Mr. 365 (18 page)

“Don’t feel too bad about it. The real TV production people sit around and make fun of us for having to produce this dreck, so it all comes full circle,” Paul says.

“I feel worlds better now. Thanks, Paul,” I say.

Rachel turns to me. “Listen. As long as we’re respectful at the shoot, and treat these people well, I think it’s fine for us to let off a little steam in the privacy of our home office.”

“Yeah. For example I treated Mr. Christmas
really
well.” Lindsey chimes in.

“Not as well as you wanted to.” Paul points out.

“It’s just as well I didn’t go by the shoot like I’d planned,” Rachel says. “I don’t need any more guys with weird tendencies for boyfriends. All the reports I got back indicated he was surprisingly smart and very easy on the eyes.”

“He isn’t weird at all.” I try not to sound defensive, while pretending Rachel doesn’t consider Will a potential conquest.

“Well, you would know,” Paul says, raising his eyebrows.

“No, Rachel’s right… he was fine. So different than most of the yahoos we deal with. I still can’t figure out why he does all that crazy shit, but I’d plug in his Christmas lights any old time.” Lindsey fans herself dramatically.

Rachel turns to me. “Speaking of Will. Have you talked to him about the shopping trip?”

My mind fills with dread. “No, I haven’t. I’m sure he won’t want to do it, and I’m nervous to ask.”

“Quit dragging your feet. I want him on board before the exterior shoot this Wednesday.”

“Okay.” I agree glumly.

On the drive to Will’s home, I call Lindsey using my Bluetooth.

“I’m on my way over to Will’s to check up on their progress for tomorrow. You got things straightened out with Hoffmeyer, right?”

“That guy’s such a psycho,” Lindsey says.

“And that’s why it’s so important he’s taken care of
before
the shoot.”

“We were able to make some cuts in other areas, so I could get more money. I feel like we’re being extorted.”

“We are, but I truly feel like Will’s safety is at stake. This is important. Thanks for arranging it,” I say.

“No problem. The only thing is that it’s taking extra time to get the check cut since it wasn’t in the original budget. If he says anything can you remind him that I promised I’d have it to him Friday at the latest?”

“Friday?” That’s worrisome.

“It’s the best we could do. I told him that.”

“Yeah, but did he listen?” I say to myself after we disconnect.
I sure as hell hope so.
I’d want this shoot to end on a high note without creating any more problems for Will.

Will is precariously balanced on the top of his slanted roof with a string of lights looped around his neck. He gives off an air like he’s the Paul Bunyan of Christmas. His confidence is appealingly macho as he yells directions to the guys in the yard while preparing to hang the lights. At one point he widens his stance, folds his arms over his chest, and surveys the progress, the confident command of which makes me all hot and bothered.

“Sophia!” he bellows. All the guys stop their work and turn to see who he’s so excited about. He abandons his lights and works his way down the ladder.

When he finally reaches me, he hugs me so enthusiastically he lifts me off the ground.

“Wow! Now that’s a greeting!” I exclaim.

“I’m just glad to see you.” He sighs before kissing me. A few of the crew let out a whoop and holler, and Will pulls back and laughs.

“How’s it going?”

“We’ve had a few issues, but overall okay. I’m doing the high-risk stuff and the trim along the rooftop. I don’t care what those inbreds next door think. I’m leaving it up after the shoot through Christmas. I just won’t turn it on until Thanksgiving.”

I feel nervous and remember my conversation with Lindsey.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” I ask.

“Let him sue me,” he says, sounding very cavalier.

I take a step back and turn toward the front yard. “Hank came right up and said hello when I pulled up. Do you want to introduce me to everyone else?

“Sure,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s do it.”

After we make the rounds, Will takes me into his garage workshop where he’s making some repairs and adjustments to some of the animated figures. “I’m having trouble with this Santa’s workshop elf. He’s holding a hammer in his hand and his arm is supposed to move up and down, but it keeps getting stuck.” He gently lifts up the elf’s shirt to check the wiring.

“So you fix this stuff yourself?” I ask as he works.

“Yeah, being a scenic guy comes in very handy with this house. Between what Gramps taught me and what the guys show me at the studio with animated props and characters, I can pretty much fix anything.”

“You said a while back that your Grandpa was always teaching you how to fix stuff. That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, he was great—all self-taught. This was his workshop. Sometimes when I’m in here late at night I almost feel like he’s with me.” He stands and picks up a worn chisel.

“Maybe he is.”

“I’d like to think that’s true,” Will says. “He was my hero. I’d like to think he’s keeping an eye out for me. I don’t think that stuff is creepy at all.”

While Will gets back to work, I wander through the room. I study the old-fashioned peg board mounted to the wall with brackets holding well-worn tools, burnished with age and use. I run my hand over on the gnarled yet polished work surfaces. Every scratch and groove in the wood is a sign of hands at work. I close my eyes for a moment and imagine Will as a boy, standing next to his grandfather as he teaches him his craft.

“My dad’s not handy at all,” I say absentmindedly.

“No?”

“I mean he’s great and everything, but he has no clue how to fix something. When our stuff broke it ended up in the trash bin.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty common nowadays. It takes a certain mindset to hold onto things that, with some attention and pure elbow grease, can still have value.”

Later when I get ready to run a few errands, Will invites me back at dusk to view the finished product in its full glory.

“Shall I get some takeout?”

“That’s a good idea. I’m probably not going to be up for cooking tonight.”

“Hey, there’s something I forgot to ask you earlier,” I say nervously.

“What’s that?”

“Since they’ve expanded the holiday thing into a series, they’ve decided to add something.”

“Add something?” Will asks, making a face. “Like what? Are they going to lock me in a dungeon and torture me, because that’s what any more of this would feel like.”

I scowl. “I can’t tell you how awesome you make me feel about my job.”

He shrugs. “Sorry, but I’ve got to call this like I see it.”

I crumble a bit with defeat. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to tell them no. But don’t you even want to hear what it was?”

He studies my face. “Okay, okay… what is it?”

“Going shopping in a holiday superstore.” I smile as if it’s a great idea.

He starts laughing uproariously. “Shopping! Are you serious? Why would anyone want to watch that?”

I feel the sting of his comment. “You haven’t watched a lot of reality TV, have you? Viewers really like to see how experts like you put ideas together.”

“This was Paul’s idea, wasn’t it?” Will asks.

“How’d you know?”

“Just a feeling,” Will grumbles. “So where does this stop? Are they just going to keep coming up with things? We’ll never be done, it will go on and on, forever and ever.”

“Yeah, and that would be awful. Imagine… we’d have to keep working with each other.”

“Like I said, torture, pure torture.” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me.

“Okay, I’m telling them you said no. Absolutely not, under no conditions, will you go shopping, no matter how much I beg you to.”

He kisses the top of my head and rubs my “back. “Well, if it’s
that
important to you, of course I’ll do it.

I grin. “You will? Why would you do it, if you hate the idea so much?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, woman? I’d do anything for you.”

When I pull up just before six, Will and Hank are leaning over some type of electrical panel. It looks as if the rest of the crew is gone.

“You think that’s okay? I followed what you told me, but I wasn’t sure if I put that last plug where you meant,” Hank says, biting his thumbnail.

“This looks good. I couldn’t have done this without you and the guys’ help.” Will pats him on the shoulder.

“Anytime, you know that. I appreciate the work.”

“Looks like you guys are done,” I say as I approach them.

Will smiles and loops his arm around my waist. “Yeah, you ready to be amazed?”

Hank’s eyes get big. “You haven’t seen it before, miss?”

“No, this will be my first time. I saw a little picture of it, but I suspect that’s nothing compared to being here.”

“Oh yeah, you’ve got to see it! It’s the best Christmas house around… in the whole world, I bet,” Hank says enthusiastically.

“Well, let’s see it then!”

“Okay, go stand over on the side walk, front and center,” Will instructs.

“Yes, sir,” I grin as I walk away.

“Ready?” he yells when I’m in position.

I give him a thumbs up.

Will turns to Hank. “Give us the countdown, man.”

Hank rubs his hands together. “Five, four, three, two, one… Merry Christmas!”

Will quickly flips circuits two at a time as each area of the yard and house snap on. With each pop, the glow from the yard gets brighter and brighter.

I blink several times and realize I’ve been holding my breath until the scene is completely lit and animated.

“Wow!” I cry and clap my hands happily. “This is unbelievable.”

The gingerbread house, which was in dusty pieces in the storeroom last week, is assembled and proudly glowing with lights while animated gingerbread men wave from the windows.

Across the path is a Ferris wheel at least ten feet high, and each seat holds elves and Christmas characters as the large wheel slowly rotates. There’s a family of snowmen near the front door, shimmering with tiny white lights.

An animated Santa is on the roof, waving from his sleigh. Attached to the sleigh is an entire team of reindeer who are aglow and ready for flight. Even the trees surrounding the yard are full of little lights.