A christmas charm, p.12
A Christmas Charm, page 12
“Yes,” the small girl said, her dark eyes round as saucers.
Olivia closed the distance between them. “Hello! Mrs. García, is it?”
“Gabriella, Si. Yes, ma’am,” the woman replied in broken English.
“I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. I want to thank you for allowing your daughter to sing in the pageant.”
“I get off work now,” the woman admitted. “Para hacer honesta.” It’s a convenience.
“Lucky for us,” Oliva said. “Amelie has a lovely voice. But I’m sure you’re already aware of that.”
“Oh, yes.” Mrs. García beamed at her daughter. “She sing all the time with TV, the radio. Always sing. Her Papá say she his canarito.”
“I’ll have you know your little canary will be playing the part of Mary in our nativity scene.” Olivia grinned as she delivered this news.
Mrs. García gasped and took a step back. “Gracias, Miss. Is an honor.”
Rhett came to stand behind Olivia. “Yes, it is,” he said. “But your girl’s gifted. She deserves a chance.”
“If you don’t mind,” Olivia said. “I’d like to give her some voice lessons. No charge, of course.”
Gabriella put a hand to her chest. “That would be…” She struggled for the words in English, but they would not come. “Que bendición,” she said. “¡Muchas Gracias!”
“Good. Then that’s settled.” Olivia hunkered down, coming eye to eye with Amelie, and wrinkled her nose. “Now, home with you, little canary. And don’t overdo it with the singing. You’ve got to keep that voice of yours in shape for the pageant.”
Amelie and her mother smiled their thanks and turned away.
“Wow,” Lance breathed, his eyes following the beautiful child and her mother as they made their way down the street. “You just never know, do you?”
“No,” Olivia agreed. “Her family’s been in Crystal Falls for less than a year. God knows the hardships they endured coming here, fleeing Guatemala with only the clothes on their backs. The church is sponsoring them. Amelie has an older brother, you see. He was being coerced into joining a gang, and…”
“Oh, hell,” Lance muttered.
“They’re not legal. But the church is helping them navigate the system. With a little assistance and a lot of luck, they’ll assimilate.”
“I’m not an immigration attorney, but perhaps I could do something to help them out.”
Olivia shot Lance a grateful smile. “That would be wonderful.”
“Gorgeous girl,” Rhett said. “Talented, too.”
“Well.” Lance focused on Olivia. “I thought maybe we could have a nightcap.” He turned and looked hard at Rhett, hoping the oversized windbag would graciously bow out.
Instead, Rhett said, “Great idea! I could do with a brew.”
Lance rolled his eyes, and then he turned back to Olivia. “What do you say?”
“Fine by me.”
“Nesbitt’s?”
“Where else?”
The three set off down the street, Lance on Olivia’s right, Rhett on her left, both men with guitar cases slung over their broad shoulders.
Rhett pushed open the door of the pub, and the threesome clamored in, snickering at some lame joke he’d cracked. All the booths were occupied. After a quick look around, they made a beeline to an empty four-top in the back of the pub and began shedding their outerwear.
Although the dining room was nearly full, only a few patrons sat at the bar. Charlie breezed out from the kitchen, took one look at Olivia and her two escorts, and did a doubletake.
He grabbed three menus and then strode to their table. “One’s not enough for you, huh, sweetheart?”
Charlie winked at Olivia as though they shared some secret, and Olivia couldn’t help but laugh. She knew it was absurd, but she felt safe in the company of these three very disparate men.
Rhett guffawed good-naturedly at the bar owner’s suggestive comment, but Lance merely looked glum.
“I’ll have you know, Mr. Nesbitt,” Olivia said. “I was told by a local authority, mind you, that these two prime specimens are the most eligible bachelors in Crystal Falls County.”
“Madam,” Charlie bowed slightly at the waist. “You were not misinformed. Need a menu, or do you know what you want?” He looked pointedly at Olivia, an impish grin on his face, and it was apparent he was not speaking of menu items.
Olivia shot him a sugary smile, pretending not to get the gist of his comment. “I want something hot. How about an Irish coffee?”
“Warm the cockles of your heart?”
“Make mine a Guinness,” Rhett said.
“Stout!” Charlie cried.
“Chavis on ice,” Lance said.
“Regal,” Charlie shot back.
The mood lightened and they all chuckled, and then Charlie crossed to the bar.
“So, how’s the pageant shaping up?” Lance asked.
“Very well.” Olivia turned to her partner in song, naked admiration in her eyes. “Rhett’s written some fabulous new material, and he’s agreed to debut his compositions at the pageant.” She swiveled to face Lance. “Isn’t that special?”
Rhett shrugged away the compliment, and Lance raised his eyebrows. “Impressive.”
“The kids are so darn cute,” Rhett said. “Doesn’t matter whether they mess up or not; they’ll be a hit in any case.”
“Say, I ran into Aiden McGill.” Lance eyed Olivia. “Or, rather, he ran into me. The boy was all wound up. Said he was a person. What’s that all about?”
Olivia chuckled. “It means he’s not a star or an animal. He’s got a speaking part.”
Just then, Charlie arrived with their drinks order. “Here you go.” He set their glasses down. “And this is for the lady.” He placed a large basket on the table. “Homemade potato chips, on the house.”
“Yummy,” Olivia gushed. “Thanks, Charlie.”
“Where are the usual suspects, Charlie?” Rhett glanced at the nearly empty bar and then reached for a chip. “It’s awfully quiet around here tonight.”
The tavern keeper put a finger to his lips. “Got us a poker game in the back, but you didn’t hear it from me. Wouldn’t want to get busted or nothing. Of course, the fact that the sheriff is winning might preclude that from happening.”
“I thought the poker game was at Timmy Corker’s,” Lance said, munching on a chip.
“Change of plans,” Charlie said. “Lizzy Corker’s book club was having a meeting there. And that took precedence, don’t you know?”
In the next moment, the front door burst open, and like an ill wind, a stranger in a long dark coat over black trousers stormed in. He ripped the sunglasses from off his face, his head swinging from side to side as he scanned the room, crying, “Where is she?”
At the sound of his ornery bellow, every conversation ceased, and all eyes turned to the malcontent who’d have been deemed handsome had it not been for the evil sneer on his face.
Shrinking in her seat, Olivia’s formerly cheerful expression was transformed to a mask of horror.
It took but an instant for Eric to ferret her out and to take note of the two men accompanying her. Like a bull at Pamplona, he lowered his head, preparing to charge.
“Uh oh,” Rhett muttered as Eric steamed toward their booth. “This joker’s looking for trouble.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia noted that Lance was sizing up the madman suddenly hovering over them, and the light of recognition dawning in his eyes was impossible to miss. She saw, too, that Rhett appeared puzzled but ready for action.
“We need to talk.” Ignoring the men, Eric glowered at Olivia.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Olivia said, her voice low and firm. “I have nothing to say to you, Eric.” She struggled to present an unruffled demeanor, but under the table, she wrung the napkin on her lap.
Deliberately unhurried, Lance unfolded himself from the booth and rose to his full height, and Rhett gained his legs beside him. At six-foot-three, Lance was a good two inches taller than Eric. A gym rat and well-muscled, Rhett had about twenty pounds on him. The imposing pair presented a united front.
“Look at you. It didn’t take you long, you slu…”
Lance lunged for Eric, but Rhett held him back. Still, Lance’s face was inches from that of the interloper. “Shut your filthy mouth.” He renewed his efforts to get at Eric, but Rhett continued to restrain him.
Wolflike, Eric bared his teeth.
“Eric!” Olivia jumped to her feet. “Stop!”
“It appears the lady is not interested in anything you have to say.” Rhett put his face in Eric’s.
At that moment, Chester sauntered in from the back room. “Charlie, what’s holding up those dri…” Bewildered, Chester’s words died in his throat as he looked from Charlie to Olivia and her companions, to the stranger who appeared to be itching for a fight. Slowly, he nodded his head. Then he turned to the open doorway. “Come out here, fellows.” He gestured for the men in the backroom to come and join him.
Charlie Nesbitt had been slinging drinks long enough to know when a potential confrontation required defusing. Deftly, he insinuated himself between Lance and Eric. “Okay, boys,” he said. “Break it up.”
Chester crossed down to the scene of the altercation and was soon joined by Timmy, Les, and the Crawford brothers, some with drinks still in hand. At the same time, two burly, uniformed state troopers entered the pub and crossed to stand behind Eric.
The sheriff puffed out his chest, planted his feet, and put a hand on his side holster. “Appears as though we’ve got us a sit-u-a-tion.” He tipped his hat at the state troopers. “Howdy, boys. What can we do for you?”
“You can get out of my way,” Eric snarled. “I’m here for my wife.”
Chester took this information in stride, turned, and peered sanguinely at the trooper’s badges. Then he took a step backward and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hmm,” he mused. “Kinda outta your jurisdiction, aren’t you, fellas? Let me see…that would be…uh…Mickey Duggan? He’s your chief. Am I right?”
The cops nodded, seeming both impressed and chastened.
“Yep. That’s what I thought. Listen, you boys best stay out of this. We don’t want no trouble.”
“That woman’s my wife.” Eric jabbed a finger in Olivia’s direction. “And she’s coming with me.”
Again, Lance lunged at Eric, and again Rhett held him back.
“Like hell she is!” Lance spat.
“She’s depressed,” Eric said. “Not in her right mind.” He swept open his long coat, withdrew an envelope from an inside pocket, and held it before him. “I’m having her Baker Acted. Here’s the paperwork. It’s for her own good.”
“Not in my county, you’re not,” Chester shot back. “That woman’s probably the most level-headed female I ever met in my life.”
“Look, Gomer. She’s my wife. You can’t stop me.”
“Oh, but I can,” Chester said, a grim smile on his face.
“You don’t seem to understand. I’m having her committed.”
Olivia’s eyes grew wide at this information. Even she could not believe the depths to which Eric would go to have his way.
“What is the matter with you?” she screeched.
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Cee-Cee appeared next to her. She wrapped an arm around Olivia’s quacking shoulder and whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you, girl. It’s going to be okay.”
“The only committing that’s going to happen here is you to the county jail.” Chester thrust a finger at Eric’s chest. “Lest you cease and desist, my friend.”
Lance, further incensed by Eric’s declaration, was still struggling against Rhett’s tree-trunk arms. He inched toward Eric by degrees.
Eric flinched. “Get away from me!”
Timmy saw the punch coming and tried to warn him. “Lance, watch out!”
But it was too late. Before Lance could react, Eric threw a sucker punch in his direction, and with Rhett restraining him, he was powerless to avoid the blow. It landed squarely on his nose. Blood spurted from his nostrils and poured down his face, and he bent at the waist, reeling from the impact.
“Oh, no.” Rhett roared. “No, you don’t!” He released Lance, drew back a fist the size of a small capon, and slugged Eric smack in the jaw.
A rounder!
Eric fell back into the arms of one of the police officers. The cop beside him looked baffled, uncertain how to proceed.
In the next instant, Eric wrested free. He wanted a fight. But was it with Lance or Rhett? He didn’t seem to know.
“Take it outside, boys,” Charlie cautioned.
Vince crossed to Lance, snagged a paper napkin off the table, and pressed it to his son’s nose. Lance snatched the napkin from his hand, swiped at his bloody nose, and then tossed it aside. Dog-like, he shook his head as if to clear it.
Vince retreated a few steps, coming to stand next to Rudy. Talking out of the side of his face in a stage whisper, he said, “Fifty bucks says Lance takes him.”
Rudy narrowed his eyes and took stock of Eric. “You’re on,” he breathed.
“Outside is fine by me,” Eric scoffed. “But I want a fair fight.” He shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor. “I’ll gladly have a go at both of you, but one at a time.”
Rhett looked at Lance, clearly ready to follow his lead, but Lance was focused on Eric and already moving. Rudely, Lance brushed past him, intentionally jostling him as he strode across the room toward the entrance.
Enraged, he spat between clenched teeth, “That won’t be necessary.”
“Lance, don’t,” Olivia wailed as Cee-Cee held her tightly.
Far past reason, Lance ignored her.
He exploded out the door.
THIRTEEN
DOWN FOR THE COUNT
It was smack dab in the middle of Main Street where Lance and Eric faced off. All of Charlie’s other patrons, the diners, the drinkers, and the gamblers, had surged outside to view the spectacle, calling out words of encouragement to Lance.
Slowly, Eric unknotted the silk tie about his neck, slipped it off, and then handed it to one of the cops. Then he rolled up his shirt sleeves and sneered at Lance.
“Show 'em what you got, Lance!” Vince cried.
“Pretty city boy, he’s no match for you, Lance,” Timmy hollered.
Eric wove and bobbed, displaying some former training in the ring. Lance was less skilled but more powerful. He kept his fists up and managed to avoid Eric’s first few jabs. But then Eric caught him with a glancing wallop to the jaw. Lance staggered but kept his feet. Mulishly, he endured Eric’s pummeling, waiting for an opening.
It was painful to watch the beating Lance was taking. Olivia cringed at each blow that found its mark. Eric threw yet another punch, but Lance wove and dodged the fist rocketing toward him, and that provided the moment he’d been waiting for. He drew back his right arm and, concentrating all his energy, crashed his knuckles into his opponent’s forehead. Eric’s head whipped back. Unseeing, his corneas retreated to his cerebellum. Then he hit the pavement.
He was out cold.
Lance, his shirt torn, his well-defined pecs heaving as blood coursed down his face, swayed over his fallen adversary. Olivia and Rhett rushed to him while Chester and the two policemen crossed to stand near the defeated pugilist.
Lance collapsed to his knees.
“Lance, are you hurt?” Olivia reached out to touch his battered face, but he jerked away, and, instead, she rummaged through the contents of her purse for a tissue. “Oh, my God!” she castigated herself as she dabbed at his wounds. “I was afraid something like this would happen.”
“Ugh.” Lance turned his head and spat blood. “I’m fine.”
Rhett put a hand under Lance’s arm and hauled him to his feet. “Hey, partner. You didn’t leave me a shot at the sonofaB.”
Lance managed a crooked smile.
Rudy upended his glass and tipped the ice dregs into a handkerchief. Then he and Vince crossed to Lance.
“You did good, son,” Rudy said, pressing the makeshift icepack to his nephew’s battered nose. “Cost me fifty bucks, but that’s okay.”
“You all right, son?” Vince asked.
Lance nodded. “Never better.”
Chester stood before the two state troopers. “You best bundle your friend into your paddy wagon and vamoose out of here, fellas. But before you leave, I need to get clear on an important detail.”
One officer, still kneeling by the unconscious Barone, adjusted his stance to focus on the sheriff, while the other stood respectfully before Chester, giving him his undivided attention.
“I ask you; is it necessary for me to give Mick Duggan a call?’
One of the troopers said, “No sir. We’re good, sir.”
The other shook his head. “Just a little misunderstanding, is all.”
“Well, understand this.” Chester rocked on his heels. “As far as I’m concerned, it never happened. Does that work for you boys?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
The officers dragged Eric to his feet. By this time, Les, Timmy, and Charlie had lined up behind Chester, while Olivia, Rhett, Rudy, and Vince surrounded Lance, and all the other patrons crowded around. It was an impressive show of solidarity, and the meaning was not lost on the highway troopers.
“One more thing,” Chester called, and the policemen turned to face him. “When that…” He pointed to Eric. “Whew, boy! Words fail me. When that…miserable excuse comes to…? You tell him, this is done.” Chester looked pointedly to Olivia for confirmation.
“It’s done,” she agreed. She turned to search Lance’s gaze.
He gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head, which was all he could muster, given the circumstances.
Chester looked around at the men and women of Crystal Falls, each of whom signaled their approval. “Olivia has people here,” he said. “She’s dug in. And we stand by our own. You got that?”
The cops nodded and then manhandled Eric toward one of their vehicles.
