Hope from the Ocean: 3

Sam and Jack were outside, fixing the melted fort as the snow covered the mountain again with a blanket of white winter warmth.  Todd was in the home office, engrossed in something, when Blair appeared at the door.  She said, "Hey, what are you doing?  Working on a snowday?"

"Yep.  Your aunt gave me that order, do something beautiful with what I've been given.  Well, I'm trying."

"Can I be involved?"

"Of course, you're always involved.  My partner in crime.  The most pathetic."

"Think we're beyond pathetic?"

"Maybe," he smirked.  He had accomplished a home, a family and a business, despite who he was and how pathetic things had been.

"So, what's next?"  Blair asked.

"Jenna.  And Lynnette.  They need support.  They can't keep living the way they are.  Both should be able to go to college and make something of themselves.  Jenna's art career should be taking off.  Lynnette, well, whatever she wants to do with her life, she should have the chance."

"What's your idea?"

"Couple things.  When Hope Weekend is over, we're opening an art gallery.  The Diamond Gallery.  Momma's art, and Jenna's, will be the first two artists there."

"Do you know anything about art dealership?"

"No, but I can learn.  I learned the paper, I can learn that."

"Dorian knows a little about it, Todd."

"You're not suggesting I hire Dorian, are you?"

"Not necessarily.  She used to co-own the Buchanan-Lord Art Gallery.  You knew that, right?"

"No.  Must have happened after I died.  The second time.  Or third.  I lose track."  He looked at Blair, who was nonchalantly fingering some paper clips on his desk.  He said, "Is this what you want, Babe?"

"It's not up to me.  But it might put this thing with the two of you to rest?  I mean, if she knows you're willing to include her, rely on her, maybe you could . . . I know, it's stupid."

"No, it's not.  Get her on the phone, will you?  I want to finish proofing this article."

***

"Glad to make your acquaintance," the man said.  He was short and stocky, and had thick glasses on the tip of his nose.  "I'm Leonard Basque, Employment Finder.  How do you do?"

He put out his hand, and Tina took it, shaking it and smiling.  "Nice to meet you."

"Now, sit down my dear, we have a lot of work to do.  First, an interest and experience survey.  I will ask some questions, you will answer.  All rightie?"

"Sure," she said, and sat in an uncomfortable but padded armchair.

"Now.  What jobs have you held in the past?"

Tina looked to the ceiling.  "Well, I . . . I . . . dogsat.  I mean, I had a dog.  I was a personal shopper once!"

"Those went out with the Internet.  Keep going."

"Um.  Well.  I . . . was an interior designer."

"Also went out with the Internet.  What I should say is, you're not that marketable in those areas.  How about we do this differently?  I read the offers, you tell me what you have experience with, all rightie?"

She nodded, and held her purse on her lap.

"Chef and bottle washer."

"No."

"Stenographer."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind.  Candy dipper?"

"No, but I feel like I'm on a 50s sitcom."

"Salesperson at shoe boutique?"

"YES!  That I can do.  I have a lot of shoes.  Been to the stores a hundred times at least.  I know how to do that job.  I'm certain of it."

"Well, the personal shopper thing does ring true.  All right, we'll try this one."  He scribbled on paper.  "Here, there's the address."

"It's Logan's."

"Yes."

"All right, I am on my way.  Thanks Mr. Basque."

"You're welcome, and I am hoping you are not coming back."  She turned back and looked at him quizzically.  He said, "I mean that in the best of ways, Dear."

"Thanks," she said, "I guess," she added under her breath.  Off to Logan's Department Store.

***

"Jack, look!"  Sam called out.  When the older boy lifted his head, he was whalloped with a snowball that bounced off his forehead and sprinkled snow all over his nose.

"You little puny runt," he said, rushing toward Sam, and Sam began to giggle.  Jack hoisted him on his shoulder, and plopped him into a very tall snowdrift.  

"That was fun!"  Sam said.  

"I'll get you back, you peanut."

"I already got you, Giant of the Dumbness."

"Oh, that one again?"

Little Sam nodded, his red knit hat pulled almost over his eyes.  "I like that one.  Fits you perfectly."

"You're asking for it."

"It, it, please?  It?"  Sam said.  "Can you throw me off THERE into the snow?"  He pointed to the helipad.

"No, Sam, it's not the same from up high.  I tell you that all the time.  You'd get hurt.  But, I can bury you in it."

"Nooooo!"  Sam screamed, pretending to be afraid, but smiling and giggling in between.

Sam ran to the snow pile and rested on it, still pretending to be afraid.  Jack started shoveling little clumps of the fine, grainy snow onto Sam's legs.  "Help!  Help!"  Sam pretended, "The monster is burying me alive!"

Jack stopped a moment, hearing his brother, and then lost his playful momentum.   Of course, he could only think of his father . . . and then his dreams.  Sam, seeing Jack's change in demeanor, said, "Come on, Giant, don't you want to do me in?"

"Nah, this is getting boring," he masked himself.

"What's the matter, Jack?"  Sam said, sitting up, and loosening the snow from his legs.  He stood up, and Jack marveled that he was no taller than the little snow pile.

"Nothing, Puny.  I'm hungry.  Wanna go eat?"

"Yeah!  Okay!  Then maybe you can finish your mission against me, okay?"

"We'll see," he said.

"Jack," Sam said as he brushed the rest of the snow off his pants.

"Yeah?"

"Is that man coming back?  The one that made me and Hope go into my room?"

"No.  He's not coming back.  No one is going to hurt you, Sam.  Not as long as I'm your big brother," he said, crouching down, and Sam automatically climbed onto his back.  He hiked him up, and then felt the small arms cross around his neck as he trotted toward the house.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Your comments are 'payment' for the work of the authors. Our writers like to hear your feedback. Please leave a comment when you read.