Silver Bells. Mary Burton

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СКАЧАТЬ the bill to Ben. No, skip that idea. Not even majors make enough to pay for that.

      Forty minutes later, Hank slowed for the red light on the corner. In five minutes he would be driving through the center of town. As always, he took a moment to savor the small-town warmth of Apple Valley. He cruised past the town square, noted the sleigh, the eight huge reindeer, and all the other Christmas decorations. Glorious wreaths with huge red bows were on all the sparkling white doors of the town’s official buildings. The square was where the midnight candlelight Christmas was held. The whole town turned out. Kids in pajamas all bundled up, even dogs attended, with antlers on their heads and colorful green and white collars for the season. He loved Apple Valley and the people he’d grown up with. Right now, though, this very second, he hated it.

      Churchill started to bark the moment Hank turned off Apple Valley Road, the main thoroughfare in town, onto Clemens Ferry Road, where his brother and he had been born and grew up. The old homestead. He blinked at the commotion going on at the house next to his old home. A fire engine, an ambulance, and the sheriff’s car. Something must have happened to Albert Carpenter. Ben had just mentioned Albert in his last e-mail, saying he would be ninety-three the day after Christmas. He wanted Hank to invite him for Christmas dinner and make sure he got some presents. Albert Carpenter had been a substitute grandfather to both boys when they were growing up.

      Hank felt a lump the size of a golf ball form in his throat. For years, Ben and the other neighbors had looked after Albert because there was no one else to do it. In fact, a few years ago, Ben had given him a puppy, a little white lapdog that Albert carried around. Ben said it added years to the old gentleman’s life. He couldn’t help but wonder if Alice had taken on caring for Albert along with her other duties. More than likely.

      Hank pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine, and debated his next move. Churchill watched him with keen intensity. Would the dog bolt? How was he supposed to get two kids into the house at the same time? One under each arm. That had to mean the dog would bolt. Maybe. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the ambulance pull away. Out of the corner of his other eye he saw a white ball of fur streaking toward Alice’s SUV. Churchill let out a high-pitched bark of pure happiness. Albert’s dog. Who was going to take care of her? He knew it was a her because he remembered Ben saying Albert named the little dog after his wife, Sadie. Officially known as Miss Sadie.

      Hank opened the door so he could get out without letting the big dog out of the car. He had to find a leash or something. Like that was going to happen. He looked around in a daze, the white fur ball yapping and yipping at his feet. Churchill continued to bark, growl, and howl at what was going on. The twins woke up and started to cry. “Oh, shit!” Maybe if he opened the door to the house, dragged the dog in, and shut the door he could do it that way. He’d have to come back for the kids. He was on his way to the door when he saw the fire engine and the sheriff’s car leaving the neighborhood. That was when he saw the Range Rover in the Leigh driveway. The house must have been sold. He felt sad at the thought. Ben hung a Christmas wreath on the front door every Christmas even though the house was empty. First Albert, then the Leigh house. No, first Alice’s fit. A trifecta of misery. Flo must have finally sold the house. He wondered why—it was in such perfect condition. He knew that for a fact because Ben told him that the sodality ladies did a spring cleaning once a year.

      The front door slid open. Hank walked into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel, which he carried outside and looped into Churchill’s collar. With his homemade leash, he dragged the recalcitrant canine into the house. The fur ball followed and made herself comfortable on one of the family room chairs. Churchill took the other chair, but not before he lifted his leg on the bottom of it.

      Hank lost it then. He marched over to the big dog, who looked at him defiantly. He stuck his finger to his nose and barked, “Do that one more time, and your ass is grass. You hear me? That means you sit out on the deck and look through the window. And I won’t feed you either. Oh, Christ, the twins!” He raced to the door and back out to the car. It took him a good five minutes to figure out how to unbuckle the harness on the childproof seats or whatever they were called. A kid under each arm, he marched to the door and opened it. Alice said they could walk. He set them down and off they went. “I need a beer. Please, God, let there be beer in the refrigerator.” There was no beer. He had to settle for a Diet Pepsi. Did all women in the world drink Diet Pepsi? He counted twenty-four cans. Alice must be addicted.

      Hank looked around for a place to sit down. He was tempted to shoo Churchill off the chair, but one look at the retriever’s face squelched that idea. Obviously, the chair was his. Miss Sadie looked at him with adoring eyes and yipped softly. “You just moved in, didn’t you, you little shit?” Miss Sadie yipped again and put her head down between her paws. Yep, she had moved in.

      Hank looked over at the twins, who were trying to crawl into the fireplace. He realized they still had on their winter gear and were sweating profusely. He removed it, closed the fire screen, then flopped down on the couch after he dumped a ton of toys on the floor. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.”

      The sudden quiet alerted Hank that something was wrong. One of the twins, he didn’t know which one, was trying to take off his pants. And then he smelled it. “Please, God, no. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life.” Churchill jumped off his chair, trotted out of the room, and returned with a diaper clenched between his teeth. He let it drop at Hank’s feet. Then he hopped back on his chair. Hank wanted to cry.

      The TV suddenly exploded with sound. Churchill had the remote clutched between his paws. A cartoon show appeared. The twins squealed their pleasure.

      “Alice Anders, you are a saint,” Hank said as he prepared to change his first-ever diaper.

      Chapter Three

      Amy Lee, aka Amanda Leigh, walked through her old home. Everything was just as she remembered it. All these years later, nothing had changed. Thanks, she knew, to Flo, who stayed in touch with her parents’ old friends.

      Amy was glad now that she’d had the foresight to call ahead to a cleaning service, which had cleaned the house and turned on all the utilities as well as doing a week’s grocery shopping. It was worth every penny in comfort alone. She was toasty warm, and there was even a load of wood on the back porch and a stack of logs and kindling perched on the end of the fireplace hearth. Maybe this evening she’d make a fire the way her parents had always done after dinner.

      Her memory of that terrible time when her world had changed forever surfaced. This time she didn’t push the memory away. Flo should have let her stay, at least for a while. She should have cried and been given the chance to grieve instead of being dragged across the country where every hour of her day was occupied so she wouldn’t think about that time. Now, where had that thought come from? Had she secretly blamed Flo all these years for the person she’d become? Did she really want to look into that? Probably not. At least not right now.

      It just boggled her mind that everything in the house looked the same. The furniture was outdated, but that was okay. The oak staircase had the same old treads and gave off the scent of lemon polish. The furniture looked comfortable but worn. The house gleamed and sparkled, and it didn’t smell like it had been closed up for years and years. Even the kitchen curtains had been washed and starched.

      All the bedrooms and bathrooms were closed. She wondered why. One by one she opened them. The spare bedroom had a yellow spread on the big four-poster and crisp white curtains hanging at the windows. Flo had always slept in this room when she visited back then. A colorful braided rug was in the middle of the floor. Her mother had hooked rugs in the winter. Framed posterlike pictures hung on the walls—scenes from different cities that Flo had traveled to.

      Amy backed out of the room and opened the door to her parents’ room. Tears burned СКАЧАТЬ