Her Holiday Family

“If you think you can.” She didn’t try to mask the dubious note in her voice. “It’s been a long time since you’ve worked with your dad.”

“True.” He led the way to Charlie’s well-lit bench and table at the back corner, a popular gathering place for small-town talk and broken tools. “But I remember a thing or two. And working for Uncle Sam taught me a few new tricks. Let’s see what’s going on.” He examined the pieces, then nodded. “We’ve got a bad clutch. Tina, does Dad carry parts for all models in the back or just current ones?”

His quiet confidence in his abilities lightened Tina’s angst. Working for the Campbells helped them and her, but with Charlie out of commission and Earl on limited hours, she’d been fielding a lot of questions with few answers the past two weeks. Maybe having Max around wouldn’t be so bad, not if he could actually make sense out of the more difficult hardware inquiries. “I’ll check and see. If we have to order it, we won’t get it until next Tuesday, Mrs. Hyatt. Is that all right?”

“Tuesday’s fine with me. Then would you be able to fix it right away?” she wondered. She hesitated, looking a little uncomfortable, then explained, “I hate to push, knowing what’s going on with your dad and all, but I promised my husband I’d get this fixed before wood-cutting season. Once the cold hits, he’ll take to the woods for next year’s heating supply, but he can’t cut without his saw. And with the Festival of Lights coming up, I’m going to have my hands full. I expect you’re taking that over for your father, as well?”

Max sent a blank look from her to Tina and back. “Festival of Lights? I’m not following you.”

“The annual Christmas lighting event we’ve been doing for years,” Mrs. Hyatt replied. “This year it’s the final big event of our bicentennial celebration,” she continued. “Your dad heads up the committee, we use the funds raised from the park drive-through to support the women’s shelter in Clearwater, and Tina and I handle the food venues with a bunch of volunteers. That money helps stock food pantries all year long. Joe Burns is helping.” She ticked off her fingers, listing familiar names. “The Radcliffes, Sawyers and Morgans are all on board, as well. We’ve got everything planned out, of course, because it starts soon, but no one knows how to do lighting grids as well as Charlie Campbell.”

* * *

One phrase stood out.

The Sawyers. Pete’s family, Tina’s neighbors on Upper Lake Road. Pete used to love ditching both his little sister, Sherrie, and Tina. He and Max would take their small boat out and go fishing or girl-watching. When they were young, fishing took precedence. By the time they finished high school?

Partying had replaced fishing for Pete.

Regret speared Max. He shelved it purposely. He’d come back to help and make amends. Right now, helping took precedence, even if it meant coming face-to-face with Pete’s family sooner rather than later.

Business owners were taking advantage of today’s nice weather to hang festive garland. Town crews had manned a cherry-picker truck to string lights through Main Street trees, and decorated wreaths marked each old-fashioned light pole. Like it or not they were two weeks shy of Thanksgiving and the town was knee-deep in a project that depended on Charlie’s calm help and expertise.

“I’ll talk to my dad and see what I can do to help. We’ll cover it, Mrs. Hyatt. No worries.”

Her sigh of relief said he’d answered correctly. “And you’re okay with me coming by next Wednesday to pick up the saw?”

“I’ll put the part in as soon as it arrives,” Max promised. “If there’s any delay, we’ll give you a call.”

“That would be wonderful.” She watched as he filled out a tag with her name, gave him her phone number, then smiled, more relaxed than when she came into the store. “I expect you’ll both be at the final committee meeting Wednesday night?”

Special ops had prepared Max to tack with the prevailing wind, no matter what the mission. “Absolutely. When and where?”

“We used to have them at my café.” The resignation in Tina’s tone said her loss rubbed raw. “But Carmen Bianchi said we could meet in her apartment behind Vintage Place instead. Seven o’clock.”

“I’ll be there,” Max promised. “And we’ll be ready to implement Dad’s action plan, Mrs. Hyatt.”

“Good!” Her smile said his confidence appeased her concerns. Which meant he hadn’t lost his touch, but if he was coming face-to-face with the Sawyers in a few days, and expected to run this light show thing, he needed to get his mental ducks in a row. Fast.

Max watched Mrs. Hyatt walk out the door, then took the broken saw to the second bench. “I know Dad always puts them in back in the order they come in, but I don’t want to forget my promise to her.”

“Seeing it is a good reminder,” Tina replied. “And the back room is kind of crowded right now anyway.” She greeted someone, then waved another pair of customers upstairs to the “country store” shop, another one of his mother’s ideas. Fifteen years ago, folks had kind of ridiculed the idea of a home shop in a hardware store, but no one scoffed now. Campbell’s “Country Cove” on the second floor did enough winter business to pay the bills and record a profit, a huge plus in northern towns.

When Tina came back to the front, Max indicated the door and Mrs. Hyatt’s retreating back with a quick glance. “What have you been doing the past few weeks when customers like that came in? Did you send them elsewhere?”

“Come with me.” Tina led him into the back room, threaded a path through the overstock and the glass-cutting corner, then waved toward Charlie’s equipment fix-it zone for larger repairs. “This is what Earl’s been working on this past week when he was healthy enough to be here.”

Max counted eighteen separate tools in various stages of repair. “Are these due to be picked up soon?”

“Tomorrow. That’s our regular tool pickup day now.”

Tomorrow. Of course Earl was scheduled to work a one-to-five shift today, but that was a lot of fixing to do before they opened tomorrow morning. “Are the necessary parts available? Have they been delivered?”

“With the exception of Herb Langdon’s snowblower, yes. And I called and told him the part was on back order. Earl was out sick this week so all this stuff is here, waiting. Tomorrow morning we’ll have a bunch of people coming in to pick up tools that most likely won’t be ready.”

“So that’s why my mother came in yesterday.” Max made a face of realization. “Earl was sick.”

“And you know your mother. She said it was fine because your brothers took care of keeping Charlie company while she was here, but I could tell she was torn.”

“Luke and Seth aren’t exactly nursing material.” Max respected his older brothers, two decorated county sheriff’s deputies, but nursing care wasn’t their forte.

“He needs company more than care right now,” Tina answered. “And your mom needs to get out now and again. Catch her breath. You know.”

Max didn’t know any such thing. His mother was the most dedicated and loving person he’d ever met. The thought of her wanting to leave Charlie’s side seemed alien. “I expect she’d rather be with Dad. Just in case.”

The uncertainty in Tina’s expression said he might know tools but he’d just flunked Women 101. And that was somewhat surprising, because Max thought he knew women fairly well. But maybe not Kirkwood Lake women.

Despite Earl’s help that afternoon, by the time they locked the doors at five o’clock, there were still three lawn mowers, two leaf blowers, two power-washers and two log-splitters awaiting repair.

Earl held his knit cap in his hand, sheepish. “I shoulda knowed I wasn’t gonna get to all those with Charlie gone, Max. I can come in early tomorrow and help.” He slapped a hand to his head, then shook his head. “No, I’m wrong, Mavis is havin’ some eye thing done tomorrow mornin’ and I promised to drive her. If she breaks the appointment who knows how long it will take to get another. And she’d have my head for puttin’ her off.”

“Oh, those women,” Tina muttered, just out of Earl’s range of hearing.

Max fought a smile and sent Earl off. “I’ll stay late, see what I can do. Thanks for today, though, Earl. It was great working with you.”

“Same here.” Earl made his way to the door, paused, thought, then continued as if he’d never stopped at all. Tina watched him go before she faced Max.

“Do you want me to stay and help? If you show me what to do, I might be able to take some of the pressure off you.”

Assessing the number of tools and the variety of fixes, Max wished that were true, but— “It would take me longer to train you tonight than it would to fix them myself, but I appreciate the offer, Tina. And working with Earl today gave me a refresher course in small-engine repair.” He pointed to a stack of thin books alongside the bench. “I’ve got manuals for each of the models from the internet.” He shrugged, pulled on one of his dad’s sweatshirts from the rack behind the workroom bench and waved her on. “I’ll be fine. Not like I haven’t pulled double duty in my time.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I am. I’ll call Mom, tell her I’m running late. It’s all good.”

“All right. I’ll open in the morning, so if you need to sleep in, go ahead. I’ll have things covered.”

“Thanks. I just might do that.” He wouldn’t, but he appreciated the offer, just the same. In fact, looking at the work spread out before him, he wasn’t sure he’d make it home at all, but that was okay. Jenny and Charlie Campbell had rocked him to sleep at night, held him through a phase of unrelenting nightmares and ran him from town to town as he tore up soccer fields across the county. Staying up late to help them out?

Not a big deal at all.

Chapter Two

Tina grabbed the hardware store door handle Monday morning, emotionally sorting through the scene she had just passed. A crew of uniformed firemen, sifting through the remains of her café, searching for evidence of arson. Tina shivered at the thought that anyone would deliberately burn a building, risk harming others and destroy property.

It couldn’t be true. Mild crime was unusual here in Kirkwood Lake. Felony crimes like arson? Assault?

Virtually unheard of.

The door swung open beneath her grip, and she stepped in cautiously, looking left and right. Had Max forgotten to lock up? That seemed unlikely for a guy who made his living completing surreptitious missions, but—

“Tina, is that you? I’ve got coffee back here. Come get some. If you drink coffee, that is.”

“I owned a café. I live on coffee. Gimme.” She reached for the cup as she entered the back room, then stopped, surprised. “Max. They’re all done. Every last one.”

The array of broken equipment had been put back together, each one tagged with the owner’s name and the cost of repair. They formed a pretty line along Charlie’s back-room bench, then marched across the work floor, ready to be loaded into vehicles from the rear loading dock. There would be no reckoning with angry customers, no putting folks off, no begging for more time, hoping people understood business limitations brought on by Charlie’s illness. “I can’t believe this.” Tina turned in a full circle, then stopped when she faced Max again. “You stayed all night.”

“Not the first time I’ve stayed late somewhere. Won’t be the last.” He brushed off the sacrifice like it was no big deal, and that almost made her like him. She’d had enough of guys who promised one thing, then did another. Max’s casual treatment of his sacrifice for his family touched too many of those empty-promise buttons. He directed his attention to the coffee cup. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got flavored creamers and regular. And sugar. And artificial sugar.”

“Covering all the bases.” The fact that he’d gone the distance for his parents surprised her. And that he’d provided for her despite his lack of sleep? Downright sweet of him. “Max, this is so nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hesitated a moment, coffee in hand, as if wanting to say something. Tina prodded him as she stirred hazelnut creamer into her cup. “And?”

His next words surprised her. Because it was old news or because the sympathy in Max’s voice rang with quiet sincerity? Maybe both.

“I didn’t realize your parents were gone, Tina.” His gaze showed regret. “I’m truly sorry.”

Max’s years away had wrought lots of local change. Losing her parents had become a big part of that “new normal.” She sighed. “Me, too.”

“And your aunt owns The Pelican’s Nest now?” He sipped his coffee and shifted his attention to the east window. The steep peak of the restaurant profile was just visible beyond the parking lot. “I would have thought they’d leave it to you. Or give it to you. Something for all those years of work you put in.”

“Well. They didn’t.”

“Because?”

She didn’t want to talk about this. She didn’t want to rehash old Martinelli news the whole town already knew. But Tina knew if she didn’t answer, he’d just ask his parents. It wasn’t like anything stayed a secret in a small town. “My aunt and uncle were in a position to buy in. They promised to let me manage the business. My father had developed a bad heart, a combination of genetics and smoking, and he needed to step down. Mom and Dad moved to Florida to escape the tough winters and my uncle booted me to the curb.”

“He fired you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, man.”

He was feeling sorry for her, and the expression on his face said he couldn’t understand family acting like that, treating each other that way. Well.

Neither could she. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yes. But then you opened a café there.” He indicated the burned-out shell visible through the west-facing window. “With their restaurant right here.” He turned back toward the window facing the parking lot and whistled lightly. “Gutsy.”

Tina made a face. “Gutsy, yes. And maybe a little mean.”

“Mean?” He put away a handful of small tools as he scrunched his forehead. “How can that be mean?”

“Because as my business grew, their customers dwindled,” Tina admitted. “And that made my uncle grumpier than usual, and he was pretty miserable already. That couldn’t have been fun for Aunt Laura and Ryan.”

He raised one absolutely gorgeous brow at the mention of her cousin’s name.

“My cousin. Their only child. And now my uncle’s dead, my aunt’s running the place on her own with half the help she needs, and raising a kid who’s hanging with a rough bunch from Clearwater. So maybe if I hadn’t been bullheaded and put my café right under their noses...”

“Where your success would be painfully obvious...”

She frowned. “Exactly. Maybe things would be different. Maybe we could actually be like a normal family. Like yours.”

“Ah.”

“You have so much to be grateful for, Max.”

His face said he knew that.

“So staying away, leaving your parents and brothers and sisters, shrugging them all off...” She set her coffee cup down and faced him. “I don’t get it. I’d give anything to have a family. My parents are gone, my mom died two years after my dad, I’ve got no brothers or sisters, and my one aunt won’t acknowledge me if we pass on the street. I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

Sympathy deepened his expression. “You know, I never thought of family in terms of temporary until Mom called me with Dad’s prognosis. Reality smacked me upside the head and said head home, soldier. But you’re right, Tina. I’ve got a lot to make up for, but standing and talking won’t do anything but put me to sleep this morning. I’m going to pull the last of those Christmas displays out of the shed and bring them in. I promised Mom we’d get them into place today.”

He wanted a change of subject. So did she. She turned, flipped the Closed sign to Open and turned the key in the door. “Bring ’em in, Max. I’ll be happy to help.”

“Thank you, Tina. I’d appreciate it.”

He was playing nice

His generosity rankled Tina more. After seeing investigators comb through the cold morning rubble of her beloved business, discussing her family’s casual disregard for each other was more unwelcome than usual. But Max would know nothing about that, because Campbells looked out for one another.

She took care of a handful of customers while Max built a Christmas lights display case in their seasonal corner. Once he had it firmly in place, she helped stock the wide range of holiday lighting kits.

“Doesn’t it seem early to be putting out Christmas stuff?”

Tina gaped at him, then laughed. “You’ve been in the army too long. The stores start shelving Christmas items as soon as their back-to-school displays are depleted. By mid-September, most places are stocked, lit up and ready to roll with holiday sales.”

“And Thanksgiving gets lost in the shuffle.” Max’s lament surprised her, because it was a feeling they shared.

“I love Thanksgiving,” she admitted. “I love the simplicity, the warmth, the food. Of course, I’m Italian, why wouldn’t I love the food?” The look she sent him made him smile, but his grin turned to understanding when she added, “The whole idea of an entire country, praying their thanks to God, regardless of faith. I just love it.”

“You know, it’s funny.” Max eased a hip onto the sales counter as he grabbed a bottle of water. “When you’re in the field on holidays, most of the guys seem to feel the loss of Thanksgiving more than any other.”

“More than Christmas?”

“Yeah. I might be wrong.” He shrugged, thinking. “Most soldiers get stuff at Christmas. Even the ones who don’t have family are hooked up with agencies that send care packages to deployed soldiers. But on Thanksgiving, there’s nothing but memories of what was. What could have been. What might be again. If you make it back. Maybe it was just me.” He stood, stretched and tossed his bottle into the recycling tote. “But I don’t think so.”

She’d never thought of it that way. She’d helped on Wounded Warrior projects, she’d arranged pickups for the Vietnam Veterans thrift shops, but she’d never thought about how lonely Thanksgiving must be when you’re thousands of miles away from anything American. “Hey, if you need to catch some sleep, head home. I’ve got this. Earl will be here in an hour and we’ll be all set.”

“I’ll leave once Earl’s here,” Max answered. He rolled his shoulders, stretched once more, and she did her best to ignore the amazing muscle definition formed by long years in the armed services. He moved to the front of the store. “I’m going to use the Cat to level the parking-lot stone. I can see where the water’s been puddling, and that won’t get any better once the snow hits.”

“Good.”

“And when I come back in, can you give me the lowdown on this festival thing we talked about yesterday? There’s not much time left, and I work better with a plan in my head.”

“From the looks of that back room, you do pretty well without a plan, too.” She didn’t say how she’d dreaded facing disappointed customers today, their expected equipment lying unfixed in the back room.

He shot her a grin over his shoulder. “Let’s see if they work before giving me too much credit.”

“You tested them, right?”

He ignored her question and kept on walking. Was he laughing? At her?

She finished the Christmas lights display as a customer arrived to pick up one of the newly fixed lawn mowers. When they wheeled their repaired machine out the back door, she felt a stab of pride. It might not be a big deal that Chuck Beadle was going to be able to give his yard a last mowing it didn’t really need, but it was important that their efforts to maintain Charlie and Jenny’s business as he fought his battle with cancer were successful. And without Max, it wouldn’t have happened, so she needed to give credit where credit was due.

Her cell phone signaled an incoming call. She pulled it out, saw the realty office number and picked up quickly. “Myra, good morning.”

“Hey, good morning to you, Tina! I’m emailing you a short list of potential sites for your café if you’re still thinking of Spencerport as your go-to place.”

“I am,” she replied. “That or Brockport.” She’d done her homework and these Erie Canal locations in Western New York had lots of potential. “They both have proximity to the expressway, and they’re on main-feeder corridor to other towns. What I want is a west-side-of-the-road location and a drive-through for those a.m. customers.”

“Did you have a drive-through in Kirkwood?” Myra asked.

“I was lakefront, so no, I didn’t. And we’re a destination spot, not a commuter town, so it’s a different configuration.”

“Won’t you miss the water?”

Miss the water?

Yeah, absolutely. But if she wasn’t willing to sacrifice something to change things up, nothing would ever happen, and that option didn’t cut it anymore. The time for change was here. Now. “Not if I have a view of the canal,” she promised. “Or at least proximity to it so folks can grab a cuppa, head for the canal walkway and stroll along the banks watching the boats. Those villages are a walker’s dream, so no. I won’t miss the water.”

It was an outright lie. She knew it, and she was pretty sure Myra’s silence said she recognized Tina’s resignation, but was kind enough not to call her on it.

Tina loved the water. She loved taking her little boat out on calm summer days. Dropping a line just off the docks outside the Kirkwood Lodge where perch and bass gathered in the heat of summer. She’d caught her share of fish that way, a sweet respite from work. Private time, time to think. And pray. And dream.

But her dreams were gone now. Ruined.

She promised Myra she’d look at the property listings in the email and get back to her. Another customer walked in, then another, and pretty soon she was too busy to think about smoldering dreams and ruined hopes. She’d promised herself she’d never get mired in the past again. She meant to keep that promise.

* * *

“I brought Beezer in to keep you company,” Jenny Campbell announced as she came through the back door of the shop a little later. “And I’m going to drag Max home to catch some sleep. I think that’s a good trade, don’t you, Tina?”

“Leave the dog and take Max?” Tina sent Max a look that said she approved fully. “I think I’m getting the better end of this deal.”

“Hey, Beeze.” As Tina moved their way, Max squatted low and gave the aging golden retriever a long belly rub the dog loved. “You missing the action, old boy?”

“He is.” Jenny tipped a mock frown down to the beloved pet. “I reminded him that his master is sick and good dogs stay by their master’s side.”

“They do in books,” Tina agreed. “But Beeze was raised in town. He likes to check out the hustle and bustle of the shop.”

“He’s restless if he’s home too much,” Jenny admitted. “When I let him out, he starts prowling the yard as if looking for a way down to the village. I’m afraid he’ll wander close to the road and won’t hear a car coming around the bend.”

“Well, he can keep an eye on Tina if I’m heading home.” Max grabbed his bomber jacket from the back hook as Earl finished up with a customer. The thought of a few hours of sleep sounded real good now. “You guys will be okay?”

“Tina will boss me around, and I’ll answer any fix-it questions that arise.” Earl’s wry tone said he was only partially kidding. “Same old, same old.”

“Women are bossy creatures.” Max smiled at the older man, then turned his attention to Tina. “We never did talk about the festival thing. My bad. It got busy and—”

“Max, we can’t expect you to do the festival, too.” Jenny frowned as she caught the gist of the conversation. “That’s not fair. You came home to have time with Dad. If we keep you working day and night, then—”

“We’ll make time for both, I promise. I managed to run a unit with a lot of guys and barely got my hands dirty, Mom. I’m good at delegating. But first I need to know what’s going on.” He turned back to Tina. “I don’t suppose you have time to come over tonight and go over things? That way we could have Mom and Dad’s input, too.”