Chapter 2

*Patrick*

I couldn’t be upset that Mrs. Henson had some work for me on a Saturday. She was a nice, older woman who regularly asked for my services, even the non-electric related things. But I was willing to do anything for her because not only was she a close friend of my aunt, but she had also come to feel like a grandma to me. And after her husband of fifty-five years had passed away a few months ago, I’d started to give in to even more of her requests to come out and fix whatever small problem she was having–even on a Saturday.

“I’m so sorry to have you come out again,” Mrs. Henson said as she wrapped her crocheted shawl around her shoulders. “I’m afraid I just don’t know how to do anything.”

I noted the way she squeezed her eyebrows together with anxiety. I felt bad for her, and I didn’t want her to feel guilty for depending on me. It was only natural for a partner to feel a little lost after losing the person who had been faithfully by their side for over half their life. 

I gave her my best careless grin. “It’s no problem at all, Beth.” She’d made me start calling her by her first name within the first month. Maybe it had something to do with the heartbreak of hearing “Mrs.” and “Henson” strung together so many times. 

She opened the door wide to let me in. It was chilly in this place. Yes, it was mid-November, so one might expect that, but it wasn’t good for an elderly woman to be in this kind of atmosphere. She was bound to get sick. 

Mrs. Henson hugged her arms tightly around herself. Under her little hand-made shawl, she was also wearing a turtle neck with a sweater over it. I glanced down at her feet, which were stuffed into a pair of fuzzy house slippers with fat, fuzzy socks puffing out the sides. 

I sighed. It had been a couple of weeks since I’d seen her last, and I wondered if I didn’t need to start seeing her more, even when she didn’t ask. 

“How’s Chester doing?” I asked as she led me through her small living room into the main hallway.

“That little son of a gun is around here somewhere. You wouldn’t believe what he did last night!” she said. 

I grinned. Talking about her cat seemed to put her at ease. Her pinched eyebrows gave way to that classic amused and irritated expression she wore when she talked about Chester. He was an adopted orange tabby that Mrs. Henson had decided to get a couple of months after her husband’s passing.

“What’d he do this time?” I asked with a smirk. “Dig up your hoya again? Scratch the curtain?”

Mrs. Henson gave a light huff. “Get this. I’m sleeping soundly–yet rather a bit coldly–in my bed. Then this little bugger comes zooming through the house and comes dashing right over me in bed!”

I set my bag down, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to need it. All she wanted me to do was adjust the thermostat. It wouldn't take me long, but I took my time as she told me stories about Chester and how John would have absolutely loved him, and all the while insisting that he hated him.

After I switched the air to heat and changed the temperature from Celsius to Fahrenheit, I gave Beth an in-depth tutorial on how to operate her thermostat. 

“I feel like a big ol' goof,” she said. 

I patted her on the back. “You’re not a goof, Beth,” I told her. “Lots of people don’t know how to operate these things when they first get them. There’s a learning curve no matter your age or gender or ability.”

She gave me a crooked, doubting smile. “Thanks for saying that, Patrick.”

I picked up my bag and started to say my goodbyes, but a bashful look came across Mrs. Henson’s face and she reached out to pat my forearm. 

“I’m sorry, but would you mind doing me another huge favor while you’re here?” she asked, a tinge of pink coming up between the wrinkles of her cheeks. “I promise I’ll pay you. I’ll even pay extra since it’s a Saturday and you’re doing more work than you bargained for!”

I patted her cool hand. “That’s not necessary,” I told her, though I was beginning to wonder what time it was. I’d need to shower and get dressed before the Santa Claus Ball. I was a bit nervous to go since this was my first time going as a single man since I’d broken up with my girlfriend. This time I’d participate in the Mistletoe Mystery and potentially be matched with a date. It’d been a year since I’d dated anyone, but I thought I was ready to dip my toes back in the water. And with the Mistletoe Mystery, there was no pressure for anyone to actually date their match, so it felt like a safe enough reintroduction to the dating world. 

Mrs. Henson guided me to the kitchen and pointed at the stove. She gave it a timid point. “It’s not working.”

I tried to switch on the stove, and she was right–no heat. I worried a bit that this one might take a bit too long to find out and fix, but I looked at the lonely, withered woman next to me and knew I couldn’t leave just yet. 

“How long has it been out?” I asked.

She scratched at the loose bun tied up behind her head. “Maybe about five days? I was trying to make some soup a few days ago but the stove top didn’t seem to be working. I hoped that it was just the top, so I went ahead and prepared to bake some Christmas cookies for a party with your aunt, but I ended up having to take the dough to her place to bake them because the oven wasn’t working either. 

I nodded. “All right,” I said, mentally preparing myself to get back in the work zone and push out thoughts of the Santa Claus Ball.

It took longer to work on the stove than I expected, but it turned out that since it was an older stove, we’d either have to order a part to keep it running or Mrs. Henson would have to decide if she wanted to buy a new one. But it was working for now.

“I’ll have to give it some thought,” she said. “The new ones are probably all fancy, and I won’t know how they work either. Pretty soon I’ll be living in a house that’s smarter than me! I won’t know how to walk through the door!”

I did my best to console Mrs. Henson and let her know that she wasn’t alone, no matter how lonely she might feel. Whether she expected it or not, she pretty much had me as an adoptive son.

“Let me pay you a bit extra for your trouble,” Mrs. Henson insisted. She turned around and went to grab her purse off of the kitchen table. 

I gently held her hands back from her purse. “Really, Beth. Don’t even think about it. It’s not real work when I help you out.”

She curled down the corner of her mouth, deepening her wrinkles. “Patrick….”

I chuckled. “I’m serious!”

She lightly smacked my arm. “At least let me bake you some of those Christmas cookies now that the stove is working. Let me at least use you to test it out.”

“That sounds perfect,” I told her. 

She gave my arm a light squeeze before turning away and walking back toward the living room. I followed slowly behind her, suddenly feeling sorry that I was about to leave her alone again… except for Chester the crazy orange cat, anyway.

“Say, Beth, what are you doing tonight?” I asked her.

She slowed and twisted her neck back to face me. “Oh, I suppose I’ll have some dinner with Chester and watch some more TV.”

“You’re not going to the Santa Claus Ball?”

She cocked her head slightly. “Is that tonight?”

I nodded. 

“Well, I hadn’t planned on going anyway. I don’t think that’s the kind of place for an old woman like me.”

“Nonsense!” I said. “It’s for the whole town–well, the whole county, really! And you’re not that old! Going out will keep you young, I hear.”

She smiled sadly. “I don’t think I can handle it just yet, if I’m being honest. I wouldn’t know who to talk to unless your aunt was there. And I’m not about to step on your toes and ruin your chances of meeting a younger, better-looking girl.”

I gave her a stern look, but I didn’t want to push her. “Well, you wouldn’t be stepping on my toes unless you decided to dance with me, and in that case, it’s more likely that I'd be stepping on yours. But if you’re not comfortable yet, I understand.”

She gave a soft, tired smile. “Thanks, hun.”

I nodded and moved to step past her toward the door. Before I went out, I turned back. “Beth? Remember that there are a lot of events happening this season. I know it’s hard with John gone and all, but I hope you don’t keep yourself away. Please think about joining some of the festivities. And, hey, you can even be my date.” I flashed a quick smile and a wink. 

That got a genuine smile to come up on her face. “How could I say no to that?” she said with feigned flattery. “I’d be the most envied girl of them all.”

“That’s right,” I told her. 

Mrs. Henson glanced at the clock. “You better get out of here now,” she said. “I’ll get started on those cookies first thing tomorrow.”

I smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

As I made my way back home, I let my thoughts drift back to the ball. My buddy Andrew had talked me into it. He was the kind to frequent any kind of community get-together so he could meet ladies. He was the suave type, a borderline playboy. But he at least had more respect for them than some other guys. I suspected this was because of his close relationship with his mom. 

Regardless of Andrew’s convincing, I was starting to look forward to this party. Of course, I was hesitant to get back into the dating scene, but he kept reminding me that tonight didn’t have to be the start of anything other than me going back out into society. 

It was ironic that going out into that society, at least in this case, required hiding behind a mask. It was only temporary, the mask thing, but I thought it was amusing. 

After I finally returned to my end of town and cleaned up in the shower, I did my best to shape up my stubble and trim the bits of hair that tickled the tops of my ears. I slipped on the velvety red suit that Andrew had helped me pick out. It felt strange wearing a suit, and a bright-colored flashy one at that. But I had to admit that Andrew had impeccable taste and that I looked good. 

On the other hand, I wasn’t confident I could pull off the white beard and tiny rounded glasses. So I tugged on the beard and fixed the Santa hat securely to my head. I decided to save the glasses for once I arrived because seeing out of them was surprisingly tricky, and they’d be above my mask anyway. 

Before stepping out of the house and pretty much jogging to my truck, I shot Andrew a message that I’d meet him in the library parking lot next to the auditorium. With the low rumble of my truck’s engine coming to life, my nerves spiked. I was really doing this. I felt a little ridiculous and a little thrilled, a little anxious, and a little full of myself. It was hard telling how this night was going to go.