Page 137 of Before We Say Goodbye
“Then they’re awfully lucky,” Otis said, wondering what he could do for Michael. “Are you coming home for Christmas?”
“I hope to. We’ll see.”
“You need to. The first Christmas without Cam. Make some time for us.”
“I’ll try.”
Otis stood silently and waited for Michael to actually look at him. “Michael, you have a lot of me in you. Don’t work your way through your grief. Don’t forget what matters. Take a girl out. Go sailing. Come home for Christmas.”
“I know, I know.”
Otis felt like he was looking at his younger self, the one who’d lost his way.
Michael ended up having to work on Christmas Eve, so Otis and Rebecca spent the holidays in Seattle, which wasn’t so bad. They enjoyed more than one meal at Mistral, experienced a wonderful Pat Metheny performance at Jazz Alley, and ate their weight in sushi at Shiro’s. When they could, they spent time with Michael. Otis tried not to force his teachings on him, but sneaked in some advice when Michael would allow it. Talk about hardheaded. The man was likely a wonderful lawyer, because he had an answer for everything.
They were enjoying a glass of wine at a spot called Place Pigalle, which had been pouring Till Vineyards for a while now, when Otis’s cell phone rang.
He looked to his wife and son. “Sorry, I need to take this. It’s a New York number.” Stepping outside, he pressed the phone to his ear. “Otis here.”
“Otis, it’s Brooks Baker. We met in Central Park last fall.”
Otis’s mouth hit the pavement. “Brooks! Hello.”
Brooks didn’t match his enthusiasm. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, your offer. I don’t know anything about wine, but I need a job. Like you mentioned, I could use a hand up. So here I am.”
A dazzling amount of energy rushed through Otis’s body. “Yes, great, Brooks. Can I call you later? I’m having lunch with my—”
“This is a borrowed phone. I don’t have a ...”
Otis scrambled for a solution. “Tell you what. Call me tomorrow at noon, my time. Let me work out some details. I’ll book you a flight.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
“I can figure it out.”
Perhaps the first real smile since Colorado graced Otis’s face.
Brooks called at noon on the nose. Otis picked up from his living room in Seattle. “Okay, I’ll need your full name, date of birth. You have a license, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good.” Otis had been working on details all morning. He was glad he hadn’t gotten rid of Vance’s trailer. It wasn’t much, but he didn’t imagine Brooks was too picky.
When Otis hung up, he looked over at Rebecca, who had her feet up on the couch, reading. “I can’t believe he’s coming. Do you think I’m crazy?”
She set the book down. “No, I think this is ... beautiful.”
The rich feeling of knowing he was doing something right filled his chest. “You’ll like him. Not that I know him that much, but he has this fire in his eyes.”
“Like you and Michael?”
“That’s right. It feels good to help somebody in need. Maybe it works out, maybe it doesn’t.”
A day later, Otis drove the farm truck to the Tri-Cities airport with equal parts trepidation and hope. What in the hell had he done, inviting a random stranger off the street to step into his world? It felt right, though. He’d spent a lifetime focused on number one—ormostly so—and it was time to look outside himself and see what good he could do.
Brooks came around the corner with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He’d shaved and looked quite handsome—a far cry from the man he’d met in the park. Perhaps the only way he surely knew it was him, other than the fire in his eyes, was the tattoos creeping out of his sleeves.
