Page 12 of The Christmas Keeper

“You’re taking too long to get them some water,” I heard from behind me. Twisting to avoid another ass pinch, I saw Mr. Blum smiling at me over the pen fence. He tossed some corn into the full feed dishes, which made both geese very happy. He was a lovely old fellow, with a thatch of wild silver kinky hair, thick glasses, and dark gray eyes. His back was bowed, his skin deeply wrinkled, and his walk slow, but he never missed his morning stroll even if it was so cold your nose hairs froze. “Did I hear you say something about Hanukkah?”

“Morning. Yes, I have a new helper at the alehouse.”

His eyes lit up. “A Jewish lad?” I nodded. “Well, well, that makes two Jews in the whole of Whiteham. I’ll have to come down and introduce myself.”

“Oh, are you Jewish?”

“I am.” He tugged down his knit stocking cap to cover his rather large ears.

“Ah cool. I never see anything in your windows around this time of year.”

“I prefer to keep my religion to myself. Lots of people in small towns tend to have small minds.” Yeah, that was a truism. “Now my Betty, she was always so proud and vocal, but when she died, I fell into myself more than usual. You know how that is.”

I did. Sadly, I did not know Mr. Blum had lost his wife. Shit, I hadn’t even known he was Jewish. Guess I’d fallen into myself so deeply I didn’t even care to find out the basics about the people I interacted with all the time. Christ, maybe Nora was right about me. “So, this young man of yours—”

“He’s not mine. I just met him at the airport and he was down on his luck, so I offered him a place to sleep and some hours at the alehouse.”

That made my neighbor smile so widely his craggy cheeks obscured his eyes. “Now that is the truest form of good cheer to men I have heard in quite some time. So, tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s about my age, I think, tight curly hair, dark eyes, tall, very lean, can sing like an angel, and handles himself in a bar very well.” Mr. Blum nodded along as I began gushing, the nips at my thighs from two thirsty geese not stalling my ramble at all. “He’s southern, plays guitar, and carries his grandfather’s menorah as a memento. We had it lit last night in the little sign windows of the bar, but Al came over to complain about the candle.”

“Al would complain if he were hung with a new rope.” I stared. “It’s an old saying. So Al complained about the menorah?”

“Well, he said it was the open flame, which, okay, I sort of get, but we all know it was the candelabrum.” Mr. Blum bobbed his head. “So, you know me. I’m now on the search for an electric menorah to put in the window. I might start handing out dreidels at the door.”

Mr. Blum laughed a hearty laugh that got my geese to stop pulling at my pant legs for a moment. But just for a moment. They really had no patience.

“I’d love to back that promotion.” Mr. Blum chuckled.

“I doubt it would ever get off the ground as I can’t find a damn electric menorah anywhere in town, let alone a case of dreidels. I could order one online, but it would take days to get here.”

Mr. Blum patted my arm. “I have an old electric one stashed away in the attic. I’ll go fetch it for you.”

“That would be amazing. Thank you so much.” He grinned in a mischievous way. No one liked Al, not even the cardboard Santa. “Now I just have to figure out what to get him. Any suggestions? Ow! You little shit, Fred!” I rubbed my ass where the gander had just given it a hard pinch. “I get it. Work faster. Damn feathered taskmasters.”

“You best get them happy or your backside will be a solid bruise. I’m going to go muddle around in the attic. I might join you for lunch if you’re accepting?”

“Of course. My treat.” Mr. Blum gave me a curt nod of acceptance, tossed more corn to the geese, and slowly made his way back around my house to the road. I snuck after him, careful not to be seen, to ensure he didn’t slip on the ice anywhere as he returned to his tiny home under the pines.

Once I saw him duck inside his bright red front door, I went back to watering the geese before there was a webbed-footed coup attempt. I would not put it past them. When I was back inside thawing out with a cup of hot coffee and an English muffin with peanut butter, I scribbled out a shopping list to fill before I went to work.

I had some holiday shopping to do, which was outlandish in its own right. I’d just finished my muffin when I got a call. Seeing that it was my sister, I wiped my fingers on a paper towel before answering.

“Why are you calling me?” I asked and got a raspberry from Nora, who looked as if she had just rolled out of bed. “You’re on your honeymoon.”

“I know. I just wanted to check on you. The last time anyone saw you, rumor was you were lit.”

I sighed dramatically. She made a face. “I’m a big boy, Nora. Now why the hell are you yakking at me when you have exactlyone day left with Antoine before he has to return to playing hockey and making millions?”

“I miss our morning talks,” she replied sadly. “Tell me you’ll still send me stupid texts every morning.”

“I promise I will send you stupid texts every morning.” She sniffled. I leaned down to stare at my phone propped against my empty coffee mug. “Nora, are you crying?”

“Yes.” And just like that, the waterworks began. She’d been doing this for about a month now, ever since she’d found out she was pregnant. Hence the quick wedding ceremony in the middle of hockey season. Seemed Antoine had someverystrict and very religious grandmothers who would have died a thousand deaths if he had not married my sister. Not that they hadn’t been planning a wedding anyway, they had been. It was just that the vows had to be saidbeforeNora was showing, or so the elderly matriarchs of the Bolanger clan had decreed. “I can’t help it. I’m so happy!” Ah. Okay, as long as they were happy tears. If Antoine had made her sad, I might just have to fly back to Canada to kick his ass. “Tell me something happy that happened to you today. I can’t stand it if I’m happy and you’re still so sad.”

Well, shit. I glanced down at the scrap paper in front of me. “I’m going to buy some Hanukkah gifts for my new friend Kenan.” I waved the list in front of her now red nose.

“Wait. What?” She dabbed at her leaky eyes with the sleeve of the ridiculously oversized hockey jersey she was wearing. “You. You’re buying holiday gifts? For a friend? Is this friend a guy?!”

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