It was the word Bridget had waited to hear for what seemed like a lifetime, and the best Christmas present she could ever hope for.
Note: This scene follows the end of my bestselling novel, The Taste of Air (2016, Red Adept Publishing). In book one, Bridget and Nell discover their mother Mary Reilly has been hiding a secret life for over forty years, with a lakeside cottage in Vermont and a set of complex relationships with people her daughters have never met. When the sisters delve into their mother’s past, their own lives begin to unravel. Mary’s hideaway is a vault for family secrets never suspected, and the gateway to change for all three women. (You can find this book at all major online booksellers) Bridget and Lizzie’s story continues in the next book of the series, The Scent of Earth. Look for it in 2019.
Books by Gail
DESTINED, by Gail Cleare, 2011 (G&G Publications).
Magic Realism/Romance.
THE TASTE OF AIR, 2016 (Red Adept Publishing),
USA Today Bestseller. Women’s Fiction.
LOVE & CHOCOLATE, 2018 (Red Adept Publishing).
Romance,
About Gail
USA Today Bestselling author Gail Cleare used to write for newspapers, magazines, ad agencies, Fortune 50 companies and AOL. Now she writes fiction, and lives on an 18th century farm in Massachusetts with her family and dogs, cats, chickens, black bears, blue herons, rushing streams and wide, windy skies. When she’s not writing, Gail is usually working in her organic vegetable garden or stalking wild creatures with a 300mm lens.
Cleare’s debut novel is “Destined, a Novel of the Tarot”(2011), a magic realism romance. The audiobook, featuring narrator Marnye Young, will be released in 2018. Her second novel, USA Today Bestseller “The Taste of Air” (2016), is a womens’ fiction family drama, and in 2017 it won Readers’ Favorite awards for the book and the audiobook. “Love & Chocolate,” a romance with recipes, is a romantic comedy to be released in the fall of 2018. It’s the first volume of a trilogy featuring the Dumas family and their restaurant, The Three Chocolatiers.
For the latest news, visit gailcleare.com or Gail’s Facebook page at facebook.com/GailCleareAuthor/. You can follow Gail on twitter @gcleare and on Bookbub at https://www.bookbub.com/authors/gail-cleare
Some Carry-tail
A Gabriel & Orson Christmas
by Victor Catano
I see the trick on’t: here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany
Love’s Labours Lost,
Act v Scene ii
I leaned against the low wall at Rockefeller Center, just above the ice rink and across from a massive tree with a million lights. I craned my neck to take in all forty feet as I sipped my coffee, nudged the chubby bulldog at my feet, and shared some of my trademark humor.
“That’s one impressive bathroom.”
The dog grunted. Oh come on, Gabriel. Get new material.
The thought scratched my brain, uninvited. The source of the thought was the same chubby brown and white bulldog who was vigorously scratching behind his ear.
Besides, you know I prefer fire hydrants.
“True enough, Orson. You’re a city dog.”
Orson belonged to my girlfriend, Sheila. She was a beautiful, funny woman with long, black hair that entranced me. She was also a witch. Orson was her familiar, an animal companion who helped her channel her magic. As a result, they could speak telepathically. And because Sheila and Orson had welcomed me into their pack, I could hear him as well.
Damn right. Now take me to Magnolia. I want a cupcake.
This had its downsides.
We threaded our way through the thousands of people jockeying for position at the base of the tree to get the perfect selfie. I had moved here after I was discharged from the army, so I lacked that natural talent the natives had for dodging oblivious tourists. Twice I’d been bumped by families rushing to the tree and twice I’d almost dumped hot coffee on toddlers. Orson waddled on through without incident.
I’m stealthy. Like a ninja.
I saw a lot of kung fu movies on Saturday afternoon TV growing up. Most of the ninjas I saw were a little more agile. And probably farted less.
We made it to the corner and saw the line for Magnolia cupcakes stretched halfway down the block. Orson whined piteously.
“Hey you wanted Magnolia, not me. Sex and the City has brainwashed everyone.”
Sheila loved the show and Orson cuddled up on her lap while she watched the reruns on HBO. Obviously, he cared more about snacks than Carrie’s romantic life. Orson was such a Miranda.
Still, he wanted a cupcake. We settled into the line that started back by the NBC Store. I tried to pass the time with some subtle chit-chat.
“So… You gonna tell me what Mama wants for Christmas?”
Orson grunted. No.
“Oh come on. You know I’m terrible at gifts.”
Yeah, I know. You got me a cat toy last year.
I threw up my hands in exasperation. “It was a squeaky bird! You like squeaky birds! You chewed up three of them last year.”
It had catnip! You don’t give a dog catnip!
“You’re just proving my point! I’m bad at gifts, so just tell me what Sheila wants.”
No, Mama made me promise. I started to roll my eyes, but Orson cut me off. She said that you’d know what to get her.
This was terrible advice. Sheila was beautiful and smart and (literally) magical. I had my moments, but I was definitely at a disadvantage to her in all three areas.
We finally made our way up to the counter of the cupcake store. Orson was practically drooling on the display case, and his hungry panting was steaming up the glass. Even though there were plenty of “Service Animals Only” signs, Orson had no problem getting in. He always said that he provided a valuable service by being so handsome. Sheila would roll her eyes at this, and say it was more about magical shielding. She said it wasn’t so much “invisibility” as it was making people not notice you.
After some hard decisions, we walked out of the bakery with a box of four cupcakes for me and Sheila and a lemon buttercream cupcake for Orson. He bounced excitedly as we made our way back to the edge of the rink. I peeled the foil back from the cupcake and set it down in front of Orson. He was bouncing in place, drool spattering at my feet.
Yes! Yes! Mama never lets me have one! He chomped down on the frosting and practically rolled his eyes back in ecstasy.
“So is that better than a catnip bird?”
Yes. You’re forgiven.
I was about to ask for a hint about what to get Sheila, when a man with a vacant stare staggered toward us. His jacket was open and in spite of the cold, sweat trickled down his brow.
There was something about that dazed look. I’d seen it before.
The man lurched through the crowds, not paying any attention to his surroundings. I took a step back to avoid him plowing into me. Orson didn’t notice him until he tromped his foot two inches from the dwindling pile of icing and crumbs.
Orson growled. Hey! Watch it! He almost stepped on my cupcake!
The growl startled the man out of his daze. He let out a yelp and backed into the wall around the ice rink. He pinwheeled his arms, afraid he was going to tumble over.
I grabbed his coat to steady him. “Hey, take it easy pal! The dog won’t hurt you. He was just mad you almost stepped on his treat.”
Orson kept on growling. I am not standing in that line again.
The sweaty man shifted his gaze between Orson and me until he finally seemed to realize what was happening. “Sorry! I’m sorry! Look, I didn’t realize I stepped too close, it’s just..ah…well…”
I let go of his coat and nudg
ed Orson back with my foot. “Don’t worry about it.” A bead of sweat dropped on my hand. “Hey buddy, are you all right? Are you having a stroke?”
He tried to relax his shoulders and straighten up. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…” He looked past my head and locked eyes on something.
I turned slightly to see an adorable little girl in pigtails and a navy blue felt coat skipping towards us smiling. I guessed she was about seven or eight. This had to be his daughter, but Dad wasn’t happy. He was petrified.
That triggered a childhood memory. My dad, sweaty and evasive, trying to avoid answering direct questions, stumbling around dazed. He had bet a bundle on Florida in a college football game. The Gators got pummeled. I also remembered getting a pack of gum for Christmas that year and Dad telling me it must’ve been because I was bad and Santa saw it.
I clamped onto the man’s shoulder. “Nothing like what? Like leaving your kid alone in Manhattan so you could blow your Christmas fund doing something stupid?”
His eyes popped wide with alarm and his mouth made a little ‘o’ as he tried to think up a lie.
The voice behind me squeaked. “Daddy! There you are! I was looking at the tree, but I didn’t see you. I was getting worried.” She saw my arm on his shoulder. “Who’s this?” She sounded a little nervous.
There’s no way I’d ever frighten a kid, especially a week before Christmas. I put on my best smile and squatted down to be on her level. “Hi sweetie! My name is Gabriel. And this handsome fellow is Orson.” Orson waddled over and rubbed his head on her leg. She giggled. “I’m a friend of your Dad’s from way back. I’m sorry to make him late but I hadn’t seen him in ages.”
I offered her my hand and she shook it. She had on thin dollar store gloves that had a couple of holes in them. Her skin felt chilly through the fabric. She then turned to her dad. “Did you see Santa? Did you tell him? Did you tell him I want a pretty dolly with red hair?” She turned to me to explain. “I asked Daddy to go see Santa for me. I get all nervous and forget what I want to ask him for, so I made Daddy go because he’s all smart and I know he won’t forget and I really want a new dolly.” Barely pausing for air, she spun back to Daddy. “So did you tell him?”
Now Dad was sweating so much I thought he’d pass out. “Um, well… I went to see him, but, uh… I don’t think he heard everything I said… It was kind of loud, and…”
Oh no, what did you do? I nodded to Orson and jerked my head away from the edge of the rink. “Hey, sweetheart? Do you like my doggie, Orson?” She nodded and grinned.
Orson gave her a toothy smile. Of course she does! She has good taste.
“Can you do me a favor? He really wants to go sniff that tree over there.” I pointed to the Christmas tree. “”Would you mind walking over while I chat with your dad?”
Sniff a tree? Is that the best you could come up with? Orson rolled his eyes but played along, nudging her towards the tree. Orson’s little tail started wagging vigorously as they walked away.
I spun the guy to face me. “Ok, you’ve got ten seconds to explain what you did with the Christmas money.”
He tried to play innocent. “What? I didn’t—”
I cut him off. “Oh stop it. I know that look. My dad had that look every other weekend when he’d lose all his money on a football game. So what happened?”
His shoulders slumped. “I lost it to Santa.”
“What?”
“Two blocks from here. He was playing Three-card Monte.”
Of all the stupid… Every turnip truck tourist knows that Three-card Monte’s a scam. Except for this guy, apparently. “You got hustled by Santa Claus.”
He shrugged sadly. “He got all my money. Now I can’t get Jenny that doll.”
I shook my head. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Where?”
I waved at Orson, who galumphed his way back to me, Jenny close behind. “Take me to this Santa Claus. If that game is still running, I’m getting your money back.”
A couple blocks south on 46th the stores were less flashy, although the rents were still sky high. In front of a vacant storefront with a prominently displayed “For Lease” sign, a small crowd was clumped around a grungy Santa Claus hunched over a cardboard box. The man smiled, but didn’t look particularly jolly. His tummy twitched more than shook and it wasn’t like jelly, more like a bag of jumpy spiders. He looked like a tweaker who’d boosted a coat off a Salvation Army Santa twice his size.
The only thing on him that didn’t shake were his fingers. They steadily flew over three bent cards on the box as he shuffled them around.
I glanced over at the schlub I was trying to help. “What’s your name again?”
“Jerry.”
I groaned. “Jerry, Three-card Monte’s a scam. Don’t they have televisions in Iowa or wherever the hell you’re from?”
“New Jersey. But it looked so easy!” Jerry whined. “I mean, the guy before me won a hundred bucks! I just wanted to be able to afford something nice for Jenny.”
Sure he did. It was all I could do not to grind my teeth to stubs. “How much did you lose?”
Jerry got very interested in his shoes. “One fifty.” I was about to yell at him but he interrupted me. “It all happened so fast! I was down forty and then I tried to get it back and in two minutes I was broke.”
Orson growled. Remind me why we’re helping this cupcake-stomping jerk.
Jenny stepped in front of us and squinted across the street. She frowned. “That doesn’t look like Santa to me.”
Good eye, kid. “It isn’t.” I said. “It’s one of his junior assistants in training.”
“Oh. Daddy, no wonder he didn’t hear you!”
God bless the eternally forgiving nature of children. “Jenny, you stay here with your Dad. I am going to go see if we can talk to his supervisor.”
We jogged across the street. Well, I jogged. Orson trundled.
Twitchy Claus was shuffling his cards and he had the patter going. “Find the red queen! Find the red queen! So easy! So easy! Highest bet gets all the money!”
A black kid in a North Face parka plunked down a twenty. Twitchy went through his shuffle, floating the cards back and forth at lightning speed. North Face pointed at the card on the right and the dealer turned over the Queen of Hearts. The kid pumped his fist and took his winnings.
Twitchy shouted at the crowd. “Just that easy and you could be a winner! Who wants to try their luck?”
Orson grunted. He’s in on it.
“Of course he is.” I whispered. “His only job is to lure in the suckers. And if someone manages to pick the right card by chance, he comes in with a higher bet so the sucker still doesn’t win.”
So how are we going to?
I gave him a winning smile. “Who said we were going to play fair?”
Gotcha. And work on that smile. It looks weird.
I walked up to the table. “Well, this looks like fun!”
Twitchy Claus smiled, a feral glint in his eye. “Lots of fun! Don’t have to go all the way to Foxwoods to win big money! You in?”
“Sure!” I reached into my pocket and pulled out some bills. I put ten bucks on the table.
Twitchy shook me off. “Come on, man. I thought you wanted to make some money. Don’t throw no chicken feed down.”
I hemmed and hawed, then put down another twenty.
“That’s more like it! All right! Here we go!” His hands flashed across the table. He’d done this a while and I didn’t even try to follow them.
I left that to Orson.
Orson stared at the cards as they zipped back and forth. Then Twitchy stopped and spread his hands out.
Center.. Orson’s eyes had little gold flecks in them. They sparked anytime he “talked” to Sheila. They spark
ed now.
I pointed at the center card. He smiled and flipped it over. Six of Clubs.
“Sorry, man! You gotta keep your eyes on the cards!”
Hey! That was the Queen! I know it.
I knew it too. He’d slipped a card out from his big Santa sleeve when he flipped it. I only saw because I was looking for it instead of staring at the cards.
“Aw, man! I could’ve sworn that was it!” I reached into my pocket and pulled out fifty. “Let’s try that again!”
Again, he flipped and moved the cards around the table. Again, Orson followed the cards. Left! This time, instead of pointing at the card, I put my finger on top of it.
“This one! I’ll flip it!”
Twitchy Claus swallowed hard and fake-coughed twice. The North Face kid put a hundred on the board. Twitchy nodded at the c-note. “Sorry, gotta take highest bet.” North Face pointed left, and - whaddaya know! - it was the Queen.
I put my hands on my hips. “Darn it! That was my win! One more round.” I pulled out $300. “This time, for sure!”
Twitchy was practically drooling. Once more the shuffle. Center! Once more, I put my finger on the card so Santa couldn’t swap it out. Once more, North Face walked to the table. At least he tried to. Orson bit his pant leg and tripped him. The kid hit the ground hard and didn’t try to get up.
I smiled at Twitchy. “No more bets. I’m gonna flip this over.” I did. And there was the red queen. “Yes!” I pumped my fist in victory.
Twitchy’s eyes were darting back and forth, looking for an exit and getting ready to sprint. He took one step and ran into Orson doing his best Cujo imitation. He barked and snapped and got a lot of drool on Santa’s jeans and ratty sneakers.
“Hey, where you going? You almost forgot to pay me!” I blinked my eyes innocently.
Faced with a snarling dog and an unconscious associate, he slowly reached into his coat and brought out $300.
Tangled Lights and Silent Nights Page 9