No need to tell Adam. Easier for everyone, you know. We can help you with the cover, if you like.” He picked up the phone.
Archer stopped and turned around, finally nodding. She was at her old table in the basement before she realized she had never mentioned Adam’s name to him or anyone else at the job.
* * *
For the first time in her life, Archer couldn’t make it home for Christmas. Her father said he understood that her career had to come first. She would miss seeing his eager face peering out as she pulled into the driveway on Christmas Eve. Adam was disappointed, too, but seemed to revel vicariously in her trip to Paris on government business. He told her the best places for a Christmas Eve dinner on the Left Bank, having gotten the scoop from Cody Geronomo.
In fact, Archer was in Syracuse, not Paris, mastering the cleaning, assembling, and loading of various firearms in the dark, while on her knees in a forest blanketed with ten inches of snow. On Christmas day, Archer and her colleagues ate turkey while sitting on benches at a long table. Archer put a bouquet of wildflowers in a glass, and three candles on the table—for “atmosphere,” as she put it. The rest of the group teased her.
“ Oh, yeah, Arch, now, that makes all the difference.”
“ Hey, Arch. Are you sure those flowers aren’t wired, Arch? Everything else around here is.”
“ Oh, yeah, I never noticed what a gorgeous place this is by candlelight, Arch. Thanks for making all this possible. You’ve opened my eyes. In fact, I think I love you, Loh.”
Archer gave him a mock sneer. “Shut up, Dobbs, or I’ll forget it’s Christmas and give you the finger.”
“ Oooh, no, not the finger.”
“ Yeah, Arch, when we run into the bad guys, be sure to give them the finger. That should scare them to death.”
“ Just be sure, Arch, that some finger, any finger, is on the trigger of your Uzi.”
Everyone hooted, including Dobbs.
“ She’s got your number, Dobbs.”
“ Hey, Dobbs, even in the dark, you’re stump ugly.”
Banter aside, they were touched by Archer’s gesture and pleased they weren’t alone on Christmas on this dreary Syracuse afternoon. One of the West Point guys, Davis Jones, sat down at the spinet piano wedged haphazardly into one corner of the dining room. To Archer’s surprise, he was a more than competent player.
“ Man, I loved Christmas as a kid,” said Davis, getting up from the piano to eat with the others. “My brothers and I lived for it. My mother could get us to do anything just by saying, ‘Just wait till Christmas.’ We were poor as church mice then, but we remember a really happy childhood, and Christmas was the happiest day of the year.”
“That’s funny, I always hated Christmas,” said Deke Curran, taking a bite of stuffing but not before scrutinizing its lumpy texture. “So many expectations, and then my father would get drunk by five on Christmas Eve, my mother would end up crying and yelling at us kids, and we would cry and yell at our father for hurting our mother. I couldn’t wait for it all to be over and go back to school. How about you, Archer? Bleak House or It’s a Wonderful Life ?”
“ Hmm. Well, I had a pretty happy childhood, guys. No dark stuff, and I loved Christmas. Still do. But it’s different now. When you’re a kid, it’s about the stuff. Now it’s more about getting together with family, since we’re all going in different directions the rest of the year and don’t live together,” she said thoughtfully. “Guess we’re each other’s family this year.” She paused. “And come to think of it, I barely even like you guys.”
“ Hey, it is just like family. I hate my sister Sherrie; what an asshole she is. And I’m not too crazy about my brother, either. This is just like Christmas at home, now that I think of it. I hate you guys, I really do!” Harrison Dobbs exclaimed, grinning and helping himself to more turkey and gravy.
Everyone laughed,
Archer stopped and turned around, finally nodding. She was at her old table in the basement before she realized she had never mentioned Adam’s name to him or anyone else at the job.
* * *
For the first time in her life, Archer couldn’t make it home for Christmas. Her father said he understood that her career had to come first. She would miss seeing his eager face peering out as she pulled into the driveway on Christmas Eve. Adam was disappointed, too, but seemed to revel vicariously in her trip to Paris on government business. He told her the best places for a Christmas Eve dinner on the Left Bank, having gotten the scoop from Cody Geronomo.
In fact, Archer was in Syracuse, not Paris, mastering the cleaning, assembling, and loading of various firearms in the dark, while on her knees in a forest blanketed with ten inches of snow. On Christmas day, Archer and her colleagues ate turkey while sitting on benches at a long table. Archer put a bouquet of wildflowers in a glass, and three candles on the table—for “atmosphere,” as she put it. The rest of the group teased her.
“ Oh, yeah, Arch, now, that makes all the difference.”
“ Hey, Arch. Are you sure those flowers aren’t wired, Arch? Everything else around here is.”
“ Oh, yeah, I never noticed what a gorgeous place this is by candlelight, Arch. Thanks for making all this possible. You’ve opened my eyes. In fact, I think I love you, Loh.”
Archer gave him a mock sneer. “Shut up, Dobbs, or I’ll forget it’s Christmas and give you the finger.”
“ Oooh, no, not the finger.”
“ Yeah, Arch, when we run into the bad guys, be sure to give them the finger. That should scare them to death.”
“ Just be sure, Arch, that some finger, any finger, is on the trigger of your Uzi.”
Everyone hooted, including Dobbs.
“ She’s got your number, Dobbs.”
“ Hey, Dobbs, even in the dark, you’re stump ugly.”
Banter aside, they were touched by Archer’s gesture and pleased they weren’t alone on Christmas on this dreary Syracuse afternoon. One of the West Point guys, Davis Jones, sat down at the spinet piano wedged haphazardly into one corner of the dining room. To Archer’s surprise, he was a more than competent player.
“ Man, I loved Christmas as a kid,” said Davis, getting up from the piano to eat with the others. “My brothers and I lived for it. My mother could get us to do anything just by saying, ‘Just wait till Christmas.’ We were poor as church mice then, but we remember a really happy childhood, and Christmas was the happiest day of the year.”
“That’s funny, I always hated Christmas,” said Deke Curran, taking a bite of stuffing but not before scrutinizing its lumpy texture. “So many expectations, and then my father would get drunk by five on Christmas Eve, my mother would end up crying and yelling at us kids, and we would cry and yell at our father for hurting our mother. I couldn’t wait for it all to be over and go back to school. How about you, Archer? Bleak House or It’s a Wonderful Life ?”
“ Hmm. Well, I had a pretty happy childhood, guys. No dark stuff, and I loved Christmas. Still do. But it’s different now. When you’re a kid, it’s about the stuff. Now it’s more about getting together with family, since we’re all going in different directions the rest of the year and don’t live together,” she said thoughtfully. “Guess we’re each other’s family this year.” She paused. “And come to think of it, I barely even like you guys.”
“ Hey, it is just like family. I hate my sister Sherrie; what an asshole she is. And I’m not too crazy about my brother, either. This is just like Christmas at home, now that I think of it. I hate you guys, I really do!” Harrison Dobbs exclaimed, grinning and helping himself to more turkey and gravy.
Everyone laughed,
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