“So, what do you think?” Joe Enthorpe asked. “Too big?”
Beside him twelve-year-old Owen Davis shook his head. “No way. It’s dope.”
Joe nodded.
Dope was Owen’s highest accolade and something Joe still had trouble remembering was a good thing. The first time he’d said it had been at the Enthorpe dinner table and Van had just passed him a platter of fried chicken.
Owen’s eyes had rounded. “That’s so dope.”
Joe’s mom froze holding a bowl of string beams. His father and grandfather stared. Even Joe frowned. Not Van.
“Totally agree,” she said. “Mom Enthorpe’s chicken is the best. You want a leg, a breast or a thigh?”
And that was one of the many reasons he loved her. While the rest of them were figuring out that that dope meant amazingly cool, Van had served Owen and herself and handed the platter to the next person. No lengthy explanations, just took it in stride and made sure everyone else did, too. Being a Manhattanite—at least for now, though Joe had other plans for that, too—she was up on the current slang.
“I think it’s the most perfect Christmas tree I ever saw,” Owen added, his mouth open and his face tilted almost at a right angle to see the top.
Joe nodded. It was pretty perfect. And he felt good about the day’s work. The other Joes—his granddad Joe Sr. and his father, Joe Jr.—had announced that they were turning over the cutting of the family tree to the younger generation. So Joe had taken Owen out to the woods to find two trees, one for the house and one for the future Enthorpe Winery gift shop, which they were trying to get in shape in time for the annual Christmas party.
Of course, Owen wasn’t an Enthorpe, but since Joe had hired him to help at the marina last summer, he’d practically been adopted by the family. He came out on Saturdays to help Joe with chores. Joe paid him for his time and Joe’s mother, who everyone called “Mom,” stuffed him with food and sent him home with bags of leftovers for his mother and sisters.
And now, looking down at Owen in his knit Ranger’s hat and hand-me-down flannel jacket, Joe felt a swell of contentment.
“Ya think Van will like it?”
Joe hoped so. “She’ll think it’s dope.”
“It kinda of takes up a lot of room.”
“Yeah it does, and we’ll probably have to cut off the top a little bit to get a star on it but that’s okay. It really makes the place, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” They both just stood looking up at the tree.
When Van had first suggested that the old stone building would convert into a perfect gift shop, Joe had thought she was being too optimistic. After all, they had just vatted their first very small crop of grapes. They had a long way to go.
But gradually she convinced the whole family that, in addition to wine and wine tastings, they could sell all things wine related: glasses, corkscrews, crackers, coolers, towels and other “go alongs.” Joe had been skeptical.
Now he had to admit she was right. The building had survived several transformations, starting as an ice house, before being enlarged to a butter-churning room, then when the dairy closed, it became the storage for every piece of equipment, building material and general junk that the older Enthorpes refused to part with.
Van had dealt with them, too. Joe smiled, remembering. Who could hold out on a dynamo with a spreadsheet and business plan over a bottle of organic California wine that was made from grapes similar to the ones the Enthorpes grew.
So they’d cleaned out the building, carted all the crap to the dump, gutted the inside down to the studs and stone walls. They’d scrubbed and scraped, mopped and dusted, repaired and painted. The rudimentary kitchen and WCs used by the former farm hands had been refitted and spruced up.
That’s as far as they’d gotten before they decided to hold the party there in its current state. Now the only thing in the room besides Joe and Owen was a twelve-foot spruce tree that took up one whole corner.
“It needs decorations,” Owen said.
“Not tonight. It’s time for you to get home.”
“Aw, Joe, not yet. At least some lights. You don’t want Van to come in and just see a plain old tree.”
“I thought this was a great tree.”
“It is but it’ll be greater with some lights. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Joe knew it would take more than a few minutes, but he didn’t have the heart to disappoint the kid.
“You’re getting all your homework done, right?” Joe asked.
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t sound too enthusiastic.”
“I know you said I oughta get an education, but it’s so boring. I’d rather be working out here with you.”
“You are working out here.”
“I know, but all the time.”
“What about hanging with your friends?”
Owen shrugged. “Have to come home and watch the girls til Mom gets home from work.”
Joe nodded. He felt for the kid—living in an apartment in town with no free time to himself couldn’t be easy. Joe had grown up in a large farm family. They’d all worked the dairy farm, but there was still time to do homework and have fun. His mom made sure of it.
“Okay, let’s go look in those boxes Van ordered.” Joe slit opened the cardboard carton that said Xmas Lights. Handed out a box to Owen, and another, and . . . There were ten boxes in all.
The two of them looked at each other.
“She probably doesn’t mean to put all of these on the tree. Let’s put some on and if she wants more we can add more.”
“Good idea,” Owen said.
Joe pulled the ladder over, detached the lights from their plastic frame. “You start getting the others out while I do the top, then it becomes a two-man affair.”
It was a good half hour before they plugged in the lights.
Joe winced, there were big gaps of darkness and sections of overkill. Not the most skilled job he’d ever seen.
But when he glanced at Owen’s face and saw the awe and sense of satisfaction there. He decided it was perfectly fine. Van would tweak it into beauty.
“All right. Time to close up here. I think we deserve a little snack before knocking off for the day.”
With a final look at the tree, they turned out the lights and made their way across the yard to the house.
As he and Owen stepped into the enclosed back porch, they were surrounded by the aroma of freshly baked . . .
“Muffins,” Owen said.
“Muffins,” Joe agreed.
“You boys clean up before you track mud into my kitchen,” Mom Enthorpe called from the kitchen. “I just mopped today.”
Joe and Owen pulled off their hats and gloves and hung their jackets on pegs that stuck out along the back wall. A quick wash in the utility sink and they went inside.
Two tins of muffins sat on cooling racks on the counter.
“Those smell good,” Owen said, and Joe’s stomach rumbled.
“Well sit down and I’ll get you a couple. Joe, get down the honey and butter.
“How about some milk or hot apple cider?”
“Cider,” Owen said.
“Me, too,” Joe said. He got the plastic jug of cider from the fridge and carried it to the stove.
“How’s it going out there?” His mother asked as she heated the cider.
“The cleanup is done; the tree is up.”
“With lights,” Owen added.
“Excellent.” His mother handed them mugs of steaming cider, poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down.
“Do I smell muffins?” Joe’s grandfather stuck his head in the doorway, peered at Owen. “Who’s that young man at our table?” he said.
It was ritual they went through every Saturday.
“It’s me, Granddad Joe.” Owen was already grinning.
“Lord, I hardly recognized you. You musta grown an inch.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “One day you’re gonna say that and I’m gonna be an inch taller.”
“’Spect you will. Maybe next week.” Joe Sr. snagged a muffin and sat down at the table. Mom Enthorpe slid a napkin under it as he put it on the tablecloth.
“Van’s home,” Joe Sr. said just as Joe heard a car come up the drive and stop by the side door.
“How did you know she was coming?” Owen asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Ears like a fox,” Joe Sr. said.
“And a nose like Pinocchio,” added Joe’s mother. “He saw the car through the window.”
Joe pushed his chair back and went to meet Van. He stopped her at the back door.
“Hey,” she said. She started to slip past him, but he grabbed her and kissed her. He knew she still felt uncomfortable when he showed affection in front of his family. After a childhood with fighting parents and an adulthood of self-protection, she’d come a long way, largely due to her acceptance by the Enthorpes.
“What are you lovebirds doing out there?” Granddad called.
“The laundry,” Joe called back. And kissed her again.
There was plenty of room in the sprawling farmhouse. They hardly ever saw Matt, who was the only sib still in high school. Even with Elizabeth and Dave back from college for the holidays, they had plenty of privacy.
Still, he’d been working on a plan, one he hoped to be able to announce at Christmas. He wasn’t sure how his family would react—or Van for that matter.
“What?” Van asked.
Joe shook his head. “Not a thing in the world.”
Van slipped out of his arms and went into the kitchen, stopped to kiss his mother and then his granddad on the cheek. She made slurpy noises at Owen, who made a face and shied away in mock disgust.
Joe didn’t get why Van didn’t think she would be good with kids. Owen liked her just fine.
“Joe, it’s almost five o’clock,” his mother said.
“Right, I’d better get you home, Owen, or your mother will think we got lost. You want to come?” he asked Van.
“Sure.” She’d just sat down but she stood back up.
“Give the girl a chance to catch her breathe,” said Joe Sr. “She’ll be here when you get back.”
“I don’t mind,” Van said.
“No, Granddad’s right,” Joe said. “I’ll see you in a few.”
She sat down again.
His mother packed up food for Owen’s mother and sisters and walked Joe and Owen to the door.
“See you next week, Owen.”
He nodded. “Thanks for the muffins, Mom. And for . . .” He nodded toward the bag of food Joe was holding.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
Once they’d both climbed into Joe’s truck, Joe carefully placed the bag of food on the floor at Owen’s feet. “She calls everybody sweetheart.”
“I don’t mind,” Owen said. “But Van didn’t see the tree.”
“Oh.” Joe had forgotten about the tree. “We’ll let her discover it as a surprise. I’ll tell her elves must have done it.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “Like she’s gonna believe that.” He leaned back to look out the window.
Owen always got quiet when Joe drove him home. Joe didn’t exactly get why, whether it was just winding down from the craziness of work and life at the winery or the prospect of going home to the duplex.
Joe had been inside. It was nice enough, better than most of the houses on their street, but it only had two small bedrooms. It had to be cramped for three growing children and especially hard for Owen in a house full of females.
Joe couldn’t imagine what mornings must be like, or any other time. He’d grown up with six siblings, two parents, plus his grandfather after his grandmother had died. But there had been plenty of space and several bathrooms. A huge yard and outbuildings and acre after acre of pasture land.
Now Joe had more space than ever, yet he was anxious to get his own place with Van.
He sped up, itching to return home to Van and to his dinner, and a few minutes later, he turned onto the street where Owen lived.
He knew immediately that he wouldn’t be home anytime soon. An ambulance with blinking lights was parked outside the duplex. The door to Owen’s apartment was open wide. Something was terribly wrong.
Owen’s younger sisters, Kayla and Haley, were standing in the yard clinging to a woman Joe didn’t recognize.
He pulled the truck to the opposite curb just as EMTs rolled a stretcher from the Davises’ duplex.
“Stay here,” he told Owen but Owen jumped out of the truck before it came to a full stop. He ran toward the stretcher. “Mom! Mom?”
Joe parked the truck and hurried after him.
“Mom? What’s wrong with her? Mom?” Owen tried to reach his mother, but one of the EMTs pulled him away.
“You’re in the way, son. Let us take care of your mom. Now there’s a good boy.”
Joe grabbed Owen and held him back. “Where are you taking her?” he asked.
“County General.”
“We’ll meet you there.” To Joe’s untrained eye, Kathy Davis didn’t look good at all.
The EMTs rolled the gurney onto the lift, climbed in after it and the ambulance sped away.
Joe turned Owen to face him, gave him a little shake. “We’re going to go to the hospital as soon as we see about the girls. Okay?”
Owen just stared after the ambulance.
“Okay?” Joe didn’t wait for him to acquiesce, but pulled him over to where Kayla and Haley were crying and fighting to get away from the woman who was holding them tight. He went over to her.
“You must be Joe.”
Joe had to fight not to step away from the pervasive cigarette smell. The woman reeked of it. “I am.”
“I’m Janice Cobb. I live across the driveway there.”
“What happened?”
“She’s been coughing her guts out,” the woman said. “I been telling her to go see a doctor, but she wouldn’t miss work. The girls usually stay with me on Saturdays til she gets home from work.” Janice shook her head. “I saw her car come in the driveway, but when she didn’t come to get them, I got worried and went to check on her. Kathy opened the door and just collapsed. I got her back to the couch and called 911. She didn’t want me to call but I had to—she was looking bad.”
Owen was clenching Joe’s arm. With Mrs. Cobb’s last statement, he started tugging at him. “Please, Joe, we gotta go to the hospital. Please.”
“We’re going now. Mrs. Cobb, can you watch the girls until I can find out what’s going on?”
“I can.” She detached herself from Kayla and Haley and took him aside.
“I can keep the girls overnight, but I don’t have room for all three of them. Not with four of my own. If Owen don’t mind staying by himself, I’ll try to keep a watch out for him. But County’s gonna come take them kids if she has to stay over. It don’t look good for none of them.”
“Let me find out what’s happening and I’ll get back to you.”
He knelt down before the girls. “I’m going to go see about your mom. Then Owen and I will come back and tell you how she is, okay?”
They didn’t nod, just stood there with tear-streaked faces and ill-fitting winter jackets.
“Come on, slugger, let’s go see about your mom.”
He and Owen climbed back in the truck. Joe got out his cell and called as he backed out of his space. Told his mother what was happening and slipped the phone back in his pocket.
Something told him this Christmas with Van was about to get a whole lot more complicated.