Otis’s face turned red with effort and a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. “Nope.” He dropped his side onto the table and Drake pushed with his legs to get his section on far enough the whole thing wouldn’t topple to the floor. It made an unholy sound as it scraped the worktable and he cringed.
“Then I think we should reinforce the claw brake with steel. It won’t add that much weight, but it’ll give you more control.” He swiped his forehead.
Otis ambled to a shelf and retrieved two welding masks. He handed one to Drake. “Good idea.”
They continued to take things apart until the trailer was a sad looking shell on cinder blocks. Otis pulled the concrete blocks out of all sorts of places, causing Drake to wonder if what looked like chaos to him was actually a form of organization. Otis went to a dorm-like fridge and pulled out a couple of sodas. He handed one to Drake.
Drake accepted the drink, wanting to protest against pausing when there was still daylight. But he was at Otis’s mercy and didn’t want to push the man too far. He already looked like he’d be sleeping in menthol cream tonight. He popped the top and let the fizz settle before taking a sip.
Feeling restless, he moved to the sled and pulled the cover all the way off. He used his phone to make a punch list. Then he listed the parts and supplies he needed to get it done.
Otis gave the sled a good shake. “Grandpa built it right. I don’t work much with wood, though. Metal’s my thing.” His phone rang, and he answered. “We have a couple more hours. Yep. Yep. Bye.” He hung up. “Dinner’ll be on the table at six. I gotta quit then or the missus will have my hide.”
Drake laughed and lifted his soda can. “That’s why I’m staying single.”
Otis dribbled soda down his chin as he stared at Drake like he’d grown a fur coat. “You don’t want to get married?”
Drake shook his head. “I’m the king of my castle.” Why did that sound so hollow when he said it in front of Otis? When he gloated to his brothers about leaving the toilet seat up, he always felt strong and somehow superior to their puppy-love.
Otis waved his can. “What about the lady you’ve been hanging around town with?”
“She’s just a—.” His voice caught, and he had to clear his throat. “We’re friends. Sort of. I mean, she kicked snow on me today so I don’t know if I can claim friendship.” He chuckled again at goading her. Why did he like getting a rise out of her so much?
Otis shook his head in disappointment.
Drake squirmed. He didn’t like the feeling of deficiency that slithered up his spine. He’d chosen the single life on purpose. He liked it. He didn’t need to excuse himself or his choices. “Did you want me to check the tanks before we get started?” He wandered to the two army-grade C25 cylinders.
Throwing back the rest of his soda, Otis crushed the can and tossed it into a metal garbage, where it clanged against the side before settling. “Don’t want to be late for my home-cooked pork roast and potatoes.” He smirked at Drake, rubbing in that he’d have a good meal tonight.
Joke was on him. Judy promised to have dinner ready when he got back to the B&B. He was about to point that out when Otis added, “Can’t wait to hold a warm lady close tonight–it’s supposed to get down to 27 degrees. Hope you have an extrablanket.” He saidblanketlike a white elephant gift no one wanted.
Drake smirked in return. Having four older brothers taught him to hold back once in a while. He stood back and took a picture of the sled. He sent it to Pax with a text that read:Restoration ideas?
Pax:Call me in a couple of hours–we’ll talk.
Drake wrinkled his nose as if he’d stepped in reindeer poop. He tucked his phone away and went to work. True to his promise, they had the axle ready for installation before the dinner bell rang. He and Otis said goodbye, and Drake called Pax on his way back to the B&B. “Merry Christmas, Pax,” he said when his brother picked up.
“Ho Ho Ho,” Pax replied. “Where are you?”
“Small town Montana.” He replied quickly. “I’m waiting on a repair and told a guy I’d help him fix up his sled.”
Pax was the one who designed and built their flying sleigh. It was made from lighter-weight metals and woods and painted Christmas green. Every year one of them dressed up like Saint Nick and rode through town in the red sleigh pulled by a non-flying reindeer—bells jingling. It was a lot of fun for the kids to look out their window and see Santa drive by.
Pax sighed. “Look. We’re all upset about things, but now we’re worried about you, too.”
Drake smacked his gloves against his thigh. “Well, don’t.”
“Okay.” Pax was full of sarcasm. “Yeah. We’ll just cut off caring about you all together as easy as turning off a faucet. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Grinch.” Drake pulled his shoulders back. “Look. I’m in the middle of something that’s going to be big for the family. I want it to be a surprise.”
“It already is. You should have seen us when you didn’t show up for work–surprise!”
“You know what?” Drake stalked to the tool shelves and grabbed a hammer, not even sure why. He shoved it back in place. “I covered for you when you took off to California.”
“That was a planned vacation. You knew six months before I left that I was going!” Pax shouted now.
“So, are you mad that I’m gone? That I left without telling you? Or that you had to do extra work?”
