Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Forty minutes later, as children cheered and Buddy yelled “Santa!” on screen, Leo realized Andie had fallen asleep. Her head had been nestled into his shoulder for most of the movie. He hadn’t thought of Elf as a movie to cuddle with, but he refused to complain. Andie’s breathing had slowed to a soft rhythm, her weight pressed against him. Even the chaos on screen hadn’t gotten a shift, peep, or change in breathing.
Careful, in an effort not to wake the sleeping woman on his shoulder, he reached forward, next to the empty popcorn bowl, where the remote lay. He had to stretch his fingers but managed to grasp the end and collect the item, then turn the movie off.
The apartment grew silent, the last remaining embers of the candles simmering in the menorah, and Andie slept. He guessed she slept hard and he guessed he would, too, if he had her job.
Now he faced a bigger problem: what to do? He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone, going to the person he always went to when he needed dating advice.
Leo: Got a minute?
The fourth candle extinguished before he got a response.
Jodie: For the brother who put my kid in such a good mood, of course!
Jodie: Millie will not stop talking about how wonderful Andie is. And she somehow has it in her head you two are coming over to see the lights tomorrow.
Jodie: So tell me, dear brother, is it true?
He would have scrubbed a hand down his face if he wasn’t losing feeling in his fingers from Andie’s position.
Leo: Yes. But I’ve got more important things going on.
He started typing his situation, but his sister sent a response before he could finish.
Jodie: What did dad do this time?
He erased what he wrote, retyping his response.
Leo: Nothing. This time. Though Dean might have a lead.
Again, he started typing what he really needed, but Jodie texted before he could finish.
Jodie: Oooh, what did Dean find?
He backspaced, again.
Leo: Can you hang on a minute? I need help.
Jodie sent an emoji with a zipper over its lips and Leo quickly typed out what he needed for a third time.
Leo: I’m over at Andie’s. She invited me in to watch a movie with her, but she’s fallen asleep. What do I do?
Jodie: Wake her.
Leo put his phone down, and nudged Andie. She curled off his shoulder, snuggling into the side of the couch. He stretched his tingling fingers and used both hands to type.
Leo: She’s not waking.
Jodie: I suspect you don’t want to wake her.
Guilty . Andie looked so peaceful. He wanted to curl up behind her, sleep with her in his arms, and knew that was far from being a potential option.
Jodie: And I know you won’t respond to that. You leave, dear brother. Make sure her lights are off and her door is locked and you leave a note.
Leo: On the couch?
Jodie: This isn’t Millie or Little Orphan Annie, you aren’t going to change her clothes or tuck her into bed, not even if you’ve seen her bed already.
Outside the winds picked up, the final candle extinguished, and the woman beside him slept.
Leo: But it’s cold.
Jodie: Look, I get it, you like her and want to stay. But find a blanket and go home.
He sighed, knowing his sister was right, on more than one point.
Leo: Okay.
Leo: Thank you.
Jodie: I look forward to meeting this woman who has you in knots.
He wanted to respond but figured it best to leave it alone. He stood, stretching out his hand to wake it up the rest of the way, and checked out Andie’s living room. No blankets, nothing warm. Well, checking out her bedroom was different than putting her there. He made his way to the open door, peeked inside. Unmade bed, small pile of clothes on a chair, and a desk that probably had a laptop under all the papers.
Leo chuckled. Andie’s living room was clean but lived in, her bedroom a bit of a tornado. It somehow endeared her to him. The two sides of her, a different part of her creating each situation. He wanted to understand those parts.
At the foot of her bed he found a haphazardly folded blanket and snatched it. In the living room he draped it over her, tucking it around her body. She murmured and he leaned forward, trying to hear if she made noise or spoke words, but didn’t get any confirmation.
“Good night, Andie.” He brushed her hair back, pressing his lips to her temple. Hoping, somehow, that his kiss would wake her when everything else didn’t.
She slept.
It was for the best. Andie was obviously tired. And even if he wanted to make the most of their limited time together, this wasn’t the way.
He turned off the lights, made sure the oven was off. Then he let himself out, locking the bottom from the inside since he didn’t have her keys.
The hall felt extra lonely and he heaved a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets, making a slow trek back to his own apartment. There he stood in his dark living room, staring at the streetlights. An itch, a tick, something simmered below the surface, settling in his foot and the steady tap against his wood floors. Unsettled was the best way to describe his mood. He needed sleep, should force himself to bed, or at least begin to wind down for the night and trick his brain into sleep. His limbs wouldn’t move. All he could think of was Andie. That led him to her desk, and the time didn’t matter—he knew what he needed to do.
Without a second thought he grabbed his keys and left his unit, taking one more glance back to Andie’s, just in case, before taking the stairs two at a time.
He had a desk to work on, a very special Chanukah gift for a very special woman.
Andie startled awake when her alarm went off, knowing immediately something was different. For starters, her alarm sounded softer than usual. That combined with her contorted position in a small space that did not resemble her queen-sized bed had her lifting her head, blinking her room into focus.
Her living room.
The previous night came back to her: Chanukah party, popcorn, movie, and the last thing she remembered was thinking Leo’s shoulder looked mighty comfortable.
Humiliation seeped in. She fell asleep on his shoulder, didn’t she? Yup, she must have. She pulled the blanket up, sleep fading from her vision. The blanket hadn’t been here, she didn’t keep blankets in her living room. Leo had thought to cover her. Her heart tugged at the action and she held the blanket to her, gave herself a moment to appreciate the man and the care, before letting it go. She didn’t have time for heart tugs in her morning.
Andie stretched and investigated her living room. No signs of Leo. She rose and went into her bedroom; he wasn’t there either. Of course he went home, not like he lived far away. Still, she collected her phone, taking another precious few moments from her morning routine, and found a message waiting for her.
Leo: Hope you slept well. I didn’t want to move you when you fell asleep. Let me know if we’re still on for tonight.
There went the tug in her heart again. She checked the time he sent the note, wondering how quickly she really fell asleep.
Two am.
Huh. The movie wouldn’t have lasted that long if they’d finished it. She glanced around again and there were no signs Leo had lingered. Was her neighbor a night owl and she didn’t know it? Mysteries she might never solve.
Andie: Sorry I conked out on our movie, though I did warn you.
Andie: And yes, we’re still on for tonight.
She held her phone to her, ignoring how that tug had grown. Just the holiday magic, nothing more. She set her phone to charging and got ready for the day.
Bang. Clatter. Crash.
Leo woke with a start, the loud noises reverberating in his head. He brushed the sandpaper from his cheek and pushed in his hearing aids, stretching out the kink in his neck.
“Well look who it is, sleeping beauty burning the midnight oil.” Dean picked up the box he’d dropped and walked over, examining the item Leo had used for his bed. “Andie’s?”
Leo nodded, stretching his neck in the other direction. He investigated where he’d placed his head and moved the rag that got turned into a pillow. The desk looked good. His face, probably not so much.
“I thought you went to Millie’s Chanukah party together?”
Leo yawned. “We did. And then started a movie. She fell asleep and I came here.”
Dean nodded, studying the work Leo had put in. “Looks like you made some headway.”
Sleep clung to him, and he felt like a year’s worth of gunk crusted his eyes. His ears itched, not used to having the hearing aids in all night, and he bet his batteries would need to be charged before the day was out. His internal clock insisted it had to be deep in the night, but sunlight poured in through the windows, and Dean very rarely came to work early. Or stayed late. He didn’t get the thrill of putting in long hours with rewarding results. The restoration process was a slow one, needing time in between the steps. Leo had arrived last night to discover the cleaned wood had dried and he went about inspecting the desk. The marks were gone or significantly reduced, to the point he called it character rather than a defect. He had checked on the wobbly leg again and replaced a pin, stopping the wobble. The desk stood straight and secure. He’d been prepared to find an area that needed more work than the others, checking extra for them. All he found was that beneath the busted drawer, wobbly legs, and stains, the piece had been well loved and cared for.
Except for the polish used, but he’d make sure that never happened again.
All in all, it made him smile. It meant Andie had taken care of it, as her mother had before her. He understood that antiques weren’t for everyone but liked it better when he had a place of common interest. Especially since antiques were very much his life.
So he’d gotten to work, cleaning a few more areas because he couldn’t help himself, ensuring that anything left behind truly fell under the “character” heading. And at some point, he had fallen asleep.
“Hey, what time is it?” Leo scrubbed a hand over his face, willing himself to wake up fully.
“Ten of. Why?”
Ten of. No time to get ready for work, he’d have to make do with a bathroom clean up. Leo stretched. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready for the day.”
Dean waved him off, heading to the front. “Take an hour. Go home. Shower. I’ve got this.”
Leo opened his mouth, ready to interject, but Dean hadn’t stopped moving. Another day, Leo would have protested, undermining his brother’s worth. So instead of not learning from the past, he made sure all the pieces were positioned to dry, then left out the back door to do just as Dean had instructed.
“You fell asleep while watching Elf ? Who falls asleep while watching Will Ferrell be silly?”
Andie picked up her sandwich, chewing instead of responding to Sarah. They sat in the teacher’s lounge, grabbing lunch in between the two sessions.
“Why watch Elf anyway? There are plenty of sexier holiday movies.” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows, before turning back to her soup.
“I was enjoying Leo’s company. If I wanted to get him in the bedroom, I would have invited him there.” Not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. She figured she’d start the facade and stop the movie and see where the night went from there, not that she’d fall into such a deep sleep she wouldn’t even know he left.
Sarah stirred her soup. “Well, what are you waiting for? You said you wanted a Chanukah fling, not a long-distance relationship.”
Andie sighed. Relationships were meant to be built and see what, if any, potential existed. This thing with Leo was the first time she’d tried something different, and old habits died hard. Or perhaps relationships were in her blood, the way she’d been built. “I’m still here for a few more months, I don’t need to rush anything. If it happens, it will happen organically.”
“You’re no fun.” Sarah blew on her spoon and took a bite.
“Relax, I’m seeing him tonight. Chanukah isn’t over yet.”
A large gust of wind made a strong whistling sound enter the room. Sarah groaned. “My morning kids were spooked by this noise; I was hoping the winds would die down by the afternoon.”
Andie’s students had reacted the same way. “I told my students it was due to how busy the elves were finishing up all the gifts.”
“Oh, Oh! That’s clever. I’m stealing that,” said Naomi, one of the other teachers sitting at a different table. The lunchroom was small enough that conversations normally crossed between tables.
“Me too,” said Sarah.
Andie was going to miss the camaraderie here. “Go right ahead and use it. If the students have friends in other classes, it’ll be all the better.”
A chorus of agreement floated through the room before everyone resumed their previous conversations. Andie took another bite of her sandwich, finding Sarah staring at her.
“What?” Andie said, covering her mouth as she still chewed.
“You looked sad for a moment there, why?”
The room held student work on the walls, staff notifications, and a countdown to the end of the year. The final year. “I’m going to miss this and everyone here.”
“Yeah, I know. But you’ll find something similar, if not better, in Ohio.”
Andie thought about the temple, and the spur-of-the-moment sending of her resume. “I might have another option.”
Sarah leaned forward. “Oh?”
“The temple I was at for Leo’s niece’s Chanukah party? They have a preschool on site and were impressed with how I interacted with the kids.” Andie mulled that over, odds were, it was a pleasant compliment, nothing more. “You should apply.”
“When they are so clearly enamored with you?”
“How do you get enamored by one sentence?”
“Did they ask you to apply?”
Andie chewed on her bottom lip. “Yes.”
“See. Enamored.”
“And they may be just as enamored with you when they meet you.” Sarah would be her top choice for teacher if Andie had kids.
Sarah chuckled. “Okay, send me the details. I applied to an elementary school the other day to expand my options.”
Andie had been about to take another bite, but instead put her sandwich down. They’d met with the joint goal of working in preschool and until now neither had strayed from that objective. “But you like the little ones.”
“I know. I do. But I also like eating.”
Another reason why this situation stunk more than a bathroom accident. “Agreed.” Andie’s cell phone rang, and it took her a moment to recognize the sound as hers. She pulled it from her pocket, staring at the number on the screen.
“Who is it? Lover boy?” Sarah asked, leaning forward, her shirt nearly sliding into her soup.
“No. It’s local. Maybe it’s about one of the jobs I applied for?”
Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “Oh! Answer it! Answer it!”
Andie pushed her chair back and answered as she made her way into the quiet hall. “Hello, this is Andie.”
“Hi Andie, this is Gwen Hoffman, the director of the temple preschool.”
Andie nearly gulped in some air. “Hi Gwen, nice to meet you.”
“The feelings are mutual. You made quite the impression at the Chanukah party.”
Andie blushed and became very aware of how echoey the empty halls were. She dipped into Sarah’s classroom, since it was closer.
“I know Evan well, he used to attend the preschool before entering kindergarten, it took a special person to be able to meet him on his level.”
“I’m sure kindergarten has changed things for him.”
Gwen laughed. “You’re humble, I like that. And I’ve seen Evan many times since he graduated. He is still quite the handful.”
“I believe the children that are handfuls are the ones expressing some unmet need. It’s all about figuring out what that need is. Once you meet it, most of those misbehaviors stop.”
“And now I see exactly why Whitney raved about you. You teach preschool, entertained a rowdy kindergartner, and effortlessly transitioned to managing tweens. Do you intend to stay in preschool?”
Andie settled on Sarah’s desk. The short answer was yes, the long answer involved more education and options. “Yes. I mean, I accept I’m young and life might pull me in different directions. But I like helping the young minds, shaping them and preparing them for future success.”
“‘The success of the future starts here.’ That’s our slogan.”
Andie tried not to cough. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
Andie wasn’t sure she could hear a smile over the phone, but if she could, she heard one now.
“Your program is closing, I understand.”
Andie looked around the room and all the artwork Sarah’s students had completed so far. It tugged at her, made her want to wrap the entire school in bubble wrap and preserve the magic they created here. “It is. We’ve tried to save it, but no luck.”
“That’s a shame, we need more preschools, not fewer. But that’s why I’m working on expanding my program.”
“So you’re not only filling one position?” She let the fantasy unfold. Sarah and she could both find the same new job and stay together.
“For now, it’s the one. Like your program closing, it all comes down to dollar signs. I’m working on mine at the moment, and I’m hopeful but cannot guarantee anything.”
That crushed her fantasy, but not completely, this phone call was still about her potential prospects. “I understand.”
“I imagine it must be difficult to keep morale up.”
Andie settled into a more comfortable position. The clock on the wall warned her not to get too comfortable. Her time to chat dwindled fast. “It is. We’re trying our best to save the school, but it may not be in the cards. So, we all put on our best smiles and make this year count for the students.”
“You said all , what do you specifically do in your classroom?”
“I’m building a foundation for my students’ future education, so that they have the tools they need to carry them wherever they go. I don’t know where they’ll be next year, or if they’ll even have a class. But I know when they leave me, they’ll have what they need to be successful.”
“Spoken like a person with a teacher’s heart.”
Sadness gripped her at losing this program and separating these students, but Gwen’s comment filled that hole—that after such a short conversation she would see something like that, enough to mention it. “I wouldn’t be in this career if I didn’t have it.” Voices echoed in the hall. “Gwen, I’m sorry but I need to prepare for my next class of the day.”
“I won’t keep you. I just had to talk to the woman who Whitney kept gushing about. I’ll be in touch.”
“I know it’s the holidays and all, but can you give me an idea of when I should hear more?”
“We are closed next week, but you should hear something before the New Year, if not sooner.”
Gwen disconnected the call before Andie could ask for more details. Andie clicked to the home screen on her phone. “Did that really happen?” She chuckled, shoving her phone into her pocket. It did happen, and now she needed to wait and see what, if any, results would come.
The classroom door opened and Sarah hurried over. “So?” She bounced on her sneakers.
“It was one-part casual conversation, one-part interview.”
“Ooh!” Sarah’s face lit up.
“And they’re planning on expanding so …”
“Yup, give me the details. I’ll jump on that if I’m not in direct competition. They seem to love you anyways. Calling you after one day?”
Andie rubbed her warm cheeks. “I apparently made an impression at the Chanukah party.” She couldn’t believe it. She’d just been there, being her authentic self, not thinking of employment options or anything beyond Leo and Millie and having a good time.
“The best way to open doors to new opportunities.”
Her happiness took a momentary nosedive. “But I’ve got the Ohio job.”
“Options are good, Andie!”
Options meant decisions. It meant taking a leap in one direction or another at a time in her life when her heart felt truly torn. “Options are only good until I need to make a decision and don’t know which one to choose.”
“Are we talking about Leo at all? Tell me we’re talking about Leo!”
Andie pushed off Sarah’s desk. “I need to get back to my classroom.” The last thing she needed was this new thing swaying her career decision. She had to do what was right for her, end of story.
“Stalling!” Sarah yelled as Andie walked past.
“I’m not basing my decision on a guy I’ve started to actually know for less than a week.” She exited the room, not allowing Sarah a chance to respond. Deep down, she knew Leo was part of the desire to stay in Massachusetts. But it didn’t change the fact that, currently, she had only one offer on the table, and she had no intentions of passing it up.
Showered and filled with sustenance that didn’t consist of the snacks kept in the backroom, Leo arrived back at the shop. The sun was high in the sky in defiance to the strong wind echoing through his windows and rocking the car.
A nap would have been smarter than the large coffee he’d grabbed, but he wouldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep when work called to him. Or rather, work called, but all he heard was the sweet whisper of Andie’s desk.
More than the woman, it was a challenge. A chance to do something for someone who would actually appreciate it. The hum in his veins wouldn’t sleep, not until he’d finished the piece.
Or at least checked on the drying process. He needed to remember refurbishing required time and patience. Attending to other things in the shop, and his evening plans, would be the necessary distraction. And he’d take a night out with Andie over fixing anything. Except maybe his chance at more than a brief holiday fling with her.
Leo scrubbed his face, his whiskers scraping across his palm. He hadn’t shaved, not yet at least. He slapped his cheeks, needing a strong kick in the pants.
The first brisk rush of air as he exited his vehicle did the trick. It nipped at his skin, slipped under his clothes, and proudly held a finger up to the hot fiery sun. Leo clutched his coffee, turned up his jacket lapels as the wind snaked into his clothes and rustled against his hearing aid microphones, and hurried inside the building.
The workroom was closest. Excuse or not he didn’t care. Instead of going up front, relieving Dean, getting admonished for not bringing his brother a cuppa (really should have thought of that), he headed to the back corner where Andie’s desk lay.
Leo set down his mug, shucked off his jacket, and began inspecting his late-night work. It looked good, really good. It wouldn’t need much, possibly only one coat of shellac would revitalize the wood. His fingers pressed against the wood, the wood sticky to touch. Not wet, but not fully dry, either. He’d set a heater up in the area to hurry along the process.
He could do more. This quick touch-up would bring the desk back to life. But he saw little signs of further wear and tear, and wanted to take it all apart, fix it piece by piece, before putting it back together. No time for that now, but perhaps he’d mention it to Andie. If she liked his work, maybe she’d let him play more.
And yet, the extra challenge, the chance to do more work on this desk, to make it worthy of the woman it belonged to, gave him a surge that made him forget about his lack of sleep. He’d leave it up to her and use this energy to make even this small fix-up the best possible.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
Leo jumped at Dean’s voice. “You scared me, you need to stop doing that.”
Dean crossed his arms. “And you were supposed to go home, get refreshed, and come back here.”
“I’m back here.”
Dean gave him a look and then took a pivot. “I dropped the rug off with our cleaner.”
Leo studied his brother’s face, but all he found was a carefully constructed nonchalance. “And?”
The nonchalance faded. “It’s going to get a good clean, but she doesn’t think it’s as good as I hoped.”
“It’ll still catch us something.”
“Oh, for sure, we’ll still turn a profit. I would have liked an extra set of zeroes in the equation.”
Leo nodded; on this they were on the same page. He picked up his coffee, taking a sip.
“Hey, where’s my coffee?”
Leo pressed his palm on the sturdy work bench. “I got two hours of sleep with my cheek pressed into wood and you expect me to remember coffee for you?”
Dean tsked. “Grouchy. Can’t have you helping customers today. Best you stay back here before your scruff game upstages mine.”
Leo rubbed his chin. “I’m not grouchy.”
“He says grouchily.” Dean crossed the room and placed a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “I’m telling you to work on Andie’s desk. I’ve got the front.”
If Leo’s brain was doing more than banging stones together, he would have figured that out. “It still needs to dry.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “All of it? I know you; you’ve got more tinkering to do.”
No, not all of it, he had work he could do, shellac to get started on. Dean gave him the option to stay back here for a day and work on something not related to the future of Dentz Antiques. And he could trust Dean. More than he realized.
“I’m sorry if I’ve underestimated you.”
Dean blinked at him and he saw the twelve-year-old under the stubble and bags under his eyes. Dean wasn’t a kid anymore, none of them were.
“Where did that come from?” Dean finally asked.
Leo gestured to the grandfather clock, then around the space, where some memories hung around like ghosts.
“You hear those plates like an annoying echo?”
Leo quirked a smile. “All the damn time. My tinnitus loves it.”
“I bet.”
They’d been through a lot, but they’d been through it together. Leo felt the weight of it on his shoulders. But Dean had grown up and his shoulders were strong enough to carry half of the load.
“There’s no one I’d rather be my partner in this business.”
Dean turned to him. “Really?” Stubble or not, his face morphed into a bit of childhood innocence. Regardless of age, the man was capable and, like Leo, had done his best to prove his worth time and time again.
“Yes. Really.”
Dean shuffled a foot against the concrete floor. “There’s a small antiques store twenty minutes from here. Hasn’t been around long, doesn’t have the best supplies. They’re closing down, selling. It wouldn’t be much of a leg up in the world, but it could be a start.”
Leo mulled that one over. He’d been so focused on keeping Dentz Antiques he hadn’t truly explored his other options. But he wasn’t the only Dentz in this game. “We still have our name and our years here, regardless of Dad.”
Dean nodded. “And we learned from the best.”
“Gramps.” Leo chuckled. Then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Let’s get through the holidays, then you and I will talk.”
“Deal. Now focus on Andie’s desk.”
He’d been so focused on his plan A, he hadn’t realized that his brother worked on a plan B. They really were a good team. “Thank you.”
Dean nodded, heading away. “Next time remember my coffee.”
Leo chuckled and took a large gulp of his caffeine before getting back to work.