CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Chip
The snow was piled high, powdery-fresh, with no tire tracks anywhere to be seen. The snowmobile glided over the empty streets while Van held on to me tightly. He’d slid his hands under my jacket and was rubbing my abs as I steered us toward Mrs. Hatfield’s place, a block from the mercantile.
A five-gallon jug of gas was bungee corded on the back after we’d picked up fuel from the store.
Van’s luggage would go home with us later on the return trip to the cabin.
We planned to grab bags of chips and beverages on our way home as well, already talking smack to each other about a planned game of Uno when we returned.
Once at Mrs. Hatfield’s, I drove the snowmobile directly up to her front porch; the snow had drifted higher than the first three steps.
Her Victorian-style home was postcard picture worthy, with snow drifting around it and piled on the roof.
The hedges and trees around her yard were laden with heavy snowfall, making the scene perfect for a Christmas movie location.
Before we’d even jumped off the snow machine, she was at the front door. Her smile was immediately replaced with a look of concern after noting I wasn’t alone. Her eyes moved from me and then to Van. After two or three additional back-and-forth glances, her mouth pinched.
“Who is your friend?” she asked, giving Van a less-than-friendly once-over.
“This is Vance Holter, ma’am. He’s staying out at my place for a bit.”
She turned to Van. “Have we met, Mr. Holter?”
Van quickly shot me a glance, so I motioned for him to go ahead and reply. He seemed slightly unsure about the bold, in-your-face elderly woman.
“No, Mrs. Hatfield,” he responded. “I’m from Seattle.”
She moved her eyes back to me, her brow furrowed. “He knows my name,” she declared. “Yet we’ve never met.”
“I told Van who you were when you called earlier,” I said. “He wanted to help and came along for the ride.”
“I wasn’t expecting anyone but you, Calvin. How do I know if this young man is trustworthy?” she asked, placing her death glare directly on Van.
“Because he’s with me,” I stated, digging in because I knew how to handle a disgruntled Mrs. Hatfield.
“Yes, I suppose so,” she agreed, assuming her Queen of England voice and manner. “Bertie told me you had a surprise guest. Some stranger who just happened to show up at the mercantile.”
“I was passing through,” Van interjected. “The storm hit without much notice for me, ma’am.”
She appeared unimpressed. “You don’t watch the weather reports when traveling cross country in the dead of winter, young man?” she accused. “Hardly seems like an intelligent move on your part.”
“I didn’t think about the weather, to tell you the truth,” Van answered.
“I can see that. And then Calvin here just invites you to stay at his home?” she asked. “A total stranger? He just up and extends an invitation?”
“I’m assuming Calvin is Chip?” he asked, gesturing to me. “And yes, he did. After Bertie suggested he do so.”
She glared at Van. Her open hostility shocked me. “Of course she did,” she stated. “Always trying to spoil my plans.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Van began. “I’m at a slight disadvantage not being from around here, but have I done something to offend you?”
Mrs. Hatfield waved him off. “Not your fault,” she explained, finally softening her attitude toward the stranger. “Bertie Baxley just doesn’t want my grandson to get his hooks into young Calvin here. But I have other plans.”
“Alrighty then,” I interrupted, needing this conversation to cease. “Enough about you and Bertie.”
Mrs. Hatfield wasn’t finished quite yet. “You are still coming for Christmas Eve dinner, correct, Calvin?” she inquired. “James is so counting on seeing you again.”
I glanced toward Van, who was watching me intently. His face was expressionless, yet I sensed something in his demeanor, and the reveal wasn’t one of pleasure. Like Mrs. Hatfield, he also seemed to be waiting for an answer to her question.
“Of course, ma’am. I said I’d be here, and I intend to be,” I replied. “I look forward to reconnecting with an old friend,” I added, hoping my answer would placate her as well as shift any romantic ideas away from the dinner.
“My grandson, James, is expecting to rekindle a spark,” she announced, turning toward Van, making sure he’d heard her clearly. “He’s constantly talking about reconnecting with Calvin.”
The emphasis she placed on the word ‘reconnecting’ didn’t get past Van. Now he’d crossed his arms. I wondered whether I liked his stance. He hadn’t struck me as the jealous type, but did I really know him that well?
Why was I trying to defend myself against the implication that I had any connection to James besides a childhood friendship once a summer for several years until we were thirteen? And why was my desire to minimize a dinner with an elderly woman and her grandson suddenly paramount?
Van had become my focus in less than two days. That in itself was ridiculous. I didn’t know him from Adam. The excited feelings and emotional connection I was forming had to be too soon.
“James and I are friends, ma’am,” I reminded her. “And I look forward to saying hello when he visits.”
“On the contrary, Calvin. My grandson is a soon-to-be doctor who, like you, is homosexual. James has his heart set on rekindling a childhood crush,” she clarified. “And I intend to see that happen.”
“With me?” I asked, knowing damn well what her agenda was, but hating the spectacle she’d created on day two of my expected two-week sex-fest.
“With you!” she exclaimed. “Who else is worthy of my grandson? You are caring, loving, honest, hardworking, and very handsome, Calvin. You are absolutely the perfect man for my grandson.”
I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Van had uncrossed his arms. A pleasant smile formed, and he glanced toward me before stepping forward.
“Your grandson sounds like a catch,” Van stated, turning to Mrs. Hatfield and smiling. “Lucky for Calvin that you care enough to reconnect them,” he added.
She gazed at Van suspiciously, but his words must’ve soothed her worries. I imagined his words made him seem less of an enemy to her goals. “So what’s your story, young man?” she asked, politeness oozing from her.
“Well, ma’am. I am gay as well, and single, I might add.
You know, just in case you have another grandson,” he quipped.
“And I was on my way to Denver for a job interview and a change of scenery from Seattle. Unfortunately, I had the bad luck of a storm hitting town right when I was driving through.”
“So Calvin is simply helping you during the storm?” she asked. “A warm and safe place for a day or so?”
Van turned his attention toward me before answering her. I’m positive he had questions. I know I did. But I discovered he was far too gracious and mature to piss off an old lady. Any concerns I’d had about jealousy or petty behavior evaporated.
Then why was I hurting inside after his explanation to her of why he was here?
Just passing through? Going for a job interview in Denver?
Wishing she had another grandson? All the same things he’d told me, other than the grandson part, but the disclosure sounded threatening now that I liked him so much.
He confirmed to Mrs. Hatfield exactly what my fears were.
“Calvin is a lifesaver, ma’am,” he added. “He offered the spare bed in the loft of his cabin and has been a kind host to me. I’ll be out of his hair as soon as the storm passes.”
“Very well indeed,” she said, cheering up instantly. “How about you boys come inside for some cocoa before checking the generator?”
Van pulled his gloves off and stepped closer with a hand extended. Mrs. Hatfield graciously accepted the warmth, her free hand moving to her neck as she half giggled at his chivalry.
“Do you have those tiny marshmallows, ma’am?” he cheekily asked. “I love those so much.”
“Of course, I do… Van? Is that correct? Your name is Van? Is that short for Vance?” she asked, backing through the door while still holding his hand.
“Why, yes, it is,” he responded. “How’d you guess that so easily, ma’am?”
She raised her hand to him, acting coy. “Oh, I just guessed,” she replied, giggling like a schoolgirl again. “And please call me Sadie, Vance. I’ve decided I like you, young man.”
“I’d love to call you Sadie. And I like you too,” he said. “Any friend of Calvin’s is a friend of mine,” he teased.
She pulled him inside, basically ignoring me. I stood on the porch, gob smacked at how he’d utterly disarmed her. He’d read the scene like a professional therapist.
If he’d been even minutely bothered by the news of a grandson and her desire to marry me off to him, he’d recovered almost immediately, turning on the charm to such an unbelievable effect. Van was amazing. I was stunned.
The emotion meandering through my mind at that precise moment was frightening.
He was everything I liked in a man. Boyish, yet mature.
Charming, caring, and engaging with people.
He’d wowed Bertie, me, and now the ice queen, Sadie Hatfield.
He was obviously educated, well spoken, and quick on his feet.
Mrs. Hatfield was a complete stranger to him, who may have delivered unpopular news to his plans, but one would never know based on his skill at assessing the situation and thoughtfully avoiding an uncomfortable outcome.
The thought of sharing a life with someone I’d be so proud to have on my arm was occupying my mind. The fact that, like me, he’d be twenty-five in two weeks, yet still so polished, made him even more attractive to me.
Was Van truly on a journey to find a husband, or was this some schtick he used to charm the pants off unsuspecting men?
One could easily appreciate that he was well equipped to get most anyone he desired.
The man was a looker for sure. But the other killer weapons he possessed were beyond simply having incredible looks.
The total package was what made him deadly to my ability to resist his charms. He was an eleven in a world of tens. Perfect in so many ways and in such a short time. There had to be a catch.
I thought I knew what the catch was. He was too good for me, and way too big a personality for a small place like Missile. I’d better wise up fast. A man like him didn’t stay in towns like mine.
A heartsick feeling plunged like an elevator down my throat, stirred up an entire mess of butterflies living in my gut, and then took a huge dump on the fantasy of Van sharing my life in Missile. If my ex, John, a man born and bred here, couldn’t last in this town, how could a man like him?