Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

With frozen pumpkin pie in hand, I entered Kay’s place wearing green sweats and a “Gobble Gobble” turkey T-shirt. The turkey was displaying its butthole. Felt appropriate for my mood, which was also reflected in the sloppy, wild frizz ball on top of my head and zero makeup. I just didn’t have the holiday Jedi skills to battle the death star of self-ridicule spinning in my chest. But on the bright side, today I’d been reminded of why Kay had been my best friend since middle school, when I became the village ho without the ho-ing. Stupid Kevin.

“Hey all,” I said, greeting the room of happy, half-lit people. There was Kay’s coworker, Kay’s sister and brother in-law, and a friend from college and her husband. The rest were an assortment of people I didn’t know or whom we’d both met over the years. Shared friends.

The nice thing about Kay’s place was that she worked in real estate and generally scored pretty nice deals. This loft apartment had huge windows, views of the glittering skyline, and tons of room. With the modern furniture and concrete floor, it was a little sterile for my taste, but there was no beating her chef’s kitchen and twenty-person feasting table fit for any king and queen.

“Hey, is that for me? Thanks.” Kay came rushing from the kitchen, taking my pie. “There’s someone you need to meet.” I followed her to the massive kitchen, finding a tall man, with caramel skin and hazel eyes, whipping mashed potatoes. He wore a big turkey hat and an apron that read, “Man gravy is the best gravy.”

He took one look at my shirt and laughed. “Good one.”

“Back at you, gravy man.” For some reason, I’d been expecting him to be the serious type, chanting Buddhist meditations in the corner. This one had a sense of humor.

“Lick, this is Meri. Meri, Lick,” said Kay.

I cracked up. “Lick…”

“Oh, stop it,” said Kay.

“Sorry.” I made a polite wave to Lick. “So is your gravy considered vegan? Kay keeps threatening to quit meat.”

He stopped stirring and then laughed.

“See,” I said to Kay, “he gets me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Can I help with anything?” I asked. “Or should I leave the kitchen so he can lick your pie before it goes in the oven?”

Kay slapped my arm. Lick chuckled.

“What? I heard that was your superpower,” I said to him.

Kay’s eyes went wide, but Lick kept chuckling and stirring. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Too much?” I asked Kay.

“A bit.” She squeezed her thumb and index finger together. “Oh, crap. I almost forgot to tell you. You won’t believe who I ran into…” Her voice faded as I heard the front door, followed by the group in the living room greeting someone.

“They’re here,” Kay said with a big smile.

“Who?” I asked. “Does Lick have a sister named Tequila? A salty uncle perhaps?”

“You’re so lame. I was out shopping today and bumped into Shawna.”

A lump of coal formed in my stomach. “My Shawna?”

“Yeah. And I invited her.”

They knew each other after attending my annual Christmas parties.

“Why did you invite her? She totally hates me now,” I said.

“No,” Kay hissed, “she doesn’t. You two just need to talk. That’s all.”

I looked away. “This is the last thing I needed right now.” More confrontation.

“Would you trust me for once?” She began shoving me out toward the living room.

I immediately spotted Shawna wearing big orange overalls with slices of pie printed all over them.

Shawna waved, which was a surprise.

I walked over to greet her. “Hey. Happy Thanksgiving. Didn’t know you’d be here,” I said cheerfully.

“I ran into Kay at the store.” She gave me a hug.

“It’s great you came,” I said, trying to do my best not to let this get weird.

“I don’t know about that.” She chuckled. “I caught Kay buying gravy in a jar.”

Trust me. That’s better than the alternative. “What she lacks in the culinary arts, she makes up for in people skills,” I said.

“Unlike me?” Shawna said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You should.” Shawna took my hand. “I’m really sorry about the way I’ve been acting. I can’t believe what a rude bitch I’ve been.”

I shrugged. “I deserved it.”

“No. You didn’t. I should’ve thought about all the years you’ve been such a solid friend. You have the biggest heart in the world, and you never ask for anything except to show up to your place once a year and sing and eat. Maybe puke a little, too, to make room for dessert. But you’re a good person, and I’m sorry for treating you like garbage.”

I drew a breath. It felt good to hear. “Apology accepted. That is if you’ll forgive how I acted at game night.”

“Not your best moment, but it wasn’t me you hurt. It was your friend Beau.”

“I know. And I tried to apologize again, but he disappeared. Now I’ll have to spend the rest of eternity feeling like a turd.”

Her eyes darted over my shoulder. “Good thing I bumped into him on the way here and brought him along. Kay insisted when I called ahead to make sure she had room for one more.”

He was here? Now?

I turned my head. Standing behind me was a tall, hot drink of holiday goodness. His sweater was red and white striped with a pumpkin in the middle.

His blue eyes locked on my face.

“Beau?” I threw my arms around his neck. “Thank God.”

He slowly pried me off.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” I said. “I’m so, so sorry about what I said.”

“I know.”

“You’re not angry?” I asked.

“No.”

“Then why did you leave like that?”

“It was time to go,” he said.

I was about to ask where he’d run off to, but I suddenly remembered his package. “Some guy stopped by the day you disappeared. He left a package.”

His smile melted away into smashed lips and furrowed brows. “Where is it?”

“At my place.”

“Let’s go.” He stepped around me, heading for the door.

I stayed put. “Kay really worked hard. I can’t—”

“I need that package.” His hand was on the doorknob. “Let’s go.”

Wow. His reaction was unexpectedly harsh. “There was just a note inside.”

“You opened it?” He came over and glared down at me.

Uh-oh. I had to come clean, but he wasn’t going to be happy. “I was hoping it would tell me where you—”

“What did it say?”

“Sorry?” I said.

“I know you read it.”

Dammit. How does he know? I stalled for a second and then flubbered out a breath. “It said you weren’t forgiven, and that if you ever wanted to see her again, you needed to step up because the clock was ticking. Who is she, Beau?”

His handsome face turned into a blank sheet. Maybe he was stunned. Or hurt? I couldn’t tell.

“Beau, I am sorry for reading the letter, but you can trust me if you need hel—”

He turned and walked right out the front door.

“Beau! Wait!” I didn’t want him to disappear again.

I glanced over my shoulder toward the kitchen. I can’t ditch this dinner, but…

I rushed to find Kay. “Hey, um, I’ll be right back, okay. Beau just left.”

“Already? What happened?”

“I’m not sure, but don’t start eating without me.” I rushed outside to go find Beau.

I finally caught up to Beau and his long legs one block down from Kay’s building. He looked like a man who needed to be left alone, stomping his way down the sidewalk in the dark, but I had to find out what was happening.

I came up behind him. “Where are you going?”

He kept walking as cars zoomed by, hitting me in the face with their headlights. “Go back to your party, Meri.”

“It’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside and talk.”

“Why? What will talking accomplish?” He continued marching along.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’ll make you feel better. I mean, if my dad were holding someone hostage to punish me, I’d have a lot to say about it.”

He finally stopped and turned to face me. “Hostage? What are you talking about?”

I stopped, too. “His letter said if you wanted to see her again, you’d have to try harder. Who is she?” I asked.

He shook his head, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. “She is not a person. She is his factory.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good news, but why won’t he let you see it?”

“It’s a long story, Meri.”

“Normally I’d say I’ve got time to listen, but there’s a bunch of hungry people waiting for us to go back to the party, so give me the short version.”

“I’m not going back, and my problems are none of your concern.”

What a stubborn ass. “Fine, then consider it your parting gift. Solve the mystery that’s been swimming in my head for weeks. Put me out of my misery. Who are you? What’s going on?”

I expected him to tell me to pound sand, but instead he let out another breath. “The short version is that I am not a good man, Meri. I have done things that cannot be undone. And though I have tried to make amends, I’m realizing it will never be enough to be forgiven. Not by me or him.”

“You mean your dad.”

“Yes.” He ran a hand through his thick dark hair.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I killed three people.”

My stomach flipped. I hadn’t been expecting that. “You mean, like, with a gun?”

“No.” He sounded offended.

“Did you run them over with your car?” I asked.

“Meri.”

“Sorry.” I held up a palm.

“I-I was left in charge of the factory for the week, and it caught fire. We lost three workers, and dozens more were injured.”

A wave of relief washed over me. Not that I was dancing on these people’s graves, because, yikes. Who would do that? But a fire was a far cry from murder.

“So it was an accident,” I concluded.

“One that could have been prevented if I had stayed to watch over things. But I did not. I flew to New York and partied with friends for three days. When I got back, it was to a collapsing roof and body bags.”

How awful. “But fires happen, Beau.”

“Yes. And if I’d been there, I would have ensured everyone was alerted the moment there was an issue. I would’ve evacuated the building in an orderly fashion instead of the workers scrambling to put out the flames.”

Those were a lot of “would haves.” It sounded like he was taking the blame for a series of unfortunate events. “Beau, you couldn’t have known all that would happen.”

“Oh, but I did. My father warned me a dozen times that managing the factory is not about meeting production numbers. It’s about making sure our workers make it home safely.”

“What kind of things did you make?” I asked.

“Toys.”

“Like dolls, trains, and action figures?” The way he’d made it sound, they were making bombs or something.

“Yes. Starling Toys.”

The same name on that delivery truck. “I wasn’t aware that toy production was such a risky business.”

“Wood, paper, plastic, paint—all highly flammable in a factory setting. We make five hundred different items, and there are machines with gears, grinders, paint hoses, and everything else you can imagine. It’s easy to just look away for one moment and get a hand caught. Or for a worker who’s not paying attention to mishandle a bin of wood shavings. We take safety seriously, but things happen. And I wasn’t there to put the fire out when it did.”

I touched his arm. “I’m so sorry, but you made a mistake. You didn’t hurt anyone on purpose.”

“Tell that to their children and spouses. I deserve what I’ve gotten.”

“So that’s what this whole thing is about? The tent, the living in the freezing cold, the—”

“I gave up my position and quit the business. It wouldn’t bring back their loved ones, but I couldn’t look the workers or my father in the eyes again. I’d had everything handed to me in life—even my own house—but I failed to care about what truly mattered: the workers I was watching over, who depended on me. So I left with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

He left behind all responsibility, too. “Like a vow of poverty?”

“Something like that. I hitched rides on trains, cargo ships, whatever. I go where I can find odd jobs to pay for food and necessities. I’ve learned to survive without depending on anyone.”

Good for him, but that sounded extremely lonely, not to mention difficult. “But torturing yourself isn’t going to bring anyone back. You have to forgive yourself and move on.”

“I have. I have traveled the world and seen suffering, misery, and starvation. I have watched people die of drug overdoses, get shot, stabbed, blown up, run over, starve, drown—”

“Okay. Death. Lots of death. Got it.” Jeez. Dark much?

“And what I learned is that despite all that, there is still happiness in the world, but it needs more. That is when I finally understood that the business my father is in was never about pride or status. He believes in bringing happiness to the world, especially children. When I finally asked to come back and help him in whatever capacity he chose—warehouse, line worker, whatever—he refused. He said that I would never step foot inside the factory again until I’d changed.”

So that was what he meant in his letter. “But why is time almost out?” I asked.

“He’s getting ready to retire,” Beau said.

“And?”

“He plans to shut down the factory. Permanently.”

That was odd. “Didn’t he just rebuild it? I mean, after the fire?”

“That was ten years ago.”

My jaw dropped. “How long have you been living on the road?”

“Ten years.”

Jesus . “And how long have you been trying to go back?”

“Eight.”

Eight years? He’d been asking for forgiveness for eight freaking years. “What does your dad want from you? What’s his definition of change?”

Beau scrubbed his face with his hands. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. I have to accept that he was probably never going to allow me to return. Maybe this was his way of teaching me a lesson.”

“A lesson in what?” Turning your back on your children when they royally fuck up?

“Disappointment.”

“Oh, Beau.” I squeezed his arm again.

“Do not feel sorry for me. I deserve this. And it is time for me to move on—accept that some things cannot be undone no matter how much you wish it.”

I smiled softly, hoping he might feel better knowing that there was at least one person who didn’t agree that all was lost.

“Well,” I said in a cheery voice, “then consider tonight the beginning of a fresh start. You’ll meet some very nice people and enjoy the night of friendship. Also, gluttony. Tonight your life of deprivation ends.”

“I should just get going.” He glanced in the direction he’d been walking.

“To where, Beau? To your tent?”

“There’s a bus leaving for the Mexican border in an hour.”

A flutter of panic began dancing in my stomach. I didn’t want him to go. “Mexico sounds good. Probably a lot warmer than here, but…if it’s really over, then why keep torturing yourself? Stay. Start a new life.”

He looked down at his feet. “I’m not sure I can.”

“You haven’t even tried.” I had to convince him to stay. He’d started to occupy a space in my head, and I liked it. I liked him. “It’s only one dinner, and Kay’s stuffing is fairly edible. The turkey isn’t bone dry. After that, you can decide what comes next. There’ll always be more busses to Mexico.”

“I would…enjoy that,” he said and then gazed down, the streetlamp catching the subtle blues of his eyes. “Why are you so kind to me?”

I smiled timidly, my cheeks warming. “Don’t you know? I’m really into Christmas, and you remind me of a big box under the tree.”

“I’m hardly a gift.”

“But you are a mystery, waiting to be unwrapped.” I shrugged. “What can I say? It’s my thing.”

“Are you saying that I’m your thing?”

My heart picked up the pace. “You’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.” I took his hand and squeezed it.

“Stick around.” He bobbed his head, mulling over the idea.

“One dinner at a time, Beau. One breakfast, lunch, and dinner at a time.”

“You must be hungry for that not bone-dry turkey.”

I was hungry. But not for food. “I’m famished.”