Page 22 of A Very Barrie Christmas
“I don’t know. Probably a poppy, to signify my time here with all of you.” He stretched to start the garland at the top of the tree.
As Frank suspected, Nate’s response had melted his wife’s heart. She caught Frank’s eye and flashed a look that begged,Can we keep him?As if the boy were a lost puppy who’d wandered into their yard.
“But they probably don’t even make ornaments with poppies on them,” Nate added, winding the garland a few loops around the top before passing it back to Beverly.
Before Bevy could respond, the phone wailed from the kitchen.
“I’ll get it.” Frank shuffled out of his comfy seat on the couch, mentally preparing to let the caller have an earful if they happened to be a solicitor.
“Hello?” he answered in a tone that said,You’d better have a good reason for calling at this time of night.
“Hi, Mr. Barrie. It’s Susan. How’s everything going with Nate’s visit?”
“Fine. Why?” The strained timbre of her voice gave him pause. Had she expected something to go wrong?
“No reason. Just wanted to make sure he’s settling in okay.”
“He seems to be. Want to ask him?”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to bother him.”
A long silence lingered on the line, and Frank stared at the receiver. Did Susan have more to say? She didn’t seem keen to hang up the phone.
“Everything’s fine,” Frank offered again, filling the dead air. He thought about adding her car had received a complete tune-up and ran better than ever but figured Nate would want to give her the good news himself. “He’s polite and helpful, just like you said. He’s decorating the tree with Bevy right now. We haven’t had any issues.”
Her sigh filled the speaker. “I’m happy to hear it.”
Why did she sound so relieved? “Susan, is there something about Private Henderson you’re not telling me?”
“Why would you ask that?” she squeaked.
Maybe because your already high-pitched voice just went up an octave, he thought, but refrained from stating aloud. “If there’s something I should know, now’s the time to speak up.”
More silence.
“Sorry, Mr. Barrie. I’m needed in the cafeteria. I’m glad things are going well. Talk again soon.” With a hasty goodbye, she hung up the phone.
Huh. He slowly set the handset back on the hook. What an odd phone call. Even for Susan.
He couldn’t shake the feeling she’d neglected to mention something important.
CHAPTER 15
NATE
Nate shivered as he crossed the frost-covered ground, making his way toward the barn. Early morning sunlight crested the tree line, tinging the branches gold. Since sleep never came easy, he rose early, often before sunrise. This morning, he’d asked Frank if he could tour the roasting process, to which Frank grunted, “Be my guest,” and went back to his cup of coffee and rumpled newspaper.
Apparently, some guy named Vick Johnson did most of the roasting these days. According to Beverly, if she hadn’t insisted Frank slow down and hire help, he would’ve keeled over at the roaster years ago.
Nate hoped Vick wouldn’t mind him watching a roast or two. Although he found the process intriguing, it would also serve as a distraction from a certain brunette he couldn’t get out of his head. The anticipation of their outing to the middle school later that morning had his stomach twisted into knots. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of her perfect hand clasped in his, or the way his skin smelled of her peppermint lotion long afterward.
When he entered the barn, he immediately noticed the shift in temperature. Warmth enveloped him, radiating from tallglass mason jars filled with piping-hot, freshly roasted coffee beans. And the smell—wow! Nate inhaled a deep breath, the earthy aroma so rich and heady, he could taste it.
A guy who looked a few years older than him stood near a large metal contraption. With his short haircut, rigid posture, and tattoo of an eagle on his muscular forearm, Nate pegged him as former military. Marine, maybe.
The guy flipped a switch, and the monstrous machine rumbled to life. After a second or two, smoke spilled from a chimney near the top, funneling through an opening in the roof. He turned, spotted Nate, then pulled out his earplugs as he strode toward him. “Hey. You must be Nate. Frank said you’d probably be stopping by sometime. I’m Vick.”
“Nice to meet you.” Nate shook his hand. “Mind if I stick around for a bit?”
