I let out a dry chuckle. “What can I say? She’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me. In a lot of ways—she saved me.”
He got closer to me, deciding to examine a plush elf on a rack beside us. “I know that you’ll always appreciate her. Because I know that the day you don’t, she’ll probably leave and find something better. There’s always someone waiting for that to happen.”
I quietly looked at him as he blankly stared back at me. His expression was stone-like, and I wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish here.What message was he trying to convey to me? That he was going to steal her from me?
“I’ll always appreciate her, you don’t have to worry about that—my friend,” I replied icily, refusing to break eye contact with him.
Joseph’s stony face broke into a smile as he patted me on the back a bit too aggressively. “I’m just messing with ya! You know that, right? I’m just the jokester, man. We’re all good.”
I looked away from him, anger inflating my chest. “Right, I know that. You’re just full of jokes, aren’t you?”
“That I am. Around the holidays I get jollier too.”
I paused for a second, contemplating on whether or not I should say it, to save my dignity. “And full of yourself,” I ended up saying.
His eyes locked onto mine, his face turning sour. I waited for his smart-ass reply.
He smiled and laughed. “That’s a good one, Lenny!” He fist-bumped me and then walked to the front of the store. “Happy Holidays, man! Good luck with Angela and that gift!” he pushed open the door and left.
“Yeah, you too, Joseph,” I quietly said through gritted teeth. I barely considered him a friend, but I tolerated him because there weren’t many people who lived in Whisper’s Creek to begin with.He also worked with Angela in the mayor’s office. He was a maintenance man. I was sure he stared at her any chance he got. It made my blood boil.
I watched him walk out of the shop from the window, his shoulders hunched against the sharp, cold winds. Part of me wanted to brush off his strange commentary, and I told myself it was harmless. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. What he said still didn’t sit right with me, no matter how hard I tried to set it aside. It still lingered in my mind, dark possibilities echoing around my head.
I didn’t like the idea that he thought about her in ways he shouldn’t have. I was sure that he wanted her all to himself, the secret sicko.
I picked up the chain and paid for it, eager to be on my way. The winds seemed to be picking up, and I still had a bit of a long way to go before I’d be home. The town was beginning to look like a white blur, the snowfall thickening by the second.
I cut across the town square, the sound of the wind howling in my ears. As I trudged through the rising snow, crunching through ice with each step, I couldn’t help but glance at the shop windows—glowy, blinking lights reflecting off the glass, all those colors that were synonymous with the Christmas holiday.
Something rose in my throat, a dry lump that made tears fall from my eyes. It was hard for me during this time of year. It reminded me of what had happened—something that’d haunt me for the rest of my life.
I shook my head, trying to forget about what had happened. I’d rather focus on the future and the happiness I could still one day attain.
Once I reached the outskirts of the town square, there wasn’t much for miles—just a bunch of snowy fields, trees, and the occasional farmhouse. Most of them were abandoned. I worked in one that wasn’t.
Eventually, I crossed paths with my employer. There was George St. Nicklaus sitting on his front porch, outside his little farmhouse, his bulk blocking the door. He was hard to miss, like a living, breathing Santa Claus clone—red-faced, round as a caramel apple, and always coincidentally wearing winter attire that included color palettes of red, green, and white. His thick white beard always made me think of a worn-out Santa, minus the jolly part. I called him “Grumpy Claus” behind his back, of course. Although the man had a temper and had trust issues, he trusted me with a key to the farmhouse.
“Lenny!” he boomed, spotting me from across the street. “Did you get that ham I told you about?”
I forced a grateful smile. “Yeah, I got it, George.”
He grunted, his beady eyes nervously scanning across the snowy land. “Good. That’s the only thing that makes this damn season worth my time. You can never beat my Christmas ham. Clara used to love it and always devoured it. I make the best damn Christmas ham in this godforsaken town!”
I had no idea why he had such a fascination with ham, but so be it. Everyone needed something to fixate on in life. I fixated on how much I hated living in Whisper’s Creek, but in secret. Angela was the only light in my life, and I never wanted to upset her—part of the reason I was buying her the chain.
Clara was George’s daughter. She went missing about a year ago, creepily vanished without a trace, though George is convinced someone killed her. That’s when the trouble began—when Clara disappeared into thin air.
He stood up, shaking his candy cane at me. “By the way, come by to fix those bathroom cabinets. I don’t like seeing them open when I’m trying to squeeze the excrement out of my—”
“I’ll handle it! I got it—don’t you worry, sir.” I nodded politely, feeling the weight of his angry eyes on me as I turned to leave.
George was one of those bitter old men who had no one left in life—no one left to love or yell at. Those were his words, not mine.
But underneath that grumpy attitude, he had a softness when it came to Clara. He did love his only daughter, maybe a little too much—according to the townsfolk. From what I observed when she was still around, he liked to control her and frequently told her what to do. She didn’t like that. She was 22 years old, and she liked to do as she pleased. I never meddled in those affairs, but I often wondered what might’ve happened to little Clara St. Nicklaus.
With a quick, respectful nod to Grumpy Claus, I marched on, wrapping my reindeer-themed coat tighter around my chest against the freezing winds that had picked up. I wasn’t far from home now.
It was a hard town to love, Whisper’s Creek. Angela had always been able to find the simple beauty in it. It was one of the things I admired most about her, the way she could see hope in places where it seemed like it had died a long time ago.
