The Christmas List: A Novel

The Friday the newspaper reported James Kier’s death began just like any other. At six A.M. Kier met Tim Brey, his company’s chief operating officer, for their weekly game of squash. As usual, Kier won every set. Afterward he stopped at the 4th South Starbucks where he drank a Venti latte while he read the day’s headlines from the Salt Lake Tribune, the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times, then he drove home, showered and dressed. Although he was usually at work by nine, today he had a meeting with a jeweler. He was designing a ring for his girlfriend’s Christmas present: a two-karat marquis-cut diamond set in a wide platinum band.

Even though there was a private entry in the rear of the building, Kier always entered through the front door so his employees would know he was there. It was not without effect. At his arrival employees stopped their idle chatter and sprang to work as quickly as motorists hitting their brakes at the first sight of a highway patrolman.

(A reporter once asked Kier how many people worked at Kier Company. He replied, “About half of them.”)

He passed the front desk and walked down the corridor to where his secretary, Linda Nash, sat at the entrance to his corner office.

The Kier building was plain by design—a work space built for function not frills. “A picture on the wall doesn’t make me money,” Kier was fond of saying. What decor existed—a few plants and wall hangings—had been put there years earlier by his wife, Sara. Even though it was past Thanksgiving, the office was conspicuously devoid of holiday dressing. Kier didn’t believe in wasting money on seasonal frivolities and made it a point to belittle those who did.

As he approached his office, Linda looked up from her computer. “Good morning, Mr. Kier.” She was in her late thirties, slender with long, dishwater blond hair that she wore pulled back in a low ponytail.

“Is the meeting still on?”

“Everyone’s waiting for you in the conference room.”

Kier took off his coat and laid it on Linda’s desk. “My ex-wife and her lawyer are in the conference room and you call it a ‘good’ morning?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kier.” She hung his coat on a coat rack near his office door.

“When’s my next meeting?”

“At ten o’clock. Mr. Vance Allen with Scott Homes.”

“Allen,” he repeated. “Well, don’t talk to him. I want him on edge. And get me my coffee.”

“Would you like it in the conference room?”

“No, I don’t expect to be in there that long.”

He turned and walked away.

“Yes sir,” she said softly.

Kier walked down the hall to his conference room. The long polished table of bird’s-eye maple could seat twelve, but that morning it had only three occupants: two lawyers and his wife. Kier’s lawyer, Lincoln Archibald, was a barrel-chested man with a full head of thick black hair that spilled over into bushy Elvis-style sideburns. His sideburns had once been even longer, until Kier, not one to hide his opinions, asked Lincoln if he wore the things on a bet or if he was trying to frighten children. The next time Kier saw him the sideburns had been trimmed.

Sara had her back to the entry, as did her lawyer, Steve Pair, who was Sara’s nephew and fresh from law school. Kier wasn’t fond of Sara’s sister, Beth, and held her son in the same low regard.

Kier slumped down in the seat next to Lincoln, quietly groaning to let everyone know what an annoyance he considered the meeting. Only then did he look at his wife. Sara wore a silk scarf around her head beneath a red, sharp-rimmed cloche. Even though they’d been separated for nearly a year she still wore the simple, quarter-karat ring with which he’d wed her on her left hand. She was always well put together, and even though she looked pale her lashless eyes were still piercing. Kier turned away from her gaze. He felt—had always felt—that she could look right through him.

“Sara,” he said shortly, nodding.

“Hello, Jim.”

“You don’t look so well.”

“I’m fine.” It was obvious that she wasn’t. She was sickly pale and had obviously lost weight since the last time Kier had seen her, three weeks earlier. “We missed you on Thanksgiving.”

“I was out of town. It was a last-minute thing.”

“Jimmy was here. You could have met his fiancée.”

“Like I said, I was out of town.”

“Shall we get started?” Steve asked.

Kier turned and faced the young lawyer. “What do you call a criminal lawyer?” Kier asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what do you call a criminal lawyer?”

Steve looked at Kier with annoyance. “I don’t know. What do you call a criminal lawyer?”

“A redundancy.”

Steve just shook his head. “Okay, with that out of the way, we’ll begin. Against my counsel, my client, Mrs. Kier, has generously agreed to accept all of your terms, except for two. She would like to keep the piano. It has sentimental value. Also, there’s not enough money for Jimmy’s education.”

Kier’s grin vanished. “Jimmy can work his way through school like I did. And what does he need college for anyway? He just wants to paint his little pictures.”

“Mr. Kier, we both know my client—”

“Your client? Are you stupid? She’s your aunt. Her name is Sara.”

Sara looked apologetically at Steve, then back at Kier. “Please, Jim, let’s keep this civil.”

Kier settled back, crossing his arms and glancing down at his watch. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Steve started again. “I have advised my . . . Sara to either get the money for Jimmy’s education or we’re going back for business assets.”

Kier glared at the young man. Lincoln leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Take it.”

The truth was Kier neither wanted the piano nor really cared about the price of Jimmy’s tuition. He was a negotiator and the first rule of any negotiation is to ask for things you don’t care about in case you need to bargain for something of real value.

He exhaled loudly. “All right. It’s his life. Why should I care how he wastes it?”

Steve glanced at Sara, then turned back to Lincoln. “Very well, then there’s nothing more to discuss. I’ll have the new language added to the agreement and the documents over to you by Monday.”

Kier stood. “Just get it over with. I want this mistake behind me.”

Sara looked down, trying to hide her hurt. Kier felt foolish and tried to diffuse the awkwardness. “So, Steve-o. What do you call a thousand lawyers at the bottom of the ocean.”

“A good start,” Steve said tersely, collecting papers and putting them into his attaché case.

“You learn that in law school?”

“Among other things.”

“At least it wasn’t a total waste,” Kier said beneath his breath.

Sara stood and walked over to Kier. She held out her hand. “Goodbye, Jim.” Kier felt embarrassed for his comment. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Oh?” she said, “Then what did you mean?”

Kier looked at her blankly, at a loss for words.

Suddenly Sara fell backward. Kier lunged to grab her but Steve caught her from behind.

“Here,” Kier said, pushing a chair forward. “Sit her down.”

Steve helped her into the chair.

“I’m sorry,” Sara said. “I’m just a little weak.”

“Are you going to be all right?” Kier asked.

She looked up at him. “I’m not your problem anymore.”

Kier turned away. “I’ve got a meeting.” He walked out the door and back to his office.

Linda looked up as he approached. “That was quick.”

“It was an eternity. Where’s Allen?”

“Mr. Allen isn’t here yet. I put his file on your desk next to your coffee. And Miss Steele called. Shall I get her on the phone?”

“Yes. And Sara’s not feeling well. Get her a Coke or something.” He walked into his office and shut the door behind him.

Kier’s phone buzzed as he sank into his chair. He pushed the speaker button. “Hey baby, what’s up?”

A deep voice answered, “It’s me, baby. Lincoln.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m walking to my car. Look, I say we don’t sign the papers.”

“We just got everything we wanted.”

“Yes, but you’re still giving up the house, your IRAs, and the Waterford investment account. I say we just put this on ice.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I hadn’t seen Sara for a while. If we hold off long enough, as the surviving partner you’ll end up with everything.”

“You’re a hard man, Lincoln.”

“From you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Linda beeped in. “Miss Steele’s on the line.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“You know I’m right,” Lincoln said.

“You’re a heartless mercenary.”

“That’s why you hired me. Let me know.”

“ ’Bye.” He pushed another button. “Hey baby.”

“Hi big guy. Guess what I’m wearing?”

“I have no idea.”

“Close your eyes.”

“And?”

“Are they closed?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“Okay, now imagine me in very, very tiny pieces of string and fabric some scandalous fashion designer called a bikini. Inch per inch this thing is more expensive than Manhattan real estate. I think we should fly to Boca Raton for the weekend and try it out.”

“Boca’s too far.”

“Did I mention I bought a new bikini?”

“Our trip to Cancún set me back a week at work. I’m still paying for it.”

“And wasn’t I worth it? All work and no play makes Jimmy a dull boy.”

“All play and no work makes Jimmy a poor boy.”

“It would take a lot of play to do that.”

“How about something closer?”

“How close?”

“Something that doesn’t require an airport.”

“I was prepared for that. Plan B, Park City. I know a quaint little bed-and-breakfast with in-room hot tubs. Can you get off a little early?”

“I could cancel a meeting. What time are you thinking?”

“Around five.”

Linda beeped in again. “Mr. Allen is here.”

“Five? Okay. I’ll cancel my meeting. I’ve got to go. I’ll transfer you to Linda; she can make the reservations.”

“If you must.”

“What does that mean?”

“I hate talking to her. She’s so . . . boring. And I don’t think she likes me.”

“I didn’t hire her because she’s entertaining and it doesn’t matter if she likes you. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Ciao, baby.”

With Vance Allen waiting outside his office, Kier walked around his desk and moved the chairs a little further back. He was always mindful of taking the psychological advantage. When he first moved in, he had a carpenter cut nearly two inches off the legs of his guest chairs as well as an additional half inch off the front so the occupant was not only forced to look up to him but always felt a little off balance. On one occasion, when negotiating a multimillion-dollar real estate purchase, he had slipped Dramamine into his client’s coffee to make him drowsy. To Kier, all was fair in business.

He went back to his desk and opened the file Linda had left for him on Vance Allen. Five months earlier Allen had come to him in desperate need of nearly a million dollars. ($974,076 to be exact. Kier was always exact.) Vance had been in danger of losing a family-owned, forty-six-acre property near the base of Little Cottonwood Canyon that was in tax arrears. To secure the property Allen had to find money quickly and came to Kier for a hard money loan. It was a prime piece of real estate, easily worth five times the amount of the loan. Kier currently held the deed and would prefer it stayed that way. He pressed the speakerphone button; “Let him in.”

Vance stepped in to his office. He was a tall, clumsy-looking man with graying temples. Kier thought him a simpleton who liked to shake hands too much. He made it a point to use hand sanitizer after their meetings.

“Mr. Kier, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

Kier sat back, his gaze cold. “Have a seat.”

Vance sat down, sensing the awkwardness of the chair. He furtively glanced down at the chair’s front legs.

“You’ve got my money?”

Vance looked up and smiled weakly. “Well, okay, right to business. As you know, the loan call date is about three weeks from now, on the twenty-fourth of December. The good news is that I’ve found an investor. However, he’s going to have to liquidate some assets and it’s going to take him until the new year to come up with all the capital. So, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to extend the loan for an extra few weeks, with points and interest of course.”

Kier just looked at him. “No.”

Allen’s surprise was evident on his face. “No?”

“That wasn’t our arrangement and I need my money back. You’ve had six months to close the deal. We have payment in full by the twenty-fourth or you default and we take the property.”

Allen’s jaw tightened. “But our investor can’t come up with the money that fast. We’re only talking an extra three or four weeks.”

“That’s not my problem. We have a deal and I expect you to live up to it. Honorably.”

Allen turned red. “I’ve never cheated anyone in my entire life.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“It’s the danged economy, trying to find a jumbo loan right now is almost impossible.”

“We’re all having hard times. Now, I’m busy. I’ll see you with my money on the twenty-fourth.”

“This property has been in my family for almost a hundred years.”

Kier looked down for a moment, then back at Vance. “Tell you what. When we start building we’ll name the development after your great-granddad.”

Vance was trembling with anger. Without another word he stood up and walked out of the office. After the door shut, Kier habitually took out his hand sanitizer and rubbed it into his hands, then started looking through the P&L reports his accountant had left on his desk.

A few minutes later Linda buzzed him.

“What is it?”

“Your Park City reservations are confirmed.”

“I need you to cancel my four-thirty meeting with Dawson.”

“I already have. Would you like me to reschedule?”

“Monday, if I have anything open.”

“Anything else, Mr Kier?”

“No.”

“It’s nice you’re getting away.”

“Why, glad to be rid of me?” Kier snorted.

“No, sir. I was just thinking it’s nice to get away sometimes.”

Kier disconnected and Linda set her phone down. After her husband Max became ill with multiple sclerosis, traveling was pretty much out of the question. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been on a real vacation.

While Kier was meeting with Vance, Steve walked Sara out to her car, holding her arm through the parking lot. “Well, we got what you asked for,” Steve said, clearly displeased. When Sara didn’t respond he added, “We really should have gone for more. Much more.”

“I don’t need more.”

“You should be looking out for your future.”

Sara gave him a wry smile. “Well, there’s not much point to that, is there?”

“Aunt Sara, you shouldn’t talk that way.”

“I’m just being realistic.”

Steve opened the car door for her. “Would you like me to drive you home? I can have someone from the office pick up my car.”

“I’ll be okay.” Sara sat down in the car and put the keys in the ignition.

“You know, Aunt Sara, I don’t understand how someone like you ends up with a creep like that.”

“Jim wasn’t always like this.”

“The way he treats people is obscene. Especially the way he treats you.”

Sara ignored her nephew’s comment. “Thank you for your help, Steve. And I still haven’t received a bill for your services.”

“Nor will you.”

“I insist.”

“Favorite aunts don’t get billed. Unless you happen to be making some of those tiger rolls you always bring to the family Christmas party, then I’ll accept payment in kind.”

Sara smiled. “I’ll make a few extra rolls just for you.”

“Consider me in your debt.”

“Thank you, Steve. Tell your mother hello for me.”

He stepped back from the car and shut the door. “Drive carefully.”

As Sara drove away he said to himself, “That idiot is throwing away the best thing he’s ever had.”