Chapter Seven
It was only eight o’clock on a Monday morning and already Lance was in need of a pick-me-up. The weekend had been a dull blur of phone calls with his uncle, emails from the office, and an obscure football match on the fuzzy motel TV. New Hope was as boring as he’d imagined. Not even a decent bar to play a game of pool. Without a weekend outlet for all his pent up energy, he’d tanked out early this morning.
“What time do the women get in?” Frankie whined from the chair next to his. He’d been given some paperwork to file, but that had lasted him all of five minutes. “This place is dead boring without them.”
“Soon enough,” Lance mumbled, looking at his watch.
He had to admit, the office was a much brighter place with those three bright women running around. Especially one such woman with long wavy blonde hair. He’d wondered the streets this weekend, hoping to run into her, but no luck.
He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to see her. All they seemed to do was argue. But their conversation in the office last week had begun to soften his feelings toward her. Maybe there was something more behind the tense exterior that she displayed. But that didn’t make anything less complicated.
She was hoping to afford a trip to Europe and he was there to slash those dreams to pieces. As soon as his uncle gave the word, he’d be cutting her loose with no reliable source of income. There was no way she’d be able to buy those tickets for Christmas. And the blame would fall to Lance, as it should. She’d hate him forever. No good could come out of pursuing her now.
The door to the office slid open, exposing the room to feminine trills of laughter as his office mates finally arrived. Lance jumped up from his seat, tucking his shirt back into the waistband of his pants and pulling on his jacket. Frankie observed his sudden desire to groom with raised eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Good assistants knew when to keep quiet. This was one of those times.
“Are you coming?” Gemma peeked around the corner of her office doorway, her face flushed from the cool morning air. It made her look especially pretty. “It’s tree decorating day. The best day of the year.”
Lance tightened his black satin tie and frowned. “I’ll probably sit this one out. I don’t really do the whole Christmas thing.”
Her mouth fell open and she stepped fully into the office, a giant knitted scarf still wrapped around her neck. “What do you mean, you don’t do Christmas?”
“He means he doesn’t do gingerbread cookies, eggnog, carols, or season’s greetings,” Frankie replied with a smug grin. “No presents wrapped in shiny paper, no icicle lights, no stockings hung by the chimney with care. The man’s a true Scrooge, in modern times. Don’t even bother arguing.”
Lance frowned at his assistant, not quite grateful for the help. He wouldn’t exactly classify himself as a Scrooge. The occasional eggnog didn’t hurt. But no, he didn’t do Christmas trees.
“You can’t be serious.” Gemma unwrapped the scarf from her neck, her eyes wide in disbelief. “What about It’s a Wonderful Life? Or Santa Claus? Or Christmas cookies?”
“Not a fan,” Lance said before Frankie could jump in. “But that’s just me.”
She wavered in the doorway, as if unsure what to do next. He could tell by the look on her face it truly bothered her that he didn’t like Christmas.
“I’ve decided. You’re coming with,” she said finally with a determined yank of the scarf back over her head. He opened his mouth to argue, but she held up her finger. “No, no, no, no arguing. Nobody can stay a Scrooge at the Children’s Home. We’re going to break you, mister.”
Lance grinned down at the papers on his desk. She certainly could try her best to turn him around, but he doubted very much that she’d succeed.
The Children’s Home was a beautiful large red brick manor just outside New Hope. A shiny brass sign with the school’s name impressed upon it greeted them as they drove up the drive in Chloe’s used Mercedes. Once again, Frankie had elected to stay at the office. Lance had the feeling he’d skipped back to the motel to watch TV for the rest of the day. He couldn’t really blame him.
“The home houses over thirty boys at a time,” Laurie said to him from the front seat. “Currently, they’re at max capacity.”
“These are orphans?” he asked, glancing at Gemma.
“Some.” She leaned to look out the windshield, their shoulders brushing. “But most are stuck in the foster care system and have troubles keeping a foster family. It’s sort of a last resort place.”
“But don’t let that fool you,” Laurie added in a soft tone. “These boys are just like any other kids. They need love and security.”
Chloe nodded her head, peering up at the rear view mirror. “They’ve just gotten a bad rap in life, that’s all.”
He couldn’t imagine starting life in such a rough way. As a child, he’d had two very loving parents and they certainly hadn’t wanted for much. Even after his dad passed away, he still had his mother. She liked to call him every Sunday afternoon for an update on his life. He used to think of those calls as a minor nuisance, but suddenly he felt grateful.
“Oh, there’s Jamie,” Laurie squealed. She pointed at the troop of boys who had just piled out the front door. “And Brett and Nigel. I missed my little buddies.”
The kids crowded around the car as they parked. Gemma and the girls passed out giant bear hugs to each of them as they laughed and shouted for their attention. Several of the smaller boys clung to the women’s hands, pulling them toward the door.
“Come on, Lance,” Gemma said over her shoulder and flashed him a smile. “Don’t fall behind.”
He paused another moment next to the car. A strange warm feeling was building in his chest as he watched Gemma lead the troops inside. It was strange to think that only a few days ago he’d thought she was this evil witch. But here, she was like an angel, surrounded by adoring fans. The difference between the two was like night and day. He was starting to realize how blind he’d been in the beginning.
“Coming, mister?” A little boy with blond hair and thick black-rimmed glasses peered up at him. The thickness of his glasses made his eyes appear three times bigger. He sniffled and then placed his hand inside of Lance’s gloved hand. “I’m Brandon.”
“Um…Lance.” He didn’t know how to respond. Kids weren’t exactly his thing either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to anyone under the age of twenty.
“I’m six years old.” Brandon had to bend his head back all the way to look Lance in the eye. “Six and a half. How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine,” he replied with a wince. Yikes, that sounded ancient next to a six year old. “Twenty-nine and a quarter.”
Brandon smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re old.”
“Tell me about it.” He could feel a smile warming up his cheeks. This kid didn’t pull punches. He liked that. “What do you say we join the others.”
Brandon nodded and they headed into the home. A giant lobby greeted them, complete with a large wooden fireplace that cackled and popped with life. Along the length of the longest wall there were a few dozen coat hooks. Several boys had stripped off their winter coats and boots and were stashing them on their assigned hooks, their names in bold lettering under each one. Someone had wrapped garland around the grand wooden staircase that led to the second floor. Despite the size of the room, it felt quite warm and cheery. The ecstatic chatter of a dozen boys helped that impression, making Lance smile.
“That’s our tree,” Brandon said, pointing to a naked evergreen perched in the middle of the room. “It’s taller than you. I helped cut it down.”
“That’s huge,” he said with a grin. “I don’t think I could cut down something that big. You’re strong.”
The little boy puffed out his chest with pride.
“Do you want to place the first ornament, Mr. Scrooge?” Gemma appeared at his side, holding out a grotesquely painted ceramic Santa with golden bells on his coat. She spotted Brandon, who still clung to his hand. “Oh, you’ve made a friend.”
“I think I’ll let my new friend place the first ornament,” Lance replied. He took the ugly ornament from her hand and gave it to the boy. “Go ahead, kiddo.”
You would’ve thought he’d just given the boy a Maserati for Christmas. Brandon flashed a giant gap-toothed smile and took off with the ornament in tow. Lance and Gemma watched him sprint toward the tree and then come to a screeching halt as he considered the best place to put it.
“You got through to him.” Gemma turned to him with a disbelieving smile. “The girls and I can never get him to talk to us, but you got through to him. What did you do?”
He shrugged. “Absolutely nothing. He came up to me and grabbed my hand.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Well, keep doing what you’re doing, then. That kid needs some healthy interactions with adults. He’s been so quiet since he came here this summer. His mom’s in rehab and I know she’s desperately trying to get clean for him. But, he could use a friend for the moment.”
Lance worked his jaw, his smile disappearing as he considered his little friend’s checkered past. He watched Brandon finally choose a spot for the ornament, front and center. With a little help from Chloe, he was able to hang it and step back to admire his work. He shot Lance a thumbs up, which he returned.
“Don’t let it bum you out,” Gemma said with a nudge of her elbow. She’d been watching Lance’s reaction to Brandon’s story. “This isn’t the time to dwell on sad stories. Christmas is a time of hope for these boys. Hope for presents and delicious food and a better year. We can’t let sadness get us down.”
He looked over at her, meeting her gaze. For the first time, he realized how her eyes crinkled when she smiled. He liked that about her. He allowed his eyes to search the rest of her face. Her cheeks were still flushed from the cold of the outdoors. She wore a red lipstick that drew his eyes down to her lips, eliciting a reaction deep within his gut. Her teeth were perfectly straight and white, making her warm smile even more brilliant. He liked that mouth. He would’ve liked to lean in closer.
“What’s wrong?” She tilted her head to the side and laughed nervously. “You’re staring at me. Do I have something on my face?”
He cleared his throat in embarrassment and stepped back. Obviously, she hadn’t felt the same heat between them or she wouldn’t be looking at him with such wide eyes. Stupid Lance, always making the wrong assumptions.
Shaking his head, he mumbled an apology. “No, sorry. I’d better go find Brandon.”
He peeled off to find the little boy, feeling frustrated and confused. His time in New Hope wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had been determined to hate every minute of it and all the souls that lived in this town. That had been his promise to himself when he left the life he loved behind in Minneapolis. It had been what he wanted.
But why, then, did he want something else so badly now?