, especially around Christmas time.” He paused and added thoughtfully, “Not everyone finds Christmas a happy time of year.”
Jim thought back to his first Christmas after his divorce, when he didn’t see Leah over the holiday season, and how awful that had been. “Unfortunately, I do know about that firsthand.”
The bell over the door tinkled, indicating a customer. They both glanced toward the door. Jim stuck out his hand and Mr. Brenneman shook it.
“Thanks, Mr. Brenneman, I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Think about what I said. Get involved with things that interest you. Put others first and you’ll settle in to your retirement,” the older man said with a warm smile.
“I will keep that in mind,” Jim replied. He said goodbye and headed out the door, taking his advice under consideration.
Outside, he hunched his shoulders and braced himself against the bitter northwesterly wind that howled as it blew through town. He went over in his mind all the things his former boss had said, looking for the answer.
Chapter 7
Christmas was Donna’s favorite time of year. She and Brent always went to Christmas Eve service at the church on Main Street, and she made a turkey and a ham for Christmas Day dinner just like her own mother had done. Once in a while, her older sister came into town with her family, which Donna loved because it meant a full house, but she wasn’t coming this year because her daughter had just had her first baby and they wanted to be close to home. But the Christmas season was also a busy season.
Although Donna loved her job at the bank, after almost thirty years, she was looking forward to retirement. She’d started at the bank right out of college as a teller and had worked her way up to financial advisor. It was on these cold, dark winter mornings that thoughts of retirement filled her head.
An early riser by nature, she wasn’t planning on spending her days sleeping in. There was so much she wanted to do. The thought of all the new things she’d be able to do with her free time filled her with excitement. There were hobbies, volunteering, and new adventures waiting for her. And the thought of possible grandchildren made her almost giddy.
Since Mary Ellen had asked her to take over the running of the Snowball Festival, she’d had some time to get used to the idea and had more or less resigned herself to it. Lots of deep breathing was helping. Mary Ellen had given her a list of all activities and events planned for the festival and the phone numbers of those running the committees for such events and activities. The previous night, Donna had had to lay her knitting needles aside in order to meet up with the people overseeing those committees. Although by the time the meeting ended, she’d been assured that all was in hand, she couldn’t help but feel personally responsible.
There’d likely be no knitting tonight either, as her own committee was meeting at her house. Switching gears mentally, she focused on what needed to be done before the committee meeting later that night at her house.
Everyone was on time, so the meeting got under way promptly.
As soon as everyone had their snacks and gathered around the dining-room table, Sarge lobbed an opening volley with, “I hear you’re taking over from Mary Ellen.”
“I am,” Donna said.
“It’s a big task,” Sarge said. “Do you think you’re qualified?”
Christine butted in. “Donna is more than able to run this year’s festival.”
Sarge practically gave Christine the stink eye for interrupting. Before the conversation could escalate between the two women, there was the sound of squealing tires outside and they all turned to the front window.
“That didn’t sound good,” Ralph observed.
After only a brief pause, Sarge launched into a new line of complaint. “I don’t understand why they can’t come up with some new Christmas music. I mean, I’m sick of listening to the same old tunes that have been around for decades. Gimme a break!”
They all looked at her. Donna decided not to engage. It was a policy that had served her well in the past in regards to Sarge. Jim remained uncharacteristically quiet through it all.
But Christine couldn’t resist a chance to challenge her former coworker. “Aw come on, Sarge, you can’t mean that!” she said with a laugh.
Donna shot her best friend a look.
Slowly, Sarge turned her head to Christine and leveled her gaze at her, “Why would you think I would say something I didn’t mean? Your statement has me at a loss.”
Christine burst out laughing. “Come on, Sarge, lighten up.”
Donna glanced nervously at Sarge, whose face had gone beet red. Then she glanced at Christine and wondered if she’d lost her mind. Christine knew better than to wind up Sarge. Maybe she’d had too much wine to drink. Donna was just about to intervene when there was the sound of banging on her side door. Donna jumped up, grateful for the distraction.
“Excuse me,” she said, getting up from the table. She opened the side door to a young, attractive girl who appeared to be in distress. “Hi, is my Dad here?”
Donna was just about to ask who her Dad was when she heard Jim behind her. “Leah?”
Of course. His daughter. She should have known. The young woman had the same piercing blue eyes as her father. In her arms was a cat, bundled in a blanket. Donna held the door open wider and allowed the young woman to step into the hallway.
“Leah, what happened?” Jim said, rushing down the stairs.
“Hazel was hit by a car!”
“What? How?” Jim asked.
“She dashed out the door when I came home,” Leah sobbed. “When I chased after her, she ran into the street and was hit by a car.”
“Okay, honey, let’s find where there’s an emergency vet in town and we’ll take Hazel there now,” Jim said, taking charge.
“I’m sorry, can I interrupt?” Donna said. They both looked at her. “My son is a veterinarian. Let me call him.”
“Do you think he’d mind?” Leah asked. Tears streaked her face.
“Not at all,” Donna said. She pulled her phone from her pocket and waved them in. “Come into the kitchen.” The girl’s distress tugged at Donna’s heart.
Donna indicated to Leah that she should sit down. She rang Brent, told him the situation, and hung up the phone. “Brent said to meet him at his clinic.”
“He’d do that?” Leah asked in disbelief, still cradling the swaddled, injured cat.
“Of course he would,” Donna said. “Will I drive you over there?” The young woman was so distraught that Donna was moved to help her.
“No, that’s not necessary,” Jim said. “I’ll take her. Where is Brent’s clinic located?”
Donna gave them directions and wished them good luck.
She returned to the g
athering in her dining room to find everyone just sitting there, waiting and most likely listening to the drama in the kitchen.
“It’s getting late, so let’s get down to business so we can go home,” Donna announced. She took her seat, picked up her pen, and went down the laundry list of things to catch up on. Once everything was ticked off, she announced that the meeting was over. She stood up and began to clear off the table to indicate that there would be no lingering.
“I guess the meeting is over,” Sarge said, her tone of disapproval evident.
“I think we’ve covered everything,” Donna said.
“We’re good, Donna, see you next week,” Christine said. She stood up and pulled on her coat.
Sarge lingered after the meeting. “Ralph, go outside and warm up the car.”
Silently, Ralph pulled on his cap and coat, bid Donna goodnight, and went outside.
“Listen, Donna, no offense, but I think I should take over the running of the festival.”
Donna pressed her lips together and regarded Sarge. For some strange reason, she was not surprised by this. If it were anyone else other than Sarge, namely someone with a better personality, she would have gladly handed over the reins. But not Sarge. She could hardly be accused of possessing a sparkling personality. If Mary Ellen had wanted Sarge to run the show, she would have asked her.
As tired as she was, Donna knew she had to proceed with caution.
“At this stage in the game, maybe we just leave it as it is,” Donna said gently.
Sarge scowled. “This late in the game? You’ve only been in charge for a few days. Don’t let the power go to your head.”
Donna sighed. This was why Sarge couldn’t be in charge.
“Then you should be talking to Mary Ellen and not me,” Donna suggested.
“I already spoke to Mary Ellen,” Sarge said.
“And what did she say?”
“To leave it as is,” Sarge said.
“Then maybe we should,” Donna said. Sarge appeared crestfallen. Had running the festival been an aspiration of Sarge’s? A lifelong dream?
Outside, the toot of a car horn signaled Ralph was ready to leave.
Donna had an idea. “You can help, though.” Actually, Donna could use some help. And if Sarge was offering, why shouldn’t she accept it? “Would you be interested in being the liaison between the grammar school, the middle school, and the high school? They’re all involved in some capacity. And really, there should be one person overseeing all of that. Plus, you could judge the coloring contest for the kids from the grammar school.”
There was a slight lift of the corner of Sarge’s mouth. Was that a smile? Donna wondered. If so, she might need to sit down.
Sarge was just about to say something when they were interrupted by the sound of a blaring horn in the driveway. Sarge turned toward the door and bellowed, “Hold your horses, Ralph, I’ll be right there!” To no one in particular, she grumbled, “Get married, they said. It will be so much fun, they said.”
Donna gave her the numbers of the contact people at the schools. After Sarge left, Donna didn’t know if she was more relieved at the thought of help or worried about Sarge’s management style. Either way, she was going to just let it play out.
Once she left, Donna loaded the dishwasher and kept watch out her window for lights to go on next door in Jim’s house. She hoped the cat would be all right. Once the dishwasher was turned on, Donna shut off the kitchen lights and went to the living room.
In the corner sat a retro turntable. She’d been forced to buy one when her old stereo system just could not be repaired anymore as its parts and components were no longer manufactured. In the corner was a stack of Christmas albums. She fingered through them, choosing one of her mother’s favorites.
When Donna was growing up, her mother bought a brand-new Christmas album every holiday season. Donna still had all her mother’s old albums as well as her own. Between the two of them, they’d collected over thirty.
She pulled an album out of its faded jacket, laid it on the turntable, and set down the needle. The initial scratchy static never failed to make her nostalgic.
Once the music started playing, she settled on her sofa and pulled her yarn-bombing project out of her knitting bag and got to work. Every so often, she stood up to flip the album over or to change it altogether. As she did, she’d walk through to the kitchen and glance out the window to see if Jim had come home yet.
As she was heading upstairs for the night, she heard a knock on her door.
She flipped on the hall light and the outside light, relieved to see Jim standing outside.
“Come in,” she said, opening the door wide and ushering him inside. She walked up into the kitchen and Jim followed her.
“How’s the cat?” she asked.
Jim sighed. “She’s got some internal bleeding.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that,” Donna said.
“When I left, Hazel was going in for emergency surgery,” he said. “I just stopped at home to collect a few things for Leah, and then I’m going back to sit with her.”
“Would you like some company?” she asked.
“No thanks, Donna,” he said. “I just wanted to stop and say thank you. I really appreciate your help earlier.”
“Not a problem, that’s what neighbors are for.” Donna smiled.
“I’d better get back,” Jim said, and he went back outside.
“Jim,” Donna called out.
He stopped and looked back at her. Donna searched his face. Worry and fatigue etched his features.
“Will you keep me posted about Hazel?”
“Sure,” he said. He seemed to hesitate but added, “Goodnight, Donna.”
She had wanted to talk to him, but now was not the time.
Chapter 8
It was late by the time Jim and Leah arrived home from the vet clinic. Hazel had survived the surgery but her road to recovery would be long. Jim had been impressed by Donna’s son, Brent. He’d been professional but kind and handled Hazel with care, which relieved Leah.
Once the cat was out of surgery, Brent had said the first twenty-four hours would be critical. When he told them to go home and come back in the morning, Leah had balked but Brent had explained that there’d be a tech there all night and there was no need to stay. When Leah continued her teary, ashen-faced protest, Brent gave her his business card with his cell number and home phone written on the back of it. He told her she could call him any time. Jim gently led her away, reassuring her that they were only a five-minute drive from the clinic and could be back there at any time during the night if necessary.
Leah was quiet on the drive back to Jim’s house. He was pretty sure she was as tired as he was. She looked as wrecked as he felt. The past few days were starting to catch up with him. He couldn’t wait to climb into bed.
After he pulled into the driveway, he ran next door to Donna’s to let her know how they made out. When he returned, he found Leah in the kitchen, holding Tiny tight and cuddling him.
“Your big sister, Hazel, is going to be all right.”
If the circumstances were different, Jim would have rolled his eyes. But he resisted and said, “I’m going up. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Leah said. “Handy that your next-door neighbor’s son is a vet.”
“Yeah, handy,” he repeated absentmindedly.
“What’s her name again?” Leah asked, scratching behind Tiny’s ear.
“Huh?”
“The woman next door? Brent’s mother?”
“Donna. Her name is Donna,” he said. Exhausted, he started to walk away, but Leah was still talking.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head and not looking at her.
Leah shrugged. “I don’t know. You don’t seem yourself since I’ve come home.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? It’s just
that you’ve been more quiet than usual,” Leah said.
“Am I?” he asked.
She laughed. “Yeah. I miss your blustery old self.”
Even Jim had to laugh. “I’ll try to be more blustery from now on.”
Leah’s smile disappeared. “You know, Dad, retirement is a big change. You went from a career to now having all this free time on your hands. It’s a big adjustment.”
Jim smiled, relieved for something else to blame it on. “You’re right, it’s a big adjustment. But I’ll be fine. Just trying to settle in.”
“Okay.” She smiled. “I’m glad I’m here.”
“Me, too, honey,” he said truthfully, and he leaned into her and kissed her on her forehead. “Sleep well.”
Jim went to bed, but once there, sleep evaded him. It hurt him to see his daughter so upset. No matter how old she gets, what hurts her, hurts me, he thought. What worries her, worries me. He was almost glad for the distraction of worrying over his daughter, as it kept his mind off of Donna.
When Jim finally rolled out of bed near dawn and headed to the bathroom, he got the shock of his life.
Yawning and scratching the back of his head, he walked into the bathroom to find the cat, Tiny, standing on one side of the toilet seat, squatting over the toilet and peeing. Half awake, Jim muttered, “Sorry, didn’t know anyone was in here.” Then he blinked twice. “What the—” So as not to startle the cat, he stepped out of the bathroom and called, “Leah?”
Leah emerged from her bedroom in a pair of green and red Christmas pajamas, looking bleary-eyed. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, maybe you could tell me,” he said. He held out his hand toward the bathroom. Leah stepped inside, saw Tiny and said, “Oh, that’s Tiny. He’s using the toilet.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can see that,” Jim said. “Doesn’t he have a litter box to use?”
Leah didn’t seem perturbed by this. “Of course he does, but he prefers the toilet.”
“Does he at least flush when he’s finished?” Jim asked.
One Kiss for Christmas (The Happy Holidays Series Book 4) Page 7