Meeting Mr. Christmas (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

“How is it possible that somebody with hands the size of giant hams can put together such delicate displays? It’s really rather fascinating to watch. No, twist the stem a little so it’s turned out more. You see? Just that minor detail makes all the difference.”

Jed met Arlo’s eye over Lucian’s head, the two of them sharing a lopsided smile. Lucian didn’t have a filter, or at least not one that worked too well, but at least the guy kept himself in check with the customers. Or mostly. The consensus was that it was because Lucian was English and an aristocrat, which somehow excused some of his more outlandish comments.

But Lucian was right. Jed did have large hands and fingers which looked more like frankfurters. They were clumsy and awkward when he’d held a wrench in his dad’s repair shop, and they’d both concluded that Jed wasn’t destined to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but with flowers and foliage, his fingers danced.

“I think the bride is going to be very happy. The color combination’s unusual, but it works.” Arlo smiled, and Jed felt his face heat. He was proud of what he’d created, from the stumbling, clear as mud request from the bride-to-be, accompanied by only a word or two of advice from Lucian.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure at first?—”

“Have faith in your instincts and your eye, because they’re good and getting better.”

If Jed had feathers to puff up with pride, he’d have puffed and puffed again. Arlo was almost like an uncle to him, and his opinion meant a lot. It also helped that Arlo was a renowned artist who knew about color and composition.

“I’m very proud of my protégé. Well done, Jed.” Lucian smiled as he leaned into Arlo, who wrapped an arm around Lucian’s waist, his thumb absently stroking.

Jed had witnessed the affection between them so many times, never taking notice. But today he did. The ease of their connection, the unconscious way in which both men demonstrated what the other meant to him without worrying about what people would think. Arlo’s stroke was a metronome, the regular back and forth, holding every piece of his attention.

“Put it in the cooling cabinet. It’ll be collected first thing in the morning.”

“What? Okay, sure.” Jed dragged his attention away from the steady sweep of Arlo’s thumb.

With less than twenty minutes until the store closed, Jed busied himself with clearing up for the day. All the time, his gaze drifted to Lucian and Arlo, flitting away like a nervous butterfly before coming back to land.

“I think we’re done here.” Lucian looked around the tidy store. “You might as well go, Jed. Have a good evening.”

Jed didn’t need to be told twice.

From the corner of the living room, the big bushy Christmas tree twinkled with soft blue and white lights. Garlands festooned the mantlepiece, and at each end hung an old felt stocking. Both were faded and tatty, but they’d appeared every year for as long as Jed could remember, one each for him and his brother; just the sight of them was enough to bring back memories of all the happy family Christmases. Tall candy canes, with green, red, and white bows holding them together tightly, completed the festive scene on either side of the fireplace. It was like every Christmas Jed could remember — except for the battered cardboard boxes in the middle of the always pristine living room, which his mom was digging through.

“Oh my goodness, honey. I’d forgotten how cute you were when you were a boy.”

Jed huffed as he kneeled down next to her, where photographs spilled out all over the floor; he remembered her calling him many things, but never cute.

“I found these at the back of the garage when I pulled out the tree lights earlier. It’s been such fun going through them. I should make some collages and fix them up on the wall.”

Jed sifted through them. Lots of him and his brother, who was in the military and currently stationed overseas, and with their grandparents. Family vacations. Bad fashion and worse hair. Teenage faces covered in teenage acne. Jed grimaced at the thought of it all being on display.

“And so many with the Christmases’ as well — I wished they hadn’t moved to Florida, but at least Noel stayed.” Francine pulled a box forward. “There are so many with you and Noel, right from when you were both newborns. Joined at the hip. I swear that phrase was coined for the two of you. I wonder if he’d like some? Poor boy, living in that pokey apartment all by himself. We’ll get him over for dinner again, because he needs feeding up.”

“His apartment’s not pokey, and he has a refrigerator filled with food.”

Francine huffed. “At least he has you. It’s good to see you’re still as close as ever. Here, look at this one. Why did I say you were cute? You look like you’re about to pick a fight.” Francine laughed as she handed over a dogeared photograph.

Summer, him and Noel, standing by the Jake Collier outdoor swimming pool. Jed studied the nine or ten-year-old version of himself, an angry glare on his face as he stared into the lens, his arm wrapped around Noel and holding him tight. Both of them in bright red swim trunks, which matched the water wings around Noel’s skinny arms, and both of them dripping wet, hair plastered to their faces, Noel trying to smile but failing. The memory, long buried, resurfaced.

A boy, both bigger and older, had goaded Noel, jeering because Noel couldn’t swim very well. It hadn’t taken much more than Jed pulling Noel’s tormenter under and keeping him there until he was thrashing about in panic before he’d let him go, to bob to the surface, gasping for breath and coughing. The boy, whoever he was, no longer thought water wings were quite so funny. The whole incident, in the busy, noisy pool on a sun-drenched day, had been disguised as little more than horseplay. His and Noel’s parents, chatting beneath a sunshade, had noticed nothing.

Jed ground his jaw. He’d stayed close to Noel for the rest of the day, never letting him out of his sight, determined to protect him and keep him safe.

The phone rang and Francine rushed to answer, and Jed knew she wouldn’t be back soon as she took it through to the kitchen.

Jed continued sifting through the photos. Dozens and dozens of him and Noel, so often with him with his arm slung around Noel’s shoulders and grinning into the camera, full of confidence, as Noel, so much shyer and less sure of himself, smiled nervously. The two of them with groups of friends, at parties, at local gigs, at town parades, but the two of them always together. He picked up another photo, more recent than the others. His stomach bit down on itself. They were maybe about eighteen, laughing hard with their faces squashed together, both of them wearing ugly Christmas sweaters as they stood in front of the Christmas tree in the town square. He slipped the photo into the pocket of his jeans.

Picking up another, he stared hard at it. Him and Noel, sure, but it wasn’t him Noel was holding onto.

Noel’s first proper boyfriend, the first in a long line of deadbeats who didn’t deserve him. Jed pressed his lips together hard, unconsciously mirroring his expression in the photo. He hadn’t liked the guy as much as he hadn’t liked all the others.

None had lasted long. He let the photo fall from his fingers, and pushed himself up to standing, refusing to ask himself why.