Page 7 of A Hard Luck Christmas

She pressed a hand to her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?”

This was something she hadn’t expected. It hinted at the fact that he was willing to have a more honest conversation than they’d exchanged since the divorce, but she wasn’t sure it was wise to move in that direction. Some things were better left unsaid.

Fortunately, Ari saved her from having to respond. “I’m ready to go now,” she said as she came jogging down the stairs.

Patience let her breath go. “Great. Thanks for…for always taking such good care of her,” she said to Jack. He did take good care of their daughter, was a loving father, but she probably wouldn’t have paid him that compliment if she hadn’t been so desperate to fill the silence until she could get out the door.

“Wait a sec,” he said before she could escape.

She had her hand on the doorknob when she turned.

“I have a check for you.”

“You mean for Ari? For something you’ve promised her, or a school project or field trip?” He gave her a nominal amount of child support, but he’d already paid that this month, and since he had equal custody and was always willing to take Ari or help with something she was involved in, Patience had never even considered asking for more.

“To help with the Christmas festival,” he clarified.

“Why would you do that?” She’d been surprised when he contributed to the revitalization effort; she certainly hadn’t expected him to give more.

“You’re trying to help the whole community, right?”

That was true. But his trucking company wasn’t dependent on the level of traffic downtown the way most other businesses were. “Yes, but—”

“If you can help, so can I.”

That made sense. “Okay.”

She waited until he brought her a check, and was then stunned by the amount. “Three thousand dollars?” She looked up at him. “I appreciate this. I really do. But I’m…I’m afraid everything I’ve done will…will be a total waste in the end, so I kind of hate to take your money. Just in case, you know? I mean, don’t tell anyone else I’m feeling so uncertain. It’s just…I’m scared that the festival will fail. That’s the honest truth.”

The way he looked at her was so conflicted. He opened his mouth to say something. Then he glanced over at their daughter and seemed to think better of it. “You’ve done all you can,” he said instead. “No one’s going to hold it against you if it doesn’t succeed. It’s not like you have anything to gain from all the work and effort you’ve put in. And maybe with a little more help it will succeed.”

She got the impression he was donating largely to support her efforts. That was what someone who cared about her would do, which put a huge lump in her throat…

Ducking her head so he wouldn’t see the tears that were springing up, she put the check in her purse for safekeeping. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’ve always been a kind man.”

* * *

Ari was anything but the stereotype of a sulky teenager. She was bubbly and happy and had something to say all the time—about school, boys, her friends and life in general. Yet she sat quietly while Patience drove home, scarcely speaking a word.

Patience hoped her interaction with Jack at the door hadn’t confused their daughter. While she regretted having been unable to make her marriage work, it was over, and there was no going back. She knew there were times when Ari wished things could be different—that she didn’t have to go between two houses or put up with Glenda, whom she didn’t always like—but even if Jack were available, which he wasn’t, too much had happened between them to ever try to rekindle their romance.

Ari reached over to turn down the heater.

“Too hot?” Patience asked, trying to get her talking.

“Yeah.”

“You can turn it down even more, if you want.”

“That’s okay.”

Patience slowed for a red light. There were only three stoplights in Hard Luck, and they lived between the second and third, only a block off Montgomery Street. Named after the man who’d owned the mine that’d brought the town into existence, it was the main artery. “What’d you do at your dad’s? Anything fun?”

“Not really. Just homework on Thursday. We binge-watched a good Netflix series last night and did chores today.”

“Which series was it?”