Hope Falls_Giving a Little Read online

  Table of Contents

  Giving a Little

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue – Tuesday

  Chapter One – Wednesday

  Chapter Two – Wednesday Evening

  Chapter Three – Thursday MorningThanksgiving Day

  Chapter Four -- Thursday Afternoon

  Chapter Five – Friday Morning

  Chapter Six – Friday Afternoon

  Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Melanie Shawn. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Hope Falls remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Melanie Shawn, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Giving a Little

  by

  Frances Elliot

  Acknowledgments

  Again, my thanks to all the Kindle Worlds authors, especially Melanie and Shawna.

  Prologue – Tuesday

  “You could tell your sister not to come – that’ll give you a little more room and I won’t have to listen to Herb yakking in my ear all day.”

  Ellie looked at her husband of forty years. “Fine. We can un-invite your nephew too, leave out everyone who talks too much.”

  Mike appeared to give that some serious thought. “Not the worst idea I’ve heard, but I don’t think we can get away with it.”

  The Elmores were standing at either end of their dining room table. Even with the extra leaves Mike had hauled in from the garage, it was obvious they couldn’t seat more than ten people. “Tell you what,” said Mike. “Emma and I can eat in the kitchen – she won’t have any fun with all the adults out here, anyway.”

  “Not on your life. You’re the only referee I can trust when the arguments begin. Maybe someone will change their mind and drop out. Last night on the phone it sounded like Emily’s having second thoughts about bringing the new boyfriend.”

  For the past twenty-odd years, Mike and Ellie had hosted a Thanksgiving dinner without running into this problem. Yes, the family had grown a bit, but this was the first year everyone had been willing and able to attend. Cramming for exams, visiting the in-laws, simmering feud with someone or other – there’d always been reasons not to come. This year there’d be a big crowd and Ellie was secretly pleased.

  “Well, we’re going to have to rent a table and put it in the living room, that’s all there is to it.”

  “Aw, c’mon,” said Mike. “Where am I supposed to watch the games?”

  “Out on the sun porch, on the little set. Or you can go next door and argue with Bert.”

  Mike pretended to shiver. “Good god, I’d rather tell the girls not to come than spend an afternoon with Bert.”

  “Wonderful idea. Abby is really looking forward to the trip and I haven’t seen the baby in six months.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “And Emily sounds a little down. I think she needs to be home for a while.”

  “All right, dear. You know I was kidding.” He walked over, gave her a quick kiss and said, “You’ll make it work. It’s going to be wonderful, as usual.”

  I know it will, thought Ellie. Aloud she said, “I just hope everyone behaves themselves this year.”

  *

  Emily stood staring at her open suitcase, trying to think of another way to dissuade Mark from coming along. She’d already tried the simple, honest approach – “I don’t think you’d have a good time” – and gotten nowhere. His automatic, glib response had begun “as long as you’re there…” so Emily had tuned out the rest.

  When he’d asked about her Thanksgiving plans, she’d told him she was going home and added “you’re invited, too” only because she’d been certain there was no chance he’d accept. He’d always been a little disdainful of her small-town roots, never actually sneering, but getting pretty darn close.

  He was the kind of guy who asked waiters if the ice was made with tap water and Emily didn’t know why she was dating him in the first place. Well, actually she knew, she just hated to admit it. He was nice looking; she liked sleeping with him, and most importantly, he understood her dedication to her job and never made demands.

  At the moment she had zero interest in a serious relationship – they took up far too much precious time. And besides, she knew she wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who had to beat men off with a stick. If any other guys were fighting for her attention, she must have overlooked them.

  Now she’d have to drag him home and ruin what was supposed to be her first chance to relax in a year. She could already imagine her sister’s face the first time Mark dropped a name or mentioned his degrees from Ivy League schools. Her dad would probably laugh out loud.

  Turning her attention back to her suitcase, Emily sighed, pulled everything out and started over. Her mind elsewhere, she’d packed the perfect assortment of things she wouldn’t need – business suits, high heels, office clothes. If things worked out as she planned, she’d be spending most of the long weekend in flannel pajamas, thick socks and one of her dad’s ancient cardigans.

  It was almost alarming that she was having trouble packing – if she forgot how she dressed at home, she’d forgotten who she was. She loved Boston and the progress in her career it represented, but she was, and always would be, a small-town girl at heart.

  She’d worked her way up the way a lot of people in the news business did, moving from local station to local station -- Sacramento to Albuquerque to Indianapolis, from gopher all the way to producer, always alert, always waiting for the next opportunity. The ultimate goal still shimmered in the distance – the golden door marked “Network” – but she was confident she’d get there someday.

  Meanwhile, even after a year and a half, she was still getting used to a city as large as Boston and its rather reserved inhabitants. It was time to go home, relax and recharge. All she had to do was survive the journey – wait. Maybe that would work.

  After his last-minute decision to join her, Mark hadn’t quite gotten around to making reservations, breezily telling her not to worry, “he’d work it out, somehow.” Of course, he probably could – he was annoying that way. But there was a chance he’d change his mind once he learned the details of the plane changes and mountain driving involved. Emily thought she could even exaggerate the perils of Sierra Nevada travel a bit.

  Oh, well, Mark would do what Mark would do, and she would have a good time and relax as best she could. If necessary, she could stick him with her cousin Alec, the non-stop talker. They could have a humble-brag contest or something. Emily turned her attention back to her suitcase, removing the extra phone chargers and battery packs.

  *

  Joe Chandler was sitting in Salt Lake International, nursing his second beer and watching the happy holiday travelers bound for cities in reasonable climates with open airports. If he had the money, he could go back to the counter and change his ticket for a flight to Honolulu or Acapulco, someplace like that. He could work at one of those little beach shacks, sell fish tacos, rent snorkel gear, watch girls in bikinis.

  He didn’t even know why he was going home in the first place. After his family was gone, he’d gotten out of town as fast as he could and never looked back. There was no one he cared to see – most of his old friends had moved away and the few who remained were busy with their young families. They’d be embarrassed by him, the rootless single guy.

  But Mrs. Elmore had been so insistent this year. His Mom’s best friend, she never forgot him and emailed regularly to invite him to join them for anything that even resembled
an “occasion.” Boredom, he supposed, had led him to say yes to Thanksgiving in Hope Falls – that and a reluctance to face a repeat of last year. Alone in a bar in Bakersfield, he’d eaten some kind of turkey substitute and hooked up with a woman who turned out to be, indeed, a hooker.

  He resolutely refused to acknowledge that deep inside he knew it was time to face the past and try to make some kind of peace with what had happened – it was never going to get any easier, so he might as well get it over with.

  Carrying his beer, he walked out to the concourse and checked the board again. Yep. Everything to Reno still delayed – this half-hour puddle jump was turning into an all-day odyssey. Or more, since the storm front seemed to be moving this way. I’ll probably have to spend the winter here, driving a snowplow or tending bar, he thought, feeling gloomy. On the other hand, the list of reasons to return to his furnished room in Casper wasn’t exactly compelling – a couple of overdue library books, a few shirts, and Linda, who’d said on her way out the door last week, “If we’re lucky, that’ll be the last time.”

  Well, no reason to think about it now, he thought. Whenever he moved on, it was usually a spur-of-the-moment decision, the sudden awareness that it was again time to try something new – new town, new boss, new woman. Although he knew nothing would ever really change, novelty was always a temporary distraction.

  He’d see how he felt on Saturday – if he ever got out of Salt Lake, of course. A collective groan went up and he followed the gaze of the guy next to him to the wall-mounted TV, where a blonde in a too-tight dress was gesturing at a map covered with small white asterisks all the way from Seattle to Denver.

  “I should have known,” said the guy to his left. “I hate the north.”

  “Where you from?” asked Joe.

  “Fort Smith, ARK,” he replied, spelling out the letters A-Are-Kay, which made Joe smile.

  “Nice down there?”

  The guy seemed surprised by the question. “It’s okay, I guess. I just hate snow. Listen, those girls across the bar have been giving you the eye. Let’s send some drinks over, see what happens.”

  Joe hadn’t even noticed them. Three pretty girls in expensive-looking ski clothes, they looked to be in their late twenties. His companion was about fifty. “Tempting, but I think I’ll get up and walk around a little, talk to the airline people,” he said, polishing off his beer.

  As he grabbed his duffle bag, one of the girls caught his eye and pouted; he walked out shaking his head. Aw, honey, he wanted to say, I am far too old for you. Maybe not in years, but in every other way there is.

  He’d never understood women’s reactions to him. He thought he was pretty much the definition of average – something that might be useful if he ever wound up in a police line-up. Light brown hair (a little straggly at the moment), dark brown eyes, maybe an inch or so over average height, he was in decent shape, but nothing to write home about. Women seemed to see something he couldn’t find in the mirror, though he knew they frequently mistook the emptiness inside him for something “soulful.” God help them.

  Frustrated passengers were shouting at the implacable gate agent with varying degrees of urgency. Joe shrugged, turned away and walked to the far corner of the boarding area where he staked out an area for what he suspected might be a very long wait. With his duffle as a pillow, he stretched out, closed his eyes and prepared to battle his demons.

  Chapter One – Wednesday

  By the time Emily arrived in Salt Lake, the sky was the brilliant blue of storybook illustrations and the glare of the sun that streamed through the waiting area windows made her squint. The storm had moved on overnight to ruin the carefully made plans of anyone hoping to get to St. Louis or Chicago.

  She had an hour to kill before the short flight to Reno so she went off in search of a second breakfast and a hat to replace the one she’d lost somewhere in her travels. Unfortunately, she’d also spotted a concourse toy store, so that when her dad pulled up to the curb at the Reno airport, she was dragging not just her suitcase but also a plastic bag bigger than Santa’s.

  Her father put the car in park but left the motor running, got out and embraced her. “Are you getting too skinny?” he asked, stepping back and looking her over.

  “Dad, I am exactly the same weight as always, which is just about average. You say that every time I come home.”

  “Yes I do, and I think you’d be disappointed if I didn’t,” he said as he slid her suitcase across the back seat. He lifted the bag. “And this is…your laundry?”

  “Dad, I’m twenty-nine years old. That is Aloysius. For Emma. And something smaller for the baby.”

  “And Aloysius is a…?”

  “Rather large bear,” said Emily, getting into the car.

  Her dad went around and gave her a skeptical look as they waited for a break in the traffic stream. “I’m sure Abby will be delighted. She’ll have to buy an extra seat to get it home on the plane.”

  “I will explain that he is a country bear who wants to live with Grandpa and Grandma and he’ll be waiting to see her at Christmas.”

  “Well, if anyone can get away with that one, I suppose it’s you.”

  Emily smiled, thinking of her five-year-old niece. Named for one of their ancestors (and nicknamed Emma to avoid confusion), the little girl had cast a spell over Emily the day they met and she hoped their special relationship would continue forever.

  As they fought their way through the holiday airport traffic, they discussed plans for the afternoon. At a red light near the highway on-ramp, her dad pointed a finger at a figure by the roadside a few cars ahead of them. “Shall we pick up that nice young man?”

  Aghast, Emily took a look. “Good grief, Dad. He’s probably a serial killer or a drug addict. Absolutely not. What year do you think it is?”

  Passing the hitchhiker, she took a quick look and saw that the guy was actually not that bad – a little scruffy but clean and neat. Nice face, too, the little she saw of it. She was already feeling a touch of guilt when her father cleared his throat and said “Emily.”

  He didn’t speak again until they’d merged into the traffic. “That was probably just a man a little down on his luck, trying to get home to his family. I hope you’re not getting too big-city cynical for us yokels.”

  Emily squirmed a bit in her seat. “I’m sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking. I guess I do forget what it’s like out here, but I’m not turning into a cynic, honest.” Wow, she thought. I hope that’s the truth. “Anyway, who could be cynical, looking at all this?”

  She gestured at the sea of sparkling white around them and the mountains ahead. Cracking her window, she lifted her nose to the stream of cold air laden with the scent of fresh snow. Her father cleared his throat again.

  “Uh, should I ask about the boyfriend? We expected him to be with you – was there a glitch?”

  Emily let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “I’m not exactly sure what’s going on. I guess he’s going to see if he can get something tomorrow. Or not.” She knew how tired-of-the-subject she sounded and could feel her father’s sharp glance over at her.

  They rode a mile or so in silence before he spoke. “Well honey, if he shows up, it’s a good test, don’t you think? If you’re not excited to have us meet him, you probably ought to think about that a little.”

  After a moment, he laughed and Emily opened her eyes. “I was thinking how happy your mother will be if he doesn’t show. She’s been dithering over the seating and she’ll be delighted to have an extra spot in case what’s-her-name, Kate Middleton drops by.”

  Emily laughed, too. “Bad as usual?”

  “Worse. Your cousin Debbie is bringing a new fiancé, and…you know, honey, frankly, I forget. Not my job. I’m on errands and snow shoveling. You’re on table-setting, kitchen help and child-entertainment, I think.”

  “What’s Abby doing, sitting on her duff?”

  “Apparently the baby is teething. And I assume you
two adults will be able to get through four days without squabbling.”

  “Say no more, Pop. I’ve got it,” she said with a smile in her voice. There was something familiar in his tone that made her feel safe and she was contented, comfortable in the warm car, and suddenly drowsy.

  About an hour later, she woke as the car thudded over what felt like a speed bump at the end of their long driveway. Her father was muttering under his breath. “Every single time, son-of-a-gun does it on purpose, every single time he drives past.”

  It seemed the long vendetta between him and the county plow driver continued. “Franklin’s at it again,” he hollered as they walked through the front door. “Dumped half the snow in town at the end of our driveway.”

  “Hang up your coats,” her mother called.

  Her father turned to her, plucked the hat from her head and kissed her cheek. “I’ll take care of it, sweetie, and carry your bags upstairs. Go get to work.”

  Emily started towards the kitchen but changed direction when she saw George, their ten-year-old black Lab, start to get up from his bed by the hearth. He moved slowly but still got a pretty good swing into his tail. “Aw, how you doing, George?” asked Emily as she knelt beside him for a hug.

  “We’re all in the same boat around here,” he father said loudly on his way back out the door. “Getting old and fat and creaky.”

  “What was that?” her mother called.

  As she passed the staircase, Emily said “Hey, Flash,” and watched the elegant black cat vanish. Pathologically shy, Flash would continue to de-materialize until she grudgingly acknowledged that she and Emily were acquainted – probably sometime tomorrow.

  Her mom was at the stove, whisking away at something in a very large saucepan. “Here, sweetie, stir this for a minute so I can get a look at you,” she said. Taking the whisk, Emily stirred while her mother gave her a kiss and stepped back. “You’re looking wonderful, dear. Though I don’t think you should lose any more weight.”