The Christmas List (14 page)

“I was wondering if we could talk.”

“I was just about to take my afternoon nap.”

“I'm sorry to bother you. I won't take much of your time, just a few minutes. Please.”

She hovered over a decision, then exhaled as she acquiesced. “All right. Come in.”

“Thank you.”

He stepped inside the house; it smelled of linen and baked bread. Even with the passing of so many years he remembered his visits to the home and how warmly he'd been received. Like the home's exterior, nothing much had changed. The heavy oak kitchen table was still there, the one they had all sat around that evening, eating chocolate and anise pizzelles, as Kier explained his plans, the Wysses holding hands and listening eagerly. There had been excitement back then, and smiles and laughter. Now the memories turned on him. He felt like he was returning to a crime scene.

Estelle Wyss motioned to the living room. “Please, have a seat.”

Her cordial welcome was not what he expected, especially after his experience with Grimes. “Thank you.” He sat down in a floral upholstered armchair.

Estelle sat down across from him, her arms folded. “How is Sara?”

“Not well. She has pancreatic cancer.”

She looked genuinely sorrowful. “I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure you're taking good care of her.”

Kier didn't answer.

“I'd like to talk to her. It's been so long. Too long.”

“I know she'd like that. She was very upset about what happened . . .”

Mrs. Wyss did not react to his reference to the past. “So what can I do for you?”

“Is your husband here?”

“Karl passed away four years ago.”

“I'm sorry.”

“So am I. He was a good husband and a good man.” She gazed at Kier expectantly. “What do you need from me, Mr. Kier?”

“Mrs. Wyss, I came to apologize.”

“For?”

The question surprised him. “For what I did.”

“And what would that be?”

She seemed genuinely unaware; the thought crossed his mind that she'd actually forgotten his part in the loss of her property and it might be better to not answer her inquiry. Then again, maybe she just wanted to hear him say it. “For losing your land.”

“Oh, that.”

“The thing is . . .” As much as he had rehearsed his speech
in his head, he was suddenly at a loss for words. He looked at her awkwardly. “The thing is, I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“No, I suppose you didn't. But more importantly, you didn't mean not to.”

The words stung. Neither spoke. Then Estelle asked, “Are you dying?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, I'm not.”

“So what is your intent, Mr. Kier? Are you seeking my forgiveness? Are you looking to make amends?”

“Yes. Both.”

She nodded. “Well, I've already forgiven you. Years ago. You see, I don't hold on to the wrongs done to me; they're just ballast for the soul. Jesus admonished us to forgive
all
men, seventy times seven. Not just the penitent ones.

Her voice lowered. “It was more difficult for Karl to forgive you, but in his last year I think he found peace as well. And as far as amends, I don't see that there is anything you can do.”

Kier swallowed. “There must be
something
.”

“Even if it were in your power to return our land, it would be of no use to me. I wouldn't know what to do with it. That time has passed.”

“How about your dream of living in Italy? I could make that happen.”

“With someone else's loss? No, I couldn't do that.”

“No, no—I have . . . legitimate profits. I could pay for it.”

She smiled sadly. “There was a time when I might have taken you up on your offer, Mr. Kier, but not now. I'm too old and the doctors have me too well tethered to the local
medical establishment. And without Karl, the dream wouldn't be the same anyway.

“So you see, Mr. Kier, you can't make amends. You can't give me back my land. You can't give me back my health. You can't give me back my husband and you can't give me back my dreams. You certainly can't give me back my innocence.”

Her words washed over him like a wave, leaving him floundering. “Is there anything I
can
give you back?”

She smiled at him sadly. “Yes, Mr. Kier. My afternoon.”

“Of course.” He stood. “I'm very sorry.”

“I know.”

He walked back to his car and climbed inside. His visit to Eddie Grimes had been less painful.

As Kier started his car he glanced down at his cell phone. There were two missed calls. The first was from his office. Linda, he guessed, as Brey was still afraid to call him. It took him a moment to recognize the second number; he hadn't gotten a call from Sara for some time.

Seeing the number filled him with mixed emotions, but to his own surprise, mostly gladness. He immediately dialed the number. Sara answered on the seventh ring. “Hello.”

“Hi. It's Jim.” When she didn't speak he added, “I'm returning your call.”

“I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon, Jim. Actually, I didn't think I'd hear from you at all. I was calling to tell you that Juliet got a call from Le Jardin.”

“Who?”

“Juliet. Our son's fiancée.”

Kier silently berated himself. “Of course. Sorry.”

“She said they're going to let them use the facility for free. Was that your doing or Robyn's?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

“Yes.”

“It was me,” he replied. “Why didn't Jimmy just call me?”

“When was the last time you talked to your son?”

“Fair enough.”

“Juliet wanted me to thank you.”

“Tell her she's welcome.”

“You should tell her yourself.”

“She should thank me herself.”

“You're right,” Sara said. “I'll tell her.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. He scrambled for something to say. “I just saw Estelle Wyss.”

The memory still brought Sara pain. “How is she?”

“She was fine. Her husband . . . Kyle . . .”

“Karl.”

“Karl. He passed away.”

“I know. I sent a condolence card. I knew Estelle wouldn't take my call. Where did you see her?”

“I went to their home. Actually, I'm still parked in front of it.”

“Why?”

“Just . . .” Something stopped him. “Business.”

“Business?” Sara asked. “Hadn't you done enough ‘business' with the Wysses?”

Stupid thing to say,
he thought.
Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?
“So, you called about Le Jardin?”

“In part. Steve tells me that you haven't signed the divorce papers yet.”

“No, I haven't.”

“May I ask why?”

“I've had second thoughts.”

“Don't tell me you're not happy with the settlement.” An edge of anger had crept into her voice.

“No. I'm just . . .” he hesitated. What he had intended to say now seemed absurd even to himself.

“You're just what?”

“I'm not sure I want it to end.”

“Want what to end?”

“Us. Our marriage.”

There was a long pause. “Are you kidding?” she finally asked, her voice rising.

“No.”

“ ‘Us' has been over a long time, Jim. And it's not your choice anymore.” Sara sighed. “Isn't it really because I looked worse than you thought and you've decided to wait for me to die so you can take everything?”

“No, Sara, I would never . . .”

“Of course you wouldn't,” she said. “Just sign the papers, Jim. It's time for this
mistake
to end.”

The full force of his own words hit him. “I'm sorry I said that.”

“Me too. More than you will ever know. Goodbye, Jim.” She hung up.

Kier flipped his phone shut.
This just keeps getting better
.

When Linda came that afternoon the house was dark and appeared vacant. The kitchen counter was covered with white Chinese takeout boxes.

“Mr. Kier?”

Kier's voice came from above. “In my room.”

Linda climbed the stairs. The bedroom light was off and the blinds drawn. Kier was lying on top of the covers looking at the ceiling. “Are you okay?”

“No one punched me out today, if that's what you're asking.”

“I was. May I turn on the light?”

“Sure.”

She switched the light on. Kier shielded his eyes with his hand. “I left the papers you brought on the kitchen table,” he said. “They're all signed.”

“Thanks. How did your meeting with Mrs. Wyss go?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, she didn't punch you.”

“I wish she had. It wouldn't have hurt as much.”

Linda leaned back against the wall. “What did she do?”

“She forgave me. She forgave me for taking away her
dreams, her life, and her faith in the human race. And she wasn't trying to be spiteful. She meant it. Where do I go with that?”

Linda shrugged. “I don't know what to tell you.”

“Two down and I've accomplished nothing.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “Sara called me. First time in . . . I don't know how long. Forever. Do you know how I felt when I saw her name on my phone?”

Linda shook her head.

“I felt like I'd come home.”

“Why did she call?”

“She wanted to know why I haven't signed the divorce papers. I told her I wasn't sure I wanted to end our marriage.”

“What did she say to that?”

“She said it was over a long time ago.” He sighed.

Linda looked down. “I'm sorry.”

“Something good has to come from this, doesn't it?”

“I hope so. Do you need anything?”

“No,” he said softly. “Thanks for coming by.”

“You're welcome.” She turned to go. “Do you want the light off?”

“Please.”

She switched off the light. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Kier said. “There's always tomorrow.”

It was nearly ten o'clock, and Sara was getting ready for bed when her phone rang. She smiled when she saw the name on the caller ID. “Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?”

“I've got a problem,” Jimmy said.

Sara's smile fell. “What kind of problem?”

“Juliet wants to have the reception at Le Jardin.”

“I know. She told me.”

“So what do I do?”

“I don't understand what the problem is. Juliet seemed very happy.”

“Oh, she's over the moon. Especially when they told her they'd give us the space at no charge. I just don't get it. When I offered to pay for the reception she got mad.”