Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
“ D o you think he’s home?” Maggie asked. “It’s awfully dark in there.”
The front door was unlocked, so Maggie pushed it open just a hair. “Hello, Byron, it’s Maggie Moretti and Chelsea Marsden,” Maggie called out.
They could hear noise coming from the back room, and because Byron hadn’t answered, Maggie felt perfectly within her right to go inside.
Maggie called out again. “Byron, are you home?”
Byron came out from the back room. “Oh Maggie, hello. Hello Chelsea. I thought I heard someone.”
Disheveled and still wearing his pajamas, Byron looked terrible.
“Chelsea and I wanted to check on you and make sure you’re okay. We haven’t seen you around town much lately,” Maggie said.
“Oh I don’t get out much these days,” he responded.
Maggie looked around the room and saw piles of papers, magazines and books scattered everywhere. Dishes were in the sink and dust was covering every surface; Maggie could tell that Byron had given up. His long plaid bathrobe, a coffee stained T-shirt, convinced Maggie that he had gone unnoticed by any family members or friends since Louise died. Normally clean-shaven, Byron clearly hadn’t shaved in weeks. His salt-and-pepper gray beard and tousled hair made it look as though he had just gotten out of bed.
Although Maggie and Chelsea had every intention of talking to Byron about the Santa Claus role he’d played for years, there seemed an urgency now more than ever to get him engaged in life. The Christmas parade was only a few days away, and Maggie was certain it would take much longer to help Byron Jameson.
Chelsea walked into the kitchen, looked around, and then turned back to face Byron. “Why don’t we help you clean up in here? Maggie and I can straighten up this place in no time.”
Byron shook his head. “No. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but there’s no point. Even if you clean it, it will look like this again within a week.”
His eyes were wet with tears. Byron had not only given up, but also left no room for the possibility of life without Louise. It had been less than a year since his wife’s passing. He had been married to the love of his life for over 50 years, and when she died, Byron died along with her.
Chelsea stood before Byron, put her hands on her hips, and responded to Byron in the only way Chelsea knew how. “That may be true, but for at least one week your place will look the way it did when Louise was alive. I remember how important her home was to her. Tell me right now Byron Jameson, if your wife was standing here looking around her home, what would she say to you?”
Byron suddenly perked up. He rubbed his eyes as if he’d been blind and now able to see. “She wouldn’t be happy. My goodness, I hadn’t thought of that.”
Maggie smiled. Chelsea’s impatience with anything she couldn’t control reared its head again. As always, Chelsea took control and immediately went to work.
“Do you have a mop?” Chelsea asked.
Byron slowly shuffled to a closet door and pulled out a pail and a mop. Handing them to Chelsea, he asked, “What can I do to help?”
“You can shave and take a shower, and then put on real clothes,” Chelsea said matter-of-factly.
Byron nodded and went to his bedroom and shut the door.
Maggie smiled and shook her head. “I’ve got to hand it to you Chelsea, you really know how to sweet talk a guy.”
Chelsea shrugged. “I didn’t think being delicate would help him. Byron needs tough love, at least right now. He’s going to need more than that. He’s going to need more than us cleaning his house. Got any ideas?”
Maggie nodded as she grabbed the sponge. “Yes, I do. I think we start by inviting Byron for Thanksgiving at the Key Lime Garden Inn.”
Chelsea smiled. “I knew you were going to say that. What do we do about the Christmas Parade? There’s no way we can get him ready in time to be Santa.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Maggie said.
“Are you kidding me? Did you see what he looks like?”
“He’s in there cleaning up right now. I think he’ll be fine. The only problem we have is Skipper Libby, and I have an idea of what to do about him.”
Chelsea stopped mopping and looked at Maggie. “It’s going to take a lot more than a shower to get Byron in Santa Claus mode. What exactly are you planning with regard to Skipper?”
Maggie smiled. “It’s simple. In the spirit of Christmas, I don’t see how Skipper can turn down a chance to be kind to his fellow man. All I’m going to do is gently explain to him that letting Byron be Santa Claus this year will do him a world of good and take him out of this depression. I don’t see how Skipper can refuse.”
Chelsea sighed. “Maggie, you do know Skipper Libby, don’t you? I don’t think kindness is in his vocabulary.”
Maggie threw the sponge into the sink and turned to face Chelsea.
“Well then, Skipper is definitely not Santa material.”
Chelsea chuckled at Maggie’s sudden burst of Christmas spirit. “I thought you didn’t care about the parade or any of the Christmas stuff. Seems like you have strong opinions about Santa Claus.”
“Some things are sacred, Chelsea. Santa is one of them.”
They continued to clean Byron’s house while he took care of himself. When they were halfway through the kitchen, Byron emerged from the bedroom. Dressed in his usual Hawaiian shirt and linen shorts, he lifted his arms in the air, waiting for a reaction. “Well, what do you think?”
Maggie smiled and looked at Chelsea. “What do you think, Chelsea? Is this the handsomest man you’ve ever seen?
Chelsea nodded. “It’s a start. How about you grab those paper towels and a can of dust spray? Start going through those stacks of papers and magazines. You also might want to go through your mail, because it looks like you haven’t touched it in days. When you’ve finished that, you can get rid of some of that dust. I’ll need the vacuum cleaner, too. Heaven knows this isn’t the only dirty floor.”
Byron nodded. He seemed nervous around Chelsea, and that didn’t surprise Maggie one bit.
“You could have been a little nicer,” Maggie said, when Byron went into the living room.
Chelsea shrugged. “I guess but remember I’m the one who gets him to move,” she whispered.
Maggie laughed. “When we're done here, let's go over to Skipper’s place. We are running out of time. You are going to come with me right?”
Chelsea side. “Sure. But if your plan is to gently explain anything to Skipper, I might not be the best person to help you.”
Maggie thought about that for a minute. It was true that tough love helped Byron. She wasn’t sure the same approach would work on Skipper Libby. The Christmas parade was only four days away, so if Maggie had any luck, this problem would be resolved by the end of the day.
Skipper Libby lived far from the center of Captiva, because he didn’t like all the tourists passing by his house every day. It was well-known that he wasn’t the most pleasant person, but his appearance made him a perfect Santa Claus. He had a naturally full, long, white beard, and his body didn’t need any padding. It was, for this reason, that the job was offered to him this year. From Maggie’s understanding, Byron was asked to be Santa Claus, but turned it down because of his grief over the loss of his wife.
Maggie didn’t think looking like Santa Claus was a good enough reason to give Skipper the job.
“Everyone knows Santa is jolly. There is nothing jolly about Skipper Libby.”
Chelsea laughed. “I can’t believe how upset you’re getting over this. It’s a silly volunteer job. No one took it away from Byron. He didn’t want it. Calm down.”
“I’m sorry, I know you’re right, it’s just that I want Byron to look forward to something after the year he’s had. I feel bad for him.”
Chelsea nodded. “I do too, but don’t get your hopes up that Skipper will give up being Santa. From what I hear, they offered him several restaurant gift cards to be in the Christmas Parade, and you know how much Skipper likes to eat.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Seriously? He doesn’t need more food.”
As they rode to Skipper’s place, Maggie thought more about Byron. There was a distinct smell of alcohol on his breath, but neither Maggie nor Chelsea said a word about it…until now.
“There’s another reason I want Byron to be Santa. I think he’s drinking again.”
“You smelled it too? I thought I was imagining it. I didn’t see any bottles in the kitchen or the living room. Did you? Do you suppose he’s keeping them in his bedroom?”
Maggie shrugged. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised. He used to go to The Bubble Room bar, but since Louise’s death, I think he’s drinking alone in that house. I’m really worried about him.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Maggie, I hate to point this out, but we’re going to have to watch him closely. We can’t have a drunk Santa Claus riding the float. Besides, he needs to give presents to the kids at the end of the parade. Can you imagine what would happen if any of the families saw him that way?”
Maggie cut her off. “Stop it, Chelsea. Don’t even suggest it. That’s not going to happen. I’ll make sure of it.”
Chelsea pointed out the window. “I think that’s his place…the yellow house.”
Since there was no driveway, Maggie pulled her car in front of the small, yellow ranch-style home.
“It sure is small,” Maggie said.
“He lives alone, so I guess that’s all the room he needs.”
“Now, remember, Chelsea. Let me do the talking. I said we’d do this gently, and, well…you know.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes and nodded. “Fine.”
They made their way to the front door and knocked.
A voice on the other side of the door called out. “Hang on, I’m coming.”
The door swung open, and Skipper Libby stood before them already in his Santa suit.
“Wow, Skipper, nothing like getting into the spirit of things before Thanksgiving,” Chelsea said.
“Hi Chelsea…Maggie. I thought I’d try this thing on to make sure it fit. How do I look?”
Maggie smiled. “Like Santa Claus. Do you mind if we come in for a bit?”
“Oh I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Yes, please, come in.”
Everyone went into the living room, and Skipper raced to the sofa to push several items to the floor.
“Sorry, my maid hasn’t been here yet.”
“You have a maid?” Maggie asked.
Chelsea nudged her. “I think he’s joking.”
“Oh, right.”
“Please, have a seat,” he said.
“Skipper, you know that Byron Jameson has been Santa for several years now, and…
He nodded. “Yeah, terrible thing about Louise. She was such a nice lady. I used to see her and Byron taking walks all the time. It’s so sad when you lose a spouse. I’ve never been married, but I can only imagine how hard it must be.”
Maggie patiently waited to continue.
“Yes, well…that’s the thing, Skipper. Byron is grieving and…and…”
As expected, Chelsea didn’t have patience with Maggie’s approach.
“We want you to give up the Santa role and give it back to Byron,” she announced.
Maggie quickly turned toward Chelsea.
I’m going to kill her.
‘Did someone ask you to come over here and ask me to quit?” he asked.
Maggie shook her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that we’ve just left Byron’s place, and he’s in a bad way. He barely eats, doesn’t shower, sits around in his pajamas and basically seems to have given up living. We feel that playing Santa might lift his spirits.”
“So to speak,” Chelsea added.
Maggie glared at her, and then turned her attention back to Skipper.
“You understand, don’t you, Skipper? Does anyone call you Skip?” Maggie asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, everyone does.”
“Can I call you Skip?”
“Of course. I’m confused. I heard Byron didn’t want it. He changed his mind?”
“Well, we’re not sure. We thought we’d come to see you first. If you’re willing, we’d like to offer it to Byron. I’m sure once we talk to him again, he’ll be ready to play Santa again.”
Chelsea nodded. “Yeah, we were just cleaning his place, and he seemed much better when we left.”
Scratching his head and pulling on his beard, Skipper seemed to consider this new development.
“I guess I can let it go, but only if Byron really wants to do it,” he said.
Maggie clapped her hands. “Thank you so much, Skipper. Let me run back to Byron’s and let him know. I’m sure he’ll want to thank you personally.”
“Maybe he’ll make you an elf,” Chelsea added.
Skipper shrugged, and Maggie thought it was the most ridiculous consolation prize she’d ever imagined. When they got outside, Maggie told Chelsea exactly what she thought.
“First of all, what part of let me do the talking did you not understand?”
“You were taking too long. I’ve got stuff to do today.”
“And second, you think Skipper, a six-foot two, two-hundred and seventy pound man, would look good in an elf costume?”
“I don’t know. I just thought it was something to soften the blow.”
Chelsea shook her head and mumbled something under her breath.
Maggie couldn’t wait to get to Byron’s to deliver the good news, but she did it alone. Chelsea needed to get home to meet Steven.
“Thanks for coming with me, Chelsea. I mean it. Don’t you feel like you did something nice for someone?”
“Yup. I feel warm and fuzzy all over,” Chelsea said in her usual sarcastic tone. “Let me know how Byron takes the news. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be the one bringing a pumpkin pie.”
Maggie waved. “Don’t forget, two o’clock.”