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Dad always said business was good. Dad always said everything was fine and if things weren’t why wouldn’t he tell me. I was here. I was his son. I was the goddamn fixer.
Stubborn, I reminded myself.
Proud, I reminded myself.
Two things I loved about the old man, but holy shit, he made things so hard.
“Is that true?”
“Oh my god! Ethan! How can you not know that?”
I waved hello to the Blake family that came in and smiled at Janice who ran the sporting goods store down the street and then turned to face the corner of the room, giving myself a little privacy. “Because it’s not something we’ve talked about. Dad hasn’t even hinted that there’s a problem.”
Mom had been the brains behind the operation. When they bought the land in the early seventies for a song, they’d used it as a commune of sorts. Selling Christmas trees to make some money, their friends living on the land in various buildings.
But when the 70s were over and they decided they needed to make some money, they created the inn. Dad had been the muscle. Mom had been the brains. The three of us kids had helped out on summer breaks and after school, but Dad always encouraged us to do our own things.
And this last year, when I got so busy with Salt Springs and United Earth...he’d been so proud. During our weekly dinners he asked questions about my work and I’d been so preoccupied I didn’t ask about the farm.
“I’m not sure he would even know,” Kristen said. “You know how it was when Mom was alive. She handled the bookings, the finances, and left him to the tree farm. I’m going to have to dig into the books. See where things stand really. But I’m afraid we’re going to need a Christmas Miracle.”
“And you’ll have time to do that? You don’t have to work remotely while you’re home?”
“Uh, no. My assistant has things handled for now back at the office.”
“Then good,” I said, with real relief. “This is good. I’ve been trying to keep up, Kris, I swear have. But with all the shit I’ve got going on, it’s nice to know that I’ve got some backup.”
“We should call Matt again. Tell him to get his ass home.”
“I tried,” I said sharply. “He said he would pay for the nurse. He’s lucky I didn’t fly out to Chicago to kick him in the teeth.”
“Not the teeth,” she said. “You know he’s already lost three.”
That shouldn’t please me as much as it did. “Yeah, well he can afford a few new ones.”
The barista shouted out a coffee order for pick up at the counter.
“Hey, so, off topic,” Kristen said. “What do you know about the new tree farmer?”
“Tree farmer?”
“Paul Bunyan.”
I laughed. “You mean Paul McCleer? Manager of Kringle Christmas Tree Farm?”
“Yes,” she said and I could hear the frustration in her voice. Manhattan and Salt Spring ran at very different speeds and Kristen usually came home all high and mighty, like working so hard and so fast that you couldn’t take in the scenery was the only way to live.
“What about him?” I asked slowly, fucking with her a little.
“Dad hired him?”
“Yes, but I was part of the process. It was the one thing Dad was willing to relent on, that he couldn’t handle both the inn and the farm. I helped Dad post the ad and Paul applied a few weeks later. He’s been a great addition. Solid guy. No bullshit.”
“Yes, but what do we know about him?”
“What’s to know? He plants shit and makes it grow. Why the interest?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he’s living in the house with Dad.”
“That’s temporary.”
“And now I’m living in the house with Dad,” she continued. “What if he’s a secret serial killer or something?”
“Well, no one has died yet,” I said. “If he starts with you, who does that say more about? Him or you?”
“You know I can still take you in a fight, don’t you?”
“I’m pretty sure you can’t.” My chest suddenly stung with a thousand remembered nipple twists. My sister’s go-to move.
“Hide your nipples, Ethan. Goodbye, my brother.”
“Kris, wait…”
The line went dead and I stepped to the counter where Jake had already made and packed up my usual lunch. An extra-large coffee steamed beside the bag.
“Hey man,” Jake said. “Sorry to hear about your dad. I threw in a few extra of his favorite oatmeal raisin cookies.”
“That’s real nice of you, Jake. He’ll appreciate that.”
“I heard Kristen was home,” Jake said. “Any chance Matt’s going to make an appearance?”
The hometown hero. The guy cared not even a little bit about this town and everyone loved him.
“I wish I knew, Jake. Thanks again for the cookies.”
I waved goodbye to everyone sitting in the bakery and went back outside where the wind was coming down off the mountains in the distance. The square in front of me was busy with people building stages and booths for the games and food that were all a part of the Jamboree.
