1
“What do you want for Christmas?”
Hope heard the same question every year, and every year she replied the same way. “I have everything I need. We’ll spend more money on Cori.”
She stood in front of the Christmas tree, adding the last bit of silver tinsel that would balance out what was one of their better trees. Hope was accustomed to ranking their trees on a scale of one to ten, and this one was a definite seven, that might progress to an eight, if someone did a good job wrapping presents and arranging them under the tree.
Doug smiled. “We already spend more than enough on Cori. And if you don’t give me any ideas, you’re liable to end up with some kitchen appliance that shows a complete lack of effort on my part.”
“You do this every year,” Hope told him with a straight face. “You always threaten me with the ‘Kitchen Magician,’ and then you buy me diamonds and furs.”
He laughed. “The last diamond I bought you was the first diamond I bought you—your engagement ring. And the only fur has been ... well, never. Need new gloves? I could get you fur-lined gloves.”
“Let me think about it.” Hope added another ornament to a spot on the tree that looked a little empty.
“Christmas is only a couple of weeks away, and you know how I procrastinate. In a day or two, I’ll go online and buy you one of the ‘Christmas specials’ they advertise.”
“Oh, gosh, don’t get that desperate. I tell you what, I’ll make a concerted effort to go through my closet and find something that won’t set you back a week’s pay. How about that?”
“Promise?” Doug eyed his wife.
“Promise.” Hope held up her hand, palm facing out, as if she was taking an oath.
They hugged, and Hope liked the feel of his body next to hers. In their years of marriage, she had never stopped liking it.
“Where’s Cori?” Doug asked.
“At school. The Winter Chorus is tonight, so don’t get any ideas. We have to leave in thirty minutes.”
“Plenty of time,” he said. “Plenty of time.”
“For you,” she said. “You’re equipped with an instant-on switch. I, on the other hand, need a bit more time.”
“Whatever happened to that girl who always had time?” Doug kissed Hope’s hand.
“That girl grew up and had her own little girl. But if you play your cards right, I might be able to arrange a sleepover for Cori.”
“An entire evening for just the two of us? Do it, do it now.”
“If I do it, you have to promise to forego your writing for the evening.”
“Of course, it’s out the window. I’ll build a fire, pour some wine, and we’ll listen to the cold north wind and thank our lucky stars we’re not shoveling snow for a living.”
“Is it supposed to snow?” Hope glanced to the window.
Doug chuckled. “It always snows on Winter Chorus night, doesn’t it?”
“Most years, which reminds me. You have to clean out the other bay in the garage. I don’t want either car out in the snow.”
“I don’t mind leaving my car outside.” Doug sat down on one of the comfortable chairs.
“I know you don’t, but you should. You drive off with your windows half covered in snow. It’s a wonder you haven’t run off into the ditch a dozen times. It isn’t safe.”
“I don’t need to clean my windows,” Doug kidded. “People look out for me. They see me coming, and they pull over. It’s a miracle. I’m Moses parting the Red Sea.”
“You must have delusions of Biblical proportions. The other drivers don’t move. You rely on blind luck.”
Doug grinned. “Blind luck got me you, didn’t it?”
“Blind luck? You’ve got to be kidding.” Hope looked over at her husband. After years of marriage, she still thought he was as cute as the first time she laid eyes on him. “It was more like fate. We were destined for each other.”
He laughed. “I always thought my destiny would be a little bit better.”
Hope narrowed her eyes and put her hand on her hip. “Better than what? And be careful how you answer.”
“My vocation would be better, so good that it would match my marriage.”
“You escaped again, Douglas. You were about to lose your Mr. Tact Medal.”
“If I lose that, I’m in big trouble.” He gestured to the sofa. “All right, have a seat. This is as good a time as any.”
“That doesn’t sound very good.” Hope felt unease run through her veins.
“It’s not that bad—I don’t think.”
“Oh no, you lost your job?”
He laughed. “Just sit. And no, I didn’t lose my job.”
Hope took a seat on the sofa, the one facing the fireplace, with its mantle decorated for the holidays. Three stockings hung there. Cori’s larger stocking hung between hers and Doug’s. He sat in his favorite chair, looking at her.
“What’s so important that it makes me anxious?” Hope asked.
“It’s that new project I’ve been working on for months. I don’t know exactly how to start this. I mean, it’s like every other project in some sense, but it’s not.”
“Just spit it out. We have to leave in twenty-five minutes.”
“I have to dance around this one a bit,” he said. “Because I don’t want to tell you what’s going on.”
“Your next project is an in-depth story about pole dancers, right?” Hope teased.
He laughed. “You know, someday, I’m going to run with that suggestion.”
“I’ll let you … when you turn eighty. You should be safe enough by then.”
Doug tilted his head and smiled at his wife. “My stamina is legendary.”
She laughed. “Right.”
“I stay up past ten almost every night.”
“As long as you’re working on a story. When you’re not, well, snores by nine-thirty.”
“You’re right. Well, during the day I have a lot of stamina.”
“Noted,” Hope said. “Now, what’s going on with this mysterious project you’re working on?”
Doug nodded twice before he started. “You know … I’ve always loved living here in Ohio. I mean, we’ve been blessed with good people and good work, and if the weather isn’t always balmy, well, that’s part of the deal. It’s a good community with good schools. Ohio isn’t known for its scandals. The elite and important don’t hang out here.”
“You’re stalling,” Hope said glancing at her watch. “We’re getting close to twenty minutes before we need to leave for the concert.”
“All right. The story I’ve been working on is about big people with big money and big pull. I’m not talking millions, I’m talking billions. I’m talking people who consider Washington DC their private fiefdom. These are people that can always reach the President of the United States, day or night. If there are untouchables in America, these are them.”
Hope leaned forward. “Are you sure you want to write this story?”