The Christmas List: A Novel

Linda loved the snow even though it often made her feel melancholy. Tonight, as she drove away from the office, the snow was falling heavily, painting the world around her with its cold indifference. No, her sadness was more than the weather. She was thinking about her boss. She realized, for the first time, how much their relationship had changed in the past few weeks. She truly cared about him, and she was worried about how his final meeting had gone. She wondered if she had done the right thing in not warning him about Rossi’s suicide.

She had worked late making preparations for the company’s first Christmas party; it was past six o’clock when she arrived at Kier’s home. The day had already surrendered to evening, the moonlight reflecting off the front yard’s snow.

She rapped on the door then let herself in. The house was dark. “Mr. Kier?” There was no response. She walked to the living room. Kier was there, a shadow in a chair.

“There you are. I brought the Arcadia documents, and Mike had some tax forms you need to sign.” She took the papers from her leather portfolio. “He said to tell you, and I quote, ‘Not to worry, he’s just shifting the tax load to this year.’ ” She arranged the documents on the glass coffee table and looked up. Kier was looking ahead as if he hadn’t heard her. “Mr. Kier?”

Nothing.

“Are you okay?”

“I went to see Gary Rossi.” His voice was thin as if stretched close to breaking.

“Oh.” She sat down on the couch opposite him, and took off her coat.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

Linda swallowed. “I heard just after it happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“At that point, would you have cared?”

He was silent for a moment. “Probably not.” He exhaled loudly. “I went to see Sara last night.” His voice cracked. “She’s dying.”

Linda looked down. “I’m so sorry.”

“I told her that I wanted to come home. But she said it’s too late.”

Tears began to well up in Linda’s eyes.

“What a fool I am. When I started all this I actually thought I was being some kind of saint.” He laid his head in his hands. “But I’m just a hypocrite. I didn’t do it for them, I did it for me and my legacy. And I’ve failed. I’ve failed everyone. I couldn’t make restitution. Not even with myself.”

He looked up at her as a tear fell down his cheek. “I don’t care about my legacy anymore. I deserved every one of those comments on the Web site and ten thousand more. Those people know the real James Kier.” He took a deep breath. “But the worst thing is that now that I really do want to make things better, there’s nothing I can do. Maybe this is hell, seeing the truth. Knowing fully the pain and hurt you’ve caused others and knowing there’s no way you can make it better. I’ve stolen their lives and dreams. I have blood on my hands.” He looked into her eyes. “How could I ever be forgiven?”

Linda fought back her tears. “Isn’t that the point of Christmas?”

He sighed again, dropping his head in his hands.

“Mr. Kier, you might have started this journey for the wrong reason, but you ended up at the right place. You’ve changed. It’s miraculous how much you’ve changed. And you’ve tried to repent. I’m not an expert on forgiveness, but I do know that intent matters. I also know that it’s never too late to do the right thing. There are people who still need you and care about you.”

“No one cares about me.”

“I do.”

He looked up at her. “I don’t know why. But thank you.” Then he asked, “Why did you leave the most important names off the list?”

“I knew if you changed, you would discover that I had. And if you didn’t . . .” She paused. “Well, then it really wouldn’t have mattered.”

Kier began to sob. “They used to love me. Jimmy and Sara used to love me. I would do anything to have their love again. I would give everything to have a second chance. Everything. But it’s too late.”

Linda walked over to Kier and put her arms around him. He put his head on her shoulder and wept. At last he composed himself.

“It’s late,” he said. “You’d better get home to your family.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

His tone of resignation frightened her. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.” She retrieved her coat and started for the door, then turned around. “Thursday is our first company Christmas party. I don’t know if you’re planning on attending but you still have a three o’clock meeting with Vance Allen of Scott Homes. Shall I postpone it?”

“No. I’ll take the meeting,” he said. He dropped his head in his hands.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He didn’t speak and her heart ached as she looked at him. “Please, Mr. Kier, take care of yourself.”

“Goodnight,” he said.

Linda walked out to her car. It was still snowing heavily and in the short time she’d been inside, her car was already covered. She climbed inside, started the engine and turned the defrost on full, then rooted through her glove box for a travel pack of Kleenex. She wiped her eyes and nose. Then she grabbed the snowbrush from her back seat and climbed out and brushed the snow from her windows. She looked back at the house. It was still dark. “You have changed, Mr. Kier,” she said. She climbed back in her car, threw the wet brush on the floor in back, and began to back out of the driveway. Then she remembered her promise. She put her car in park then took out her cell phone and dialed. “Sara, it’s me. Linda.”