was wondering…hoping you would consider the two of us pooling our efforts to help the Seniors. I know you want to make money, so here is my proposition. I’ll take on your loss as my own personal debt. It might take me a few years to pay it off, but I will pay it off.”
Gus stared at the agitated woman sitting across from him. Whatever he’d been expecting, this wasn’t it. Her eyes looked luminous with unshed tears. He wanted to bolt over to her side of the booth and wrap his arms around her. He grappled for something to say. “Why is this so important to you?”
Amy brushed at the corners of her eyes. “I’m not sure. If you absolutely need an answer, the only thing I can say is I’m trying to…to…prove to my mother that I turned out okay even though she was never around when I did things she should have patted me on the head for. I suppose that sounds silly to you. I don’t know, maybe it’s a girl thing. I never got…what I mean is…I always wanted her approval. I never got it. So, while it is about the Seniors, it’s all about me, too. Does any of this make sense to you?”
Well hell yes, it made perfect sense to him. Wasn’t he living through the exact same thing? Maybe they were soul mates. He nodded, his eyes sober as he handed her a paper napkin. “It makes sense,” he said quietly. “I’m doing exactly what you’re trying to do. So, do you have an idea, a plan?”
Amy leaned across the table. Her eyes sparkled with hope. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”
Gus didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded.
“Well, I thought I could…I have a campaign all worked out. That’s my speciality. It’s what I do for a living. I’ll have to get rid of the tents, suck up the deposit, and relocate to your farm. People, according to Mom, don’t know you’re back in business, so I can make that happen. I’ll work alongside you. I’ll do whatever you want. You don’t have to worry about me carrying my weight. I’ll work around the clock if that’s what you want. We can draw on the Seniors to set up your store. I can make the wreaths and grave blankets. This will free up your people to handle the trees. Does…do you think…?”
Gus leaned back in the booth to allow the waiter to set a steaming pizza in the middle of the table. “Okay.”
Amy’s face lit up like a neon sign. “Do you mean it, Gus? What…what about time is money and business is business? Are you sure?”
Was he? Suddenly he realized he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. He nodded. “Let me ask you a question. What happens if when this is all over and done with, your mother and my father don’t understand what we’re all about?”
Amy sat up straighter in the booth. “Then, Gus Moss, it’s their loss, not ours.”
Ah, his love thought just the way he did. He nodded again. He stretched his arm across the table. “Okay, partner, let’s put our heads together, but first we eat this pizza.”
His love laughed, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. She squeezed his hand. Gus felt like he was on fire. He watched as she loaded her pizza with hot peppers, just the way he liked his. He said so. They both laughed in delight.
Gus Moss was in love. It never once occurred to him that Miss Amy Baran might be using him for his Christmas trees. He told himself his heart would know if that was the case.
Amy Baran tried to still her pounding heart. It never once occurred to her that Gus Moss might be using her and her PR campaign to sell his Christmas trees. If that were the case, she told herself, her heart wouldn’t be pounding the way it was.
At one point, Gus moved to the other side of the booth, where they talked in low whispers about everything and anything. Without realizing it, he reached for Amy’s hand. She exerted a little pressure to show she didn’t mind this closeness.
It was eleven-thirty when Gus paid the check and walked Amy to her car. He wanted to kiss her so bad his teeth ached with the feeling. Something told him this wasn’t the time.
Suddenly he was jolted forward when Amy grabbed the lapels of his shearling jacket and pulled him to her, where she put a lip-lock on him that made his world rock right out from under him. When she finally released him, she smiled. “I’ll see you at six o’clock tomorrow morning, Gus Moss.” She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Dream about me, okay?”
Gus stood statue-still as he watched his love drive away. His fist shot upward. “Yessss!”
Sam Moss looked down at the oversize watch on his wrist, a gift from Gus a few years ago. It was almost midnight, and his well-meaning Seniors were pooped to the nth degree. Tillie, at his side, looked like she was going to collapse any minute, but she was still wearing her game face. “This isn’t working, Tillie. They mean well, their minds want to do this but their bodies aren’t willing. I think we need to fall back and regroup.”
“I know, Sam. Can we go someplace where it’s warm and talk about it? I’m worried about some of them. Let’s all go over to the all-night diner and decide what we’re going to do. I didn’t think getting old was going to be this devastating. My daughter was right, making arrangements via cell phone and doing the actual work are two different things. I owe her an apology. Actually I owe her more—”
“Shhh,” Sam said as he put his finger near her lips. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to the men, you talk to the ladies. If nothing else, we have enough branches and limbs to make a good many wreathes and grave blankets. Three and a half hours, and all we managed was to cut down six trees, and even with all our manpower we can’t get the trees into the trucks. You’re right, Tillie, we’re old. Where in the hell did all the wisdom we’re supposed to have go?”
How sad he sounds, Tillie thought. She tried then to do what all women had done since the beginning of time—bolster up the big man standing next to her. “I think, Sam, we transferred our wisdom to our children because they turned out to be know-it-alls.”
Her words had the desired effect. Sam guffawed as he drew her to him with his arm. Tillie felt light-headed. “Let’s get our work crew and head for the diner. Breakfast, dinner, whatever, is on me. Snap to it, little lady. I’ll meet all of you at the diner.”
Tillie found herself giggling. Dear God, have I ever giggled like this? Never, as far as I can remember. Suddenly, she felt warm all over as she herded the female Seniors to cars for transport to the diner. She felt guilty as she realized not one of them would have given up, even knowing they weren’t carrying their weight.
“Look, we didn’t really fail. We’re going to rethink this. When we’re warm with some good food, we’ll come up with a better idea.” Tillie wondered if what she was saying was true.
They were a weary, bedraggled group as they trooped into Stan’s Diner, which was open twenty-four hours a day. Two police officers were paying for take-out coffee and Danish. Otherwise, the diner was empty.
The women all headed for the restrooms to wash the pine resin off their hands. Tillie sat down, her shoulders slumping. How had it come to this? She hoped she was strong enough not to cry.
Within minutes, Sam and the weary male Seniors blew into the diner. Stan, the owner, greeted them, his eyes full of questions. Sam took him aside to speak with him. Within minutes, the waiters had the tables pushed together and Stan had his marching orders. Hot chocolate, tea and coffee were brought. Taking into consideration the Seniors’ health, Sam ordered Egg Beaters omelets, turkey bacon, oven-baked potatoes, and toast.
When
