Not Quite Crazy
Page 7

Their team had the ball and had stopped at the five-yard line. The cheerleaders did their job of inciting the crowd, and on the next play, East Ranch scored the first points in the game. Rachel let the fans’ excitement pump her up as she cheered. Her eyes landed on Owen once again. This time he was looking back at her with a smile. She offered a thumbs-up before he turned back to his new friends.
Yeah, that was why she was there. When you stepped into the mom role, you went in with both feet. Out of the blue, she wondered if he would be interested in something like tae kwon do. Her thoughts immediately turned to the chains sitting on her table at home.
She pulled the note Jason had left with his gift out of her pocket and reread it.
Her cheeks warmed.
Assuming he gave her a mobile number, Rachel opted to send a text. Besides, trying to talk to him in this crowd was pointless.
Hello Jason. Owen and I received your gifts. They were incredibly thoughtful. Thank you.
She read her note over, twice, then pressed “Send.”
Off it went, wherever notes went as they traveled faster than Superman in cyberspace. It was a good thing she understood marketing, because technical anything ping-ponged around her head until she was dizzy. If it weren’t for Owen, they would never have managed to hook up the speaker system and DVR at the house.
The phone in her hand buzzed, reminding her she was holding it.
Is this Rachel?
She grinned.
Do you leave gifts on everyone’s doorstep in town?
Dot. Dot. Dot. It is nearly Christmas.
Was he flirting? It had been some time since she’d sent a text to anyone outside of the friend zone, so she couldn’t tell. So you double as Connecticut’s Santa Claus?
Shhh. Don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.
Well, he wasn’t not flirting. I’ll keep my mouth closed on one condition.
Oh? What’s that?
Rachel’s eyes no longer lingered on the field. I want to meet Vixen. She’s always been my favorite.
I thought Vixen was a he.
She giggled. A boy named Vixen. That’s just cruel.
Good point. I’ll see what I can do. The team is on a strict curfew until after the holiday.
Rachel found a rolling eye emoji.
What are you doing on this balmy Friday night?
She glanced at the field, then found the back of Owen’s head in the stands. Freezing my butt off at a high school football game.
Does Owen play?
No.
She found Owen again, noticed him talking with one of the girls. The girls are here.
Ah, yes. I remember. Smart kid.
She stared at her screen for a full minute, wondering how she could keep their conversation going. Thank you again, for the gifts.
You’re welcome.
She hesitated. Maybe Jason was just being nice and what she thought was flirting was just nice to another level.
The visitor fans cheered from the other side of the field. After glancing at her messages and not seeing a dot, dot, dot, she went ahead and put the phone in her pocket.
He was just being nice.
A minute later it buzzed.
Rachel?
Yes
Dot. Dot. Dot. Would you mind if I text you again sometime? For personal reasons.
She squeezed her fist, grinned like a fool. Owen cheered from below. Did she really have time for this right now? My life is a little complicated.
I like complicated.
She rubbed her ear through the beanie holding the warmth on her head. You’ve been warned.
Is that a yes?
Rachel giggled. Yes.
Enjoy the rest of the game. I hope your team wins.
It felt as if her team already had.
Chapter Four
“When was the last time this place saw Christmas decorations?” Mary wiped dust off a plastic box Jason hadn’t seen in years.
Glen stood beside him. The sadness in his eyes matched the feeling in Jason’s heart. “It’s been a while,” he told his wife.
Truth was, none of them wanted to warm the estate for Christmas after their parents died. It wasn’t that they made a conscious effort not to decorate, but they hadn’t taken the steps to deck the halls either.
Mary pulled out a stream of garland. “Do you have pictures of where this goes?”
“I’m sure we do,” Glen said.
“All the albums are in the library,” Jason told her.
Mary stood, brushed her hands together. Her gaze found her husband’s, then she turned to Jason. “Oh.” She paused. “Are you guys okay with this?” The therapist in her emerged. “We can always buy new decorations if this is too painful.”
Jason shook away the memory of his mother decorating the house and directing them to trim the tree, and the years he’d seen the same garland draped from the stairway banister.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Glen said.
“We’re good,” Jason assured her. “That goes on the stairs.”
“Right, with the gold ball things I always managed to break,” Glen added.
Mary approached Glen, patted his arm, and headed toward the library.
“C’mon. Only fifty thousand more boxes to bring in.”
Glen moaned and followed him to the storage shed. Although shed wasn’t a fair description of the thousand-foot building, complete with electricity and an alarm system. Nothing at the estate was done small. His father had spared no expense when it came to building his castle for his wife and children. He would talk about the day all of them were married and grandchildren would fill the empty rooms.
“Good God. I forgot how much Mom loved Christmas.”
“Dad was just as bad.” Jason placed his hand on the shelf containing the massive train that didn’t just circle the tree like a Norman Rockwell painting but encompassed the entire expanse of the family room, disappeared through a tiny tunnel and hidden door behind one of the curtains, and zigzagged up a grade and onto an elevated track in the formal dining room. Yeah, the train system was an engineering marvel that took twenty-two minutes to make a full rotation.
Glen came up behind him and paused. “Should we?”
“Would it be the same if we didn’t?”
Glen shook his head and pulled down the first of a zillion boxes.
It took a village of effort to make a dent in the decorations.
Back at the house, Trent, Glen, and Jason tackled the train while Mary and Monica trimmed every surface with green, gold, red, and silver.
Lyn, the housekeeper, who had been with the Fairchild house for fifteen years, lived in a small guesthouse on the estate. Now in her midsixties, she’d raised her own children before coming to work for Jason’s parents, and lost her husband to cancer only five years ago. Lyn helped direct Mary and Monica and made the effort to prepare an after-decorating meal, which filled the house with the warm smell of roasting beef and onions.
Outside, Nathan worked with Randy, an on-site groundskeeper who bunked with him in the accommodations by the hangars. Randy was new on the property and not someone Jason thought would last for long. He liked the job, and did it well, but he was more of a designer than a gardener. Time would tell.
“It’s a good thing Dad was anal about his train,” Trent said as he peered over the schematics, written down as if the scaffolding for the toy were the plans to build the Empire State Building.
Glen unfolded the aluminum risers that would eventually hold the rail system. “He loved this thing.”
“We all loved this thing,” Jason said. “Especially when Grandpa was around. Remember how he used to disappear in another room and fill the empty cars with candy and tell us it was Santa’s elves?”