But Ken didn’t want to get into an argument on the street. “Maybe we can talk about it after the holidays.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. January sometime.”
“Give me a date, and I’ll call up this guy I want you to meet.” As usual, Russ pretended to be oblivious to his reluctance and kept pushing.
“After the holidays,” he said again.
“Right. But we’ll get together before then?”
“Of course.”
“Hey, did you see the Jets get their asses handed to them by the Cowboys last night?” Russ chortled. “I tried to call you, but it went straight to voice mail.”
Ken hadn’t checked that message yet, or any others. He’d been too preoccupied. But he wasn’t surprised the game had triggered another call. The Dallas Cowboys had always been his father’s favorite team. It still grated on Ken to hear him talk about them. The entire time Ken had played for New York, Russ had badgered him to see if he couldn’t arrange to be traded. “My boys had a bad night,” he admitted.
“Bad night,” Russ repeated, laughing. “Now that you’re not there, the Cowboys could beat them any night.”
Ken could’ve brought up their record against Dallas, which wasn’t as one-sided as Russ suggested, but he knew that wouldn’t help. His father wouldn’t drop it no matter what. He’d just talk about rushing yardage or passing yardage or some other statistic where the Cowboys reigned supreme.
“I still can’t believe you quit ball before playing for Dallas,” he lamented.
Other than not being good enough to play himself, this was his father’s greatest disappointment. But Ken had a few disappointments where Russ was concerned, too. His alcohol addiction was one of them. “Yeah, well, they’ll be fine without me.”
“You sure you don’t have time for lunch?” he asked, and as Ken stared into the banged-up Camaro, with its torn seats and missing door handle on the passenger side, he knew he couldn’t refuse. Difficult though his father could be, he was still his father.
“I guess I could squeeze it in.”
AS THE HOURS PASSED, Cierra grew so nervous it was hard to continue working at her usual pace. She hadn’t heard a word from Ken or Brent since they’d left after she’d made breakfast. Had they found the address on that paper she’d had in her pocket? Would she have a permanent place to stay, a good job, a chance to make everything that was wrong in her life right?
She prayed she would. Finding a job without some kind of introduction or sponsor would be practically impossible in Dundee, which seemed so…white. She stood out here. She’d probably have to move to a bigger city, where it was easier to blend in. But that would require time and the money to survive until she found work, and she had no resources. Her sisters had to be getting low on money, too. It’d been three weeks since she’d sent them anything. If she didn’t land a paying job soon, they could lose their home despite her efforts.
The minute she heard the grind of the motor that raised the garage door—now that they’d cleaned out so many of the boxes, Ken could park inside—she hurried to the living room to greet him.
“So?” she asked as soon as he came in. “What did you find?”
Both arms full of sacks, he brushed past her on his way to the kitchen. “Nothing. I searched and searched but—” he put what he carried on the counter “—I finally had to give up. It’s a waste of time. We don’t have enough of the address.”
She tried not to reveal the despair that settled over her. “I see. Of course. You did…all you could. Gracias. You were…good to look so hard.”
The way he immediately turned his attention to the items he’d bought made her wonder if he was upset. “I don’t want you to worry,” he said tersely. “We’ll figure out…something.”
But she didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. Especially a man she found as appealing as Ken. “Where’s Brent?”
“Working on a project for my mother. He’ll be staying in town for a few days.”
“Oh.”
He looked up at her. “I said not to worry, okay? You’ll be fine.”
“But my work here is almost done—”
“No, it’s not. I still need your help.”
“For what?” She waved around them. “Already I dust and vacuum and straighten cupboards. And I—I clean your room. Iron all your clothes.”
“You did?”
“Sí.”
“Even my jeans?” She nodded. “Sí.”
He didn’t act as if that was normal, but he didn’t complain. There’s the Jacuzzi room and the gym. But you can do that later. It’s time to get started on this.” He gestured at the bags.
He’d bought tons of Christmas decorations—glittery rope, tinsel, red and gold balls and other ornaments, fresh pine boughs, lights. “You want me to…put this up?”
“That’s right.” He pulled a nativity set from one of the bags. “Christmas is in less than a week.”
She’d been in the States long enough to know that most Americans decorated for Christmas. A lot of people in her country did, too. Guatemalans had Christmas trees and nacimiento—nativity sets—and presents under the tree. Although they focused more on Christ than Santa Claus, and the adults exchanged gifts on New Year’s, their traditions weren’t too different. But, other than buying presents for his family, she hadn’t expected Ken to bother with any of the usual Christmas trappings. Was his family coming for dinner? “Is it company?”
“Company?” he repeated.
“Company…it is coming?”
The nativity set he’d bought looked expensive. She liked the sight of his large hands removing the fragile porcelain figurines from the packaging, which had Lladró written on the side.
“No.”
“And yet you spend…so much money?” That seemed completely impractical to her. After getting to know him, at least as well as she had the past two days, she couldn’t imagine that he was truly concerned about Christmas decorations.
He set the porcelain manger on the counter with the rest of the stuff. “Why not? Women like this sort of thing, don’t they? Look, it’s pretty. You like it, don’t you?” It was pretty. But as far as she knew, she was the only woman who’d see it. Had he bought all of this for her sake? To cheer her up because he’d known she’d be sad that he hadn’t been able to find where she belonged?