Christmas in Bethel

Chapter Twenty-Six

And just like that, I’m homeless.

Beth Stilton’s Diary

More books are sold on Black Friday than any other day of the year, which was why Lee was up before I was and back at work. He started at five in the morning doing phone-in interviews on radio stations around the US. He had his first break after noon.

I made him lunch from Thanksgiving leftovers—a turkey and cranberry sandwich on a cold dinner roll, sweet potatoes and stuffing, with a piece of pumpkin pie.

“They’ve got me scheduled so tight,” he said. “I had to go to the bathroom at nine thirty and couldn’t go until ten fifteen. I think they forget I’m human.”

“You’re not. You’re superhuman. You’re J. D. Harper.”

“My bladder’s not.”

“That’s why you’ve got all these bathrooms.”

After lunch we went to his room and took a nap together. When I woke, he was watching me.

“How long have you been awake?” I asked.

“A little while. You still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.”

“You already got me something. Remember? Tiffany?”

“That was just warming up for the season.”

“Tiffany isn’t warming up, it’s the finish line. It’s a mile past the finish line. I don’t need anything. Except you.”

“Now I want to buy you even more.”

“Okay, you really want to give me something?”

“Yes.”

“Do I have a limit?”

“Sky’s the limit.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Try me.”

“I want a story. A short story.”

“I’ll dedicate a whole book to you. Then the whole world will know what you mean to me.”

“I don’t want it to be for the world. I want a story just for me. I know that’s asking a lot, but it doesn’t have to be long. It can be a couple pages, like O. Henry.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “Okay. I’ll write you a story.”

“Now tell me what you want,” I said.

“I have everything I need.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer.” Just then my phone rang. I looked down at it. It was my friend Frankie.

“Hi, Frankie. Happy holidays.”

“Not so happy,” Frankie said, her voice practically dripping with misery.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just be glad you didn’t come for Thanksgiving. Arlo decided to deep-fry a turkey for Thanksgiving, and he caught the house on fire. The kitchen and dining room are no more.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Not yet, but I still might kill Arlo. We’re staying at a hotel right now.”

“I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”

“Unfortunately, more than you’ll want to. Our builder came by this morning. He says it’s going to take about six months to make the house livable. So we need to move back into the little house.”

“You want me to move out?”

Lee looked at me with a concerned expression.

“It’s just for six months. Then you can come back.”

I breathed out heavily. “When do you need me out?”

“Ideally next Friday.”

“A week from today?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. But this whole thing is a mess. You know, Arlo’s stuff isn’t moving, and we’re not charging you enough rent to pay for another place to live.”

“I understand. You might as well save the money you’re wasting on a hotel and move in right now. You probably need new furniture anyway. When I get back into town, I’ll get my things out.”

“Thank you. I’m really sorry to do this to you.”

“I’m sorrier for what you’re going through. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up my phone. I looked at Lee. “I’m homeless.”

“You’re being evicted?”

“Frankie and Arlo need to move back in for six months. She gave me a week to move out.”

His brow fell. “A week? They can’t just evict you like that.”

“They’re not evicting me, they just asked me to let them have their home back for a while. She’s been good to me. We used to split the rent, but when she moved out and I wanted the whole house, she didn’t increase my rent at all. I owe her.” I raked my hand back through my hair. “What a nightmare.”

“Why do they need to move back?”

“Her husband decided to deep-fry a turkey for Thanksgiving.”

“Bad idea.”

“Very. He caught their house on fire. Now they need someplace to live while their home is repaired. They say I can move back in when the work is done.” I groaned. “How am I going to find an apartment in less than a week?”

“You work from home, don’t you?”

“Mostly. I have to go into the office once a month, but that’s nothing.”

“Then why don’t you stay here?”

“In this house?”

“Why not? It’s practically empty. You’ve got your own office, an indoor swimming pool, a house cleaner. You can drive the Mustang. You’ll save all that rent money. What could possibly be wrong with that?”

“You’re talking about moving in together?”

“No, it’s not like that. It’s not permanent, and I’m gone most of the time. And when I’m not on the road, I’ll want to be with you anyway.”

“What will Marc think?”

“He’ll be fine. More than fine. He’ll be glad for the company.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s the perfect solution.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll have to get my things from home.”

“What do you need?”

I thought about it. “Not much, really. I guess I don’t need my furniture. Really just the rest of my winter clothes.”

“I’ll send a truck to get what you need here, the rest you can move into a storage shed. What do you think?”

“I think you’re too generous.” I grinned. “What if People magazine finds out you have a kept woman?”

He likewise grinned. “If there’s one thing we know in Boston, it’s that scandal sells books.”