The Christmas List (17 page)

When Linda stopped at Kier's house on her way home she found him in his kitchen eating a bowl of breakfast cereal. Next to his bowl was a glass of purple Provanti juice.

“Cap'n Crunch. I see you've strayed from your usual diet.” She walked around the table. “I brought the Gold's Gym lease on the Holladay shopping center. They want a three-year contract with an additional three-year option, the annual bump not to exceed a dollar a square foot. Basically what you agreed to last week.”

“Just leave it; I still want to look it over.”

She set it on the table. “So how did things go today?”

He took another bite of cereal. “I went and saw David Carnes.”

“And?”

“He has a company called Provanti. It's worth more than a billion dollars.”

“Wow. I didn't know it was that big. My sister drinks Provanti every morning. She says it helps her lose weight.”

“Carnes
owns
the company. And the building.”

“I know.”

“You knew?”

She nodded.

“I guess I'm the only one who didn't.”

“I'm glad he's done well for himself. So your meeting went okay?”

“It was the worst yet. Carnes sat there throwing out the same Machiavellian excuses I've used for years, and credited me for teaching them to him. It was like having a serial killer thank you for selling him weapons. He's even writing a book about it—
Predator or Prey
. I've created a monster.” Kier took a drink of the juice then puckered. “This is awful.”

“I know. I've tried it. Tastes like goat sweat.”

Kier looked at her, stifling a laugh. “Goat sweat?” She nodded. Kier took his glass and bowl over to the sink and rinsed them out. “Have you had any luck finding Celeste Hatt?”

“Not yet. But I haven't given up.”

He walked back to the table. “Then just one more to go. Gary Rossi. Anything special I should be warned about?”

Linda was hesitant. “Yes, but I don't think I should tell you.”

“Why is that?”

“It would probably be best for you to find out for yourself.”

“That sounds ominous.” He lifted the documents and looked them over. “Got a pen?”

“Here.”

He signed the lease, then handed it back to Linda.

“When are you going to see Rossi?” Linda asked.

“When I get back.”

“Back? You're going somewhere?”

“I need you to book a flight for me to Boston.”

Linda smiled. “Are you going to see Jimmy?”

“I'm going to try.”

“When would you like to leave?” She took out her PDA.

“As soon as I can.”

“Very well. I'll text you the flight info.”

“Thank you.”

Linda went to the front door, then turned back. “Jimmy will be so happy to see you.”

“I hope so,” Kier said. In his heart, he knew otherwise.

The last time Kier had spoken to his son was more than six months earlier when Jimmy had called to tell him that Sara had cancer. Kier's response was less than sympathetic—not that he didn't care, rather that he was stunned. Jimmy wasn't pleased. His final words to his father—before slamming down the phone—still resonated with him: “You should be the one dying.”

Kier's flight landed at Logan International around two in the afternoon. He checked into a hotel near the airport, then took a cab to the Massachusetts College of Art and Design.

Kier went to the housing office and located his son's dorm. He was knocking on the door when a passing student told him that Jimmy was still in class but should return before long. Kier sat in the student lounge for more than an hour, waiting.

Jimmy arrived back around five, a backpack over one shoulder. He froze when he saw his father. He looked more angry than surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Kier said calmly.

Jimmy walked past him. “A phone call wouldn't suffice?”
Kier got up from his chair and followed him down the hall. Jimmy unlocked the door to his room and walked inside.

Kier followed him in uninvited. “I was hoping that maybe I could take you out to dinner.”

Jimmy emptied his backpack. “I'm meeting with my study group tonight. I have a final tomorrow.”

“You've got to eat.”

He looked up at his father. “We haven't spoken for months. What did you expect?”

“I thought,” Kier stopped to correct himself, “I had
hoped
that maybe if I flew out here you might give me a chance.”

“A chance for what?”

“To apologize. And to fix things between us. Or at least start.”

Jimmy looked down for a moment. “Look, I appreciate you making the time to drop by, but this isn't going to happen. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing between us and there never will be.”

Kier frowned. “I'm sorry to hear that.” He took a deep breath and looked around the room; the bed was unmade and a pile of dirty clothes sat in a corner. An art portfolio leaned against the wall. “This isn't bad.”

Jimmy put his hands in his pockets,
clearly
annoyed that his father wasn't leaving. Kier looked at the oil painting hanging above Jimmy's desk. “Is that Juliet?”

“Yes.”

“It's beautiful. The girl
and
the portrait. You're very talented.”

“That's the first time you've ever said anything about my paintings. Or my girl.”

“Jimmy, I've done, or not done, a lot of things I'm not proud of.” He stepped away from the desk. “Anyway, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So I'll leave.”

“Don't you have other business out here?” He sounded surprised.

“No, I came to see you. But you're right. I should have called first.” Kier looked into his son's eyes. “I know you don't like me, Jimmy. I understand that. I didn't like my father either. I didn't even go to his funeral. When I was younger I planned on being a different kind of father to you, but obviously I failed. I regret not going to my father's funeral. But not as much as I regret not being the father you needed.”

Just then Jimmy's roommate walked in.

“Hey, Jimmy, some old dude was . . .” He stopped when he saw Kier:

“Give us a minute,” Jimmy said.

“No worries.” He walked out. Kier watched him leave then turned back to Jimmy. “If you ever need anything, just call. I may be twenty years too late, but at this point, it's all I can do.”

Jimmy said nothing.

“Take care of yourself.” Kier walked toward the door. Then he looked back and their eyes met. “I hope you can find a way to forgive me someday.” He turned and walked out.

As he left the building he felt an overwhelming grief. There was a time when his son ran to him. Now Jimmy couldn't wait until he was gone.
What I wouldn't give for a second chance,
he thought as he hailed a taxi.

It had been more than nine years since Linda's husband, Max, had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. It had progressed relatively slowly manifesting itself mostly in numbness and general weakness, until six years later when he was confined to a wheelchair and the disease had progressed more rapidly. For nearly two and a half years Linda had taken her lunch break at home so she could take care of her husband. It was noon and she was about to leave the office when the phone rang. “Kier Company. Linda Nash speaking.”

“Linda? It's Sara.”

Linda smiled. “Sara, it's so good to hear from you.” When she first started working for James Kier, she spoke with Sara nearly every day, but it had been a long time since Sara had called the office. “How are you doing?”

“I'm still here, thank you. And how is Max?”

She sighed a little. “Not so well. He had another MRI last week. They found three more lesions on his spinal cord.”

“Tell him he's in my prayers.”

“Thank you, I will. And you're in our prayers, Sara. Are you calling for Mr. Kier? Because he's not in right now.”

“Actually, I'm calling to talk to you. I need to know what's going on with Jim.”

“What do you mean?”

“He's acting peculiarly. Last week he told me that he doesn't want to sign the divorce papers, then yesterday he flew to Boston to see Jimmy. He even tried to make amends to a former friend of mine he was in business with years ago.”

“Estelle Wyss?”

“Yes. You knew?”

“Mr. Kier's been trying to make amends with a number of people.”

“Amends? Why?”

“It started with that obituary. He was pretty shaken up by what he read in the online comments. He decided he wanted to change.”

Sara thought this over. “Change himself or change what they thought of him?”

“I don't know.”

“Will you let me know when you do? It's very important.”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Thank you, Linda. And if you don't mind, I'd prefer that Jim not know that I called.”

“I understand. And it's good to hear from you. Take care of yourself.”

“You too. Give Max and Mason my love.”

Linda slowly returned the phone to its cradle, thinking how much she missed Sara's calls. She thought over Sara's question. Was he trying to change himself or just what people thought of him. She wondered if her boss even knew the answer himself.

Kier was sitting near his flight's gate, waiting for his flight to board, when his phone rang. It was the sixth time that Lincoln had called since he'd arrived in Boston.

“Hey, Lincoln.”

“Where have you been?” He sounded exasperated. “I've been trying to reach you for days.”

“Actually, only a day and a half. Boston.”

“What are you doing in Boston?”

“I came to see Jimmy.”

Lincoln sounded a little calmer. “How did it go?”

“As well as I should have expected. So why are you hunting for me?”

“The divorce papers are due tomorrow. Yesterday I got a message from Sara's attorney. He says if they're not signed by tomorrow they'll consider our agreement void and they're going back for half of Kier Company.”

Kier thought it over. “Okay.”

There was a long pause “Okay? Okay what?”

“Okay let him go for it.”

“Don't get nuts on me here, Jim. Sara has a better than
even chance of winning this in court. You could lose half your company.”

“I don't think it will happen.”

“I'm not saying it will, but why take the chance? Just sign the papers and let's put this behind us. When do you get back?”

“I'm boarding my flight right now.”

“Great,” he said, relieved. “I'll meet you at the airport.”

“You're not listening to me, Lincoln. I'm not signing the papers.”