Devin

While everyone else was enjoying the night on the town square, Devin was thinking about how he did not have the appetite required to be a judge of a pie contest at the moment.

There were Christmas lights everywhere, friends laughing under the giant tree, the Rotary was selling handmade wreaths to help raise funds for the local Humane Society. The PTA was selling cider, hot chocolate and iced holiday cookies for the school. There was a line of kids waiting to have their pictures taken with Santa at the gazebo. There was a bluegrass band playing Christmas music over by the bridge, and kids were sledding on the hill and others were skating on the frozen Caleb Creek. It was like a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting, but all Devin could think about as he forced his way through tasting about eleventy hundred pies was that he had offended his girl.

You really do live your life like a privileged spoiled kid with no responsibilities. Your parents may be gone, but you had a good life and a safe place to grow up.

He looked up from where he was in the heated tent and there she was, with the three kids. They had greased-up cookie sheets instead of real sleds, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves just as much as the other kids. Devin would not have blamed Claire if she hadn’t shown up at all. But there she was. Always ready, always there to help. His Claire. His girl. He hoped it wasn’t too late.

He barely registered any of the flavors of the contest pies. He was really more of a summer fruit kind of guy. Give him strawberry, blueberry, Michigan cherry or Georgia peach pie any day of the week over these heavy cement-like things. And pumpkin? Forget it. May as well just toss it in the trash.

He finally decided to cast his vote for a peanut butter/Oreo/ice-cream pie that had a crust made with real lard—yes, he could tell the difference between butter, margarine and lard, thanks to Mama Jane’s baking. What set this pie apart for him was the topping, made from crushed potato chips. Basically the whole pie represented all the comfort foods. Whoever came up with that had to have known real heartbreak in his or her life.

Devin left before they declared the winner. He didn’t actually care. He just needed to be next to Claire. He found her and the kids down by the creek.

“Hi,” she said, giving him a smile. Smiling was good. She wasn’t angry.

“Hello, Claire.”

She laughed.

“What?”

She explained by imitating the formal way he’d said it. “‘Hello, Claire.’”

“So?”

She elbowed him. “Usually you greet me with a ‘hey, girl.’ What’s up with you?”

He looked at the kids and decided it was better not to say what he wanted to say in front of them.

“Hi, I’m your big sister’s boss, Devin. And who might you be?”

The three kids looked from Devin then to Claire. She nodded at them. “It’s OK, you can tell him your names. He’s a good guy.”

The middle child stuck out her hand first. “I’m May and did you know that meerkats can eat scorpions?”

Devin didn’t miss a beat. “I did know that. Did you know that giraffes have blue tongues?”

May nodded. “I did know that, but most grownups do not know animal facts.”

He gestured wildly. “Are you kidding? I love animal facts. National Geographic is my jam.”

May turned to Claire. “OK, I like your boss.”

The older girl crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m Layla, I’m 13 and I’m going to go early to high school, but I’m prepared to graduate even earlier and go to Colorado as soon as possible. Do you know why?”

“Uh, the mountains?”

“Yes, exactly, because of the mountains. Higher ground means the least impact of the rising waters due to global warming. It’s most likely to be the best location for restructuring society again once it breaks down. We can forget about Washington, D.C. Did you know our nation’s capital was built on a swamp? That’ll be under water. Good-bye National Archives. Sad, really.”

Devin blinked, not quite sure what to say. “Well, I like camping. Can I be on your post-apocalypse team?”

“Let me see your pocketknife.” She held out her hand, as if handing over a knife to a kid was the most natural thing in the world. But she was a force of nature, and Claire didn’t seem too concerned, so he pulled out his Swiss Army knife.

He started to ask, “How did you know I had a—” but Layla snatched it up and examined it. She rattled off the list of all the tools in the particular model he carried.

“Suitable for a casual camping trip or minor first-aid emergencies, I suppose, but you can’t dress a squirrel with that.”

Claire finally intervened. “God, Layla! OK, we’re done here. Devin, this is Stan, the one boy in our crew.”

Relieved, Devin turned his attention away from the Doomsday Girl and stuck out his hand. The little boy looked at it and shook it suspiciously. “Do you have money for hot cider and cookies? Claire said she doesn’t have any money. Grownups are always saying they don’t have money for things. Are you a real cowboy?”

“I used to be until about a couple weeks ago.”

“What happened?”

Devin shrugged. “I got promoted. But hey, I get to work with your sister now, which is a plus. She’s a very nice lady.”

“She is, but she doesn’t have money for cookies and cider. She never has money for fun stuff. Do you have money for cookies and cider?”

Of course he did. He didn’t go anywhere without “walking around” money. He looked at Claire. Her face was slightly tense but neutral. The kids were all looking at him expectantly. Well, what was he supposed to do?

“Hey, let’s all have some.” Before Claire could object, he handed some bills to the oldest. “You go get what you want and bring some cider for me and your big sister, OK?”

The two youngest cheered. The oldest took the cash and eyed him, uncertain. Then she looked at Claire. Then she looked back at Devin. Then, oddly, she nodded. “I approve this match.”

Devin looked at Claire’s beet-red face and laughed out loud after the children had started making their way to the cookie queue. “You talked to your little sister about me?”

Claire shook her head and looked at the snow. “I didn’t say a word to her. She’s got her eye out for a husband for me. She says, ‘Our best chance of surviving as a family is for you to get married.’ She’s very pragmatic, if not actually practical.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Pragmatic means it makes sense on paper. Practical means in real life. Something easily put into practice.”

Devin took a step closer. “Claire, the real life thing is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. I know I act like a spoiled brat sometimes. I blow off work and I shouldn’t. I nearly squandered everything and my sister came to my rescue by giving me my first job. I get that. And I just wanted to say I never meant to offend you, and I apologize. And not because I want you to like me. But because I want to do better. You’re a good person and I want you to be my girl. Can we do that? Officially?”

The sadness on her face was not what he’d hoped for. “No, we can’t. I mean, yes, I want that too.”

“Great!”

“But Devin, here’s the other thing you don’t understand about real jobs. You’re my boss. You can’t date me. Other people will see it as me having an advantage over them because of our relationship, do you get that? They are totally on to us. I’m worried we’re going to get the company into trouble all over again.”

He smirked. “Well then, I guess I’ll just have to fire you so you can be my girl, and I’ll take care of your bills.”

Her lip quivered. “Don’t even start that. I can’t be obliged. I got us into this mess, I’m going to take care of us.”

This completely confused Devin. “Wait, what does that mean, you got them into this mess? I thought—”

But just then the three kids showed back up with cider and handfuls of cookies.

Devin enthusiastically ate cookies, drank cider and chatted with the kids. But Claire was oddly quiet for the rest of the evening.

Devin didn’t understand much about women, but he could tell when a person was hiding something. There was more to her story than what she was letting on.