Now, here she was and looking better than ever. And I wanted her just as badly as I had then. Maybe more, because now we were both adults.
I’d had to make up some bull shit reason to excuse myself to calm down before I was in any shape to be around the public again.
I don’t know how I got through the day of ho-ho-ho-ing. Smiling at the kids and for the camera. Asking who’d been a good little girl or boy. Because my eyes, and my mind, and my pure raw need, had been laser focused on her the entire time.
So now, here I stood at the front desk at Mudville House, the town’s only hotel, waiting for someone to respond to the bell I’d rung so I could ask if there was a vacancy and a store nearby. I’d need to pick up a few things for the night since I’d brought nothing with me.
This was crazy. I was crazy. Putting off my meeting with the lawyer to play Santa for six hours. Staying the night rather than taking care of my business and getting straight home. All so I could see more of her.
Lizzy.
Elizabeth.
And what I planned to do if I did run into her in town tonight, or tomorrow, I didn’t know, since I’d spent the day hiding who I was. Lying, kind of, right to her face. Not admitting I recognized her. That I knew her.
Why had I done that? I still wasn’t sure. Surprise, maybe. Confusion. And shame. So much shame . . . I’d promised to keep in touch. Sworn I’d be back again to visit. If not for winter break then the next summer.
I’d broken that promise. That was not completely my fault. I was only seventeen. I’d arrived home to find my parents in mid-divorce. After that, I went where they told me. Spent my school breaks at their whim.
I hadn’t exactly lied to Elizabeth. Afterall, Chris was technically a version of my name even though everyone called me Christopher.
But I hadn’t exactly been forthcoming either.
I could have told her who I was. I should have. I hadn’t. Which left me in the pickle I was in now.
What should I do going forward? That was the big question. Should I go to her house and confess? Show up at the tree lot again tomorrow and hope the Santa they’d actually hired didn’t show again?
I was more confused than ever.
My cell phone rang and one glance at the display showing the lawyer’s number reminded me of why I was here to begin with. What I really needed to do tomorrow. Meet with the lawyer and the real estate agent I’d called during my fifteen-minute Santa-duty break.
I swiped the display to answer. “Christopher Nunes.”
“Hi, Mr. Nunes. It’s Dee Flanders. I am so sorry you had so much trouble with the directions. I did get back to you. I left you a message that you had the proper address but GPS has been known to send people to the wrong town before. It’s something we learn to deal with around here. But I should have warned you. I do apologize.”
“No apology necessary. And I got your message. Thank you. I was, uh, occupied all day.” Santa had to keep his cell phone on silent or there’d be countless disillusioned children throughout the greater Mudville area. “I decided to stay in town for the weekend. I’m here at Mudville House now, hoping to get a room for tonight, if one’s available.”
“Well, that’s convenient. My office is directly across the street in the brick building.”
I turned and sure enough, there was the building she spoke of.
She continued, “I was about to go home for the day, but if you’d like to walk across the street and take care of the paperwork now, I’d be happy to stay. Or would you prefer to do it in the morning?”
“I’d love to take care of it now, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” I disconnected and since no hotel employee had emerged to help me yet, I pocketed my cell phone and headed across the street.
Dee Flanders was an older woman, perhaps of about seventy. Laid back, as small-town people often were, but sharp as a tack. She had the paperwork out on her desk, sticky notes marking where I needed to sign. And next to that was a Ford keyring, overstuffed with mismatched old keys.
The sight of those keys brought on a wave of mingled nostalgia and regret. And memories.
Memories of me driving Uncle William’s truck and tractor around the farm. Of the neighbor girl who taught me to ride a horse. And to fish. Of her laughing when the bull chased me out of the pasture.
Memories of bare feet and cut-off shorts. Of sunburns and mosquito bites. And of first kisses and the girl I’d never completely forgotten.
It was the best summer of my life.
I should have kept in touch. With him. With her. I should have come back long before now. If not the next summer, then sometime after that. After my time was my own again. I had no excuse for why I hadn’t, except that life happens. Takes over so completely that before you know it, you look up and twenty-three years had passed.
“Mr. Nunes?”
Shit. She’d said something to me. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. What did you say?”
She smiled. “I said the rooms in the hotel were recently remodeled by the new owner and they’re beautiful, but if you wanted to stay at William’s house, you could. It’s in good shape. Just as he left it. The heat is still running, so the pipes don’t freeze. The electric is on. There are even sheets on the bed in the guest room. The fridge has been cleaned out, but all it would take is a trip to the grocery store right here on Main Street and you’d be set.”
I glanced at those keys again. I remembered the little bent one unlocked the padlock on the back gate. The shiny one was for the deadbolt on the front door that I’d never seen locked while I’d been there. I wondered if the same old Ford truck was still parked by the barn and if it ran.
Suddenly I wanted to know. Wanted to see it all again.
Reaching for the keys she’d pushed toward me, I said, “Thank you. I think I might head over there tonight and take a look. Maybe I will even stay there.”
That impulse surprised me. I seriously hadn’t thought the idea of spending the night in the home of my dead great uncle would be appealing, but it was.
Or maybe it was less the house, and more the thought of Elizabeth being next door. Was she still there or had she moved?
I glanced up at the lawyer. “Are the same neighbors still next door? The Murphys?”
“They are. They’re both retired now but they still live in the house.”
“They had a daughter about my age. She doesn’t still live there with them, does she?” I tried to sound casual even as my pulse picked up speed.
“Elizabeth? Yes, she does. She’s teaches at the local school.”
A teacher. Just like her mother had been. That I remembered that detail surprised me. Although maybe it shouldn’t. It seemed Elizabeth had made a lasting impression on seventeen-year old me.
I glanced up at Dee. “You said there’s a store nearby?”
“Yes, sir.” She stood and walked to the door. “Go out this door and turn right and you’ll see the parking lot for the grocery store. And if you need anything else, go left down Main Street a couple of blocks. You’ll pass the pharmacy and then see the Village Variety. It’s got hardware and pretty much anything you could need for a house or garden. And, of course, there’s Red’s Resale also down that end of town. She’s got pretty much anything else you might need. For food, the diner across the street is great for breakfast. But if it’s a hot dinner and a drink you’re after, head two miles out of town, toward the highway entrance, and you’ll see the Muddy River Inn. That’s the local bar. Oh, and it won’t be open this late but tomorrow stop by Morgan’s Farm Market if you need a Christmas tree. They’ve got the freshest and the best ones around. Cheap too.”