Restoring Christmas Page 3

  “I still find it fascinating,” Jason said.

  “Find what fascinating? The art? Me too, doesn’t it just transport you to another place altogether?”

  “No, not the artwork. You. I find it fascinating that walking around looking at paintings on a wall is your idea of a good time.”

  Adrienne smiled at him, “You know my mom used to take my sister and me to art galleries all the time. She was an unbelievable sculptor and painter.” Sometimes Jason had these moments where he surprised her with his thoughtfulness.

  “I knew you would like it,” Jason continued. “A guy at work asked that I come down here. He just started dating one of the women that works here, and he wanted me to check her out and let him know what I think. He says she’s pretty hot – do you mind if I wander toward the back and see if I can find her?”

  Adrienne stopped mid-walk and turned to look at him. “Are you serious?”

  “What? What did I do?” he held his hands up dumbfounded. “You’re mad? I thought you would be thrilled we came to an art gallery. And it looks better if I’m not alone asking for this woman – I thought you coming was a win-win.”

  And then he had moments like this. Adrienne was no longer in the mood to be at the gallery, or with Jason. She gave him one last look that could turn water to ice, letting him know exactly how she felt about his actions. He brought her here so he could check out some woman his friend was dating? Seriously?

  “Adrienne, don’t leave. Come on, I still have a little time. Let me just go check her out and then I’ll buy you a coffee – whatever that latte thing is you like.”

  Adrienne kept walking, completely ignoring all the words coming out of his mouth. Jason stood there torn between finding his friend’s new love interest and following Adrienne outside to apologize. Wisely, he started to quickly follow Adrienne.

  Out on the sidewalk Adrienne was standing on the curb with her hand up to hail a cab. Jason rushed up behind her and tried to turn her around to look at him.

  “Adrienne, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would mind. Let me make it up to you, please? Let me buy you coffee. No, let me buy you dinner. Let’s go to Bandoli’s tonight. We can have wine and good food, and we can forget all about your terrible day at work and what an idiot your boyfriend can be.”

  Feeling her anger dissipate, Adrienne slowly lowered her arm and turned around to face him. He was doing an excellent job of appearing remorseful with a sad face and pleading eyes – it was so pathetic that Adrienne couldn’t help but want to laugh.

  “Fine. I will meet you for dinner. As long as we’re not really going to Bandoli’s so you can check out some waitress that works there.”

  “Of course not. Meet me at eight. It will be amazing. I promise.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  McMurphy’s Pub was a typical Irish bar in Midtown Manhattan. Typically packed with men and women ranging from the college kid looking for a casual spot to hang, to old-timers who wanted to enjoy a pint in a friendly place where no one cared if you stay for six hours straight. There was no judgement at McMurphy’s, which was one of the things Gretchen appreciated about the place. Over the almost four years since she started working there, it had become a second home to her. The people had stood in as her family, worrying about her if she was sick, checking up on her progress with her photography and keeping her company in this crowded lonely city. Sometimes Gretchen would even hang out at the bar when she wasn’t working, just to avoid the solitude of her apartment.

  On this particular Friday, December 18th, the pub filled up early with people looking for a warm place to celebrate the almost-holiday. Gretchen was thankful for the packed bar, since it helped to keep her mind off the red envelope, being turned down at the gallery, getting robbed that day, and the impending meeting with Adrienne. Gretchen could just picture Adrienne sauntering through the crowd in some gorgeous designer dress, not a hair out of place, and looking down at the worn, admittedly sometimes sticky, wood of the bar counter like it was covered in disease. She would sit all high and mighty on her bar stool, sipping her Prosecco with her nose turned up at Larry, the local who parked his behind in the last stool near the wall, from open to close.

  While Gretchen got the tap started on a Guinness, poured a generous glass of red wine, and took another order from a patron, out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of white. When she looked up, she saw, she was certain it was for the first time ever, a woman in McMurphy’s dressed in white from head to toe and shining like a Christmas star. The crowd parted like the red sea as Angela made her way toward the bar, graceful and smiling, of course. Gretchen was so surprised to see her again she forgot about the pint of Guinness she had started, and it began to overflow under the tap.

  “Oh my gosh, Angela? I can’t believe it’s you!” Gretchen said as she wiped up the spilled beer with a rag. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  And just as miraculously as when the pretzel cart fell on the thief and pinned him down, a barstool freed up at the packed bar just as Angela arrived. She strolled on over and had a seat, front and center. Gretchen was beginning to realize that inexplicable extraordinary things tended to happen when Angela was around. Angela also had a contagious smile and exuded positive energy that immediately perked up Gretchen’s spirits.

  Angela laughed, “This morning at coffee you mentioned you had to work tonight. I figured I would stop in and see how you are doing. I would think the robbery earlier must have been pretty traumatic for you.”

  “That is so sweet and thoughtful. And I’m fine. I wish I could say that it’s the first time my bag has been stolen, but I’m afraid that’s not the case.”

  “Oh dear, well it sounds like you need your luck to turn around,” Angela’s eyes twinkled.

  “You have no idea,” Gretchen sighed as she excused herself to take a few drink orders. A few minutes later she was back talking with Angela, “I am so sorry – I haven’t even asked what you would like to drink!”

  “I’ll just have a club soda with a twist of lime, please. I have to say, I have been watching you, and you look worried. Is everything okay?”

  “If you knew the day I have had, you would understand,” Gretchen said, and Angela raised an eyebrow, signaling her to continue.

  “Aside from being robbed and having to chase down a thief, which you already know, I received a strange letter that said I’m going to lose my childhood home, had all my career hopes and dreams crushed, and possibly worst of all, I have to meet with my sister.”

  Gretchen could think of a variety of different reactions that she would expect from Angela after she heard about her day, however, the one she got was not one of them: laughter. Not sympathy, empathy, compassion, kindness – nope. Laughter. Giving Angela a look of complete astonishment and confusion only had Angela laughing harder.

  “I am so sorry; I am not sure what has come over me!” Angela was somehow able to pull herself together.

  “I’m glad you find the fact that my life is in ruins funny – hilarious, isn’t it?” Gretchen couldn’t help but show her irritation.

  “I am not laughing at your heartache, I promise you. I’m laughing because you don’t realize you are at the cusp of something amazing. You have nothing to lose at this point, right?” Gretchen continued to look puzzled.

  “Alphonse Karr, an old French writer, once said, ‘We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorns have roses.’ Let’s look on the bright side of things, you recovered your purse, you have shown strength in pursuing your hopes and dreams, and you have a sister - all things to be grateful for, in my opinion. But what do I know, anyway?”

  Gretchen filled a few more drink orders thinking about what Angela said, and thought back to a time when she was a very positive- thinking person. When did she lose that part of herself? Planning to ask that exact question to Angela, Gretchen walked over to where Angela was sitting, and instead of the beautiful woman in white, there was a young, male, twenty-something si
tting there asking for a beer. Angela was gone. Where did she go?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  In a black sheath dress that was tight in all the right places, leopard print pumps and a long black coat with a fur collar, Adrienne felt ready to make Jason forget all about the coffee fiasco earlier that morning and let him know she was willing to put the gallery incident behind them. It was 8 o’clock on the dot when she arrived at Bandoli’s, which was a perfectly romantic Italian restaurant.

  Just as Adrienne was about to pull open the door to the restaurant, she heard her cell phone ding, alerting her to a text message. She stopped outside the restaurant and peeked at her phone – it was a text from Jason: Running a little late, why don’t you come meet me at Bar Ten

  Annoyed by the last-minute change of plans, Adrienne texted back: What about the dinner reservation?

  I will call them and change the reservation to 9:30.

  Fully aware that this meant Jason was hanging out with his male co-workers and didn’t want to leave them in order to come meet her, Adrienne paused for a minute and considered calling the whole night off. But then she looked down at her fabulous dress and heels, let out a big sigh, and turned back toward the street to hail another cab.

  Walking into Bar Ten was like walking into a fraternity house for adults. Rowdy men of all ages were talking loudly above the blaring music. There was a large group of guys lining up shots at the bar and the few women in there were hoping since the odds were in their favor, they might possibly meet their husband-to-be. Adrienne was all too familiar with that strategy of hanging out in bars frequented by the after-work Wall Street crowd. She wished she could pull the women in the bar aside and say, “Leave. Go somewhere else. There may be a ton of guys here, but they are not looking for a serious relationship!” Although, this was how she met Jason.

  Toward the back of the bar, Adrienne could see Jason and his group of friends. Always the life of the party, Jason had everyone’s attention as he told some story. When Adrienne was about ten feet away from the group, Jason must have reached the punch line because the entire crew exploded in uproarious laughter. The laughter was so loud it, just about every person in the bar stopped for a minute to see what the commotion was – probably hoping for a brawl. Once they realized everyone was laughing, not arguing, they all turned their attention back to their own conversations and Adrienne felt it was now safe to approach.

  Walking up next to Jason she put her hand on his arm to get his attention. He turned toward her and when he saw her his face lit up and he grabbed her in a giant hug, lifting her off the ground.

  “Hey guys, you all know Adrienne, right?” he shouted to his friends. They all nodded and said hello, or at least that’s what it looked like they were saying. She certainly couldn’t hear them, and Adrienne was no lip reader.

  “Let me get you a drink. Want a Cosmo? Martini?”

  “Or a cup of coffee?” One of the guys said loud enough for everyone to hear, and the whole group erupted in laughter once again. Adrienne felt her cheeks burn and tried to laugh it off. She knew if she showed she was upset about it, they would just continue the assault. Jason put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her, and she was grateful for the gesture. However, she was already ready to leave.

  “I’ll have a Cosmo,” she screamed. Jason nodded his head and flagged down a waitress who was somehow able to hear orders and navigate this crowd while carrying a tray full of drinks. As she waited for her drink to arrive, Adrienne did her best to participate in the conversation, however, with the noise and the mention of names of people she had never heard of, and the constant teasing each other, she ended up just people watching.

  Sipping her cocktail, Adrienne felt herself growing more impatient by the minute. The storytelling had moved on to a series of bets they were all coming up with for all types of different competitions. Who can bring in more accounts, who can work more hours, who can close a certain deal the fastest . . . these items were then assigned to specific men who came up with the winning bet and the losing bet. As the conversation continued, the stakes got higher for both winning the bet and losing the bet. Adrienne was bored. As one guy talked about having to show up for a week of work with a mustache drawn on with a sharpie if he lost a bet, Adrienne tugged on Jason’s suit.

  He looked down at her, still laughing from the current bet being made and gave her a quizzical look. She pointed to her wrist, letting him know it was time to go. He held up his finger signaling one more minute and Adrienne rolled her eyes.

  Finally, at about 9:20 Adrienne was able to drag Jason out of the bar. They hopped in a cab and Adrienne was thankful for the quiet. Arriving at Bandoli’s for the second time that night, Adrienne tood a deep breath and shook off the first half of the night. She really wanted this to be a nice intimate dinner where she could talk to Jason about all that was going on in her life, so she was going to try and start fresh – salvage what was left of their night.

  Jason gave his name to the hostess who suggested they wait at the bar until their table was ready. The bar was cozy, with room enough for about six people to sit. It was made of dark mahogany and had small pendant lights hanging from the ceiling casting a soft glow on the patrons. Adrienne ordered a glass of Cabernet and although she was all ready to focus on Jason and their night together, in the sudden quiet room all she could think about was Gretchen. She and Gretchen hadn’t seen each other in a few years, and seeing her tonight was going to bring back a flood of memories, among other things. The letter. What were they going to do?

  “Excuse me sir,” the hostess tapped Jason. “Your table is ready. You can follow me, please.”

  Once seated, Adrienne held up her glass of wine in a toast, “Skoal,” she said.

  “Skoal?” Repeated Jason. “What does that mean?”

  “Scandinavian countries say that as a toast to one’s health. I don’t know where that came from. I haven’t said it in years. My Dad used to say it all the time . . .”

  “Huh. That’s weird. Why don’t we just say ‘cheers’ like people in America do,” Jason laughed.

  Through most of the dinner Adrienne tried her best to listen as Jason went on and on about his co-workers and all the crazy bets they were making at the bar earlier. Adrienne couldn’t help but let her mind wander – Gretchen, her parents, her home . . . All things she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in a long time.

  “Hello? Earth to Adrienne! Are you still here?”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. Honestly, I’m a little distracted tonight. I’ve got a lot going on.”

  “Don’t worry about the coffee explosion,” Jason attempted to make her feel better. “It was an accident. It’ll blow over.”

  “I’m not worried about the coffee – and it wasn’t an explosion,” Adrienne was annoyed.

  Jason held up his hands in mock defense of himself, and made a face at her that said, “Okay, if you say so.”

  “I’m not even thinking about that. I have to meet up with my sister later. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

  Jason took a hearty bite of his steak. “Ohhh, awkward family stuff. Want to know what I do in those situations? I drink. It really makes everything seem like it’s no big deal!”

  “That is your solution for everything,” Adrienne rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, don’t knock it. It works. What’s so bad about seeing your sister anyway? Do you two hate each other or something?”

  “No. It’s not that. Our family has been through a lot in the last few years, and today we got bad news.”

  “What news?”

  “We both got a letter today that said we are going to lose our childhood home because we haven’t been paying the taxes. The tax collector has a lien on the house and will sell it at auction unless we come up with the delinquent amount by the end of the year. Which, last I checked is in thirteen days.”

  “Whoa. That’s heavy. You probably should have paid your taxes.”

  “Thanks Jason. That's very helpf
ul.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. How much money are we talking about?”

  “Well, with the taxes, interest, and fees . . . It’s $25,000.00.

  “Yikes. Can your parents help?”

  “Jason, I’ve told you; my parents died four years ago.”

  “That’s right, I forgot. Sorry. It’s hard to keep up with all your family drama. So why did you stop paying the taxes?”

  “I kept up with the payments for years, but then, well you know, living in this city is expensive! I skipped one month, and then another, and then the amount I owed just got bigger and bigger. . ..”

  “What about your sister?”

  “Ha! That’s funny. She probably doesn’t even own more than one pair of socks. She will not be helpful – in any way.”

  “Well, just let them sell it then. Done deal. Problem solved.”

  Adrienne looked at Jason and suddenly felt very alone. Did he know her at all?

  “You know what, I have to go,” Adrienne popped out of her seat. “Thank you for dinner, but I really need to go see my sister.”

  “Wait, what? Seriously?” Jason stared after her as she walked away. And then he shrugged his shoulders, and took another bite of his steak followed by a long sip of wine.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Adrienne decided to walk from the restaurant to McMurphy’s. The temperature had dropped significantly in the past few hours, but she didn’t notice. Her mind was racing, flooded with memories. Don’t go there, she warned herself. December 22nd was four days away, and on that one day every year she let herself think briefly about her parents. This December 22nd it would officially be four years since they passed away. That day was one she would never forget. The sharp pain the memory cause made it feel like it happened yesterday, but in so many ways it seemed like a lifetime ago. She and Gretchen sipping warm spiced apple cider, sitting in the family room with the fire blazing, the Christmas tree lights sparkling, and Hark! The Herald Angels Sing softly filling the room. It was a magical feeling, their house at Christmastime. The four hand-knit stockings hung from the mantel, stretched and faded with time. The stocking holders spelled out NOEL, with Adrienne’s monogrammed stocking hanging from the “E.” Their parents had gone out to a Christmas party, and hadn’t plan to stay late. They said they would rather be spending time with “their girls.”