“Because?”
She didn’t want to talk about this. She didn’t want to rehash old Martinelli news the whole town already knew. But Tina knew if she didn’t answer, he’d just ask his parents. It wasn’t like anything stayed a secret in a small town. “My aunt and uncle were in a position to buy in. They promised to let me manage the business. My father had developed a bad heart, a combination of genetics and smoking, and he needed to step down. Mom and Dad moved to Florida to escape the tough winters and my uncle booted me to the curb.”
“He fired you?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, man.”
He was feeling sorry for her, and the expression on his face said he couldn’t understand family acting like that, treating each other that way. Well.
Neither could she. “It was a long time ago.”
“Yes. But then you opened a café there.” He indicated the burned-out shell visible through the west-facing window. “With their restaurant right here.” He turned back toward the window facing the parking lot and whistled lightly. “Gutsy.”
Tina made a face. “Gutsy, yes. And maybe a little mean.”
“Mean?” He put away a handful of small tools as he scrunched his forehead. “How can that be mean?”
“Because as my business grew, their customers dwindled,” Tina admitted. “And that made my uncle grumpier than usual, and he was pretty miserable already. That couldn’t have been fun for Aunt Laura and Ryan.”
He raised one absolutely gorgeous brow at the mention of her cousin’s name.
“My cousin. Their only child. And now my uncle’s dead, my aunt’s running the place on her own with half the help she needs, and raising a kid who’s hanging with a rough bunch from Clearwater. So maybe if I hadn’t been bullheaded and put my café right under their noses...”
“Where your success would be painfully obvious...”
She frowned. “Exactly. Maybe things would be different. Maybe we could actually be like a normal family. Like yours.”
“Ah.”
“You have so much to be grateful for, Max.”
His face said he knew that.
“So staying away, leaving your parents and brothers and sisters, shrugging them all off...” She set her coffee cup down and faced him. “I don’t get it. I’d give anything to have a family. My parents are gone, my mom died two years after my dad, I’ve got no brothers or sisters, and my one aunt won’t acknowledge me if we pass on the street. I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
Sympathy deepened his expression. “You know, I never thought of family in terms of temporary until Mom called me with Dad’s prognosis. Reality smacked me upside the head and said head home, soldier. But you’re right, Tina. I’ve got a lot to make up for, but standing and talking won’t do anything but put me to sleep this morning. I’m going to pull the last of those Christmas displays out of the shed and bring them in. I promised Mom we’d get them into place today.”
He wanted a change of subject. So did she. She turned, flipped the Closed sign to Open and turned the key in the door. “Bring ’em in, Max. I’ll be happy to help.”
“Thank you, Tina. I’d appreciate it.”
He was playing nice
His generosity rankled Tina more. After seeing investigators comb through the cold morning rubble of her beloved business, discussing her family’s casual disregard for each other was more unwelcome than usual. But Max would know nothing about that, because Campbells looked out for one another.
She took care of a handful of customers while Max built a Christmas lights display case in their seasonal corner. Once he had it firmly in place, she helped stock the wide range of holiday lighting kits.
“Doesn’t it seem early to be putting out Christmas stuff?”
Tina gaped at him, then laughed. “You’ve been in the army too long. The stores start shelving Christmas items as soon as their back-to-school displays are depleted. By mid-September, most places are stocked, lit up and ready to roll with holiday sales.”
“And Thanksgiving gets lost in the shuffle.” Max’s lament surprised her, because it was a feeling they shared.
“I love Thanksgiving,” she admitted. “I love the simplicity, the warmth, the food. Of course, I’m Italian, why wouldn’t I love the food?” The look she sent him made him smile, but his grin turned to understanding when she added, “The whole idea of an entire country, praying their thanks to God, regardless of faith. I just love it.”
“You know, it’s funny.” Max eased a hip onto the sales counter as he grabbed a bottle of water. “When you’re in the field on holidays, most of the guys seem to feel the loss of Thanksgiving more than any other.”
“More than Christmas?”
“Yeah. I might be wrong.” He shrugged, thinking. “Most soldiers get stuff at Christmas. Even the ones who don’t have family are hooked up with agencies that send care packages to deployed soldiers. But on Thanksgiving, there’s nothing but memories of what was. What could have been. What might be again. If you make it back. Maybe it was just me.” He stood, stretched and tossed his bottle into the recycling tote. “But I don’t think so.”
She’d never thought of it that way. She’d helped on Wounded Warrior projects, she’d arranged pickups for the Vietnam Veterans thrift shops, but she’d never thought about how lonely Thanksgiving must be when you’re thousands of miles away from anything American. “Hey, if you need to catch some sleep, head home. I’ve got this. Earl will be here in an hour and we’ll be all set.”
“I’ll leave once Earl’s here,” Max answered. He rolled his shoulders, stretched once more, and she did her best to ignore the amazing muscle definition formed by long years in the armed services. He moved to the front of the store. “I’m going to use the Cat to level the parking-lot stone. I can see where the water’s been puddling, and that won’t get any better once the snow hits.”
“Good.”
“And when I come back in, can you give me the lowdown on this festival thing we talked about yesterday? There’s not much time left, and I work better with a plan in my head.”
“From the looks of that back room, you do pretty well without a plan, too.” She didn’t say how she’d dreaded facing disappointed customers today, their expected equipment lying unfixed in the back room.
He shot her a grin over his shoulder. “Let’s see if they work before giving me too much credit.”
“You tested them, right?”
He ignored her question and kept on walking. Was he laughing? At her?
She finished the Christmas lights display as a customer arrived to pick up one of the newly fixed lawn mowers. When they wheeled their repaired machine out the back door, she felt a stab of pride. It might not be a big deal that Chuck Beadle was going to be able to give his yard a last mowing it didn’t really need, but it was important that their efforts to maintain Charlie and Jenny’s business as he fought his battle with cancer were successful. And without Max, it wouldn’t have happened, so she needed to give credit where credit was due.
Her cell phone signaled an incoming call. She pulled it out, saw the realty office number and picked up quickly. “Myra, good morning.”
“Hey, good morning to you, Tina! I’m emailing you a short list of potential sites for your café if you’re still thinking of Spencerport as your go-to place.”
“I am,” she replied. “That or Brockport.” She’d done her homework and these Erie Canal