'Tis the Season: A Collection of Mimi's Christmas Books (27 page)

His mother must have sensed his mood. For once she sat without forcing him into a conversation and instead rode beside him and softly sang and hummed carols along with the radio. Every so often, she’d smile at him and then continue her caterwauling. Made him increasingly nervous, it did.

They pulled into the lane nearest to the address on the paper. Rundown terraces, dismal and dreary, lined each side of the street. Older boys kicked a football around in a cleared-off area, while younger tots decorated a puny tree with tinsel and torn streamers. Marcus left the vehicle running, nodded to his mother before leaving, and, as he approached the door he’d been searching for, confirmed that his chequebook was in his pocket.

“Sir?” A small girl, maybe four years old, tugged on his hand and caught his attention. “Are you the landlord? Me mum wants you to stay away. She’s got no money for nuthin’.” Wisps of red-gold curls framed her chafed cheeks, and her coat—so threadbare that it gave no defence against the cold wind—had been tied closed with a long, ragged-looking scarf.

Marcus hunkered down so he could look the child in the eye. “I’m not the landlord, I’m a—a friend. Is your mother inside?”

“It’s okay, then. Friends can come in.” She reached for his hand.

What an adorable little minx.
The thought wasn’t originally his, since Miss Nosy Parker put it there, but he found himself in agreement.

A tall lanky lad shot up to them and, without apology, intruded. “Who’re you, then? Whatcha want here? Me Da’s at work.”

“It’s your mother I’ve come to see.” Marcus stood and watched the young lad swallow, shove back his thin shoulders, and move protectively in front of the door.

“She’s done nuthin’ wrong. Whatcha want with her?”

Marcus had never given thought as to how noticeable an Adam’s apple could be until he watched his adversary swallow over and over, trying to lower his voice.

Trying to sound like a man.

Trying to protect his home.

He stared the boy down. “That is between myself and your mother. Will you let her know she has a caller? You can give her this.” So saying, he pulled a business card from his pocket and passed it to the boy’s waiting hand.

Deferentially the boy replied, “Yes, sir.” The tone Marcus used had worked its magic once again. It had been that way most of his life, until lately, that is, when his personal space had been invaded by two sassy witches. One calling herself Mother, and the other Abbie.

The door re-opened and a frazzled woman popped her head out, looked both ways at the watchful neighbours, and then waved him inside. “Please come in, sir. I don’t know what me man’s done, but ‘e’s gone. I tell ya, I haven’t seen his bleedin’ arse for over a week, and all I ‘ave to say is good riddance.”

“I’m not here to see your husband, Mrs. Sykes. I’m here to offer you a job. I understand from the vicar that you have good credentials; in fact, he’s personally guaranteed your honesty. I’m in need of a cleaning woman for my new office building—here, at this address.” He pointed to the business card she still held, clenched in her shaking hand. “The work won’t be too onerous, but I’ll need you to clean each business day after hours. When does your lad get home from school?”

Fighting tears, the woman whispered, “He’s here by teatime, sir, near to three-thirty as makes no nevermind.”

“Then I’ll require your services from four-thirty until nine or so. If you present yourself to my office manager on the first day of the New Year, I’ll inform her of our arrangement, and she’ll set you up with the paperwork that will need to be filled in. I’m also prepared to pay an advance from your salary, ten pounds to be subtracted from each paycheque until such time as you’ve repaid me. Would this be to your satisfaction, Mrs. Sykes?”

“Oh, sir! I’d be ever so obliged. I’ve two young’uns, and…”

His focussed stare had her back straightening, while she peeked at the card. “Yes, Mr. Chapman. That should be just fine.”

His chequebook appeared. Once he’d finished writing, he passed her the paper and watched the joyous gratitude fill her face.

“I’ll be there on time, sir, and I’ll work ever so hard for you. You shan’t be sorry you hired me, I promise you that.”

He held out his hand. She looked down for a minute and then gingerly placed hers on top. Their eyes caught and held, hers full of stars and tears, his full of gratitude. “Thank
you
, Mrs. Sykes.”

****

His barriers were firmly in place, and Abbie couldn’t push her way past to share her admiration for the way he’d handled the tricky situation or to tell him how proud he’d made her. But since he had to wipe the effect it had on her out of his eyes before approaching the waiting vehicle, she figured he’d understood the message.

She made up her mind the topic wouldn’t be forgotten; he’d have to accept her gratitude. Considering she had a bone to pick with him about not saying good-bye before he left her earlier, it was a bit galling to have to be nice. But having been a pushover all her life, she metaphorically shrugged and swallowed her annoyance. Besides, she knew what he’d done more than made up for his earlier rudeness.

However, his lordship needed to listen to her so they could sort out some things. She had a job to do, just as he did, and she’d bet a fortune he hadn’t given that part of the equation a thought. Didn’t she have any rights? Any choices over the way they would carry on? He was going to get a piece of her mind, but only after she applauded his kind behaviour.

He could hide behind his cold demeanour all he wanted, but she’d just gotten an inside look—a close-up, shall we say—to the way the man thought, and his innards were as gushy and mushy as anything she’d ever known.

Chapter Six

While Marcus helped his mother string garlands around the tree, he finally opened himself to let Abbie through. He couldn’t stand her longing, or the irritation of her pleading, another minute.

“Why ‘ave you been so mean? It’s horrible, stuck inside you and not being allowed a point of view or the ability to carry on a discussion.”

“It’s been rather easy, actually. I can hear your thoughts yapping away in my head like a crazed bull terrier. ‘Put that bulb here. No, further back. Lift the streamer. No—more to the right.’ Yap! Yap! Yap! You’ve driven me demented. So why would I let you have even more access?”

“Because a kind person would—”

“Never confuse me with a kind man. I always do the things I want to do and in the way I want them to be done.”

“Don’t be daft. At this very moment you’re suffering dreadfully at having to help your mother, and yet you are doing so. And you’re sipping on Drambuie—you, a bloke who doesn’t drink. Now, I ask you. Is that the actions of a man in control?”

“I’m beginning to like the taste of the liqueur. It’s a fine blend.”

First she hummed and then she made throat-clearing noises out loud. His mother looked over, and her eyebrows rose in a questioning manner. “Just something in my throat, Mother.” She nodded and continued threading her handful of tinsel over the branches of the huge evergreen.

“Fine. You’ve made your point. Can’t argue with your peculiar brand of logic, now, can I?”

“Uh-huh. You can’t. Particularly since I’ve felt every sigh you’ve swallowed. Every time you’ve bitten your tongue. I know you want to keep this news flash hidden, Marcus, but you are a very nice man.”

“Well, don’t go broadcasting the fact. And remember, only when it suits me.”

“It suited you to hire a woman you’d never met, pay her a huge advance, and give it to her weeks before she needed to report to work?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Marcus, I do adore you.”
The words slipped out before she could bite them off. Unfortunately, he’d stepped up onto the top rung of the ladder to place the angel at the same time as she made the comment. He fell only a few feet, but his landing was rather abrupt and ungraceful.

“Marcus, do watch what you’re doing, my son. Did you hurt yourself?”

He could never abide idiots who stood over a victim obviously in pain and asked the ridiculous question, “Did you hurt yourself?”

His sigh beat all the others in its loudness and its length. “No, Mother. Falling four feet onto these empty boxes didn’t affect me at all. In fact, I’m lying here trying to catch my breath because I like looking at the tree from this angle.”

Madeline laughed like a schoolgirl. “I like it when you get all snooty. You have such a wonderful sense of humour, Marcus. I’ve always loved that about you.” She plunked herself down beside him and rubbed his back where he’d tried to reach.

“You’ve been rather quiet tonight, dear,” Marcus said. “Anything on your mind?” He let her have her way and leaned into the pressure of her hands.

“Actually, I do. This afternoon you gave me a wake-up call that—I’m sorry to say—is long overdue. I was ever so proud of you for the way you offered to help out the vicar and that poor family. I’m ashamed to say you rather astonished me with your kindness. After what you did, I saw myself for the selfish, self-centred woman I’ve become, and didn’t like what I saw one little bit. I called the vicar as soon as we arrived home and offered my services to help in any way I could over the coming season. He was more than delighted. With his little assistant, Abbie, in the hospital, he’s desperate for helpers.”

“Are you sure it’s what you want to do? This can take up quite a bit of your time, you know.”

“Yes, I know. And it’s probably the best thing that could happen to me. I’ll be out of your hair and keeping busy in the community.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Thank God for small mercies!
The thought popped into his mind while Abbie scoffed and sniffed.

“What’s the kiss for?”

“For being such a nice man, and making me so proud.”

A notion entered and wouldn’t leave. “Why is everyone so determined to label me a nice man?”

“Because you are,”
a small voice insisted.

“Because, Marcus, you are exactly like your father, who was one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known.” His mother’s beaming look made him squirm. “Luv, I know I refused your offer of a vehicle when I first arrived, but I do believe I’ll be needing my own transportation for the next short while. Can you spare one of the company cars for my use?”

“Not a good idea, Mother. I’ll order you an automobile tomorrow, something easier to get around in. Our vehicles are slightly larger than what you’ll be needing.”

“Then I’d like to pick out my own, and I can certainly take care of the cost, dear. But I’d want your help in choosing the right dealer and haggling with the salespeople. It’s such a bother for a woman alone.”

Honestly! The woman was a genius when it came to interfering with his work and keeping him away from his desk, he decided. Might as well give in gracefully rather than to argue a losing battle. “How about I buy it for your Christmas present? You can select the model, if I deem it a safe choice, that is.”

“See! A very nice man. I rest my case.”
He felt Abbie grinning and visualized a cat licking cream from its whiskers.

Before he could retaliate, his mother threw her arms around him and had them both toppling over as she randomly kissed his face. “You are an angel. I absolutely adore you.”

Hmm. I must be losing my touch. In one day, I’ve had two different women tell me they adored me. Surely to goodness I’m not going soft. His contemplation continued as he wondered whether a life-threatening case of pneumonia brought on by overwork and terrible eating habits could change a person’s normal behaviour.

Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but his fairly recent collapse had scared the stuffing out of him. Who knew that the cold symptoms he’d fought off for months would turn into such a traumatic event, and that he’d have to be hospitalized. He’d never told his mother about the scare; in fact, he’d told no one except his personal assistant, who had strict orders not to divulge the information, on the threat of losing her highly paid job.

He supposed no one could go through a near-death experience without being affected. Despite his original scoffing, the shock had changed his outlook on eating healthy and making smarter choices. No longer did he consume the fat-filled junk food he’d been hooked on or the constant cups of coffee he’d used to keep his energy from being depleted. Instead, he’d installed a small gym off his office, made use of the machines daily, and had a similar area put in his apartment.

The female health officer who’d forced her daily visits on him while he’d been incarcerated in the hospital had taught him many things. He’d either never been aware of them before, or never paid any attention. He’d researched her suggestions and opened his life to change. Stubborn? Maybe, but no one could accuse him of being an idiot.

Today he looked better and felt stronger than he had in years. Except that, since they moved to Bury, he’d fallen back into his old work habits. Or at least tried to. His mother had effectively reduced his time spent at the office, except for the other day, when he’d escaped by leaving the house at dawn, worked non-stop until late afternoon, and ended up asleep on the vicarage bench as a result.