Chapter 17 #2
When I arrive at the Wilshire mansion, there’s nowhere to park.
I drive around until I find a spot two blocks over.
The place is packed with a veritable Hometown Electronics who’s who, mostly from the corporate and regional offices.
Jeremy and his wife, Annie, are here, along with their young kids—only two of the many screeching children watching The Santa Clause on the projection TV in the basement.
There’s a rumor going around that the big guy himself is going to stop by after dinner to make sure that they’ve all been good little children before continuing on his merry way.
So much for Chanelle’s quiet evening.
Jeremy hands me a beer—a Sam Adams Old Fezziwig, a seasonal spiced brown ale and a welcome change from what Dad usually has on hand.
“You brought this, didn’t you?” I ask.
“I sure as shit did,” Jeremy says. “I can’t drink that crap Jeff buys.”
We move into the living room where, as she’s done every year since they bought this house, Chanelle has commissioned professional decorators to put up an enormous, fully decked-out tree.
This year’s theme is red, white, and blue in honor of the Summer Olympics that were held in Atlanta.
I can hardly see the tree underneath all the ribbons, bows, ornaments, and other decorations.
It’s nothing like the trees we had as a kid, which were never more than a few feet tall and decorated with handmade ornaments and simple silver garland.
Our last Christmas before the divorce, we begged Dad to take us to one of those cut-your-own tree farms, and finally, after a gentle nudge from Mom, he agreed.
We bundled up on a Saturday morning and drove an hour north to a place called Happy Bees Christmas Trees.
With a name like that, how could you not have a good time?
And we did. Kaplan and I launched a complicated snowball offensive against an imaginary enemy while Kelsey looked on in distaste; tramping through the woods in snow up to the ankles of her fashionable winter boots was an insult to her sensibilities.
Kap and I had a blast, and Dad even joined in our attack while Mom and Kelsey decided between three different trees.
Dad didn’t chop down the tree himself; he paid extra to have one of the staff cut down the one Mom eventually selected.
When we got back to our house in St. Louis Park, with the treehouse in the backyard and the walk-in pantry perfect for hide-and-seek, Dad brought up the lights and ornaments from the basement, Mom made hot chocolate, and we listened to Elvis’ Christmas Album on Dad’s old RCA stereo system while we decorated.
The St. Louis Park house was comfortable, messy, lived in, and welcoming—the exact opposite of this place. I can’t help but think that Mom could never live like this, especially now, could never spend this kind of money on a USA-themed Christmas tree.
“So, you made it, Wil.” Jeremy takes a swig of his beer. “Your first Christmas as a merch manager.”
“Hopefully my last,” I mutter. He laughs. “I’m not kidding.”
“I know you’re not. Don’t worry, as long as you don’t screw things up too badly over the next few months, I’ll sign off on the AGM move.”
“Generous of you. Thanks.”
“I’m a generous guy. At least that’s what Annie says in the—”
I cut him off. “Nope. Please stop.”
“Speaking of matches made in Hometown heaven—”
“Nope. Stop. I’m begging you.”
“Let me say one thing and then I won’t bring it up again, okay? Abbey’s a great girl—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jeremy. She’s a woman, not a girl.”
He turns to me with wide eyes. “Oh-kay. Looks like you’ve got it worse than I thought.”
“Because I don’t think you should call her a girl? Do you call any of your male employees boys?”
“Okay, Christ, point taken. Abbey’s a great woman—that sounds so weird. She’s exactly what you needed for that department. I admit, you were right about that from day one. But be careful, okay? Don’t let your feelings for Abbey—”
“No. Just… no. Also. Pot, meet fucking kettle.”
“Hey, don’t bring Annie into this. It’s totally different.”
“Yeah, because Abbey and I aren’t… we aren’t anything.”
“Yet,” he says. “Do you want to be?”
“We are not having this conversation,” I grind out. “How did you even come to this conclusion?”
“I’m not blind. I see how it is between you two. And here’s my advice, since you so rudely didn’t let me finish. Don’t let your feelings for Abbey stop you from going after what you want, whether that’s your own store or something with the nonprofit.”
I shake my head. “What is in that bottle? What are you talking about?”
“I’ve known you for a long time. You’re great at your job, and if anyone’s going to replace me at Woodlake, yeah, you’ve earned it. But have you considered doing something with the Hometown League?”
Well, that came out of left field, pun intended. “Why are you asking me that?”
“I’m going to say something controversial, so don’t get pissed at me, okay? I’ve seen you at work, and I’ve seen you at League events, and honestly? That’s the only place I’ve seen you look truly happy.”
I bark out a laugh. “So I should make a career out of it? Because it makes me happy?”
“Why not?”
“Are you happy?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Mostly, yeah.”
“And you think I wouldn’t be in your position?”
“Just think about it.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I don’t make the rules, Wil.”
He also doesn’t make sense. And I don’t need to think about it. The Hometown League is a hobby, a diversion. Hometown Electronics is my future.
“Maybe this is a conversation for another day,” Jeremy says. “But here’s the thing. Lightning doesn’t strike twice. You can get another job, but you can’t get another Abbey. Or, you know, in my case, Annie.”
My head is spinning. You’d think after all these years of knowing Jeremy, I’d have a better handle on his meandering, contradictory train of thought. “What are you saying, exactly?”
He drains the last of his Old Fezziwig. “I guess… be smart. Don’t do something stupid to fuck it up with her.
Jeff—he’ll come around, no matter what you decide.
Eventually. You may not believe it, but he does realize how valuable you are.
He has your best interest at heart, whether you think so or not. ”