The Christmas Kite. Gail Martin GaymerЧитать онлайн книгу.

      “Hello, there,” Otis said with an easy smile as they came through the shop door.

      Mac shot forward, extending his hand in greeting. Otis grinned and grasped the child’s hand in a hearty shake. “And how’s the kite-flying, son?”

      Mac poked himself in the chest. “Me? Nope. But Mama’s good.”

      “She is, huh? And why can’t you fly a kite?” He bent his pleasant face toward Mac’s.

      “Too small. Mr…. Baird said…maybe a year.”

      “Well, if anyone knows about kite-flying, he’s your man. You were talking to the horse’s mouth.” Otis patted the child’s head.

      Mac let out a loud chortle. “Horse’s mouth.” He poked at Meara.

      She rolled her eyes at Otis, and the elderly man grimaced.

      “That’s only an expression, Mac,” Meara said. “He means Mr. Baird knows what he’s talking about.”

      “Okay,” Mac said, eyeing the kites. The “horse’s mouth” was forgotten as he wandered through the shop.

      “Sorry about that,” Otis whispered. “I’d better watch what slips off this tongue with that young ’un around.”

      He looked so downtrodden, forgiveness was easy. “No problem. I do it myself.”

      A relieved expression swept over his face. “So I s’pose you’re anxious to hear about the apartment.”

      “Yes. Did you talk to the owner?”

      “Sure did. Jordan told me to give the place a once-over and—”

      “Jordan?” Hearing the name, she stopped breathing for a moment.

      “The owner. Jordan Baird. I understand you’ve met.” He let loose a quiet chuckle. “Met head-on from what I’m told. He tells me Dooley gave you a topple. Jordan sure has amusing ways to knock a woman off her feet. Well, at least Dooley does.”

      “Jordan owns this shop?” A contained breath burst from her lungs. “The other day Mac noticed a kite that we figured he had made. But I thought maybe he sold them to you.”

      “Jordan made all the kites in this shop. Every last one of them.” His arm made a broad sweep of the surroundings. “Right pretty, aren’t they?”

      Meara craned her neck, gazing around the room with a new appreciation. “You mean every single kite is handmade…by him?”

      “None other. He’s got quite a talent, for a college professor.”

      College professor. She reeled again. What else would she learn about this man? Then her heart sank. No college campus was nearby that she knew about. “Then, he only lives here in the summer.” She faltered while finding the breath to speak. “I didn’t realize.”

      “Oh, no. He doesn’t teach anymore. Something happened. He doesn’t talk about it.” He dragged his hand along his jaw and chin, then pressed his forefinger against his lips and shook his head. “Avoids the subject. I only figured it out putting bits and pieces together. Must have been a tragedy.”

      Like a fist, pity and sorrow smacked her in the stomach. “A tragedy? I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine—”

      “Nothin’ we need talk about. It’s his private affair, and I think that’s the way he wants it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He shook his head. “Me and my big mouth.”

      “Please, Otis, don’t worry. I won’t say anything.” With her finger, she made a small cross over her heart. “I promise.”

      “Oh, I know you wouldn’t want to hurt him.” He quieted for a moment as if in thought. Then, rejuvenated, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “So, let’s get on with business. He told me to go up and take a look-see. I even dragged the wife upstairs. It’s not bad. Needs a cleaning, but otherwise, it just might work for you.” He beckoned her to follow.

      With her mind still sorting Jordan’s possible tragedies, Meara stuck close to Otis’s heels. As she reached the back of the congested shop, she waved to Mac, and they passed through the outside doorway and up an enclosed staircase to the second floor.

      Through the windows of the enclosure, Meara viewed the wide parking lot of the ferry landing and the lake beyond. With the official summer still a month away, the lot held many empty spaces. She guessed that in the thick of summer when the public schools let out, the slots would be packed with sightseers.

      As they neared the top landing, sounds came from the open doorway. Stepping inside, Meara was greeted by a smiling, rosy face framed by a halo of white hair.

      “So, this must be Meara and Mac.” The woman scurried across the room, one arm spread open wide and the other sporting a broom. “I’m Nettie, Otis’s wife. Come in and see the place.”

      Meara gazed at the bright, cozy kitchen with apricot walls lined with cabinets, a long Formica counter and a small maple table surrounded by four chairs.

      “The kitchen is nice,” Nettie said. “Lots of cupboards. Someone must have remodeled not too many years ago. Go ahead. Go inside.” She shooed them through the next doorway.

      Meara stepped into the large living room. Tall windows in front looked out on the busy street below. An arch opened on the right to a hallway with a front and back bedroom and bath in between. Exactly what they needed…at least, for the time being.

      “You’ve cleaned,” Meara said, looking at the gleaming table next to a love seat and the shiny windows.

      “Oh, not much. Just dusted and swept,” she said.

      Meara chuckled, adding, “And ran the vacuum, washed the windows and…” She stepped into the bathroom. “You cleaned the tub, sink, everything.”

      “Makes a place look more homey when it’s not covered with dust.”

      “Well, thank you so much.” Meara longed to give her a hug.

      Otis stepped beside his wife and slid an arm around her shoulder. “I’ve got quite a woman here. Always doin’ somethin’ for someone. Over at the church, she’s got her nose in every committee. Visits the sick, cares for the altar, attends Bible study, works on the dinners. You name it.”

      “You’re a blessed man, Otis,” Meara agreed.

      “S’pose I am.” He gave Nettie a loving hug and strode across the room to the front windows.

      “What do you think?” Nettie asked.

      “I think it’ll do fine for us,” Meara said. “But I need to pick up a few things before we can move in. I’ll make a list of necessities before I leave.”

      “Now, you check with us first,” Otis offered. “We got a pile of furniture sittin’ in the basement and all just lookin’ for a home.”

      “He means that, Meara.” Nettie gave her a warm smile. “Such a pretty name,” she added.

      “Thank you,” Meara said. “Both of you are too kind.” Recalling the years she had rarely heard a kind or loving word, she felt about to bust with gratitude. She looked across the room at Mac and a twinge of sadness ran through her. He’d never experienced a loving father or grandfather.

      A sound drew her attention. Mac had his nose pressed against the single window that overlooked the other single-story shops. “Kites,” he called, pointing wildly through the pane.

      Meara joined him and witnessed a multitude