I'll Be Home for Christmas (4 page)

“No, you were the smart one,” Peter said quietly. “It's rare that the heart and mind work in sync. When it does happen, you know it's right.”

“Your turn.”

Peter shrugged. “I run my grandmother's business. She tells me I'm good at it. She's the only family I have left, and she's up in years. I always…take…introduce her to the women I, ah, date. I value her opinion. So far she hasn't approved of anyone I've dated. That's okay; she was on the money every single time. Guess I just haven't met the right girl. Or, maybe I'm meant for bachelorhood. Would you like to go out to dinner with me to celebrate our deal?”

“Under other circumstances, I'd say yes, but I have too much to do. I also want to keep my eye on Rosie and the pups. If you like, you can come for dinner tomorrow.”

“I'll be here. I'll bring in the towels and blankets and shovel you out before I leave.”

“I'll help you. Thanks.”

It was one o'clock in the morning when Andi leaned on her shovel, exhaustion showing in every line of her face. “I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight,” she panted.

“Yeah, me, too. Tell me, what's it like when you operate on one of the animals, like you did tonight?”

“Awesome. When I saw those pups and when I stitched up Rosie, all the hard years, all the backbreaking work, it was worth every hour of it. Guess you don't get that feeling when you label Raspberry Cheese Louise on your lipsticks.”

Suddenly she was in the snow, the giant towering over her. She stretched out her foot, caught him on the ankle and pulled him down in an undignified heap. He kissed her, his mouth as cold and frosty as her own. It was the sweetest kiss of her life. She said so, grinning from ear to ear.

“Sweet?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Didn't make you want to tear your clothes off, huh?”

“You must be kidding. I never do that on a first date.”

“This isn't a date.” He leered at her.

“I don't do that on pre-dates either. I don't even know you.”

“I'll let my hair down tomorrow, and you can
really
get to know me.”

“Don't go getting any ideas that I'm easy. And, don't think you're parading me in front of your grandmother either.”

“God forbid.”

“Good night, Mr. King. You can call me Andi.”

“Good night, Dr. Evans. You can call me Peter. What are we having for dinner?”

“Whatever you bring. Tomorrow is bath day. I'm big on fast and easy. What time are you bringing Hannah?”

“How about ten? Our attorney will be out bright and early for you to sign the contract. Is that all right with you?”

“Okay. Good night.”

“I enjoyed this evening. Take good care of my dogs.”

“I will.” Suddenly she didn't want him to go. He didn't seem to want to go either. She watched the 4 by 4 until the red taillights were swallowed in the snow.

He was nice. Actually, he was real nice. And, he was going to give her over three million dollars. Oh, life was looking good.



The following morning, Andi woke before it was light out. She threw on her robe and raced down the stairs to check on Rosie. “I just want you to know I was having a really, that's as in
really,
delicious dream about Mr. Peter King.” She hunched down to check on the new pups, who were sleeping peacefully, curled up against their mother.

While the coffee perked, Andi showered and dressed, taking a few more pains with her dress than usual. Today she donned corduroy slacks and a flannel shirt instead of the fleece-lined sweats she usually wore in the kennel. Today she even blow dried her hair and used the curling iron. She diddled with a jar of makeup guaranteed to confuse anyone interested in wondering if she was wearing it or not. A dab of rouge, a stroke of the eyebrow pencil and she was done. She was almost at the top of the steps when she marched back to her dressing table and spritzed a cloud of mist into the air. She savored the smell, a long-ago present from a friend. She told herself she took the extra pains because it wasn't every day she signed a three-million-plus deal. As she drank her coffee she wondered what the plus part of the contract would net her.

Andi thought about Gertie and her friends under the railroad trestle. Where did they go last night during the storm? Were they warm and safe? As soon as everything was tended to and she checked out Hannah the cat, she would drive into Plainfield and try to locate Gertie and her friends. Now that she had all this money coming to her, she could rent a motel for them until the weather eased up, providing the manager was willing to wait for his money.

The notebook on the kitchen table beckoned. Her list of things to do. Call Realtor, make plans to transport animals. Her friend Mickey had an old school bus he used for camping in the summer. He might lend it to her for a day or so. She could pile Gertie and her friends in the same bus.

Andi's thoughts whirled and raced as she cleaned the dog runs and hosed them out. She set down bowls of kibble and fresh water, tidied up the kennel, sorted through the blankets and towels. The heavy duty machines ran constantly. Her own laundry often piled up for weeks at a time simply because the animals had to come first. She raced back to the kitchen to add a note to her list. Call moving company. She wasn't parting with the crates, the laundry machines or the refrigerator. She was taking everything that belonged to her parents even if it was old and worn-out. The wrecking ball could destroy the house and kennel, but not her
stuff.

She was on her third cup of coffee when Peter King's attorney arrived. She read over the contract, signed it and promised to take it to her attorney, Mark Fox. Everything was in order. Why delay on signing. The plus, she noticed, amounted to $750,000. That had to mean she had three and three-quarter acres. “Date the check January first. I don't want to have to worry about paying taxes until ninety-seven. Where's the date for construction to begin? Oh, okay, I see it. January 2, 1997. We're clear on that?”

“Yes, Dr. Evans, we're clear on that. Here's my card; have Mr. Fox call me. Mark is the finest real estate attorney in these parts. Give him my regards.”

“I'll do that, Mr. Carpenter.”

The moment the attorney was out of her parking lot, Andi added Mark Fox's name to her list of things to do. She crossed her fingers that he worked half days on Saturday. If not, she'd slip the contract, along with a note, through the mail slot and call him Monday morning.

Andi's eyes settled on the clock. Ten minutes until Peter King arrived with his grandmother's cat. She busied herself with phone calls. Ten o'clock came and went. The hands of the clock swept past eleven. Were the roads bad? She called the police station. She was told the roads were in good shape, plowed and sanded. Her eyes were wet when she crouched down next to Rosie. “Guess he just wanted my signature on the contract. My mother always said there was a fool born every minute. Take care of those babies and I'll be back soon.”

At ten minutes past twelve, Andi was on Park Avenue, where she dropped the contract through the slot on Mark Fox's door. She backed out of the drive and headed down Park to Raritan and then to Woodland, turning right onto South Avenue, where she thought she would find Gertie and her friends. She saw one lone figure, heavily clad, hunched around a huge barrel that glowed red and warm against the snow-filled landscape. Andi climbed from the truck. “Excuse me, sir, have you seen Gertie?” The man shook his head. “Do you know where I can find her? Where is everyone?” The man shrugged. “I need to get in touch with her. It's very important. If she comes by, will you ask her to call me? I'll give you the quarter for the phone call.” She ran back to the truck to fish in the glove compartment for her card, where she scrawled, “Call me. Andi.” She handed the card, a quarter and a five-dollar bill to the man. “Get some hot soup and coffee.” The man's head bobbed up and down.

Her next stop was Raritan Road and her friend Mickey's house. The yellow bus was parked in his driveway next to a spiffy hunter green BMW.

Mickey was a free spirit, working only when the mood struck him. Thanks to a sizable trust fund, all things were possible for the young man whose slogan was, “Work Is A Killer.” She slipped a note under the door when her ring went unanswered. Her watch said it was one-thirty. Time to head for the moving company, where she signed another contract for her belongings to be moved out on December 22nd and taken to storage on Oak Tree Road in Edison. Her last stop was in Metuchen, where she stopped at the MacPherson Agency to ask for either Lois or Tom Finneran, a husband/wife realty team. The amenities over, she said, “Some acreage, a building is a must. It doesn't have to be fancy. I'm going to build what I want later on. Zoning is important. I was thinking maybe Freehold or Cranbury. You guys are the best, so I know you can work something out that will allow me to move in with the animals the first of the year. Have a wonderful holiday.”

There were no fresh tire tracks in her driveway and no messages on her machine. “So who cares,” she muttered as she stomped her way into the kennel. The kitchen clock said it was three-thirty when she put a pot of coffee on to perk. When the phone shrilled to life she dropped the wire basket full of coffee all over the floor. She almost killed herself as she sprinted across the huge kitchen to grapple with the receiver. Her voice was breathless when she said, “Dr. Evans.”

“Andi, this is Gertie. Donald said you were looking for me. Is something wrong?”

“Everything's wrong and everything's right. I was worried about you and your friends out in the cold. I wanted to bring you back here till the weather clears. I signed the contract this morning. For a lot of money. Oh, Gertie, what I can do with that money. You and your friends can come live on my property. I'll build you a little house or a big house. You won't have to live on the street, and you won't get mugged anymore. You can all help with the animals, and I'll even pay you. I'll be able to take in more animals. Oh, God, Gertie, I almost forgot, Rosie had eight puppies. They are so beautiful. You're going to love them. You're quiet, is something wrong?”

“No. I don't want you worrying about me and my friends. I'll tell them about your offer, though. I'll think about it myself. How was…that man?”

“Mr. King?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Last night I thought he was kind of nice. He came back out here later in the evening and shoveled my parking lot. He was starved, so I gave him a sandwich and we talked. I invited him to dinner tonight. He was supposed to bring his grandmother's cat for me to check and he was a no-show. I even let him kiss me after he pushed me in the snow. You know what, Gertie, I hate men. There's not one you can trust. All he wanted was my signature on that contract. He had this really nice laugh. We shared a few memories. As far as I can tell the only redeeming quality he has is that he loves his grandmother. Oh, oh, the other thing was, he was going to bring me some carbon monoxide things to plug in. He was so forceful I agreed and said I wouldn't charge for Hannah. That's the cat's name. He even invited me to his Christmas party, but he never even told me where he lived. Some invitation, huh? I should show him and turn up in my rubber suit. He acted like he thought I didn't know how to dress and kept mumbling about my mother's pearls. You're still coming for Christmas, aren't you? You said you'd bring all your buddies from the trestle. Gertie, I don't want to spend my last Christmas alone here in this house with just the animals. If they could talk, it would be different. Promise me, okay?”

“I can't promise. I will think about it, though. Why don't you hold those negative thoughts you have for Mr. King on the side. I bet he has a real good explanation.”

Andi snorted. “Give me one. Just one. The roads are clear. Alexander Bell invented this wonderful thing called the telephone, and Mr. Sony has this machine that delivers your messages. Nope, the jerk just wanted my signature. I'll never see him again and I don't care. Do you want me to come and get you, Gertie? It's supposed to be really cold tonight.”

“We're going to the shelter tonight. Thanks for the offer. Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow. Are the pups really cute?”

“Gorgeous. That's another thing; he said he was taking four, three for him and one for his grandmother. On top of everything else, the man is a liar. I hate liars as much as I hate used car salesmen. You sound funny, Gertie, are you sure you're all right?”

“I'm fine. Maybe I'm catching a cold.”

“Now, why doesn't that surprise me? You live on the damn streets. I'll bet you don't even have any aspirin.”

“I do so, and Donald has some brandy. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Andi. Thanks for caring about me and my friends. Give Rosie a hug for me.”

“Okay, Gertie, take care of yourself.”

Andi turned to Rosie, who was staring at her. “Gertie was crying. She's not catching a cold. She's the one who is homeless, and she's the one who always comes through for us. Always. I can't figure that out. She's homeless and she won't let me do anything for her. I hope somebody writes a book about that someday. Okay, bath time!”

Andi ate a lonely TV dinner and some tomato soup as she watched television. She was in bed by nine o'clock. She wanted to be up early so she could begin going through the attic and packing the things she wanted to take to storage. If her pillow was damp, there was no one to notice.



Less than ten miles away, Peter King sat on the sofa with his grandmother, trying his best to console her. He felt frightened for the first time in his life. His zesty grandmother was falling apart, unable to stop crying. “I thought she would live forever. I really did. My God, Peter, how I loved that animal. I want her ashes. Every single one of them. You told them to do that, didn't you?”