Lee McKenzie - The Christmas Secret

“Have a good day, Sam. Let me know if you’ll be late and I’ll run across with some dinner for her, too.”

She closed the door, and Sam trudged down the hallway to the stairwell, leaving one set of problems behind and setting off to face another.

Will scooped a forkful of his eggs off his plate as AJ walked into the kitchen. “Daddy, I eating green eggs an’ ham. See?” He held up the food, then popped it into his mouth.

“I see that. It looks delicious.”

After Will had fallen in love with the Dr. Seuss story, Annie had cleverly concocted a recipe for scrambled eggs with chopped ham and spinach. “Good way to get some greens into him,” she’d said, and as usual she was right. Will loved it, and AJ had to admit he did, too. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat next to his son with his own plate of green eggs and ham.

“Will you be working today, Mr. Harris?”

He unfolded the morning paper and scanned the headlines. “This afternoon I will be—the gardening article I’m working on is due tomorrow—but I’ll take Will and Hershey to the park this morning.”

“Good idea. It’s supposed to rain this afternoon. Did those women say what time they’d be here?”

“Around ten-thirty. Claire DeAngelo called last night to say they had a meeting first thing, but they’d be here after that.” He intended to be out of the house by then. “The interior decorator, I think her name is Kristi, would like to start clearing out the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I plan to do a little Christmas baking before they arrive, then I can give her a hand.”

“Thanks. If there’s anything you’d like to keep, I want you to feel free.”

“That’s very generous of you. I’m mighty fond of a couple of your grandmother’s teapots.”

“Then I want you to have them.” It wasn’t as though there was any shortage of teapots in this house.

Will’s fork clattered to the table. “Going to park now?” he mumbled around his last mouthful of eggs.

“Remember your manners, William,” Annie said. “Good little boys don’t talk with their mouths full, do they?”

Will swallowed. “All gone.” To demonstrate, he opened his mouth wide.

Annie laughed and lifted him down from the table. “Come with me. We’ll wash your hands and face and get your jacket and mittens while your father finishes his breakfast.”

AJ watched them leave the kitchen, admiring her patience. He should be taking notes because it wouldn’t be long before he would be taking care of William on his own. He looked forward to it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have regrets.

Adopting his own son hadn’t been the first time he’d used the family fortune and status to get something he wanted, but it would be the last. His parents, make that his father, had issued an ultimatum the day he’d brought William home. He could keep his position in the business or he could keep his illegitimate son. One or the other. Not both.

His decision had been a no-brainer and he’d never regretted putting his son first. Grandmother Harris, horrified by her son’s hard-hearted stand, had opened her door to AJ and William. Her health was failing and he couldn’t turn his back on her, so although he had already purchased the house in Idaho, he’d moved in with his son and hired Annie Dobson to look after them. His grandmother was able to spend her final years getting to know her great-grandson in the home she loved. AJ had never regretted doing what he’d had to do to get his son, and he never would. He hadn’t regretted postponing the move to Idaho, either. Now, as long as he was careful, he wouldn’t regret letting Sam’s company sell this house. He hoped.

Ready Set Sold’s downtown office was already open when Sam arrived, and Marlie, their office manager, was talking into her headset. Six months after opening the business they had advertised for an office manager and the decision to hire Marlie had been unanimous. Her name was short for Marline. She’d had impeccable references, a no-nonsense approach to dealing with clients, big hair and an even bigger heart. She referred to Sam, Kristi and Claire as “Marlie’s angels,” and they loved it.

Marlie’s wardrobe consisted of pencil skirts and matching stilettos in every color under the sun, and snug-fitting sweaters that made the most, and then some, of her generous proportions. In spite of the artificial nails, always painted to match her outfit, she could type like the wind. Today’s nail color was pistachio but the sweater was turquoise, which meant the polish probably went with the skirt. Sam couldn’t see it from where she was standing. Marlie greeted Sam with a shiny green-tipped finger wave and indicated she’d be off the phone in a minute, maybe two.

Sam slid two envelopes filled with receipts from under the clip on her clipboard and tossed them into the in-box on Marlie’s desk. Then she stepped into the tiny office.

Their office, on the second floor of an old building near Pioneer Square, consisted of a small reception area that served as Marlie’s domain and an even smaller office shared by the three business partners. Sam ran the construction end of the business out of her dilapidated old delivery-truck-slash-mobile-workshop she’d had since she worked on her own, and Kristi managed her design and home staging service out of her mommy-and-me minivan.

Claire used the office more than either Sam or Kristi did—often to meet with clients—and the space mostly reflected her style. She had arranged the stapler, tape dispenser and pencil holder on the sleek, dark espresso-colored desk with the same precision she did everything, which told Sam she’d been the last one to use the space. Kristi’s style was anything but exact. She liked to group unlikely things together and when she did, they were arranged for effect, not accuracy. On the rare occasions when Sam worked in here, she always put everything back the way she found it, regardless who had put it there.

Against the back wall behind the desk was a matching credenza, and above it hung three framed photographs of recent projects. This display was Kristi’s contribution and she changed the photos every month. In the current display was the house in Beacon Hill with Claire’s sold sign in the front yard, a before-and-after collage of a bathroom reno Sam had done in a house in Washington Park and one of Kristi’s clutter crew at work on an elderly woman’s Bellevue condominium.

Sam sighed. Next month the display would almost certainly include a photograph of AJ’s house—yet another reminder he’d made another brief, unwelcome appearance in her life. At least by then the house would be finished and he would be out of her life, again, this time forever.

Sam set her clipboard on the desk and scanned the schedule on the whiteboard while she shrugged out of her jacket and hooked it on the coat tree in the corner. Claire had obviously been here after they toured AJ’s house yesterday afternoon because the rough schedule they’d come up with during the inspection had already been added.

“G’morning, Sam.” An hourglass Marlie stood in the doorway, barely five foot five in spite of her spike-heeled shoes. “Did you get your messages?”

“Not yet. Anything important?”

“Darlin’, it’s all important. The movers called about fifteen minutes ago to say they’ve already emptied out the foyer at the Harris house. The building supply store called to say they’ll deliver the Hendricks’ new kitchen countertop by the end of the week. And …” She shuffled the message slips in her hand. “Oh, your mom called.”

Of course she had. She’d probably called Mrs. Stanton as well, and when Sam got back to her truck where she’d forgotten her phone, she’d probably find a message from her, too.