“Huh. Any ideas for Christmas?” she asked.
“Maybe a golf laser rangefinder?” I pondered. There was nothing wrong with copying presents, but I didn’t think Aiden liked to golf as much as did Uncle Sean.
“No. Too impersonal for a first Christmas present,” Tessa mused, tapping her finger on her bottom lip.
I sighed. She was correct. “Are you getting Nick anything?”
Her neck straightened. “No. We’re not dating.”
Yeah, I needed to get on that. As a potential matchmaker, I was really falling down on the job. I glanced at my watch. An earlier call to the hospital had confirmed that Bernie would be released at ten, and I’d already called Florence, Thelma, and Georgiana and told them all that I’d pick him up. A worse storm was supposedly coming in, and I thought it would have arrived by now, but only light flakes wafted down outside. “When do you need your car back?”
“When you’re done with it,” Tessa said breezily. “I’ll have Bosco pick me up here. We’re going to Margo’s Thai at noon if you want to join us. I think Donna is going to try to finish with her showings by then and meet us. I guess she’s seeing Aiden about a new lease first? That’s exciting.”
“I know.” I grinned. “It’s the old spa.” Good memories. I’d talked Tessa into getting a treatment that had turned out to be a Brazilian, and she was probably still planning her revenge. Still, it had been hilarious. And we’d taken down a drug operation, so there was that.
I scooted from the booth, handed her money for the bill, and accepted her keys. “Thanks, T.”
She’d already bustled down to take care of a mom trying to manage three toddlers in one booth.
I watched the smallest one try to shove part of a napkin up his nose. Nope. Definitely not ready for little Irish babies, even if they did all look like Aiden. Walking outside, I took stock of my surroundings, looking for any threats. My guess was that the red truck shooter had been aiming for Bernie, considering there was something definitely up with that Kringle Club, but it never hurt to be careful.
The snow gently fell, and I dodged around to the back of the building to find Tessa’s Rogue. After scraping off the windows with the ultra-scraper from her back seat, I plopped my butt into the driver’s seat and pulled out, heading toward the hospital. Her snow tires gripped the streets perfectly, and I arrived in time to find Bernie waiting in a wheelchair, arguing with the nurse pushing him. His face cleared when he saw me.
I took his bag of clothes. “You ready?”
“Yes.” He tried to stand and the nurse shook her head. “I can walk.”
“Policy.” She was around fifty with braided gray hair and no-nonsense efficiency. She rolled him out to the car, which I’d parked right by the entrance. She helped load him, and then we were off.
He sighed. “The bullet ruined my Santa suit. Do you know how to sew?”
“Not really,” I admitted, turning left toward his area of town. “Would it be possible to buy a new Santa suit?”
His bushy eyebrows danced. “It would. Would you take me shopping tomorrow? There’s a great store in Spokane, over by Earl’s.”
Hmm. I thought about it. I wouldn’t mind talking to Earl again about that engagement ring without Florence there. “Sure. I have hearings in the morning but could pick you up around two in the afternoon. For now, talk to me. Tell me about the night you and Sharon hooked up.” I wasn’t sure elderly Santas really hooked up, but I wanted to keep the conversation as neutral as possible.
He sighed. “I told you. Went to poker, got toasted, and woke up in bed with Sharon.”
I took another turn, careful of the icy road. “Do you remember, um, well, the night?”
“No. I was naked and she was, too. She said we, well, you know.”
My ears pricked. “But you don’t remember it?”
“No.” He slunk down in the passenger seat. “I felt terrible and told Florence right when I got home, begging for forgiveness.” His hands shook as he patted down the hospital scrubs somebody had given him. “She isn’t the forgiving type. I really screwed up.”
It sounded like he might not have. “What if you didn’t?”
He shook his head. “Even if I didn’t, I wasn’t a good husband. During that time, I was playing poker a lot. Way too much. I lost a bundle, and she was right to leave me. The Sharon night was just the final straw, you know? I was such a dope.”
“She still cares for you,” I said.
He turned toward me, hope alighting on his weathered face. “Do you really think so?”
“Yeah. She came to the hospital when you were shot and was in a panic.”
His shoulders went back. “I don’t know. It’s too much to hope for. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t have that threesome with Thelma and Georgiana.”
