Home For Christmas. Catherine Lanigan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ A maple-and-stainless-steel coffee table was heaped with books and magazines, most of them Titus’s. Under the large picture window was a long desk with two laptops, a desk chair and a small file cabinet. On top of the file cabinet were a half-dozen framed photos of Adam, Amie and baby Titus. A large TV hung over the fireplace. The dining room table was midcentury modern, made of bird’s-eye maple, and the chairs were covered in a deep blue twill.

      He walked out to the front porch to check the mail he’d forgotten earlier. He shuffled through the utility bills, then pulled out an envelope with a familiar return address. It was the company that bought his wind turbine invention. His smile was broad. “Thank goodness for royalty checks.”

      Back inside, he went to his computer and pulled up his email.

      Adam worked freelance for Jacobson Corporation out of Indianapolis. The pay was satisfactory, but it was his private, solely-owned creative patents that he hoped would one day boost his income. The best part was that he only had bimonthly trips to Indianapolis, and his weekly meetings with think-tank managers and engineering interns were via Skype and phone conferences. Adam had made it clear that Titus was his priority. Adam was an asset to any firm and Jacobson knew it. Adam worked at night on the computer and held conferences in the early morning with his team.

      Scanning the emails, he replied to his team and then saw the one he’d been waiting for. “Halstead.”

      Halstead Industries had finally replied to the proposal and project renderings he’d presented to them in California in October. Adam’s engineering genius had flourished at Purdue. He’d made good money over the years, and his works-in-progress would bring even more. His future was financially stable. Titus’s college fund was solid. Sometimes, it seemed as if his high school days had happened to someone else.

      “In more ways than one…”

      He didn’t share his successes with others. He didn’t like to brag, and creative ideas were easily stolen. Not until his patents were secure, the contracts signed and executed, would Adam talk even to Frank or Mrs. Beabots about his work.

      It’s better that way, he thought. Keeping distance was his operative.

      He opened the email as he heard Angel walking down the hall—his sign that Titus was sound asleep. Next to his desk was a new red-and-black-plaid doggy bed, which she curled up on.

      “Look at that, Angel. I finally sold my wind turbine. Wait till my patent comes through on the geothermal unit. Not to mention a few other propulsion irons I have in the fire.” The latter ideas for antigravity drapes and futuristic propulsion had been pipe dreams decades ago, but now he was being taken seriously.

      Angel yawned.

      “You’ll see. It’ll be thrilling.”

      Angel closed her eyes.

      “Okay. Not so thrilling for you. But for a guy who never had much, this is a victory. I should celebrate.”

      Angel didn’t stir as Adam went to the kitchen and took out a bottle of beer from the Sub-Zero.

      “Now, where did I put that opener?” He opened the utility drawer where he kept spatulas and spoons, then went back to the desk in the living room. He dug around a few drawers, moving papers and old birthday cards. “Where is it?”

      In frustration, he started pulling papers out of the far-left drawer. In the bottom, he found an old photo album, one he hadn’t seen since he’d moved back from Cincinnati. “Aw, jeez.”

      The first photo had been taken well over ten years ago in the greenhouse. It was Christmas. He and Joy were surrounded by red poinsettias. Joy’s head was on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. What captured his attention was the look of love and contentment on both their faces.

       So long ago.

      He glanced at the album photos of Amie. They’d been happy and thrilled about Titus. But the truth was that, initially, Amie had kept her illness from Adam and he’d never quite forgiven her. His feelings for Amie were different from the love he’d once had for Joy. Back then, Joy had lived up to her name. She’d lit up the world for him. And when he’d kissed her, he’d felt as if he were connected to the moon, the stars, the entire universe.

      He raked a hand through his hair. He’d been hard on her today. He realized now that she was mirroring all the confusion and pain he’d felt when Amie had finally told him the truth about her leukemia. He’d felt lost. And betrayed.

      Adam loved Frank. The old man had been his friend and mentor. But there had been times when he’d counseled Frank to tell Joy the truth, and Frank wouldn’t do it, because of his pride.

      It was a wasteful thing. It kept people from doing the one thing they should do. Love.

      Adam opened the middle drawer and put the old photo album on top of the sheaf of papers. As he withdrew his hand he felt the bottle opener.

      He opened the bottle and tipped it toward the photo album. “You were such a nerd, Adam. With no guts.”

      He took a deep swig. “And no glory.”

      Angel lifted her head and gave a low snuffle.

      “Oh, you think so, too, huh?”

      She snuffled again.

      “Great. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

      He sat in the desk chair and stared at the photo. “But that was then. What do I do about now?”

      He closed the album and eased the drawer shut.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      JOY LOOKED UP at the old rooster-shaped clock that hung against the kitchen wallpaper that had been put up before her birth. Her father often joked that he’d hated the wallpaper when his mother had chosen it. Joy didn’t think it was all that bad with its depictions of antique coffee grinders and coffee cups and saucers. It was homey. It was Grandpa’s house, where her father had grown up. Because Frank had purchased a large section of land after the war, there was enough acreage for Bruce and Jill to build their own house on shortly after their wedding. As a child, Joy always felt she lived in both houses.

      The light wood cabinets were just as old, and they needed to be replaced as much as the wallpaper and vinyl flooring. The Formica-topped kitchen table set should have been tossed years ago, but Joy knew that her grandfather put his money into the greenhouses. Not into personal comforts.

      Her cell rang, breaking her thoughts. “Hi, Chuck.”

      “So, how goes it?”

      “What part?” she asked, as she opened the cabinet over the old electric stove and pulled down a box of crackers. Then she went to the cupboard on the other side of the kitchen and opened it. It was as it had always been. Peanut butter. New jar of grape jelly. Sack of potato chips. And a brand-new bag of chocolate candies.

      Some things never changed. Blessedly.

      “All of it. I tried to call you earlier, but I guess you were busy.”

      “I have СКАЧАТЬ