A Merry Little Christmas Read Free

love.
    Jeremiah looked at them now, their earnest expressions, their pent-up frustration. Letting out a long breath, he leaned back in his chair. “If it means that much to you, fine. Go talk to the person in charge of the program, this—” he glanced down at the flyer “—this Dr. Crane. See if the university would even be interested in putting a student in our guest cottage. We’ll look into it, and see if we can help out in one way or another.”
    “He’s gonna try to weasel out,” Benjamin told his brother. “That’s how he talks when he’s leaving loopholes.”
    “Don’t worry,” Daniel said. He set the bowl of popcorn back in his father’s lap. “We’ll win this one.”
    As they sauntered out of the room, Jeremiah crossed his legs, turned back to the game and dipped his hand into the popcorn. His sons successfully outmaneuvered him now and then. But only when he chose to hand them the victory flag.
     
    Jeremiah pulled his BMW into its space in the garage and let his head drop back against the headrest. A long night of work lay ahead of him, and both boys’ cars were home. That meant the basement would probably be full. And loud. Teenagers would be running up and down the stairs, baking pizzas, letting friends into the house, playing music and video games at loud volume. It was a school night, but so close to the Thanksgiving break that the teachers had all but given up assigning homework.
    Lifting his briefcase from the car floor, he thought of the board meeting the following morning. Ever since the firm’s clash with historic preservationists a couple of years back, everyone was spooked. Nowadays, when an old building was scheduled for demolition, the board went through the paperwork with a fine-tooth comb.
    In this project, Jeremiah was working with a developer to convert a defunct shoe factory in downtown St. Louis into loft apartments. A high-class project with excellent funding, it promised to enhance the city’s riverfront. The firm had worked hard on the design, and Jeremiah had spearheaded the effort to keep as much of the building’s original features intact as possible. But with the board arriving in the morning, he was probably going to be up most of the night preparing to defend his plan.
    “Yo, Dad!” Daniel bounced a basketball around the corner of the garage. “You’re here!”
    That ought to be fairly obvious, Jeremiah thought as he stepped out of the garage. Didn’t his older son have a late class on Tuesday afternoons?
    “He’s home, Ben!” Daniel called. “Over here!”
    Benjamin danced into the open. “Hey, Dad. Wanna shoot some hoops with us?”
    As he looked at his sons, the tension in Jeremiah’s shoulders eased. Dressed in gray sweatpants and T-shirts, they were a picture of health and wholesomeness. These were two good kids. Sure, Benjamin had spent a little time in the principal’s office in grade school for acting up. And Daniel had made some unwise choices, including a girlfriend a few years before. Neither boy was perfect by a long shot. But they were turning out all right. He couldn’t be prouder.
    “I’ve got a big meeting tomorrow morning,” he told them. “That St. Louis shoe factory deal is on the table.”
    “Aw, just half an hour,” Benjamin pleaded. “C’mon, Dad!”
    “Yeah, Dad.”
    Daniel tossed the ball to his father. Jeremiah caught it with one hand and dribbled for a moment before rifling it back to his son. Dropping his briefcase on the driveway, he shrugged out of his suit coat, rolled up the sleeves of his starched white shirt, loosened his tie and headed for the basketball hoop. Still wearing his tasseled loafers, he would probably fall and crack his tailbone, but so what?
    “This way, Daniel,” he called.
    The older boy threw him the ball, and the three of them went at it, just as they always had. Father and sons, orange hoop on the side of the garage, air echoing with the sound of the ball hitting the pavement and the players