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“Dang it!” Steve tossed his cell phone on the kitchen counter and paced, glaring at the phone. What the heck had changed her mind? “Dang it!”
Lincoln, who was sitting on a stool watching their mother make cookie dough, stiffened.
“Steve,” Ellery warned, wiping her hands on her snowman-themed apron. “Don’t swear around Lincoln.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t swear,” he said. “Dang it isn’t swearing, and dang it is as bad as it will get, but dang it and double-dang it!” A slew of sailor-worthy curse words ricocheted inside his brain.
“Would you like some cocoa?” she asked.
“No, Mom, I do not want cocoa. Cocoa will not solve this problem.”
“Don’t raise your voice, either,” she said.
“Sorry.”
“What is the problem, Son?”
“Not a danged thing!”
“Steven Richardson Waldren!” she barked.
Lincoln began tapping the rung of his stool with his toe.
“Sorry, sorry.” Steve mimed zipping his lips and in a soft voice said, “Nothing, Mom. Really. Nothing I can’t handle.” He pecked her cheek, gave his brother’s shoulders a hard squeeze, and hurried to his room.
Seconds later, his mother knocked on the door. “We’re going to decorate the tree tonight.”
“It’s already decorated,” he said.
“Not with our personal ornaments. You know the tradition. The night before the tree-lighting ceremony, we add the ornaments that you and Lincoln made over the years.” She opened the door, moved to where he was sitting on the bed, and sat beside him. “I know you haven’t been here for the entire Christmas season in a while, but the traditions haven’t changed. I’ll make your favorite cookies as a bribe. Chocolate crinkles.”
“Fine.”
“Want to help me make them?”
“Not this time.”
“Don’t brood. You’ll get wrinkles.” His mother kissed the side of his head and tiptoed out of the room.
Steve lowered his face into his hands. Not because she’d made him feel guilty. She hadn’t. At least, she would never mean to. No, this was all about him. His career. He was done. Over the hill. Toast. Why had Hope said no again? There had to be a reason. Whatever it was wouldn’t matter to Dave.
“Rip off the bandage,” Steve whispered. “It won’t hurt as much.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and saw that he’d missed a call. Not from his agent. From an unknown caller. A telemarketer, most likely.
Sighing, he dialed the station and asked for Dave.
Seconds later, his boss came on the line. Steve pressed Speaker, set the cell phone on the bed, and, while stretching his arms and torquing his torso, calmly and coherently explained the situation. Hope said yes at first, but then she said no. But then she said yes after he went to her camper. Dave said he knew all of that. So Steve continued. After accepting the second time, she said no to Brie because she didn’t want KPRL to tell her personal story. Plus, she didn’t want her ex-husband dragged through the mud. And then, out of nowhere, reporters showed up and chased her and her kids into the Christmas bazaar.
He thought he heard Dave chuckle, but he might have imagined that. He continued. “I saw the jackals, so I raced after her. She eluded them and me. But then I spotted her and her kids at Santa’s Village, so I cozied up to her, and she said yes again.”
“Good job.”
“However, something changed between then and now, and, well, she said no again.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. Something about her van. I’m sure she has good reason.”
“You blew it, Waldren! Blew it!” Dave shouted, as emotive as Mt. Vesuvius. “Do you hear me?”
“I hear you, boss.”
“Yeah, about that. It’s the last time you get to call me that. You didn’t get the winner of the prize to say yes. You epically failed. Therefore, you’re fired.”
“Fired?”
“You heard me. F-I-R-E-D.”
“Dave, be reasonable.”
But Dave wasn’t listening. He was continuing his rant, ridiculing Steve, making snide comments about Steve’s performance and his relationship with the weather girl.
“Dave, c’mon, man, I’ve given the station nearly two decades of my—”
“I. Don’t. Care. Come into the station and clean out your belongings. You’re finished.”
Steve sighed, realizing Dave wasn’t lying because the man truly relished his role as career killer.
“You know what?” Steve said, summoning his gumption. “You are a class-A jerk. Sending those reporters to hound Hope. Don’t deny it. I know it was you. Did you think you’d embarrass her into saying yes to the prize?”
“Duh.”
Steve could’ve kicked himself. Why had he mentioned Hope’s living situation to his boss? “I repeat, you’re a jerk, Dave. A jerk with no soul. A class-A jerk with no moral compass. You disgust me. Do you hear me?” Steve didn’t comprehend until he’d finished his diatribe that Dave had hung up on him.
After he found his calm, Steve contacted his agent and begged him to find him a new position. Anywhere. It didn’t have to be a big city. He simply couldn’t go cold. If his resume had a gap, he would never work again. Any job he accepted could be explained away by Steve saying he’d wanted a respite from the bigger markets and wanted to see what working in a smaller one was like. But he couldn’t afford a gap.
When his agent said he’d do the best he could and ended the call, Steve stabbed in Harker’s number. Harker answered after the first ring. Steve laid it all out. Hope’s surprise turn-down. Dave’s toxicity and duplicity. His agent’s lackluster support. “I’ve given that guy fifteen percent of everything I’ve earned for years.”
“Dude, that sucks,” Harker said. “But this could be good for you.”
“How so?”
“You get to start fresh. A chance to find your passion.”
Steve grumbled. He was passionate about his current job. At least he thought he was.
“It took me five jobs to find this one,” Harker said. “But the punches to the gut, the loss of confidence, how much I suffered . . . You know it was worth it.”
Steve did. Harker had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions after dumping job three and four. Steve had been his sounding board.
“And now I love what I’m doing. I love the company. Love my boss.”
“Because she’s a looker,” Steve retorted.
Harker snickered. “Take a deep breath, pal, and reassess in the morning. I’ve got your back.”
Steve hung up and stared at himself in the mirror. Oh, he was reassessing all right. Tired eyes. Weary smile. Cheeks blazing with anger. But if he admitted it to himself, there was also regret. How he’d wanted Hope and her family to take the trip. Not because it would have saved his career but because she and her kids might have experienced a moment of joy.
Hope. He pictured her face. Her winning smile. Her deep-rooted sadness. She’d suffered too much. Why had she said no again? If he reached out, would she—
His cell phone rang. He stabbed Send without looking at the readout, thinking it was Harker prepared to give him one more pep talk. “Yeah?”
“Hi, Steve, it’s me again. Todd. Did you see what Jones and Woodruff did last night? Both rocked it at the stadium.”
Steve agreed.
“Jones had thirty-six points and Woodruff thirty-four,” Todd went on. “Woodruff usually averages twenty-six per game, and Jones averages twenty-six-point-nine with seven-point-two rebounds.”
“Seven-point-three,” Steve corrected.
“Yeah, three. You’re right. Anyway, it was so awesome, and well, that’s all I called to say. Okay? Bye.” Todd ended the connection.
Steve chuckled, stunned that yet again the kid hadn’t asked about the prize. He’d just wanted to talk stats. Steve wondered if Hope knew her son had called him and determined that she didn’t or she would’ve put the kibosh on it. He remembered having secrets at Todd’s age. He wouldn’t rat him out.
Spurred by Todd’s enthusiasm, for a few minutes Steve streamed ESPN to see highlights of last night’s games, and then, giving into fatigue, flopped onto the bed, covered his eyes with his forearm, and instantly fell asleep.
“Steve?” His mother tapped on the door.
He glanced at the bedside clock and was startled to see it was already six p.m. Where had the time gone? “Come in, Mom.”
Ellery opened the door. She was no longer wearing an apron. She’d put on makeup and had swapped out the shirt she’d been wearing for a cherry-red Christmas sweater adorned with jingle bells. “The cookies are ready, and Lincoln has unwrapped the box of our personal ornaments. He would like you to join us.”
“Mom, I was fired.”
“I’m sorry, Son.” She took a long moment before crossing to him and sitting on the foot of his bed. She rested a hand on his toes. “You’ll be fine. You always are.”
That wasn’t true. Steve had only needed to land one job, and he did it right out of college. He didn’t know if could rally.
“Will you join us?” she asked.
“Sure, Mom.”
