The Christmas Pundit (Laurel Holidays #2) - V.L. Locey Page 0,18

had to try,” Gideon replied, his gaze moving from my father to me. I quickly glanced at the pile of leaves in his yard. “Your son has your dogged determination.”

“We Welsh are known for being doggedly determined. I see you’ve done some improvements to the place,” Dad said, releasing Gideon’s hand while I looked everywhere but at Gideon. He unsettled me, stirred up odd feelings, and I didn’t like it.

“What I could get done before winter moves in. My move out here was a little rushed, but I did manage to get a contractor from Corning to replace the siding as well as have the plumbing and electric checked out before I moved in. The renters that Mom had let live here weren’t overly kind to the place, so there’s lots of cosmetic work inside, but the heater works well and the windows close, for the most part.”

“Call Mike Mason over in Silverwood. He’s got a nice business replacing doors and windows. Reasonably priced too. That’s the man you used for your new windows, remember, Evan?”

“Yeah, I remember. He’s good. Affordable. Might be able to squeeze you in before the first snow flies.”

Gideon pulled out his phone and began typing. “I’ll make a note and call him. Maybe I’ll come by your place first and take a look at your windows, Mayor. Just to see this Mike Mason’s workmanship.”

Dad thought that was a cool idea. That was the term he used. Cool. Dad loved talking home repair to anyone who would indulge his affection for all things remodeling.

“That’s always prudent,” Dad said, his sight locked on Gideon’s house. Gideon’s sharp green eyes were pinned on me. I felt like a mouse spotted by an incredibly hungry cat. “Drop by when you’re done at Evan’s and see our new front door. It’s green!”

“I’ll do that, Mr. Griffiths.” Gideon smiled, his sight finally leaving my face. “Guess I better get back to it before it’s too dark to see. I’ll see you soon, Mayor. Mr. Griffiths.” He gave us a saucy two-finger brow tap then sauntered back to his raking. I spun on my heel, mindful of the sidewalk, and hustled back from the dead end with my father hot on my heels.

“He’s grown into a nice young man. Good eye for siding and shutter colors,” Dad said while we chugged down the hill toward home. “I’m always glad to see the troubled youth turn out well. His father was a notorious son-of-a-bitch. Always hitting his wife and son.”

I skidded to a halt at the corner of Alberton and Valencia. Night was now officially here. The sky was dark, the stars blinking to life one by one. My nose was cold and so was my heart.

“He hit Gideon?” I asked, knowing how stupid that sounded, but I had never heard that before. Yes, I knew he smacked Mrs. Pierce around when he was into the booze but Gideon? He was only a kid. Fucking hell…

“Oh yeah, your mother and I had child services up there several times but then Maggie and the boy left one night and well, we all know what happened with Drew.”

“God, I never knew. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me about that?”

Dad sighed deeply, leading us past a house with a warm yellow light falling out onto the yard.

“Because you were just a child yourself, Evan. We didn’t want to traumatize you. You’ve always been so sensitive about other people’s plights. Then there was the animosity between you two boys. We talked about it, telling you somehow…hoping it might ease the hatred you seemed to have for him, but it was confidential information.”

“Wow, I just…wow.” I shuffled along beside him, hands in front pockets, mind stuffed to overflowing with thoughts and worries. “I wish you could have told me. It might have made a difference.” Then again, maybe not. We have to grow into compassionate beings, for the most part. It’s hard for a child to exercise empathy. Hell, it’s hard for some adults. Still, if I had known, perhaps I could have been a bit more benevolent. I liked to think so anyway.

“We couldn’t tell you, Son. We wished we could have but we simply couldn’t. Thankfully, they both got away and the boy obviously grew up into a man with strong ideals.”

“Mm, yeah, strong ideals that are in direct conflict with mine,” I grumbled.

“Do you know the story of Ben Franklin and how he made a friend of an enemy?”

“Did he tie his kite to his