Later that morning as Michael poured himself a second mug of tea, he heard a knock on the front door. He peered out the window. A familiar truck had parked out front. The knock came again, this time more insistent.
"Bork," came Maguire's announcement. Michael made his way to the front door as Maguire peered down from the loft, his nose poking through a stair rail.
Michael opened the door for the second time that morning.
A burly man dressed in a thick plaid shirt and a black puffy vest stood outside. "Hey, Mike. Got a minute?" Thornton didn't wait for an answer, but walked past as if on a mission.
Michael shut the door. "You want some coffee? I can make a quick pot."
"If you put a shot of something extra in it." Thornton's cheeks were flushed with cold. His eyes nervously darted back and forth as if he had something on his mind.
“Sure,” Michael said. “Come on in and have a seat. I’ll get the coffee.”
“Sorry to come by without calling,” Thornton mumbled.
“What’s up?” he asked, turning to open the cupboard. Along with an extra mug, Michael took a bottle of whiskey off the shelf. He poured coffee first, then took the top off the bottle. Tipping the whiskey over the full mug of coffee, he stopped. Not too much. Way too early. Do I need to talk to Thornton about this? Screwing the top back on the bottle, he returned it to the shelf.
"I've been offered a Christmas job and I wanted to know if you'd let me have some time off from construction, at least until after New Years." Thornton took the mug from Michael's hand, taking a long sip before placing it down on the table.
Michael pulled out a chair and sat at the table. "I think that works. We won't be breaking ground on the pub job until the first of the year anyway. Might even be postponed to spring when the ground thaws."
Thornton nodded. "You gotta take what you can get this time of year."
Michael watched as he took another gulp of coffee. Thornton caught Michael staring at him.
"I've been worried. Our money isn't going as far as it used to. I have some extra bills."
"Is this morning drinking new?" Michael asked.
"Nah. I usually start the day with a shot. It helps with my aches and pains. Cheaper than a prescription. I don't like going to the doc."
"You don't like doctors in general or Doc Callahan in particular?"
His friend looked away, as if embarrassed. "Let's just say neither of us, my wife included, especially like any doc. Keep it at that."
So you're not gonna say any more. And here I thought everyone in Lily Rock loved Doc Callahan. Just goes to show…
When Michael didn't ask another question, Thornton spoke up quickly.
"Thanks, man. I was hoping you'd be okay with it. Betty's paying me triple what I usually make. I can't afford not to take that offer."
Michael’s eyebrows raised. "Is that Betty King?"
"She's hired me to play Santa at her shop. And get this. She's hiring Robyn to play Mrs. Santa. All we have to do is walk around during the day and get people to buy stuff. At noon and then four I sit in a big Santa chair. Kids line up to make requests. Mrs. Santa writes them on a paper and then drops them into a gigantic wooden mailbox."
Out of the blue—that was how it always happened—Michael felt emotional. His eyes welled up. He ducked his head away from Thorny. Remembering just a few years ago when he'd last stood in line waiting for Santa. Michael coughed to clear his throat.
"I suppose Betty carries lots of toys in her shop for parents to buy."
"That's my job. I'm supposed to point out all the expensive toys before I sit down as Santa. That gives the parents a chance to buy them when the kids are occupied telling Santa what they want.
"Betty King is a pretty smart cookie. She even keeps her supply of trains and electric scooters out of sight. The parents get edgy, thinking there's only one more, so they need to buy it quick before she runs out. Quite the saleswoman, our Betty."
Michael watched Thornton closely. I can't tell if he truly admires Betty or if he's scared of her ruthlessness.
Before he could ask, Thornton took the last gulp of coffee and put the mug down on the table with a thump. "Gotta get going. Betty wants us to work in the storage room until next week. I could make some serious cash if she keeps me until Christmas Day."
Michael felt the back of his neck get warm. It was his body's way of telling him that something was wrong. He thought for a moment before standing up. Thornton seems a bit desperate, especially drinking in the morning. Maybe I'll check in on him and those two teens for the next several days. Just in case… But I don't have children. What excuse can I use to just drop into a toy store?
Then he had the perfect idea. "Would you keep an eye out for Maguire while you're working at The Fort?"
Thornton's eyes narrowed. "I suppose so. Is he getting into some kind of trouble?"
"He's running all over town, making Meadow frantic. Plus as soon as Betty catches sight of him, she calls the animal protection people. It's costing Meadow a lot of money to bail the dog out each time. If you could catch him before that happens, Meadow could avoid the fine."
Thornton pushed his chair back, heaving his body to his feet. "No problem, man. Happy to help. Plus I respect that pup! He's actually been coming by our house the occasional afternoon. Appreciates the wife's cooking. She started hanging out with him when she's watching the news. Our whole place smells like wet dog fur." The corner of his mouth twitched. "But I don't mind. Love that crazy mutt."
Michael followed Thornton to the front of the house. Holding the door open, he watched as Thornton walked toward his truck, climbed behind the wheel, started the engine, and then drove away. Seeing his breath in the cold air, Michael closed the door quickly.
Once inside his mind went over their conversation. He shook his head remembering his tears at the mention of Santa and the children. You gotta keep busy or you'll be blubbering like a fool the closer we get to Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. Just not for me.
Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he looked out the window. Snow drifted from the tree branches, light flakes sticking to the glass. For just a moment he wondered about his plan to keep busy. Should I tell someone how I'm feeling? How I feel every year since…
Meadow came to mind. She's one of the good ones. But then he pulled himself up short. And for that very reason Meadow doesn't deserve to carry my load along with everything else. Clean up and do something useful, Bellemare.
He cleared the mugs from the table. After washing them by hand, he wiped them dry. Then he looked around the kitchen. Passing a towel over the counters, his foot grazed the empty food bowl left by Maguire. He picked it up to rinse in the sink.
I'm going to shower and then take a walk into town. I could use the exercise.
"Bork," came agreement from the loft.
Michael shook his head. Did that crazy mutt just read my mind…