| THOMAS J. PRESTOPNIK |
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| Read Chapter Eight from A CHRISTMAS CASTLE |
| CHAPTER EIGHT |
Freddy Ellsworth drove his red convertible up the narrow country road and
pulled into a stony driveway. He had turned forty-seven yesterday and smiled,
envisioning warmer climates in the not-too-distant future as balmy late-April
breezes washed over him. Through the windshield he could see Jack lugging
the last piece of summer furniture up the front steps and arranging it on the
porch. Freddy parked the car and stepped out, giving Jack a quick salute.
“Thanks for hauling that stuff out of the garage, Jack. Want things to look their
best,” he said. “The shrubs you trimmed look great too.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“No problem, Freddy,” he said, wiping a forearm across his brow as he
bounded down the stairs. He wore blue jeans, sneakers and a red tee shirt. At
twenty-three, Jack Mason was enjoying his current lot in life. He had finished
college last year and now worked fulltime with Freddy Ellsworth at his real
estate agency. Whether maintaining the unoccupied properties for sale, taking
courses toward his license or accompanying Freddy on a showing, Jack
enjoyed the variety and freedom this job provided. He pictured himself here for
two or three more years, earning a bit of money and gaining experience before
moving on to bigger things. There were bridges and high rises yet to be built.
“Vic Anderson is going to snap this one up,” Freddy said. “Hard to put one over
on a car salesman, but this house sells itself.”
“It’s a beauty,” Jack agreed, admiring the light green Dutch Colonial Revival
with a long lazy porch. An expansive lawn, surrounding trees and stunning
view of the river valley made him realize that Freddy was right. The house
would sell itself.
“Stick around and pick up some pointers,” Freddy said, adjusting the knot in
his tie.
“Okay. Hey, nice one by the way,” Jack said, pointing at the bold printing on
the tie. “Pineapples? Don’t recall seeing that one before.”
“Birthday present from my wife Anna Beth,” he said, proudly fingering the tie as
he showed it off. “Pretty neat, huh? I love it.”
“As long as somebody does,” Jack teased as he walked by, gently punching
Freddy in the arm. “Let me close the garage door. I hear a car heading up the
road.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
A few moments later, Vic Anderson sped up the driveway in a new 1981 white
Cadillac Fleetwood, most of his family in tow. He sounded the horn as he
waved to Freddy, parking beside him. The car doors swiftly opened and the
Anderson family stepped out.
“Good to see you again, Fred,” Vic said, exuding unending charm and
enthusiasm while firmly shaking the real estate agent’s hand. “Great tie!” His
thick silvery head of hair was tousled by the wind. “Of course you remember
my lovely wife Suzy, and I brought some of the family this time to give the place
the once-over before we seal the deal.” Vic introduced his children as they
walked up the driveway to the house. “This is George, the younger of my two
sons. He starts high school next year. Patrick’s at baseball practice now, and
he’s pretty good too, right, Suzy?”
“He is indeed, sweetheart.”
“Nice to meet you, George,” Freddy said with a nod.
“And this lovely lady is my oldest,” Vic said proudly, indicating his daughter.
“Charlene helps me run the office at my dealership. Great with numbers.
Keeps all that paperwork tamed and organized.”
“Pleased to meet you also,” Freddy said, smiling at the blonde twenty-two year
old in a pastel pink flowered blouse and white slacks.
“You too, Mr. Ellsworth,” she replied as they ambled past the garage on the
way to the house. Charlene glanced to her right and noticed Jack heading in
their direction. He looked up at the same moment, their eyes meeting. A warm
breeze brushed across the property and through the adjacent field.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Oh, this is Jack Mason,” Freddy added, making a quick round of introductions
as Jack approached. “He works for me. Hopes to be selling houses on his own
someday.”
“As long as you don’t make me wear those ties,” Jack said, pleased that
Charlene joined in on the resulting laughter. He and Charlene exchanged a
silent smile as they climbed the front porch steps.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“And the view south out of any window in this house is spectacular,” Freddy
said as he, Vic and Suzy gazed outdoors through a picture window in the
upstairs hallway. Splashes of warm April sunshine flooded the plush carpeting.
“I adore this house,” Suzy said, opening a small window and inhaling the sweet
air.
“I hereby claim this room!” George called out from a side hallway. “Finders
keepers!”
Charlene inched up and peeked through the window, pointing out a few white
flowering trees off to the left side of the property. Jack stood at attention near
the top of the staircase, his hands clasped behind his back, noting her subtle
reflection in the window pane. “What are those pretty trees in the tall grass, Mr.
Ellsworth?”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Those are–”
“–apple trees!” Jack eagerly chimed in, as if unaware of anyone else in the
hallway except for Charlene. “They produce good fruit, too.”
“They look so lovely in bloom. And I see a small stream nearby. I just have to
check it out!” Charlene gushed as she spun around. “Jack, could you show me
the way?”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Um, sure… I mean, if that’s okay,” he tried to
casually remark while glancing at Charlene’s father.
Vic nodded. “You go ahead, son,” he pleasantly said as he guided his wife into
the next room. “And if Freddy needs you, well, we can spot you out any of
these windows!”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said as Charlene brushed past, indicating with a grin for him to
follow her down the stairs.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“So you run your father’s dealership?” Jack asked as they walked across the
spongy grass through an intoxicatingly sweet breeze.
“Well, just the office,” Charlene said. “I don’t actually sell any cars.”
“Bet you could do that too,” Jack said.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“I’m training someone to work in his new place that opens next month. It’s
fifteen miles east of here. That’s why Dad and Mom want to buy a new house.
Something midway between,” Charlene explained. “Besides, they’ve always
wanted a bigger home, and since business is picking up…”
“You couldn’t have chosen a better one. Just look at that view,” Jack said,
stopping to gaze across the valley. “My, but whoever maintained this property
did a fantastic job!”
Charlene laughed. “Jack, are you bragging?”
“Maybe just a little bit.” He shrugged, looking into her eyes for a moment,
enchanted by her soft features, but hoping she didn’t think he was staring.
“Well, a man should take pride in his accomplishments,” she replied, turning
and walking to the edge of the taller grass and gazing at the apple trees a
short distance away.
Jack followed her like a puppy. “I hope to accomplish even bigger things. One
day I’d like to design and build–buildings.”
“Oh?”
“But only after I reconstruct that last sentence.”
Charlene smiled, inhaling the scent of apple blossoms
wafting through the air as the sound of a nearby stream
gurgled beyond the trees. “The apple blooms smell
wonderful, but I don’t dare walk any closer through the tall
grass in these shoes.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“I don’t suggest it.”
“And your sentence was quite fine, Jack. So you’ve decided to go on for more
schooling?”
Jack gave Charlene a quick rundown of his architectural ambitions. “But you
never know in the end. Selling real estate could grow on me. Today’s a pretty
good day after all,” he said with a grin dripping with infatuation as the brilliant
sunshine filtered through a trio of towering pines. “Though I’ll miss maintaining
this property if your father buys it.”
“Oh, he will,” Charlene assured him. “He and Mom both love it. And now that I
see the house, I do too.”
Jack sighed. “Well, that settles it. I guess I’ll have no reason to stop by
anymore.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“That’d be a shame,” Charlene said with an exaggerated sigh. “Then again, I
suppose I could invite you up for dinner occasionally just for old time’s sake.”
“Now there’s an idea,” Jack said as a chorus of crickets sang in the field. “I can
give you my phone number. I have an apartment in town.”
“Great. And then maybe sometime…”
“Yeah, maybe…” Jack studied her soft smile as he rocked back and forth on
his feet. “Say, do you like going to the movies?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Grape-size raindrops pelted the skylights above a crowded shopping mall food
court. Tangles of black, gray and white August clouds drifted chaotically
overhead. Inside, a gentle strum of guitar strings filled the wide corridor as
Christopher Cross’s Sailing issued from a wall speaker nearby. Jack gazed at
the pounding rain then glanced at Charlene sitting across the table enjoying a
salad and ginger ale.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Some walk, huh?” he said with a roll of his eyes before dipping one of his fries
into a pool of ketchup.
“It might clear up, Jack. Besides, sitting here and talking with you is fun, too,”
Charlene said, playfully tapping Jack’s foot.
“What shall we talk about?”
Charlene smirked affectionately. “Well, how about the way you drown your
French fries with ketchup before eating them?” she teased. “Though it is
endearing.”
Jack laughed as he tossed a fry into her salad. “That’s how I’ve eaten them
since I was a little kid. You’ll have to get used to that delightful quirk of mine.”
Jack stared at Charlene, raising an eyebrow. “Shall I tell you about one of your
quirks?”
Charlene leaned back. “I’m not sure. Dare I ask?”
“Go ahead.”
Charlene blushed, taking a sip of her soda. “Okay, Jack. Zing me. I can take it.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“All right, except that–I can’t.” Jack picked up another French fry, dipping it in
ketchup. “You see, Charlene, up to now, you been, well–perfect.” He ate the
fry, chewing it with a serious expression before bursting uncontrollably into a
grin.
“Good answer,” Charlene replied, stealing one of his fries. “Charming and
calculating at the same time. But I’m not entirely perfect, you know. I once
dropped my brother’s baseball in a bucket of green paint.”
“Nasty.”
“I was thirteen and he was annoying.”
“I hid one of my sister’s favorite shoes in the sandbox for a week,” Jack one-
upped her. “Loretta nearly killed me.”
“That’s not a quirk. That was just mean.”
“So was the green baseball.”
“True.” Charlene thought for a moment. “I’ve finished at least two dozen paint-
by-number sets. All of them kittens and puppies.”
“Hmmm, you’ve got a thing for paint?”
“Maybe.”
“A half jar of spaghetti sauce has been sitting in my refrigerator for about five
weeks? Still good?”
Charlene made a disgusted face. “Toss it.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Chicken.”
“I love chicken–barbecued. And a fine glass of red wine, riding horses and
counting stars in an autumn sky.”
Jack leaned forward and spoke softly, feigning grave seriousness. “I once saw
a star that landed in a snow bank when I was eight years old.”
“Impossible,” Charlene said, eating her salad. “The snow would’ve melted.”
“But it didn’t. Then after I ran away from the star I heard…”
Charlene looked up, noting the unreadable expression pasted upon Jack’s
face. “Heard what? What happened?”
Jack tilted his head as he leaned back in his chair, smiling slyly. “I think I’d
rather not say just yet. Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”
“Big secret?” Jack winked playfully. “Okay, be that way. I’ll get the truth out of
you one way or another.”
“There’s no big secret,” Jack assured her. He then again peered up at the
sodden skies above Sage Harbor and grimaced. “And that’s no sun shower.
Not exactly the day I had planned for us.”
“We could go see another movie,” Charlene suggested as handfuls of
shoppers and diners, many clutching plastic bags and foam coffee cups, drifted
in either direction past the food court. The mall corridors were bulging to near
capacity with the onset of inclement weather.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
Jack shrugged. “I had my heart set on walking with you today.”
“Some plans are meant to be changed, Mr. Mason. You’ll just have to be
content spending your afternoon here with me,” she replied with a smile before
spearing a tomato wedge with her fork and popping it into her mouth.
“I can do that, Miss Anderson.” Jack returned the smile. “And as for some of
my other plans…”
“Oh? What about them?” Charlene curiously inquired, pleasantly intrigued by
the pretended mysteriousness in Jack’s tone of voice.
“About me going on for more schooling someday? Well, I think I’m kind of
happy right now in real estate. I enjoy it–selling instead of building.” Jack
contentedly leaned back in his chair. “And I’m happy being with you, too. You
don’t seem to mind me hanging around after all.”
“Well…” Charlene crinkled her nose before bursting into a grin. “Not in the
least, Jack. I was hoping to squeeze in more movies and dinners and walks
with you. It’s a habit I don’t want to break any time soon.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Jack said, his words tinged with the warmth of a summer’
s day now hidden behind the low-lying clouds stretched across town. “I can
see us walking here and there, hand in hand, for quite some time.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Me too,” Charlene softly replied.
And so they did, even as the lush greens of summer gradually dissolved into
the frosted golds, reds and yellows of a crisp and thriving autumn. They
walked through leaves and snow and the biting chill of January, and dined on
steaks and red wine in February candlelight, and later on Chinese takeout
while sitting on the front porch steps as drooping bunches of purple and white
lilacs lightly perfumed the air. But spring swiftly retreated with the lighting of the
first barbecues, and summer progressed at its usual meteoric pace. Miles of
lazy driving commenced along steamy asphalt roads, under canopies of stars
and past lakeshores and quaint cafés and windblown willows. Ears of corn
were picked, lemonade was poured over clear, cracking ice, and hours of
conversation filled up the wide stretchable spaces of summertime. But all too
soon the sunlight waned as once more storm windows replaced screens and
clouds grew leaden. Trees again burst into vibrant colors and leaves quickly
piled high upon the sidewalks.
Another of many long strolls commenced as Jack and Charlene swished
through the unraked walks in cool late-September twilight. Hand in hand they
wandered, under the glow of starlight and beneath the subtle shade of bony
trees until they stopped under the pale light and gentle hum of a streetlamp.
Jack tenderly held her shaking hand as a shooting star from long ago sailed
across the edges of his memory. Nervous words were spoken as he lovingly
placed a ring upon her finger.
And the walk continued the following June down the aisle of St. Dominic’s
Church when roses bloomed in bunches and the sun was pasted upon a
sapphire-blue sky. Under a shower of confetti and smiles, Jack and Charlene
exited the church to the pipe organ notes of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
And five years later they stood outside the front window of Jack’s new office on
a sunny May morning in East Oaks. Friends, relatives and city officials
gathered, snapshots were taken and a stretch of gold ribbon was cut with a
large pair of ceremonial scissors. Everyone applauded as Mason Real Estate
was officially opened for business. Will Mason, now three, grabbed onto his
father’s leg and wondered when he could have one of the helium balloons to
play with. Charlene stood next to her husband and son, holding a bouncy
Elaine, who wasn’t quite yet one. Only Freddy Ellsworth and his pineapple tie
were missing, now lounging underneath a table umbrella somewhere along the
Florida coast with his wife Anna Beth, a lit Cuban cigar and a cold pitcher of
Piña Coladas.
And then Jack sat with his wife and two children that following Christmas Eve
in an oak pew in St. Dominic’s church, Will and Elaine both squirming between
them before the start of the Mass. Lit candles and fresh pine wreaths
decorated the walls and pillars as O Holy Night sounded from the choir loft.
The outdoor air lay frosty and still on that cloudless night. As Jack lifted Will
and placed him on one end of the pew, Charlene bundled up Elaine in her
arms to keep her away from her brother now banished to the opposite end.
The two parents glanced at one another and smiled, silently acknowledging
the endless labor and creativity that went into rearing their family each and
every day.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
Then Charlene took her husband’s hand and looked up at him. “What are we
going to do this time next year, honey?”
“Hmmm?” Jack said, tousling his son’s hair.
“Well, we’ll have one child on either side of us,” she said, gazing at Jack with a
playful sparkle in her eye, “and a third one in between.”
“What do you–” Then with thunderbolt clarity, Jack understood, his thoughts
frozen for an instant before breaking out into a Christmas-morning grin. He was
still building things after all.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
Read Chapter 9
pulled into a stony driveway. He had turned forty-seven yesterday and smiled,
envisioning warmer climates in the not-too-distant future as balmy late-April
breezes washed over him. Through the windshield he could see Jack lugging
the last piece of summer furniture up the front steps and arranging it on the
porch. Freddy parked the car and stepped out, giving Jack a quick salute.
“Thanks for hauling that stuff out of the garage, Jack. Want things to look their
best,” he said. “The shrubs you trimmed look great too.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“No problem, Freddy,” he said, wiping a forearm across his brow as he
bounded down the stairs. He wore blue jeans, sneakers and a red tee shirt. At
twenty-three, Jack Mason was enjoying his current lot in life. He had finished
college last year and now worked fulltime with Freddy Ellsworth at his real
estate agency. Whether maintaining the unoccupied properties for sale, taking
courses toward his license or accompanying Freddy on a showing, Jack
enjoyed the variety and freedom this job provided. He pictured himself here for
two or three more years, earning a bit of money and gaining experience before
moving on to bigger things. There were bridges and high rises yet to be built.
“Vic Anderson is going to snap this one up,” Freddy said. “Hard to put one over
on a car salesman, but this house sells itself.”
“It’s a beauty,” Jack agreed, admiring the light green Dutch Colonial Revival
with a long lazy porch. An expansive lawn, surrounding trees and stunning
view of the river valley made him realize that Freddy was right. The house
would sell itself.
“Stick around and pick up some pointers,” Freddy said, adjusting the knot in
his tie.
“Okay. Hey, nice one by the way,” Jack said, pointing at the bold printing on
the tie. “Pineapples? Don’t recall seeing that one before.”
“Birthday present from my wife Anna Beth,” he said, proudly fingering the tie as
he showed it off. “Pretty neat, huh? I love it.”
“As long as somebody does,” Jack teased as he walked by, gently punching
Freddy in the arm. “Let me close the garage door. I hear a car heading up the
road.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
A few moments later, Vic Anderson sped up the driveway in a new 1981 white
Cadillac Fleetwood, most of his family in tow. He sounded the horn as he
waved to Freddy, parking beside him. The car doors swiftly opened and the
Anderson family stepped out.
“Good to see you again, Fred,” Vic said, exuding unending charm and
enthusiasm while firmly shaking the real estate agent’s hand. “Great tie!” His
thick silvery head of hair was tousled by the wind. “Of course you remember
my lovely wife Suzy, and I brought some of the family this time to give the place
the once-over before we seal the deal.” Vic introduced his children as they
walked up the driveway to the house. “This is George, the younger of my two
sons. He starts high school next year. Patrick’s at baseball practice now, and
he’s pretty good too, right, Suzy?”
“He is indeed, sweetheart.”
“Nice to meet you, George,” Freddy said with a nod.
“And this lovely lady is my oldest,” Vic said proudly, indicating his daughter.
“Charlene helps me run the office at my dealership. Great with numbers.
Keeps all that paperwork tamed and organized.”
“Pleased to meet you also,” Freddy said, smiling at the blonde twenty-two year
old in a pastel pink flowered blouse and white slacks.
“You too, Mr. Ellsworth,” she replied as they ambled past the garage on the
way to the house. Charlene glanced to her right and noticed Jack heading in
their direction. He looked up at the same moment, their eyes meeting. A warm
breeze brushed across the property and through the adjacent field.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Oh, this is Jack Mason,” Freddy added, making a quick round of introductions
as Jack approached. “He works for me. Hopes to be selling houses on his own
someday.”
“As long as you don’t make me wear those ties,” Jack said, pleased that
Charlene joined in on the resulting laughter. He and Charlene exchanged a
silent smile as they climbed the front porch steps.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“And the view south out of any window in this house is spectacular,” Freddy
said as he, Vic and Suzy gazed outdoors through a picture window in the
upstairs hallway. Splashes of warm April sunshine flooded the plush carpeting.
“I adore this house,” Suzy said, opening a small window and inhaling the sweet
air.
“I hereby claim this room!” George called out from a side hallway. “Finders
keepers!”
Charlene inched up and peeked through the window, pointing out a few white
flowering trees off to the left side of the property. Jack stood at attention near
the top of the staircase, his hands clasped behind his back, noting her subtle
reflection in the window pane. “What are those pretty trees in the tall grass, Mr.
Ellsworth?”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Those are–”
“–apple trees!” Jack eagerly chimed in, as if unaware of anyone else in the
hallway except for Charlene. “They produce good fruit, too.”
“They look so lovely in bloom. And I see a small stream nearby. I just have to
check it out!” Charlene gushed as she spun around. “Jack, could you show me
the way?”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Um, sure… I mean, if that’s okay,” he tried to
casually remark while glancing at Charlene’s father.
Vic nodded. “You go ahead, son,” he pleasantly said as he guided his wife into
the next room. “And if Freddy needs you, well, we can spot you out any of
these windows!”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said as Charlene brushed past, indicating with a grin for him to
follow her down the stairs.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“So you run your father’s dealership?” Jack asked as they walked across the
spongy grass through an intoxicatingly sweet breeze.
“Well, just the office,” Charlene said. “I don’t actually sell any cars.”
“Bet you could do that too,” Jack said.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“I’m training someone to work in his new place that opens next month. It’s
fifteen miles east of here. That’s why Dad and Mom want to buy a new house.
Something midway between,” Charlene explained. “Besides, they’ve always
wanted a bigger home, and since business is picking up…”
“You couldn’t have chosen a better one. Just look at that view,” Jack said,
stopping to gaze across the valley. “My, but whoever maintained this property
did a fantastic job!”
Charlene laughed. “Jack, are you bragging?”
“Maybe just a little bit.” He shrugged, looking into her eyes for a moment,
enchanted by her soft features, but hoping she didn’t think he was staring.
“Well, a man should take pride in his accomplishments,” she replied, turning
and walking to the edge of the taller grass and gazing at the apple trees a
short distance away.
Jack followed her like a puppy. “I hope to accomplish even bigger things. One
day I’d like to design and build–buildings.”
“Oh?”
“But only after I reconstruct that last sentence.”
Charlene smiled, inhaling the scent of apple blossoms
wafting through the air as the sound of a nearby stream
gurgled beyond the trees. “The apple blooms smell
wonderful, but I don’t dare walk any closer through the tall
grass in these shoes.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“I don’t suggest it.”
“And your sentence was quite fine, Jack. So you’ve decided to go on for more
schooling?”
Jack gave Charlene a quick rundown of his architectural ambitions. “But you
never know in the end. Selling real estate could grow on me. Today’s a pretty
good day after all,” he said with a grin dripping with infatuation as the brilliant
sunshine filtered through a trio of towering pines. “Though I’ll miss maintaining
this property if your father buys it.”
“Oh, he will,” Charlene assured him. “He and Mom both love it. And now that I
see the house, I do too.”
Jack sighed. “Well, that settles it. I guess I’ll have no reason to stop by
anymore.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“That’d be a shame,” Charlene said with an exaggerated sigh. “Then again, I
suppose I could invite you up for dinner occasionally just for old time’s sake.”
“Now there’s an idea,” Jack said as a chorus of crickets sang in the field. “I can
give you my phone number. I have an apartment in town.”
“Great. And then maybe sometime…”
“Yeah, maybe…” Jack studied her soft smile as he rocked back and forth on
his feet. “Say, do you like going to the movies?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Grape-size raindrops pelted the skylights above a crowded shopping mall food
court. Tangles of black, gray and white August clouds drifted chaotically
overhead. Inside, a gentle strum of guitar strings filled the wide corridor as
Christopher Cross’s Sailing issued from a wall speaker nearby. Jack gazed at
the pounding rain then glanced at Charlene sitting across the table enjoying a
salad and ginger ale.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Some walk, huh?” he said with a roll of his eyes before dipping one of his fries
into a pool of ketchup.
“It might clear up, Jack. Besides, sitting here and talking with you is fun, too,”
Charlene said, playfully tapping Jack’s foot.
“What shall we talk about?”
Charlene smirked affectionately. “Well, how about the way you drown your
French fries with ketchup before eating them?” she teased. “Though it is
endearing.”
Jack laughed as he tossed a fry into her salad. “That’s how I’ve eaten them
since I was a little kid. You’ll have to get used to that delightful quirk of mine.”
Jack stared at Charlene, raising an eyebrow. “Shall I tell you about one of your
quirks?”
Charlene leaned back. “I’m not sure. Dare I ask?”
“Go ahead.”
Charlene blushed, taking a sip of her soda. “Okay, Jack. Zing me. I can take it.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“All right, except that–I can’t.” Jack picked up another French fry, dipping it in
ketchup. “You see, Charlene, up to now, you been, well–perfect.” He ate the
fry, chewing it with a serious expression before bursting uncontrollably into a
grin.
“Good answer,” Charlene replied, stealing one of his fries. “Charming and
calculating at the same time. But I’m not entirely perfect, you know. I once
dropped my brother’s baseball in a bucket of green paint.”
“Nasty.”
“I was thirteen and he was annoying.”
“I hid one of my sister’s favorite shoes in the sandbox for a week,” Jack one-
upped her. “Loretta nearly killed me.”
“That’s not a quirk. That was just mean.”
“So was the green baseball.”
“True.” Charlene thought for a moment. “I’ve finished at least two dozen paint-
by-number sets. All of them kittens and puppies.”
“Hmmm, you’ve got a thing for paint?”
“Maybe.”
“A half jar of spaghetti sauce has been sitting in my refrigerator for about five
weeks? Still good?”
Charlene made a disgusted face. “Toss it.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Chicken.”
“I love chicken–barbecued. And a fine glass of red wine, riding horses and
counting stars in an autumn sky.”
Jack leaned forward and spoke softly, feigning grave seriousness. “I once saw
a star that landed in a snow bank when I was eight years old.”
“Impossible,” Charlene said, eating her salad. “The snow would’ve melted.”
“But it didn’t. Then after I ran away from the star I heard…”
Charlene looked up, noting the unreadable expression pasted upon Jack’s
face. “Heard what? What happened?”
Jack tilted his head as he leaned back in his chair, smiling slyly. “I think I’d
rather not say just yet. Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”
“Big secret?” Jack winked playfully. “Okay, be that way. I’ll get the truth out of
you one way or another.”
“There’s no big secret,” Jack assured her. He then again peered up at the
sodden skies above Sage Harbor and grimaced. “And that’s no sun shower.
Not exactly the day I had planned for us.”
“We could go see another movie,” Charlene suggested as handfuls of
shoppers and diners, many clutching plastic bags and foam coffee cups, drifted
in either direction past the food court. The mall corridors were bulging to near
capacity with the onset of inclement weather.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
Jack shrugged. “I had my heart set on walking with you today.”
“Some plans are meant to be changed, Mr. Mason. You’ll just have to be
content spending your afternoon here with me,” she replied with a smile before
spearing a tomato wedge with her fork and popping it into her mouth.
“I can do that, Miss Anderson.” Jack returned the smile. “And as for some of
my other plans…”
“Oh? What about them?” Charlene curiously inquired, pleasantly intrigued by
the pretended mysteriousness in Jack’s tone of voice.
“About me going on for more schooling someday? Well, I think I’m kind of
happy right now in real estate. I enjoy it–selling instead of building.” Jack
contentedly leaned back in his chair. “And I’m happy being with you, too. You
don’t seem to mind me hanging around after all.”
“Well…” Charlene crinkled her nose before bursting into a grin. “Not in the
least, Jack. I was hoping to squeeze in more movies and dinners and walks
with you. It’s a habit I don’t want to break any time soon.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Jack said, his words tinged with the warmth of a summer’
s day now hidden behind the low-lying clouds stretched across town. “I can
see us walking here and there, hand in hand, for quite some time.”
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
“Me too,” Charlene softly replied.
And so they did, even as the lush greens of summer gradually dissolved into
the frosted golds, reds and yellows of a crisp and thriving autumn. They
walked through leaves and snow and the biting chill of January, and dined on
steaks and red wine in February candlelight, and later on Chinese takeout
while sitting on the front porch steps as drooping bunches of purple and white
lilacs lightly perfumed the air. But spring swiftly retreated with the lighting of the
first barbecues, and summer progressed at its usual meteoric pace. Miles of
lazy driving commenced along steamy asphalt roads, under canopies of stars
and past lakeshores and quaint cafés and windblown willows. Ears of corn
were picked, lemonade was poured over clear, cracking ice, and hours of
conversation filled up the wide stretchable spaces of summertime. But all too
soon the sunlight waned as once more storm windows replaced screens and
clouds grew leaden. Trees again burst into vibrant colors and leaves quickly
piled high upon the sidewalks.
Another of many long strolls commenced as Jack and Charlene swished
through the unraked walks in cool late-September twilight. Hand in hand they
wandered, under the glow of starlight and beneath the subtle shade of bony
trees until they stopped under the pale light and gentle hum of a streetlamp.
Jack tenderly held her shaking hand as a shooting star from long ago sailed
across the edges of his memory. Nervous words were spoken as he lovingly
placed a ring upon her finger.
And the walk continued the following June down the aisle of St. Dominic’s
Church when roses bloomed in bunches and the sun was pasted upon a
sapphire-blue sky. Under a shower of confetti and smiles, Jack and Charlene
exited the church to the pipe organ notes of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
And five years later they stood outside the front window of Jack’s new office on
a sunny May morning in East Oaks. Friends, relatives and city officials
gathered, snapshots were taken and a stretch of gold ribbon was cut with a
large pair of ceremonial scissors. Everyone applauded as Mason Real Estate
was officially opened for business. Will Mason, now three, grabbed onto his
father’s leg and wondered when he could have one of the helium balloons to
play with. Charlene stood next to her husband and son, holding a bouncy
Elaine, who wasn’t quite yet one. Only Freddy Ellsworth and his pineapple tie
were missing, now lounging underneath a table umbrella somewhere along the
Florida coast with his wife Anna Beth, a lit Cuban cigar and a cold pitcher of
Piña Coladas.
And then Jack sat with his wife and two children that following Christmas Eve
in an oak pew in St. Dominic’s church, Will and Elaine both squirming between
them before the start of the Mass. Lit candles and fresh pine wreaths
decorated the walls and pillars as O Holy Night sounded from the choir loft.
The outdoor air lay frosty and still on that cloudless night. As Jack lifted Will
and placed him on one end of the pew, Charlene bundled up Elaine in her
arms to keep her away from her brother now banished to the opposite end.
The two parents glanced at one another and smiled, silently acknowledging
the endless labor and creativity that went into rearing their family each and
every day.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
Then Charlene took her husband’s hand and looked up at him. “What are we
going to do this time next year, honey?”
“Hmmm?” Jack said, tousling his son’s hair.
“Well, we’ll have one child on either side of us,” she said, gazing at Jack with a
playful sparkle in her eye, “and a third one in between.”
“What do you–” Then with thunderbolt clarity, Jack understood, his thoughts
frozen for an instant before breaking out into a Christmas-morning grin. He was
still building things after all.
© Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik
Read Chapter 9