Don't Save It All For Christmas Day
The house was bursting at the seams with food and people who had arrived to pay their last respects to Sara Carter. Friends near and far had come to visit the home of the woman they had all loved and respected. The tears were few, but what tears flowed were followed by numerous stories of Sara throughout the years.
Taking on the hostess duties she knew her grandmother would have wanted her to, Joss stood in the foyer and greeted every guest with a handshake and a thanks. She had stood and listened to the kind sentiments lauded and answered the questions surrounding her return. She kept her answers short and just informative enough to satisfy even the most inquiring mind. Standing off to the side, Joss had decided to keep a low profile. Her heart hurt, but her smile was genuine as she listened to people talk about her grandmother.
"Remember when she took over the Christmas celebrations when the director bowed out?" one woman asked as she recalled the memory. "Sara didn't know the first thing about directing a play, but she whipped everyone into shape. That was the best play this town had ever seen."
"And every one after that," another woman injected.
"Like we were going to be able to stop her. She was a saint."
"Not many like her." Heads nodded in agreement. Eyes were wiped of tears.
"Sad that she doesn't have many family left. Her heart never recovered from Chris and Mila."
"She took in their daughter," one lady reminded.
"And that Army veteran and his little boy," another added.
"Her granddaughter came back. Coincidence that she was at the funeral? I think not."
"Now, Winnie..." Joan cautioned.
"I know why she's back. And it wasn't to say her good-byes. She should have stayed away. Didn't she cause that poor woman enough grief while she was alive?"
"That's not nice," Joan reprimanded. For some unknown reason she felt the need to protect Joss.
"I'm not saying anything wrong by voicing my opinion," the older woman indignantly replied at being called on the red carpet.
"We're supposed to be remembering Sara. She would want us to treat Jocelyn like family."
"I guess you're right," Winnie conceded ruefully. But there was defiance in her stance. No one told Winnie Baker when and where she could speak her mind.
Joan looked over and raised her hand. "Joss, please come over," she invited happily. Reluctantly, Joss walked over to the group of women. Warily she smiled at the group of older women who were looking her over and passing judgment without saying a word. Not even the most hardened CEO had caused her to shake in her Manolo Blahniks. But this was different than any negotiation or presentation. Way different.
"We're so glad you could make it back," Joan said and gave a quick squeeze.
"I knew Grandma...well...I'm not sure..." Joss wasn't sure what to say to take the look of condemnation from the women's eyes.
"We heard you moved out to California," Winnie said and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Why anyone would want to live there is beyond me."
"It's a lot warmer there than it is right now," Joss replied with just a touch of snark.
"All I'm saying is that I don't know why some people would want to leave—especially when they have to leave their family behind."
"I..."
"But you're home now," Joan interrupted. "Right where you belong."
"Thank you, Aunt Joan." Joss hoped her words sounded more convincing to them than it did to her.
"And we aren't going to let her go, are we, Joan?" Winnie's smile was saccharin sweet.
"I...I still have a job out there," Joss argued.
Winnie's curiosity was peaked. "Oh? What do you?"
"I'm a manager for a firm that builds Bed & Breakfasts and resorts," Joss explained. "Maybe you heard of the one that opened in Kill Devil Hill, Virginia this past July?"
"I remember seeing it on the news. A lovely building," Joan praised. "I've thought about vaca—"
"It's a vulgar buidling," Winnie interjected haughtily. "All that wealth put into a ostentatious playground for pompous rich people. You wouldn't catch me dead there."
"Hmmm hmmm. Me too," a couple of ladies chimed in their disapproval.
"Now, Winnie," Joan rebuked, "that isn't nice. I'm sure it's beautiful. And it's right there near the beach."
"Lots of shark attacks in that area," Winnie sneered, not hiding her contempt for what she disliked. "Build a resort and disrupt the land, then subject your visitors to shark bites. Not much of a manager, if you want my opinion. Everyone would have been better off if the money had been donated to a worthwhile charity for children. Who wants to play golf when children are starving?"
"Well, we build them; we don't manage them—although I heard that the resort you're referring to managed to raise a million dollars for the Children's Hospital with their golf tournament last year. As for your concern about injuries... There were no reports of shark bites," Joss replied back in the same tone she reserved for the most critical of clients who decided to try and walk all over her because of her gender. "But not every shark lives in the water."
Joss turned to face Joan. "If you don't mind, I need to get some fresh air."
Joan patted Joss' arm lovingly. "I can take care of things for a while. Go take a break."
With her head held high, Joss walked briskly toward the foyer and yanked open the door. A blast of cold air filled the room, but she didn't bother to take her coat as she stepped outside.
"That wasn't very kind, Winnie," Joan rebuked the older woman.
"I was just telling it like it is; so sue me." Winnie turned up her nose in defiance.
"We just got her back; don't chase her off."
Winnie lifted the tea cup to her lips. "Who needs to chase her off?" she asked rhetorically. "She'll be gone by the end of the week. Mark my word."
******
Joss stood at the far end of the porch and tried to take a deep breath of cold air to calm herself. There were tears in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. All she wanted to do was run away—far away from the biddies who called themselves Grandma Sara's friends.
"I would, but I don't have a car," she groused.
"You would what?" John asked as he came up behind her.
"Leave."
"Already? But you just got here," he teased lightly.
"I have a job and a place," Joss argued in her defense for why she felt the need to depart. She would never admit that the hurtful remarks had anything to do with it. "And a cat. I need to get back and take care of her."
"Here," John said and unwrapped the shawl. He placed it over Joss' shoulders. "You'll catch your death."
"I'm fine," Joss protested.
"It's cold."
"Not that cold." Joss began to pull the shawl off. John stopped her.
"It's Sara's shawl."
Joss closed her eyes and gave in. "Okay. You win."
"So, why are you standing out here trying to turn yourself into a human popsicle?" he wondered.
"I just needed some fresh air." Among other things, she finished silently.
"I guess it had nothing to do with the way Miss Winnie was treating you." John watched for any sign that he had hit a nerve, but Joss didn't so much as flinch.
Joss lifted her chin. "She has a right to her opinion."
"She doesn't have the right to hurt you." John's eyes were soft and understand.
"I've dealt with people worse than her."
John shrugged a shoulder. "That's your job. And I doubt any of them made it personal."
Joss looked at the sky—gray, dreary, no snow, but it was raining. Soft and warm. Just like Grandma, Joss thought with a tinge of sadness. "This is all going to be ice in the morning," she remarked negatively.
"Rain is good."
"How so?"
"Rain at a funeral means the person is at peace. I'm sure Sara found peace with your coming home."
"Well, I have to leave."
"Right away?"
"Next couple of days. I have to get back to work."
"Doesn't leave enough time to grieve," John said with a slight touch of accusation in his tone.
"Life goes on. I'm in the middle of a very important land deal right now. It could mean the difference between employment or unemployment."
"I would think that they would at least allow a few days to take care of business." No one could be that cruel, could they?
"I've had a few days to come to grips with it."
"The will needs to be read," he reminded her.
"I'm sure they can forward it to me." Joss turned her back to him to hide the tears misting her vision.
"Not possible, Joss. You need to be here so you can hear what Sara had to say. See what she had to leave you."
Joss spun around. "Leave me?! There is nothing that I want!" At least nothing of material value that would make a difference in her life.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. And even if she did, what would it be—this house? The land? I don't want it!"
"It's yours—right or wrong, it's legally yours."
Joss turned around. "I don't want it. And if Grandma was so..." She took a shuddering breath. "All I am going to do is sell it. Everything. I don't want any memories."
"That's selfish," John said without even trying to hide the hurt in his tone.
"Yeah, John, it is. Do you know why? Because I'm selfish, and I'm into making deals."
"That's the hurt talking." John took her arm, but she pulled back. "Come inside and get something to drink. I'll make sure that Winnie leaves you alone."
"I'm not going back in there—but to pack up and leave."
"What about me and Taylor?"
"I'll give you time to find somewhere else."
"It's nearly Thanksgiving, Joss; there isn't going to be much available. And winter is coming," he reasoned logically. He could see that she was hurt, but he didn't want to argue. Not here. Not now. And not like this.
"That's not my problem."
A loud beep broke the tension.
"What is that?" John asked.
Joss pulled out her phone. "My airline confirmation. I managed to get the last seat on a flight out to L.A. tomorrow afternoon."
John's jaw clenched. "So you'll be gone. For good." It wasn't a question.
"Yes." Her spine straightened in defiance. She would not give in. Not to him. Not now. Not ever.
"Running away."
"It's what I'm best at—don't you know? But you would know, so you're the last person who needs to be lecturing me about getting my priorities straight," she said in a hoarse tone filled with pain and hurt. She started to walk past John. He reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.
"Not like this, Joss."
Joss shook him off. "My mind is made up. I'm leaving and never coming back.
"Just like that."
"You have 'til the end of the week." Stomping off, Joss hurried down the steps toward the barn. From her posture, she signaled that she didn't want to be followed. Not that John would have. He wasn't an expert on women by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew better than to cross Joss Carter. Maybe he could change her mind tomorrow and make her see that she was jumping to conclusions because of others unwarranted opinions.
Running a hand over his hair, he took a deep breath, then let it out.
"Sara, where are you when we need you?" he asked to the empty area.
But he got no reply.
