Читать книгу A Gift For Santa - Beth Carpenter - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

Twenty-two days till Christmas

THE BUZZING FLUORESCENT bulb in Chris’s warehouse office seemed to hit the resonant frequency inside his skull. He massaged his temples while he waited for his password to reveal the balance of his checking account. Sadly, the figure was exactly what he expected. He’d have to transfer more money out of his boat fund to cover payroll.

After years of working on someone else’s boat, socking away his earnings from his share of the catch, he’d almost reached his goal of owning his own fishing boat. In fact, he’d come close to buying one in September, even going so far as to sell his one indulgence, his red convertible. At the last minute, the boat owner had changed his mind about selling. Just as well, because the money from Chris’s car had been keeping the plowing business afloat. Who knew this would be the winter of no snow?

He was down to two employees; the previous year he’d had ten. He couldn’t cut his last two guys. They’d both been with him almost from the beginning. Besides, he was under contract to clear parking lots for several businesses, and if the weather ever turned, he’d need them. And he sure wasn’t about to let anybody go this close to Christmas.

He got up from the desk and stared into the warehouse. Six trucks sat idle. He’d started with one pickup and a plow, clearing driveways, a few months after he and Marissa began dating. Before that, he’d fished in the summer and spent the winters skiing and riding his snow machine, but being with Marissa had made him think of things like down payments and IRAs. Besides, Marissa was uncomfortable with a high play/work ratio, and at that time he’d been willing to jump through fire if it meant she’d stick around.

Marissa was a grad student then, going to school in Fairbanks while Chris got this business off the ground in Anchorage. Their relationship consisted of snatched weekends and holidays, interludes of sweetness that always left him wishing for more. Maybe if they’d lived in the same town he’d have realized before he asked her to marry him just how unsuited they really were. After all, she had a master’s degree in wildlife biology; he was a college dropout who fished and plowed snow. Although her parents had died when she was small, Marissa grew up as part of a loving family. Chris was lucky to get the occasional pat on the head from his father, and his mom hardly noticed him. But he and Marissa were happy together, and their differences didn’t seem to matter. Until they did.

What was she doing back in Alaska? Was something going on with Oliver and Becky? Marissa had said she was between jobs, but knowing her work ethic, it was unlikely she would leave one position before she’d lined up another. Before she’d even finished her degree, she’d landed several job offers from all over the country. Hard to imagine an experienced wildlife biologist would resort to working as an elf, even if it was the family business.

Of course, he’d resorted to a job as Santa Claus. It was mostly as a favor to Becky, but looking at the weather forecast, he figured a little extra income wouldn’t hurt.

Chris sighed and returned to his desk. He transferred the money into the checking account and printed the payroll checks. They were sliding out of the printer when the office door opened.

“Hey, we got all the plows waxed.” Brad, his most senior employee, sauntered in. “Kenny’s putting the stuff away.”

“Good. Thanks.” All the equipment had been waxed back in May before it went into storage, but since he was paying the guys, he might as well give them something to do. “Hang on a minute. I have your check ready.” Chris signed it, then handed it to him. “Don’t cash it until tomorrow, though. I just put in a transfer but it won’t go through until tonight.”

“No problem.” Brad tucked the check into his wallet and looked up at the ceiling. “That bulb is flickering.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Want me to change it for you?”

“Sure—” Chris stood and stretched “—but do it tomorrow. No need to stick around any longer today.”

Brad shifted his weight to his other foot. “Actually, I might not come in tomorrow.”

Chris looked at him. “Why not? You getting sick?”

“My brother-in-law has this business going, hanging Christmas lights. He wants me to run the cherry picker. And I figured since you don’t really need me around here anyway...”

“I don’t care if you take some time, but you are coming back, right?”

“Well, sure. I’ll be back after Christmas.”

“Okay.” Chris shook his hand. “Sorry I can’t do a Christmas bonus this year.”

Brad shrugged. “Weather’s a killer. Merry Christmas, dude.”

Chris laughed. “Yeah. Merry Christmas.” He watched Brad walk away before grabbing Kenny’s check and flipping off the office lights. He’d replace that bulb tomorrow. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.

* * *

MARISSA TOSSED A bale of hay onto the rack. The reindeer crowded past her to the food, two yearling bulls tossing their short antlers with the kind of attitude usually seen on high school basketball courts. The older bull, Blizzard, had already shed his impressive antlers, but the cows would hold on to theirs for another few months.

One of the cows, Snowflake, stopped to nuzzle Marissa’s hand. She still remembered. Marissa pulled out a piece of carrot she’d hidden in her pocket just for the old girl, a tradition of theirs since Snowflake was a calf. In fact, Marissa had been there at her birth. Hard to believe it was almost twelve years ago. Chris had been there, too. He’d come by to take her out to dinner when Oliver announced Muff was about to give birth. Neither of them could bear to leave until Snowflake had arrived and was on her feet and nursing.

Many of the reindeer pulling hay from the feeder had been born since the last time Marissa visited Alaska. She’d been away too long. Becky took good care of the animals, but the farm, always so crisp and kempt, showed signs of neglect. Rusty hinges, broken boards, peeling paint... Even the sign at the road had faded. Oliver must have been losing ground for a lot longer than Marissa had realized. But it was easier to have him and Becky visit her than to come back to Alaska on her limited vacation time. And if she were honest, she was also afraid she would run into Chris.

Now she had, and it wasn’t as hard as she’d thought it would be. Same old Chris, eager to pitch in, as long as you didn’t try to tie him down. Never with one woman too long, judging from what she’d gleaned from social media. Chris’s own page hadn’t been updated since she’d set it up for him back when they were dating, but he was always being tagged in pictures, usually by some blonde bragging about the “real Alaska man” who made her vacation the “best ever.” Not that Marissa was stalking him or anything. In fact, Chris barely even crossed her mind anymore. She just happened to stumble across the photos now and then when looking up other old friends from Alaska. At least that was her story, should anyone ask.

Across the pasture, Oliver’s old truck bounced up the lane. Good, they were back from the doctor’s appointment. Marissa had been home for a little over a week, but Oliver and Becky had been very closemouthed about his health status. Hopefully, the doctor had suggested a different prescription or treatment—something to help Oliver’s heart and build up his strength—because the current medicine didn’t seem to be working.

The truck circled behind the old farmhouse, which could definitely use a coat of paint. Even from where she stood, Marissa could detect spots where the white paint had flaked off, exposing the weathered wood siding. It was one of those sprawling houses built in stages. Wood-frame additions had grown up and out from the original two-room log cabin as the homesteaders added rooms to accommodate their eight children.

Even though Oliver and Becky had closed off a whole wing and added insulation, Marissa suspected the fuel bill to run the main boiler must be enormous.

After checking to make sure the heater was keeping the water trough clear for the reindeer, Marissa made her way home.

She stepped over the broken front step and onto the porch, noticing as she opened the front door that one of the small panes in it had a crack in the corner, temporarily mended with duct tape.

In the living room, Oliver lay back in his recliner, his face paler than ever. But he greeted her with a smile. “There’s my girl. How’s the herd?”

“Just fine. Snowflake was begging for treats.” Marissa could hear Becky banging around in the kitchen. She shed her coat and sat on the sofa. Tiger, the yellow house cat, jumped onto her lap and purred.

“Snowflake has a long memory.” Oliver paused to breathe. Just walking from the garage to the living room had left him winded. “Remember how she used to try to follow you into the house?”

“I remember.” Snowflake’s mother had sustained an injury a week after the calf was born, and Marissa took over bottle-feeding her. Before long, Snowflake was following her all over the farm, and couldn’t seem to understand why she wasn’t allowed to come into the house when Marissa ducked in to grab a snack. She would stand on the porch, grunting and snorting, until Marissa returned for her.

“I thought I heard you in here.” Becky bustled in, carrying a tray with three steaming mugs, which she set on the coffee table. “I made orange spiced tea.”

“Thank you.” Oliver accepted his cup and set it with shaking hands on the table beside his chair. His breathing slowly returned to normal.

“So what did the doctor have to say?” Marissa asked.

“Nothing much. It’s all about the same.” Oliver was trying for nonchalant, but his smile looked forced.

Becky’s mouth tightened. “That’s not what he said.” She turned to Marissa. “His heart is getting weaker. The doctor says a transplant is really our only hope. He’s on the list, but—”

“Transplant?” Marissa stared at her.

Becky shot an accusing glance at her husband. “You said you told her.”

“I did.”

Marissa shook her head. “When you called, you said you were having some trouble with your heart, and the doctor gave you medication. This is the first I’m hearing about a transplant.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“How long have you known about this?”

Oliver wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Four months or so.”

Marissa sat in a chair across from his and leaned forward. “You should have told me. I would have come home a long time ago.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. There’s nothing you can do. I’m not that sick. I’m what they call status two, which means I can stay at home and don’t need any special IV meds while I wait.”

“So how long will it be before the transplant?”

“Nobody knows.” Becky plopped into the chair beside Oliver’s and took a sip of tea. “The sicker patients get first priority, of course. They’re the ones in hospitals, hanging on and waiting for a match.” She left unspoken that if he didn’t get a transplant soon, Oliver would be one of those people in the hospital, hanging on.

Marissa caught Oliver’s gaze. “So, if I hadn’t lost my job and come home, were you not going to tell me at all?”

He patted her arm, the way he used to when she was a little girl with a skinned knee. “Of course I was. But I was hoping to sandwich it in with the news that I was getting a transplant.”

“Oh, Oliver.” Marissa blinked back tears. “You and Becky have always been there for me. When my parents died, you were there. When Jason took off and everything fell apart at the River Foundation, I didn’t know who to trust, but I knew I could count on you and Becky to take me in and love me. Don’t you know I want to be there for you, too? We’re family. We share the bad times as well as the good.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “You’re right. I should have told you, but you’ve had so much on your plate. I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never, ever be a burden. Not to me.” She kissed his cheek. She’d been nine years old when her parents died. Oliver and Becky had been her family ever since, and she couldn’t have asked for a better one. From the very first night when they tucked her under the quilt in the cozy bedroom beneath the eaves and kissed her forehead good-night, she’d felt cherished. She still did. “How can I help?”

Becky reached over to rub her shoulder. “It’s out of our hands. All we can do is hope and pray.”

Oliver gave her a wry smile. “I can’t in good conscience ask you to pray for someone with a healthy heart to give up his life for mine. But if you really want to help, you could go get me some of those oatmeal cookies Becky made this morning.” At his wife’s pointed look he amended, “One cookie.”

“All right. I’ll be right back.” Marissa gave him a brave smile and went to the kitchen. When she opened the snowflake-printed tin, the scent of cinnamon wafted through the air. It smelled like home. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t lose Oliver. She just couldn’t.

Becky and Oliver were her rocks. After the fiasco with Jason and all the nasty accusations launched in her direction, it made all the difference to know there were two people in the world she could count on to believe in her no matter what. People who knew she would never embezzle money, never lie to donors and never be involved with a man who did. At least not knowingly.

Jason. Who would have thought he was capable of something like this? His philanthropic efforts had established the research center she’d worked for in Louisiana, or rather had worked for until they were forced to shut down. They were studying the recovery of a riparian ecosystem once devastated by a chemical spill, but steadily recovering. She and the other two scientists at the River Foundation were documenting the recovery, observing how the various building blocks of the ecosystem linked together. The information they’d gathered would help others trying to reestablish similar ecosystems.

But it turned out Jason was using the River Foundation as a front, part of the elaborate Ponzi scheme he’d engineered. He’d convinced hundreds of people to invest with his company, or to donate to the River Foundation. They all trusted him, and why not? Who wouldn’t trust someone so friendly, and generous, and full of confidence? Which was probably why they called such types confidence men.

When Marissa first started at the center, a rumor had been circulating that Jason was getting divorced. Everyone worried that it might affect their funding if he lost too much in a divorce settlement, but it didn’t seem to. Marissa had been with the center for almost a year when Jason invited her to attend a fund-raiser with him. She’d asked if he wanted her to speak about their research, but no. He had a short Powerpoint presentation, but mostly he just wanted her there, on his arm. He’d explained that people didn’t respond to lectures. What he wanted was her enthusiasm for the project. He said if Marissa chatted with potential supporters one-on-one, they’d line up to donate. He was right.

The evening was a huge success. They began dating, and Marissa threw her considerable organizational talent into fund-raising for the River Foundation. Jason seemed so interested, so sincere, that she believed he truly cared for both her and the research center. But it was all an act. Even the divorce was a ruse to hide money. At least it looked that way, since nobody could seem to find Jason’s ex-wife, either. It caused a knot in Marissa’s stomach whenever she thought of the people who had donated money to her efforts, only to have it disappear along with any sign of Jason. No wonder they hated her.

Threatening letters arrived at the center from donors accusing her of stealing their money, of knowing where Jason was hiding. The investigators were watching her passport even now, waiting for her to make a move to some Caribbean island without an extradition treaty. She’d had to get permission from federal agents to fly home to Alaska.

If only she did know Jason’s whereabouts. She’d turn him in so fast he’d get whiplash. With any luck, he’d spend the rest of his life locked away where he could never betray honest people again. She would like to see him just one more time, though, to tell him exactly what she thought of him. The stories of older people losing their retirement savings, of a young couple forced to give up their home, sickened her. And it was all because of Jason.

She dabbed at her eyes with a paper napkin and washed her hands before setting three oatmeal cookies on one of Becky’s reindeer plates.

Her memories of her parents were vague, only bits and pieces before they’d died and she’d come to live in Alaska. They’d loved her; that she knew. But they were gone. Becky and Oliver were the people in her life whose love was unconditional and constant. And now there was a chance she could lose Oliver. She’d known his condition was bad, had seen how weak he’d become, and yet she’d refused to believe he could die. But it was time to be a grown-up and face facts. She might lose him. And all she could do in the meantime was cherish the time they did have together.

She’d been a lucky little girl. After her parents died, she could have ended up with someone who only tolerated her. Instead, her aunt and uncle were thrilled to bring her home, as though she was a special gift. Despite having no children of their own, they’d quit their jobs and started a successful reindeer farm to provide a magical Christmas experience for other people’s kids. And Marissa landed right in the middle of the magic.

Knowing it was Oliver playing Santa didn’t diminish the experience at all. Just the opposite. She got to grow up on the farm with the jolly old elf, his lovable wife and his magical reindeer the whole year round.

Marissa pasted a smile on her face and picked up the plate. Santa Claus needed his cookie.