Malicious Intentions

By Mark Peterson

    Jack Hudson walked away from the father he loved 15 years ago.  More importantly, he walked away from his miserable and mentally unbalanced stepmother, Natalie.

    Now his father is dying and Jack wants to make amends with his father.  But Natalie still stands in his way and may have had a hand in his life all along.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Peterson
• Release date: May 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513023168

Book preview

DEDICATION

Dedicated to two very good friends:

To Paul Sanders, who as a writer encouraged me

to start writing again nearly 25 years ago.

And to Kristen Corbin,

who told me 20 years ago to continue writing

and never give up.

RIP Kristen!

Table of Contents

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

PART ONE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

PART TWO

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

PART THREE

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

FINALE

THE END

PROLOGUE

Jack listened to the roar of his employees from the confines of his office.  On the day before Thanksgiving, the employees had challenged Jack to a bet to raise ten-thousand dollars for charity.  Jack had gone along with the bet, agreeing to match the employee’s contributions, but the employees had reneged, approving only if Jack consented to a stipulation of the bet; and Jack had finally agreed.  The bet was that if the employees could raise the money in donations from the customers and contributions of their own in his restaurant he would not only match the donations but would submit himself to a makeover.  Now the employees had reached their goal and they were demanding retribution.  They planned to use the hours between lunch and dinner to perform their makeover.

It wasn’t that Jack needed a makeover as he approached his thirty-third birthday.  His restaurant staff just wanted to have fun at his expense and they were all a tight-knit group.  Jack finished cleaning off his desk as his closest friend and head chef, Bobby walked in.  Bobby was just three years younger than Jack.

They’re calling for you.

Jack stood.  I hear.  I’ll be out to the bar in a few minutes.

Didn’t you think they’d be able to raise the money?  Bobby sat before Jack’s desk, putting his feet up.  Aren’t you worried what they’re going to do to you?

Listen, it’s good for employee morale.  And no, I’m not worried.  We’re a family here.  I can’t think of one thing they could do to me that would bother me in the least.

Bobby reached back and pulled his long, blond ponytail out of the collar of his chef’s jacket.  Well, you have more guts than I do.  They’d cut off my hair for sure.

Jack laughed.  I’m not worried.  It’ll be fun, whatever they have in mind.  Jack pushed his chair under the desk.  Come on.  Let’s go have a drink and find out what I’m in for.

Jack followed Bobby out of his office, pulling the door closed behind him.  He noted the activity in the kitchen as the cooks prepped for the dinner rush.  The dish room area was flooded and soaked with water and dirty dishes while the rest of the kitchen had been relatively cleaned up after lunch.  Two boys worked in the dish room among the steam and garbage and waved to Jack and Bobby as they passed.  Jack and Bobby smiled back.

"Are we ready for tomorrow?  Jack asked.

No problem, Bobby noted, tossing his chef’s jacket into a linen bin on their way out of the kitchen.  The t-shirt he wore underneath his jacket this afternoon bore a large marijuana leaf on the front along with a proclamation to legalize weed.

A roar filled the bar as Jack walked into the dining room.  Jack noted that the lunch and evening staff had assembled as well as many of his employees that were off work that day.  Bobby walked behind Jack with a grin from ear-to-ear.  He knew exactly what they had in store for him, and he couldn’t wait to watch.  At the bar he asked Chad for a scotch neat and a scotch rocks for Jack.

I just want to say that I’m proud of all of you, Jack said, raising his hand as the din in the bar dulled to a monotonous murmur.  You all pitched in and raised over ten-thousand dollars, which I plan to match as promised.  He took the drink that Bobby handed him and raised his glass.  Now, give me your best shot.

The din rose again as JoAnn moved through the crowd parting an aisle that lead to a chair on a large drop cloth.

Alright, JoAnn called, lifting her voice over the employee’s shouts and yelps.  As promised, the employees asked for a makeover, and among us we voted and decided that I am going to bleach your hair.

This caught Jack completely by surprise.  He assumed something radical, but a change to his jet black locks were nothing he had ever planned on.  He smiled though, taking another drink and allowing JoAnn to lead him to the chair, where he removed his suit coat and allowed her to drape him with a wrap to protect his clothes.  He wanted to cringe thinking of what he would look like.

*   *   *

Natalie walked into her house, glad for one more night of peace before all the fun began.  She moved into the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker, setting up a pot of coffee to brew.  When she turned she noticed her answering machine blinking.  She walked to the machine and pressed the button to hear the announcement that there were two new messages.  She waited impatiently for the messages to begin.

Hi honey, it is to be Ramon, a husky voice called to her in broken English with a thick Spanish accent.  The connection was thick with static.  I have not heard from you.  I am to be worried when you do not call.  Please call me.  You know the number.  I love you, he said before clumsily hanging up the phone.

Natalie rolled her eyes and waited for the machine to beep and continue with the next message.

Hi Mommy, a woman’s voice called out.  I’m want to come over with the girls tonight if that’s alright.  But Alan had the car taken in for a tune-up, so you need to come and get us.  I just want to get this over with.  Bye.

Natalie hit the machines button to erase the messages and snapped up the phone.  She dialed angrily and then waited, grabbing a coffee cup from the dish drainer and spotting it with milk from the fridge in anticipation of a hot cup of coffee.  The machine picked up revealing her daughters outgoing message.

Sweetheart, pick up.  Pick up, I know you’re there.

She waited for what seemed like an eternity before continuing.  I need you to call me as soon as you get this.  Tonight won’t work.  Call me.

She disconnected the phone call and then dialed again.  She waited for a long time before it a machine answered.

Ramon, you mustn’t call me again.  I’ve told you this before.  I’ve told you that you’d have to be patient and I plan to be there very soon.  All right?  I’ll see you very soon.  And do not call me again.  I don’t want to have my calls traced to you.  Do you understand?  I’ll see you soon.  Goodbye, Ramon.

Natalie was about to hang up the handset when she heard call waiting beep on her phone.  She pushed the receiver button to let the caller through.  Hello?

Mommy, hi.

Good, you got my message.

We’re all packed and Alan will be home soon.  Can you come and get us?

No.  And I thought I told you two weeks ago to take the car in for servicing.

I’m sorry, I forgot.

Well, hide everything and then leave him a note in the morning.  He’s a man for all that’s worth.  He doesn’t deserve more than a note letting him know that you’re finished with him.  As for your car, we’ll share mine until we can get it back from the shop.

Mommy!

Now, listen to me.  This is the time to strike.  He just got that huge promotion and raise.  We’ll be able to soak him for all the child support and alimony his suffering bank account can stand.

But I don’t know if this is fair to him.  He doesn’t beat me or . . .

Now stop it.  Men are not worth all that.  They are only put here to provide for us.  We don’t need him anymore.  We’ll have the girls now and we can all get away from here very soon.  Now did you call that lawyer I told you about?

No, I forgot.

Damn it, you have to follow through on these things!  All right, call him in the morning.  Wait until Alan leaves for work, pack up and get out of there.  Don’t get here before noon though.  I plan to sleep in, okay?

Okay.  I love you!

But Natalie had already hung up and was pouring another cup of coffee.  And smiling smugly about the events she was about to set in motion.

*  *  *

Doctor Nathaniel Woodward stood in line at the bank holding two checks for deposit.  He wanted to wait patiently, but the two checks totaled fifty-five thousand dollars and he felt slightly unethical accepting money for the services he was performing.  Felt, hell.  This was absolutely unethical.  He wondered to himself if he was going to burn in hell for this.  And he knew all the ramifications if his secret was discovered.

The line advanced and he stepped forward.  He wordlessly wished he’d thought to make an ATM deposit with these checks, but he’d filled out the deposit slip already and now he was next in line as the line moved forward.

The bank was already decorated for Christmas, with tinsel and baubles adorning the teller windows; the tellers, all two of them wore red Santa hats.  Everyone seemed to be in the holiday spirit already.  Smiles decorated their cheery faces and they consistently wished each customer a ‘happy holiday’ as they departed.

Nathan stepped forward as the next in line and presented the checks and deposit slip.  The teller looked up at him with recognition.

Wow, Santa came early for you this year, didn’t he? she asked as she processed his deposit.

Nathan smiled sheepishly.  I guess I’m very blessed this year, he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

The teller waited patiently as her computer printed out a receipt of his deposit.  She handed it to him.  Have you already made plans for the holidays?

Nathan forced a smile.  I don’t know, I’m just planning to get through it, that’s all.

Well, I know it must be hard now that you’re all alone.  But at least this year won’t be as awkward as last year.  I mean your ex-wife is out of here now, right?

Nathan chuckled.  Yah, alone.  That’s what I was going for with the divorce and all, right.

He turned and left the window, noting the long line that extended behind him.  He looked at the receipt as he pushed the bank door open and walked toward his vehicle.  The unusually warm December they were having in northern Wisconsin was unsettling to say the least.  It was nearly seventy degrees and only about two weeks until Christmas.  What was that all about?

As he climbed into his Jaguar convertible, he decided to put the top down.  As the top folded back, his cell phone rang.  He looked at the screen and realized that it was Jessi, one of his girl toys.  He ignored the incoming call and looked again at the bank receipt.  Fifty-five thousand dollars!  And for what?

When his phone beeped to indicate he had voicemail, he pressed the appropriate buttons and listened to the message.

Hey Doc, its Jessi.  I haven’t heard from you in a while.  Listen, Jimi and I were wondering if you could meet up with us at ‘Straight Up’ on Saturday night.  It’s been a while and we’d really like to see you.  You know this town is so boring and all.  Well, I guess you have my number, so call me.

He pulled out onto the highway and decided to kill a few hours before he had to report to work at the hospital.  He sped out of town and felt the wind in his hair.  He cranked up the stereo on an alternative rock station the local community college fueled and let the engine race.

He still couldn’t get the sight of the two checks out of his mind.  Payment for services he was performing for two family members that completely seemed to cancel out each other.  Would he rot in hell for this, he thought again.

A green mileage sign loomed before him and then passed in a wisp of a heartbeat:  Minneapolis-St. Paul – 245 miles.  He seriously considered driving to the mini-apple and going on one hell of a bender.

PART ONE

ONE

The beginning of the end of Jack’s nightmare began the following morning on the outskirts of Santa Fe during the first reluctant snowfall.  He barely noticed the slowly wandering snowflakes as gravity continued its work, gradually drawing each uniquely frozen crystal downward toward their eventual place of rest.  The morning sky continued to lighten slowly, intermingling with the streetlights outside as he stumbled his way into the kitchen.  His wife, Sara, was still in bed, as was Max, his eight-year-old son.  He didn’t ordinarily wake this early, no one in his household did, but this was a special day for Jack, or so he thought.

He caught his reflection in the glass of the kitchen door that led to his backyard patio.  The bet he’d lost with the employees at the restaurant yesterday came back to him from his blond hair and black roots reflection in the window.  He winced at the sight of what his certain bet had cost him and despite his own vanity, he actually liked the look.  He just wasn’t ready to be seen in public yet.

Moving past the window into the kitchen, he moved mindlessly to the cupboard and took his usual cup out.  So many things were going on for Jack this day that he had awakened enthusiastically, anxious for the day to begin despite the early hour.  Once in a while Jack found it refreshing to see what corner of the world the sun put in its first appearance.  The automatic coffee maker had finished making a fresh pot only ten minutes earlier, waking Jack and drawing him into the kitchen where he found himself pouring a cup in a sleepy haze.  He had become accustomed to a double espresso each morning at ten-thirty at his restaurant, The Sandpiper, but refused to have an espresso machine in his house.  Temptation like that would rob him of the ritual he enjoyed in his office each morning when he arrived.

Jack began making mental notes of the things he would have to do this morning as he looked out on Pine Street.  First up was for the Christmas luncheon party Law office of Walker and Rothman for one hundred and fifty that was being held in the back banquet room of the restaurant.  It began at ten requiring a staff two hours earlier than normal, including himself.  Not that the staff couldn’t handle it themselves, Jack was aware he had a fine staff and a wonderful management team to back him up.  Jack was just the type that liked to look over every detail concerning his business himself.  It was a luxury that he would have to learn to overlook very soon.

In addition to the business at The Sandpiper, he was preparing to open his second restaurant in Santa Fe, this one named Panache.  He would be finalizing menu selections with Bobby this afternoon, going over the finishing touches of the remodeling and renovation of the building that would house Panache and speaking with a wine salesman about the initial shipment of the extensive list of wines that would be offered at Panache.  In addition to his busy day, Jack still had his appointment at the bank regarding some papers that required signing in regards to the Christmas gift he had decided upon for his wife.  Staring out the window, Jack suddenly realized that it was snowing and the hot coffee was losing its steam.

He took a long, scalding gulp of the coffee, driving all of the sleepiness out of his mind.  His daily to do list wasn’t nearly complete, and he wanted to finish his Christmas shopping with Christmas only days away.  Jack was determined to get that over and done with today, even if it killed him.  The restaurant would be busy for lunch in addition to the Christmas luncheon in the back, and the dining room was a sell-out for dinner that evening, including a rehearsal dinner in the back room that was scheduled as well.  As his mind tried to return to his daily activities, he realized he was not alone in the kitchen.

Turning while gulping another quarter of his cup of coffee, he saw Max leaning against the kitchen door watching him.

Good morning, sport! Jack whispered out loud.  Did I wake you up?

No, Max shrugged.  His pajamas draped over his slight body and gathered at his ankles, pajamas he had insisted on having that did not exist in his size.  He wore them religiously.  I smelled the coffee.  He wrinkled his nose, staring at Jack’s blonde-white mane.  What’s wrong with your hair?

Jack chuckled and brushed off the question, walking past his son Max, tousling his dark brown hair on his way to a second refill.  You’re just like your old man, aren’t you?  Would you like some juice?

I’d like some coffee, like my old man.

Jack smiled, taking a fresh sip of the hot coffee before setting it down.  He reached into the cupboard for a juice glass, glancing over his shoulder to see Max climbing up onto one of the chairs at the breakfast nook.  He noted for the first time that Max was clutching a photo album at his side, a photo album Jack had not seen in a very long time.  He poured orange juice for his son, and joined Max at the table.

Don’t I get any coffee?  Max asked, his big brown eyes imploring his father.

Alright, just a little.  But don’t tell your mother!

That’s okay, we keep it a secret from you when she lets me have coffee with her after you’ve gone to work.

Jack smiled again, pouring his son a quarter of a cup.  How do you take it?

Like my women, with cream and sugar, thanks.

Jack laughed out loud at this.  Where did you learn that?

Max shrugged, taking a drink of his orange juice before opening the photo album.  Jack set down the doctored coffee and took a seat across from his son.

What have you got there?

Mommy and me found it in the attic when we were getting out the Christmas stuff.

Mommy and I, Jack corrected.

Yeah, what you said.  Mommy said it’s a bunch of pictures from before I was born.  From before you even married Mommy.

That’s right.  Jack watched anxiously with varying degrees of disinterest as Max flipped through the pictures.  He wished that the album had remained in the attic, but then Jack knew all about wishes.  They were just wishes, nothing more.

Daddy, how come these were all the way up in the attic?

They’re only memories, son.  I guess I just forgot about them.

Like this, Max exclaimed, pointing to a picture he’d come across.  Is this you from before you were old?

Jack smiles.  Well, yes.  I guess it is.  But I’m not really that old.

Who is this man you’re standing with?

Jack sighed, all too aware of all the questions this would raise with Max.  Suddenly all of the things that lay before Jack today took a back seat to the curiosity that Jack always admired about Max.  This would open a can of worms like an infected sore, and Jack steeled himself for what was about to come.

That’s my father.  Jack sat back and took a long drink of his coffee, awaiting the onslaught of questions that were sure to follow.

You mean I have another Grandma and Grandpa?

You have another Grandpa.  Your Grandma, my mother, died over fourteen years ago.

Was she sick?

This seemed as easy an answer as any, but he decided to level with his son.  Well, no.  She had an accident.

Did this make my new Grandpa sad?

How do I field this one, he thought.  He wasn’t prepared for any of this, and he could have kicked himself for not planning for this moment.  Do you know how your friend Jimmy is never home on Sunday’s?

Max nodded, sipping his coffee with both hands grasping the cup.

Jimmy’s Dad and Mom were married at one time.  Then they got a divorce.  You see my Mom and Dad got a divorce when I was a little younger than you.  They didn’t love each other like they did when they first got married.  So, I guess when my Mom got hurt and died, my Dad was sad for me, but he was already married to someone else.  Jack waited a long moment to let it all sink in and tilted his head.  Do you understand?

Max nodded, somewhat caught up in his own thoughts.  Does this mean that my new Grandpa’s wife is my new Grandma?

Jack answered quickly.  No, definitely not.  He got up to refill his coffee.  So, what are you going to do today?

Are you changing the subject?  Max opened his eyes wide with anticipation.

Jack laughed again.  What else do you want to know?

I don’t know, Max shrugged.  Don’t you like to talk about your Daddy?

It’s not that, really.  I’m sorry.  I guess it’s been a very long time since I thought about my father.  I didn’t really think that the subject would ever come up so I never mentioned it.  You know?

I guess.  Max thought about this for a very long moment.  Can I write to him?

Sport, I don’t know how to get a hold of him anymore.  We lost touch a long time ago.  I tried to get a hold of him several years ago, but he’d moved.

Max slid his empty coffee cup across the table to Jack.  How about a warm-up?

How about you go and get dressed for the day.

Alright, Max sighed with some resistance.  Mommy and I are going to put up the Christmas decorations this morning.  Max grabbed the photo album and left the table without another word.

Jack watched him leave before refilling his own coffee cup for a third time.  It was time to shower and shave, but when he turned to leave, Sara was leaning against the kitchen doorway in her short white silk robe, her shoulder length brunette hair brushing her shoulders.  Her arms were crossed to keep her short, white silk robe closed.  She also wore a well-rested smile on her fresh face.  While turning twenty-five bothered Sara, their age difference of five years was something that Jack found very sexy.

Good morning!

Sara looked reluctantly awake.  ’Morning, she offered, pushing herself off the door jam.  I see Max already confronted you with the photo album.

I wish you would have mentioned that to me last night when I got in.  He waved the coffeepot toward Sara who nodded as she sat at the breakfast nook.

I’m sorry, sweetheart.  It seemed rude to fit that in somewhere between ‘ooohh baby, right there’ and ‘faster, faster.

Alright, I deserved that.  Jack set a cup of coffee in front of Sara and joined her, sipping his steaming third cup.  From now on, I’m going to make it a point to ask how your day was.  Or at least say hello first.

I should have asked how your day was.  What gives with your hair?

I lost a bet with the kids at the restaurant.  I feel kinda foolish, he said, running his fingers through his hair.

She embraced him and kissed his cheek.  I think it’s very sexy!  Very Rod Stewart.

Eew!  Jack smiled before kissing her back.  Thanks.  He walked away to the window, coffee in hand.

Sara smiled wanly, brushing her brunette hair off her shoulder.  What got into you last night?  You haven’t acted like that in a long time.

Maybe that’s just it.  I’ve been ignoring my lovely wife for too long and it got to me last night as I was totaling the receipts.  A long silence followed, as Jack admired her dark brown eyes.  Max was the spitting image of Sara, with what appeared to be the masculine facial structure of Jack.  It was still too early to tell.  So what did you tell him?

I didn’t know what to tell him.  How much have you really told me?  I was lost.  Sara sighed and took her seat again, staring at her coffee.  I told him he would have to ask you.  He’s too bright to forget all about it.

I’m sorry I have to go in so early today.  Seems like a nice day to spend with Max.

He’d like that you know.

Oh well.  I have this weekend off.  Do you want me to make plans for the three of us?  Jack asked as he sat again across the table from her.

Why don’t you spend the time with him?  This might be a good time to do some Christmas shopping for me.

Thanks, sweetheart.  But I’ve already finished buying your gifts.  But that’s a good idea.  I’ll figure out something for Max and me to do.

And what does that mean, Jack Hudson.  You’ve finished buying my gifts already.  You can’t be serious!

Jack smiled, resting his chin in his fist.  I defy you to find out where I hid it this year.

Sara looked around the kitchen furtively, and then back to Jack.  That’s fine, Jack.  I’ll spend the weekend looking for it while you and Max are out on the town.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you.  It will take you a month of Saturday’s to buy me anything that could come near to matching the gift I got for you.  He smiled, leaning across the table and kissing Sara.  I’ll leave you to wonder.  I have to shower and get downtown shortly.  He kissed her again, set his cup in the sink and left her to her thoughts.

Sara stood and began wandering about the kitchen speculatively, looking for the least obvious hiding place for her gifts.  With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the thought.  It was a big house, why would she even think of beginning the search in the one room she knew intimately.  She walked from the kitchen and up the stairs to Max’s room.  There she found him pulling on his socks.  She marveled at the cleanliness of his room.  He certainly didn’t get that from his father.

Wow, what’s a big boy like you doing all dressed so early in the morning?

Daddy told me to get dressed.  We’re going to decorate for Christmas today, aren’t we?

We sure are.  Would you like me to help you put on your shoes?

Mom, I’m a big boy now.  You just said so.

Sorry, I forgot.  That happens when you get old like me.

Max giggled innocently.  That’s funny, Mommy.  You’re not old, not like Daddy anyway.

Why thank you, young man.  She looked around secretively, and then whispered to him.  Make sure you mention that to your daddy, alright?

Okay.

Sara noticed the photo album on the bed, already made perfectly.  Did you ask your Dad about the pictures?

Yep.  And he got all quiet too.

Did he?

Yeah.  I don’t think he likes to talk about his Daddy very much.

Then let’s do him a favor and not mention it to him.  How does that sound?

That sounds like a good idea.  Max finished with his socks and reached behind himself for the photo album.  Maybe we should put this back in the attic.  It might remind him too.

Sara took the album and hugged Max warmly.  You are one very bright boy, Max.  I love you.

Yeah, I know.  What’s for breakfast?

I’m going to make you your favorite.  And if I hurry, maybe Daddy can join us for breakfast.  Maybe.  You go ahead and put on your shoes and come down to the kitchen, okay?

Okay.  As she left the room, she smiled brightly as she heard Max say, I love you too!

Sara set the photo album near the entrance to the attic and then stopped long enough in the master bedroom to straighten the bed and change the striped tie that Jack had set out with his suit for a blue and purple silk one.  The water was still running in the bathroom, the steam gently wafting around the door jam.  She stepped into the bathroom and knocked on the glass shower door.

How ‘ya doing in there?

Jack stuck his head out of the shower, his hair slicked over with water.

Sara smiled, looking him up and down.  Would you like to join us for breakfast?  I know you have more on your mind than breakfast but Max would like it.

What are you trying to say? he asked.

So is that a yes or no to breakfast?

I’ll make the time, of course.  Do me a favor and call Bobby.  Tell him I’ll be in around nine, okay?

Sure, Sara smiled, winking seductively at Jack before leaving the bathroom.

Back in the kitchen, Sara began making the pancake batter as she called Bobby at the restaurant.  When Max stumbled into the kitchen, she was just hanging up.

Is Dad going to have breakfast with me?

He sure is.  He’ll be down as soon as he’s ready.  Would you like to get started on the Christmas ornaments?

Max nodded enthusiastically.

Sara poured batter into a hot pan and then took Max’s hand, leading him into the living room.  She opened the first box and pulled out a huge mangle of lights.  I need you to untangle these.  Do you think you could do that for me?

Max nodded, sitting cross-legged on the floor.  He quickly found a plug and began pulling it through the knots that had magically knotted themselves since they were carefully packed away eleven months ago.

Sara went back to the kitchen and continued cooking, alternately setting the table and humming to herself.  Jack managed to sneak up and startle her from behind.  He was only wearing a black bathrobe, which he opened and wrapped around Sara and himself.

Enough, Jack.  I’m trying to cook here.

So am I.  Jack stepped back and tied the bathrobe reluctantly.  Walking over to the entrance of the living room, Jack looked in on Max.  Is there nothing our son can’t do?

What do you mean?

He’s got half of the lights untangled already.  I’d be pitching a fit about now.

I thank God he got my temperament and your skill for learning.

Did you call Bobby?

Of course.  He said you could take the day off.  Everything is under control.  Of course he knows you’ll come in anyway.  Now go get dressed.  I’ll have breakfast on in a few minutes.

Jack walked through the living room and smiled proudly as he watched his son buried in concentration, Max’s brow furrowed as he continued to focus on the job at hand.  Five minutes later when he returned, Jack was dressed immaculately in a crisp white dress shirt, the bright purple and blue silk tie that Sara had laid out for him, and black leather suspenders.  His hair was spiked as JoAnn had demonstrated for him yesterday with the styling gel she’d provided.  He carried the black suit coat that matched his pants over his arm.  Jack hung his coat on the back of a kitchen chair and looked in on Max again.

You are going to wait for me to decorate the tree, aren’t you?  Jack asked Sara.

Of course, I just want to get the tree set up and the lights strung.  You just don’t have the patience for getting that right.  The rest of the tree can wait until you get home.

Sara set a plate with a stack of pancakes on the table and returned to the stove to uncover the bacon she had flash fried and cooked thoroughly, but flaccid as Jack and now Max like to call their floppy bacon.  Sara called Max over her shoulder as she transferred the dripping bacon to a plate to set on the table.  Jack stood in her way, taking the plate from Sara.

Does it get any better than this? he smiled, setting the plate of meat on the table behind him.

What do you mean?

I mean that each day I think that things can’t get any better, and I keep waiting for a shoe to drop.  But then I wake up and it’s better than the day before.  He took her head in his hands and leaned forward to kiss her.

Geez, can’t you two stop long enough to feed your faces.  Max climbed up onto a chair and began filling his plate with more food than he could eat in one sitting.  Jack never said a word, and insisted that Sara never say anything either.  Being raised to finish everything on your plate and being made to feel guilty for not cleaning every last drop was not the way he wanted to raise his child.

You two go on and have your male-bonding breakfast, I’m going to go get showered and dressed for the day.  Sara left the kitchen as Jack joined Max, taking only one pancake and two strips of bacon.  He still reluctantly lived by the rules he was raised by.

So sport, have you decided what you want for Christmas?

Max nodded chewing a large hunk of pancake drenched in syrup.

Have you written a list for Santa?

Max swallowed decisively, determined to answer his father.  I don’t think that a list would do me any good.

Jack smiled.  What do you mean?

If Santa’s been making toys all year, and he knows if I’m good or bad, doesn’t he know what I want?

Well, he gets a list from every boy and girl.  I’m sure it gets very confusing.  He may need your list to keep everything straight.

Max bit off a large piece of bacon and chewed the fat; his eyes rolled up into his head thoughtfully, digesting the wisdom of his father.  Is it too late to send him a list?

No I don’t think so.  You’ve still got time.

Then I’ll have Mommy help write it with me today.  We could mail it tomorrow.

Sounds like a plan, Stan.

Stan?  Max wrinkled his face quizzically.

It’s just another one of my funny expressions.

Oh.  Max nodded.  I get it.

They ate quietly for a few moments as each waited for the other to pick up the conversation.  Jack stood to refill his orange juice from the pitcher in the fridge, giving Max a refresh.

So, are you going to tell me?

Tell you what, Daddy?

Jack suppressed his smile.  What do you want for Christmas?  He took a long drink from his juice glass.

I want a baby brother or sister.

Jack nearly coughed up a mouthful of juice.

I’d prefer a brother.  It wouldn’t be very nice to beat up a little sister.

It wouldn’t be very nice to beat up your brother or your sister.

Yeah, but my brother could take it.

And when he got old enough or got his fill of you, I think you’d find yourself on the other end of a good beating yourself.

Do you think I should put the baby brother on my list to Santa?

Well, it couldn’t hurt, but that’s not where baby brothers come from.

Oh, really?

And I suppose you want to know where they come from now, don’t you?

Naw, that’s okay.  Just see what you can do.

Jack finished his plate and suddenly realized that he’d had breakfast for the first time in weeks.  It was the one meal he generally avoided each day.  When Jack turned eighteen his weight problem had suddenly dissipated and he vowed never to be overweight again.  If push came to shove, he wouldn’t eat at all.  Jack never felt good after eating, despite the small amounts he indulged to survive.

Jack stood and walked to the sink to rinse his plate.  Hey sport!  I want you and Mom to save me some tree to decorate, alright?

Sure.  How long should we wait?

I promise, I’ll try to get out of the restaurant at a reasonable hour so we can finish the tree.  How does that sound?

I won’t hold my breath, but it sounds okay.

Okay champ.  Jack looked at the plate that Max was still working on.  Are you going to eat all that?

Max nodded through a full mouthful, continuing to chew arduously.

Jack left Max in the kitchen and entered his bedroom to find Sara toweling off in the bathroom.  I’m heading into town.  I’ll try to be home by eight so we can decorate the tree together.

Okay, but I won’t hold my breath.

So that’s where Max got that from.

Really, Jack.  You work too much.  What the hell is going to happen when Panache opens?  I’m beginning to think we’ll never see you except when you come home to shower and shave.

I know.  I’m working on that.

Working on that?  Bad choice of words if you ask me.

Jack leaned against the vanity and crossed his arms defensively.  You don’t trust me?

Sara finished tousling her hair and padded into the bedroom naked.  Of course I trust you.  But you’re involved in two restaurants now.  She pulled on her underwear.  Twice the work and you’re never home now with only half of that work.  Max is beginning to feel neglected by you.  Your father was never around for you and your relationship with Max is beginning to deteriorate.  Do you really want that to happen?

Of course not.  And as I said, I’m addressing the issue.  Seriously.

How?

I don’t want to go to work if you’re going to be mad when I leave.

I’m not mad, Jack.  She pulled on her jeans, jumping once to get them over her slim hips.  Just tell me how you plan to spend more time at home?

Can I tell you tonight?  I have to check on a few things first.

Fine.  Go.  She waited for him to leave, waving him off with her hand.  I said go!  Sara laughed.  Get out of here.  I love you.

I love you too!  Jack bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen where Max looked worse for the wear as he stuffed what appeared to be the last bite he could possibly withstand into his mouth.  Picking his suit coat off the back of the chair, Jack said, I’d quit while I was ahead, sport.  You don’t want to hurt yourself.

Max sighed, leaning back in his chair as he swallowed.  I think I’m just gonna burst.

Jack walked over to his son and kissed the top of his head.  Don’t do that.  I have a surprise for you later this week.

What?  Tell me what!

I can’t, it wouldn’t be a surprise any more, would it?  You be good.  I’ll be home by eight, alright?

Jack walked out the door into the garage, brushing the smooth, cold touch of his month old silver Lexus with his fingertips.  It was just a status symbol; he knew that.  As was the bright red Rodeo his wife owned, and the designer clothing.  But damn it, that was why he worked so hard and his past was why all these things meant so much to him now.  He earned them.  And he would not look back.

Backing out of the garage, the snowfall outside had increased and visibility was diminishing.  Jack looked at the clock on the dash.  It was eight-thirty.  He might just make it by nine after all.  He reached across and turned on the CD player; soft jazz music filled the car.  He hit the power button of the car phone and dialed into his restaurant.  His secretary Jackie Armstrong answered first, mindlessly going through her usual spiel with enthusiasm.

Save it for someone who cares, Jack cut her off.

Good morning, Jack.

’Morning darlin’.  How are things looking today?

We’re off to a running start.  You know you’re the only man I would ever get up this early for.

And you know that I appreciate it.  Good deeds don’t go unrewarded in my organization.  You know that of course.

I know it well.

Is Bobby handy?

He just walked into the office.  Hold on.

Jack maneuvered his car onto the short span of the interstate before his exit to the downtown area.

What is it Jack?  I have a lot on my plate here, Bobby yelled from across the office.  Jackie had turned on the speakerphone so she could listen.

Bad day, Bobby?

When are you going to get your sorry ass in here?  It’s a work day, all day today.

I had breakfast with my kid.  Do you mind?

Shit, I don’t mind.  Why don’t you have lunch with him too?  Hell, take the day off.  I don’t give a crap.

Bobby, if there is something I should know before I get there, why don’t you tell me now while I can take it out on unsuspecting motorists.

Nothing’s wrong here, Jack.  You know I’m not a morning person.

Just a few more weeks and the holidays will be over and we can all get back to normal.

What the hell is normal?  We have the opening of Panache in five weeks, and, oh look, that comes in right after the holidays.  I can hardly wait.

Bobby, I know I have been ignoring you and your questions; you too, Jackie.  But I promise both of you that we will sit down and hash this all out shortly.  There is a whole lot more on my plate right now than I can even discuss.  Most of this crap will get ironed out today.  I’m going to get my shit together over the weekend and be ready for all of your questions Monday morning.

The silence that followed was filled only by the sound of his wet tires pushing through the thin layer of slush on the road.

Are you still there?

Stop into the kitchen when you get here.  I have something to show you.  I’ll apologize in person too.

Jack laughed.  No apology necessary.  I owe you both.  And my thanks.  He disconnected the call and hit the speed dial for his home.  Sara picked up on the third ring.  Hiya.

Jack, what’s wrong?

Nothing.  Jack took his exit smoothly and smiled.  I just thought you’d like to have car phone sex.

Sara laughed.  I’m stringing lights with Max right now.  Why are you bothering me?"

Because I love you.  And we’re really on the brink of having everything we want.  Including time together.  And all that stuff.

The phone in his car beeped, signaling another call.  He ignored it.

Don’t you want to get that?

Not really.  I’d rather come home.  I just have too much to do today.

And I don’t?  Besides the tree, I have all of the other decorating and holiday planning to get done.

You have Max to help you.  What is he doing?

Making his Mommy some hot cocoa.  He got very excited when he saw the ornaments and the stockings I pulled out of the boxes.  I think he’s beginning to remember these yearly troves of our family.

I love the sound of that.  Our family!

Honey, Dad called yesterday.  He wants us to visit them for Christmas this year.

But . . .

I know, I told him it was short notice and all.  That’s another thing I forgot to mention last night.  But it would be nice to let Max spend time with them.  It’s really the only extended family he has.

I know.  Did you think to invite them out here?

Of course.  You know he won’t come to Santa Fe.  Mom doesn’t mind, but Dad’s arthritis acts up here.

Listen, let me think about it.  With everything else on my mind, what’s another problem to consider?

Forget it.  We’ll see them another time.

No Sara, this is important to you.  We’ll see what we can do, alright?

Okay.  The line beeped on Sara’s end.  I’d better get that.  Janice was going to call me this morning.  I’ll see you at eight!

Right.  I love you Sara.

Sara switched the line and said hello.

It’s Bobby.  I’m sorry to bother you Sara.  I just got the strangest call.

For me?

No, it was for Jack.  But it was very odd.

How do you mean?

This woman was very threatening.  Wanting to know how she could get a hold of Jack, demanding his schedule, insisting I give her your home phone number.

Sara felt a sinking feeling begin to grow in the pit of her stomach.  Why are you answering the phone?  Where’s Jackie?  She waited for Bobby to answer her.  What did you tell her?

Nothing.  You know I would never give out that information.

Of course not.  Did she leave a name or number?

Nothing.  That’s what I thought was so odd.  She said she’d figure it out.

Sara closed her eyes, placing her hand over her eyes.  She knew what this was about.  She could feel it in her bones.  And she had dreaded it for so long now.  She didn’t say she would call back or anything?

Nothing.  I tried pressing her, holding her on the line until Jack got here.  I thought he would want to deal with her right away and get her off his back, whatever that means.  Again, she wouldn’t say what she wanted, she just slammed the phone in my ear.

Bobby, please listen.  Jack has a lot on his mind today.  I want you to let me deal with this, alright?

What?

I don’t want you to mention this to Jack at all.  Let me handle this.

Sara, what do you know?  I don’t like keeping secrets from Jack.  We’re like brothers.

I know, and I appreciate it.  You’re just going to have to trust me about this.

Bobby made a mental note to fill his best friend in despite Sara’s pleas, with a silent male disclaimer thrown in that this was between Jack and himself.  Sure Sara.  Whatever you want.  Bobby hung up just in time to see a ten-quart pot of boiling water upset onto the legs of Will, their most reliable chef.  Jack entered through the back door of the kitchen at that precise moment to see the ensuing chaos.

Several members of the kitchen staff had rushed to aid the burned chef as Bobby reached for the phone to call 911.  Jack avoided the fray and stepped to Bobby’s side.

Is this what you wanted to show me?

It’s a great day to be in the food service industry.  Say that over and over again.  It actually gets funnier if you don’t really believe it.

The emergency line was answered and Bobby began giving directions and details as the emergency operator patiently took the information before dispatching the ambulance.

Jack patted Bobby on the back and walked behind the cook’s line, assuring Will that everything would be taken care of.  He even promised to look in on him later that day.  No worries; that was Jack’s motto.  He always took care of each member of his devoted staff.

Getting out of the way, he made his way to his office, saying hello to those that he passed.  Everyone adored Jack; he was just that good to them.  Once in the office, he instructed Jackie to phone Will’s family, giving as few details as possible so as not to alarm them.  Just tell them there’s been an accident, that Will’s fine and to meet him at the hospital, he instructed her.  And reassure them that he’s going to be fine.

Jackie went about her business in her usual fashion, slowly and methodically.  Jack watched her for a moment and smiled.  She had worked out so well.  He had intentionally hired a woman in her fifties and trained her himself.  She was lost in this world without any marketable skills when her common-law husband had died several years ago.  She had never actually worked.  But he knew she would be dedicated and loyal.  And he managed to kill two birds with one stone by hiring her.  Any pretty young thing he hired would not be met with Sara’s approval.

Sara trusted Jack implicitly.  But this solidified that trust.  And that was very important to Jack.  Trust was a very important commodity in his relationships.  Without it, he was back to square one.  And the last twelve years of his life would have been all but wasted.

*   *   *

Sara couldn’t concentrate any longer.  Max had made and delivered her hot chocolate, and he could tell that she was distracted.  God Bless this sweet boy, she thought.  He and Jack meant everything to her.  More so now than the day when she had said ‘I do.’  She paced the floor uneasily.  The call would come any minute.

Jack was so positive that things were going to get better now.  He had no idea what was about to happen and what had transpired to bring them to this point in their lives.

When the phone finally rang fifteen minutes later, her heart stopped.  It rang three times before she moved.  Max stopped pulling holiday decorations from the box he stood before to see if Sara was going to answer it.

On the fourth ring, Sara resigned herself to her fate and moved to the phone.  She sighed heavily before answering.

TWO

Jack set about his morning in his routine fashion, business as usual.  Of course he had all of his sideline activities today as well, including an impromptu trip to visit Will later and give his best to Will’s family.

After going over yesterday’s receipts with Jackie, he would meet with the salesman regarding the wine menu for Panache.  Jack attended a wine tasting two weeks ago, making notes of the various wines and comparisons to the menu items.  Bobby had been with him and Jack valued his input.  Jack had already typed the notes into his computer, printed them out and faxed them to a professional printer.  He would proof the final copy a week from today in the event of any shortages, price increases or just plain stupid mistakes.

Back in the main kitchen, the flurry of activity continued as it was nearing ten o’clock.  The Christmas party guests from the Walker and Rothman firm would be arriving shortly and begin cocktailing heavily, even at this early hour.  The party, beginning at this hour, could go on well into late afternoon.  This could conflict with the rehearsal dinner set-up and Jack moved through the kitchen to have a short chat with JoAnn, his Banquet Captain and resident cosmetologist in charge of this party.

He found JoAnn directing last minute traffic as the hors’deourves were set up on a tiered buffet in