great,” Billy said.
“It’s dumb economically,” Gerald muttered. “If a business can’t make it without help from charity, it deserves to go under.”
“I’ll get your Irish coffee,” Kate said, turning to leave.
“Wait a minute,” Gerald said in a softer tone. “You don’t have to get all bent out of shape because I’m practical. Actually, it’s a very nice thing you’re doing.”
“Thank you,” Kate replied.
Gerald reached out to touch her arm. “Hey, Kate,” he said. “You haven’t seen my new apartment.”
“I haven’t seen your old apartment,” she countered.
“That’s right,” he retorted. “The lights were out.”
Seeing the fire in her eyes, Gerald laughed elaborately. “Just kidding,” he said. “But why don’t we have dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got to work.”
“Tell Dorry you’re sick. He won’t be able to dock you.”
Kate smiled mirthlessly, shook her head no, and left. Gerald watched her with smoldering, lustful eyes. Then he looked at Billy in a conspiratorial manner. “You think she’s got something going with Dorry?” he asked.
“Dorry?” Billy laughed. “He’s in his forties, maybe old enough to be her grandfather.”
“Why else would she work for free?”
“You ever hear of the Christmas spirit?” Billy challenged.
“Only the kind that comes in a bottle.” Gerald smiled.
“I’m sorry for you.”
“Don’t be.”
Billy swallowed the last of his beer, threw a dollar on the table, and stood up. “That’s for Kate,” he said. “And thanks a lot for the drink, Ger.”
“I told you never to—”
But Billy didn’t hear the rest. He was already halfway to the door. As he reached out to push it open, he spotted Kate coming out of the back room and into the bar. She smiled warmly at him and winked.
It was chilly outside, but during his walk home Billy hardly felt it.
C H A P T E R
SEVEN
L ynn Peltzer always felt an extra twinge of nervousness around Christmas time. It hadn’t always been that way. Growing up in a suburb of Pittsburgh, she had been a fairly normal child of a middle-class family. Christmas excited her because she usually received some new clothes and a few special things. In addition, she enjoyed picking out presents for other people, anticipating their joy as they opened them. Though not especially religious, she also enjoyed the holiday because it seemed symbolic of new hope, kindness, and generosity.
Not until she met Rand Peltzer did she begin to associate Christmas with danger.
Neither he nor she had intended it to happen that way. Nearly a quarter century before, when they were married, both of them had had high expectations that someday Rand would have his face on the cover of Time magazine. He had not gone to college, but when he patented a simple device that made it easier for laundries to locate their customers’ clothes, he seemed to be on his way. Taking a smooth-talking friend’s advice, Rand quit his job in the sporting goods department of a large store and “invested in himself,” as he put it. His lifelong desire was to be another Thomas Edison, and to that end he forthwith applied himself. The money ran out soon, most of the inventions gathered dust, and eventually he was forced to find a job selling other people’s wares, but Rand never really gave up. Working in his spare time, he continued to conceive and construct new instruments to benefit society.
The problem was that they were usually tested first on Lynn, and almost always as Christmas presents.
The first year Lynn received an automatic, “painless” ear-piercing device for use in the home. It sent Lynn to the hospital emergency room Christmas night and it was well after New Year’s before she could remove the bandages from her earlobes. The next year an improved fingernail polish remover caused something strange and crusty to grow on her nails and remain there for several months.
“It’s dumb economically,” Gerald muttered. “If a business can’t make it without help from charity, it deserves to go under.”
“I’ll get your Irish coffee,” Kate said, turning to leave.
“Wait a minute,” Gerald said in a softer tone. “You don’t have to get all bent out of shape because I’m practical. Actually, it’s a very nice thing you’re doing.”
“Thank you,” Kate replied.
Gerald reached out to touch her arm. “Hey, Kate,” he said. “You haven’t seen my new apartment.”
“I haven’t seen your old apartment,” she countered.
“That’s right,” he retorted. “The lights were out.”
Seeing the fire in her eyes, Gerald laughed elaborately. “Just kidding,” he said. “But why don’t we have dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got to work.”
“Tell Dorry you’re sick. He won’t be able to dock you.”
Kate smiled mirthlessly, shook her head no, and left. Gerald watched her with smoldering, lustful eyes. Then he looked at Billy in a conspiratorial manner. “You think she’s got something going with Dorry?” he asked.
“Dorry?” Billy laughed. “He’s in his forties, maybe old enough to be her grandfather.”
“Why else would she work for free?”
“You ever hear of the Christmas spirit?” Billy challenged.
“Only the kind that comes in a bottle.” Gerald smiled.
“I’m sorry for you.”
“Don’t be.”
Billy swallowed the last of his beer, threw a dollar on the table, and stood up. “That’s for Kate,” he said. “And thanks a lot for the drink, Ger.”
“I told you never to—”
But Billy didn’t hear the rest. He was already halfway to the door. As he reached out to push it open, he spotted Kate coming out of the back room and into the bar. She smiled warmly at him and winked.
It was chilly outside, but during his walk home Billy hardly felt it.
C H A P T E R
SEVEN
L ynn Peltzer always felt an extra twinge of nervousness around Christmas time. It hadn’t always been that way. Growing up in a suburb of Pittsburgh, she had been a fairly normal child of a middle-class family. Christmas excited her because she usually received some new clothes and a few special things. In addition, she enjoyed picking out presents for other people, anticipating their joy as they opened them. Though not especially religious, she also enjoyed the holiday because it seemed symbolic of new hope, kindness, and generosity.
Not until she met Rand Peltzer did she begin to associate Christmas with danger.
Neither he nor she had intended it to happen that way. Nearly a quarter century before, when they were married, both of them had had high expectations that someday Rand would have his face on the cover of Time magazine. He had not gone to college, but when he patented a simple device that made it easier for laundries to locate their customers’ clothes, he seemed to be on his way. Taking a smooth-talking friend’s advice, Rand quit his job in the sporting goods department of a large store and “invested in himself,” as he put it. His lifelong desire was to be another Thomas Edison, and to that end he forthwith applied himself. The money ran out soon, most of the inventions gathered dust, and eventually he was forced to find a job selling other people’s wares, but Rand never really gave up. Working in his spare time, he continued to conceive and construct new instruments to benefit society.
The problem was that they were usually tested first on Lynn, and almost always as Christmas presents.
The first year Lynn received an automatic, “painless” ear-piercing device for use in the home. It sent Lynn to the hospital emergency room Christmas night and it was well after New Year’s before she could remove the bandages from her earlobes. The next year an improved fingernail polish remover caused something strange and crusty to grow on her nails and remain there for several months.
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