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If he’d actually had worse, that, too, had happened before I was born. Because this was a moment I’d never seen before. My Dad—larger than life—laid low. Frail and pale in a hospital bed.
And right before Christmas. The timing was terrible.
There was only one thing to do.
I pressed the phone button on the WhatsApp chat with my brother and sister.
“Hey Ethan!” Kristen said. “Long time no chat.” I could hear her working on her keyboard. Constantly working, my sister. I always admired how seriously she took being a total badass.
“What the fuck do you need?” Matt asked. He was a defenseman for the Chicago Warriors hockey team and I firmly believed his years in locker rooms stunted his vocabulary. To say nothing of his manners. My brother was a Neanderthal with an overgrown beard.
“Jesus, Matt, that’s what you want to lead with? I’m your brother.”
“Is there a problem?” Kristen said. “I have a call in ten minutes.”
“It’s almost midnight,” I pointed out.
“New York doesn’t care.” I wasn’t sure what Kristen did, except that it was important and she was on her phone more than me. Which was saying something.
“I repeat,” Matt said. “What the fuck do you need?”
“We have a problem. Dad’s hurt.”
“Oh my god,” Kristen said. “What happened?”
I explained the wreath and the Birks and didn’t need to remind them of our father’s stubbornness. “His leg is broken in two places.”
“I’ll pay to have a nurse—”
“Jesus, Matt, that’s your solution to everything.”
“Yeah, because money solves everything,” Matt shot back.
“It’s not going to solve this.” I took a deep breath and let it out slow. “You guys need to come home for Christmas.”
3
Of course Kristen, Daddy’s Little Girl, was home practically the next flight. And being Kristen, after she fawned on our father, who soaked it up like he was dying on the desert floor without the love of his children despite my weekly dinners with him, she locked herself away in the office to get to the bottom of what was happening at the inn.
I’d told her what Rhonda had told me, but she was a real see-it-for-herself kind of person.
Matt was a no-show. He offered to send more money. Swear to god, when I saw him in person I was going to kick his ass. Which I could do. Probably. My brother claimed he was busy with the hockey season, but that guy had been benched with a groin injury for months. He could get here if he wanted to. He just didn’t want to.
“Ethan, did you know the inn is only half full? And why didn’t tell you me about Rhonda leaving for the season?” Kristen asked two days after she arrived.
I was at Sweet Bliss, the bakery and coffee shop on the corner of Main Street, right across from the square where the annual Salt Springs Christmas Jamboree was being set up. I waved hello to Jake behind the counter and stayed out of the line until I was done with my call.
The place was decked out in silver and gold decorations and the air smelled like sugar and butter. There was brisk business of people ordering homemade gingerbread house kits to take home and decorate.
Manners would dictate I go outside but it was freezing out there.
And the crews setting up for the Jamboree were loud and had a million questions, and somehow, I was the man with the answers. I was straddling two camps. I was still City Council president until March when a special election could be called. But I’d also announced my intention to run for mayor. As City Council president, I could have been nice and warm in my office, but as a potential mayor, my assistant assured me, I had to be out in the square. Building things. Showing my can-do community spirit.
It seemed to me that I had two jobs, when one made me busy enough.
“I did tell you about Rhonda leaving. Not that you actually listen to anything I say. I’ve found a replacement.”
“Who? And if you say you…”
“Not me. I’ve already got enough on my plate. I hired a college kid home for the holidays.” Tiffani with an i. “She should start this week.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“Life moves pretty fast, Kris.”
“You cannot quote Ferris Bueller to me. Not today.”
I smiled. It was really nice having my sister home. “I’m aware that bookings are down, but that could be for any number of reasons.”
“I don’t like it,” she said.
“What’s not to like? Dad’s getting older. Sure, maybe he’s slowing down a bit. If the business slows down with him, maybe that’s a good thing.”
“Ethan, that inn is Dad’s retirement. There are no real savings. No 401K for him. If the business falls to shit before he retires and decides sell it, then he’ll be left with nothing.”
Joe, the crew chief building the stage came in, caught my eye, and beelined over with a question. I gave him the universal symbol for one minute and he turned and ordered a coffee at the cash.
