The Christmas List (20 page)

Nothing.

“Are you okay?”

“I went to see Gary Rossi.” His voice was thin as if stretched close to breaking.

“Oh.” She sat down on the couch opposite him, and took off her coat.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

Linda swallowed. “I heard just after it happened.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“At that point, would you have cared?”

He was silent for a moment. “Probably not.” He exhaled loudly. “I went to see Sara last night.” His voice cracked. “She's dying.”

Linda looked down. “I'm so sorry.”

“I told her that I wanted to come home. But she said it's too late.”

Tears began to well up in Linda's eyes.

“What a fool I am. When I started all this I actually thought I was being some kind of saint.” He laid his head in his hands. “But I'm just a hypocrite. I didn't do it for them, I did it for me and my
legacy
. And I've failed. I've failed everyone. I couldn't make restitution. Not even with myself.”

He looked up at her as a tear fell down his cheek. “I don't care about my legacy anymore. I deserved every one of those comments on the Web site and ten thousand more. Those people know the real James Kier.” He took a deep breath.
“But the worst thing is that now that I really do want to make things better, there's nothing I can do. Maybe this is hell, seeing the truth. Knowing fully the pain and hurt you've caused others and knowing there's no way you can make it better. I've stolen their lives and dreams. I have blood on my hands.” He looked into her eyes. “How could I ever be forgiven?”

Linda fought back her tears. “Isn't that the point of Christmas?”

He sighed again, dropping his head in his hands.

“Mr. Kier, you might have started this journey for the wrong reason, but you ended up at the right place. You've changed. It's miraculous how much you've changed. And you've tried to repent. I'm not an expert on forgiveness, but I do know that intent matters. I also know that it's never too late to do the right thing. There are people who still need you and care about you.”

“No one cares about me.”

“I do.”

He looked up at her. “I don't know why. But thank you.” Then he asked, “Why did you leave the most important names off the list?”

“I knew if you changed, you would discover that I had. And if you didn't . . .” She paused. “Well, then it really wouldn't have mattered.”

Kier began to sob. “They used to love me. Jimmy and Sara used to love me. I would do anything to have their love again. I would give everything to have a second chance. Everything. But it's too late.”

Linda walked over to Kier and put her arms around him. He put his head on her shoulder and wept. At last he composed himself.

“It's late,” he said. “You'd better get home to your family.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don't know.”

His tone of resignation frightened her. “I'll be back in the morning to check on you.” She retrieved her coat and started for the door, then turned around. “Thursday is our first company Christmas party. I don't know if you're planning on attending but you still have a three o'clock meeting with Vance Allen of Scott Homes. Shall I postpone it?”

“No. I'll take the meeting,” he said. He dropped his head in his hands.

“I'll see you in the morning.” He didn't speak and her heart ached as she looked at him. “Please, Mr. Kier, take care of yourself.”

“Goodnight,” he said.

Linda walked out to her car. It was still snowing heavily and in the short time she'd been inside, her car was already covered. She climbed inside, started the engine and turned the defrost on full, then rooted through her glove box for a travel pack of Kleenex. She wiped her eyes and nose. Then she grabbed the snowbrush from her back seat and climbed out and brushed the snow from her windows. She looked back at
the house. It was still dark. “You have changed, Mr. Kier,” she said. She climbed back in her car, threw the wet brush on the floor in back, and began to back out of the driveway. Then she remembered her promise. She put her car in park then took out her cell phone and dialed. “Sara, it's me. Linda.”

Kier awoke at eight o'clock, the winter sun filling his room with its gold brilliance. Almost immediately he climbed out of bed and began searching through his cupboards and drawers for something he hadn't used for years, something he now felt drawn to. He found his Bible tucked away in a box in the bottom of his closet.

An elderly neighbor, a widow, had given it to him when he was ten years old after he had shoveled her walk for free. He had loved the smell and texture of its leather cover and the beautiful marbled endsheets, and the frontispiece with a woodcut engraving of Mary with her Child. As he grew older he learned to treasure its words.

It had been years since he'd opened the book. Its worn, onion paper pages were well marked with red pencil. Even after all the years he still remembered the passage he was looking for.

Isaiah 1:18. Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.

He carried the book over to the window. The evening's snow had blanketed the city in white. Pure white. He wished he could be pure again. To be reborn to a second chance,
washed clean from all his mistakes. Linda had said it.
Wasn't that what Christmas was about?

The doorbell rang. At first he ignored it. He didn't want to see anyone, or anyone to see him. Then he remembered that Linda had promised to come by to check on him. He closed the Bible and set it reverently on his nightstand. The bell rang again, then he heard the door open.

“I'll be right down,” he shouted. There was no reply. He walked out to the mezzanine overlooking the foyer. “Linda?”

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the foyer's dim lighting. The woman standing below held a cane and was leaning backward against the door, her cap and shoulders dusted with snow. It was Sara. She looked up at him and their eyes locked in uncertainty. “I let myself in. I hope that's all right.”

Kier stared at her. “Sara.” He hurried down the stairs. Her gaze never left him. He stopped a few feet from her, wanting to embrace her but afraid to.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“Of course. Let me get you a chair.”

Leaning heavily on her cane she walked toward the living room. Kier took her arm and led her to the couch. He helped her sit, then sat down next to her. Her eyes welled up with tears. “I lied to you. I told you I didn't love you. I do. I'll always love you, Jim. And I miss you.”

He threw his arms around her and began to sob. “Oh Sara. I'm so sorry.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and rubbed her hand
up and down his back. “I know you are. I am too. I should have done more.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was all me. Can you ever forgive me?”

She leaned back and took his face in her hands so she could look in his eyes. “I already have.”

Kier looked at her in wonder. “How could you? I don't deserve it.”

“That's what makes it love.”

CHRISTMAS EVE

Kier Company had never before hosted such an event as their first Christmas bash, and Linda, the party's chief architect, saw to it that it would not be soon forgotten.

The conference room table was covered with a festive red and gold cloth and arrayed with as fine a spread as the season could offer. There were more than two dozen different pastries and sweets: Mexican wedding cookies, pizzelles, raspberry-topped butter cookies, baked meringues, walnut-embedded brownies, miniature éclairs, and chocolate-dipped strawberries. There were croissants and an assortment of breads and rolls to be made into sandwiches with Swiss, cheddar, provolone, Dubliner, and jalapeño jack cheeses; rare roast beef, smoked turkey, crab salad, honey-baked ham, corn beef, pastrami, and a variety of German and Italian sausages.

Large ice-filled crystal bowls were packed with plump shrimp next to scallop-shaped dishes of cocktail sauce, herring in sour cream and platters of Swedish meatballs and bacon-wrapped scallops.

There were three different kinds of quiches. Sliced bananas, pineapples, apples, mangos, pears, and large seedless red grapes were piled on a silver platter next to cascading fountains of white, milk, and dark chocolates for dipping.

To drink there was hot wassail, soda water with Italian flavorings, and nutmeg-dusted eggnog as thick and rich as melted ice cream.

Christmas music filled the building's hallways. The classics: Burl Ives, Perry Como, and Mitch Miller as well as newer artists like Mariah Carey and Kenny G.

There was a tall Christmas tree in the front lobby, strung with blue lights and silver baubles each with an employees name written in glitter. Someone had hung a sprig of mistletoe above the water cooler, which a few employees had already put to good use.

Kier arrived late and walked around greeting employees, shaking hands and sharing jokes. Kate, from Collections, placed a Santa cap on Kier's head and, to everyone's surprise, he just smiled and made no effort to remove it.

Kier spotted Lincoln at the conference table filling his plate with food. He walked up to him.

“Lincoln, my friend. Merry Christmas.”

“Jimmy. Nice bash.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn't have missed it for the world. I figured a party like this might be a once-in-a-lifetime event.”

“No, it's going to be an annual event,” he said, smiling broadly. “Did you bring the papers?”

“Got them in my car. But why do you want them? I
thought you said everything between you and the Missus was copacetic.”

“Better than copacetic. Sara and I want to burn them. Kind of a ritual.”

“Got it.” Lincoln bit into an éclair, the cream erupting from its sides onto his chin.

Linda walked up to the men. “Hi, Lincoln.”

“Hi, doll. Merry Christmas.”

She grabbed a napkin and dabbed the cream from Lincoln's face. “Hey, I have a Christmas riddle for you. An honest lawyer and Santa Claus were walking together when they both saw a ten-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Which one picked it up?”

Lincoln grinned. “Probably the lawyer.”

“No, it was Santa. Everyone knows that honest lawyers don't exist.”

Lincoln shook his head. “Et tu, Linda?”

“Sorry.”

Kier nodded proudly. “Well done.”

Linda smiled and took Kier's arm. “Thank you. Now it's time for your toast. Excuse us, Lincoln.”

“Certainly.” He went back to the buffet.

Linda led Kier to the center of the office, turned off the music and whistled loudly. “Quiet please. Quiet.” The group quieted expectantly. “Mr. Kier would like to share a toast.” Linda turned to her boss. “Mr. Kier.”