Red Truck Rendezvous

the chance.
“Pablo, I know it’s true,” Gram grinned like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “The signs were plain to see. You kissed that girl today, and you liked it.”
Pablo’s face felt as hot as his beverage, and he lowered his head, not wishing to give anything away.
Gram leaned across the table, her keen eyes studying him as he slumped over his mug. “She had greasy handprints on her back.” The older woman leaned back, laughing loudly at the look of horror on Pablo’s face. The boy was precious to her, as were all her children and grandchildren and bonus grandchildren.
“It just happened.” Pablo half stood, placing his hands on the table. “I didn’t mean to, but she was so close and then…”
Gram reached out, dropping a weathered hand over his. “Sit down and drink your chocolate,” she commanded. “Your secret is safe with me. I can’t say I’m surprised. You two have a lot in common.”
“But too much that isn’t as well.” Pablo felt the weight of the world fall on his shoulders as he poured out his heart to Gram.

Chapter 13
“You’ve got to get him to open the package.” The two figures standing in the darkest corner of the Old Inn’s yard gazed up a second-floor window. After all, you’re the one who sent him the wrong one at Christmas time. It could have been a catastrophe.”
“But how? He doesn’t know me. He won’t trust me just because I tell him to open it. Also, if you remember, Pablo gave that other little car to Chris to play with, so I didn’t do any harm.”
“You have to be more careful. Now you made this mess, and I’ve done all I can to fix it, but you’ll have to do the rest.”
“Mama,” the man with the white beard pleaded. “I’m sure he’ll open it in time.”
“Christian Kringle, don’t you Mama me,” Mrs. Claus placed her hands on her hips. She looked lovely in a summer sweat suit and running shoes, her shoulder-length bob of silvery hair all but glowing in the moonlight. “This is the first year we’ve even dared use the Christmas Cottage. It’s rented in our names for the next five years and will play the part it was made for in winning lonely hearts, but you jumped the gun on this one, three Christmases ago. Everything wasn’t in place, and now we’re spending our summer working it out.”
The man wrapped his arm around his lovely wife, a soft ho, ho, ho emanating from his belly. “I’ll think of something, though it doesn’t look like they need any more help.”
“That’s what you think.” Mrs. Claus sighed, resigned to having to wait for things to play out as they should. “Now, let’s peek in on our grandson.”
Chris winked, placing his finger on his nose and whistling softly. A moment later, they were each seated on the back of a reindeer peering in the open window at little Christian Jimenez. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains of the partially open window, and the little boy rolled over on his bed, yawning as he blinked sleepy eyes at the two people outside. A happy grin spread across his face, and he tucked his knees under him as he drifted off in peaceful dreams.
“One day,” Mrs. Claus sniffed. “One day, it will be our turn to come home.”
Chris placed his hand on his wife’s back. “We have to go,” he whispered, sending their mounts back toward the earth and the tiny cottage they were sharing while they waited for the world to right itself once more.
***
Pablo staggered down the stairs heading for the coffee pot. He had to be working too hard, or his worries about Portia were getting to him. Last night as he struggled to sleep, he could have sworn he saw two reindeer dash past his window.
Yawning heavily, he stretched and reached for the largest mug he could find nearly draining the pot of its black brew.
“Rough night?” Carlos walked into the kitchen, already wearing his white painter’s overalls. He had had one too many buckets of paint toppled on him not to wear some kind of protective covering, these days.
“Strange dreams.”
“Are you stressed over this truck?” Carlos poured what was left of the coffee into his cup and set the pot up to start over. “You’ve been putting in some long hours.”
“It’s worth it.” Pablo dropped into a chair, taking a long draw on his mug. “Portia, Ms. Princeton, is paying me well. With what I’ll earn rebuilding this truck, I’ll pay off most of what’s owed on the equipment. I might even set some aside to update the barn a little more.”
Carlos grinned. “Let me know if you need help.”
“What, doesn’t this place keep you busy enough,” Pablo laughed the grin scattering the strange remnants of his vision from the night before.
“It does, but you know I’ll always be there to help.”
“Thanks, Carlos. What are you working on today anyway?”
“I’m touching up some of the trim work on the porch. It gets a lot of traffic in the summer, and the wind off the lake is hard on it all winter.”
“Carlos, how did you know that Jamie was the woman for you?” The question caught Pablo as much by surprise as it did Carlos.
“Everything just fell into place,” his older brother grinned. “Like that little paintbrush ornament, the crash and spill at the Patriotic cabin. Her need for someone to help at the inn, and my need for someone to help here.” He tapped his chest with his index finger. “We were meant to be together, and it just took a little nudge to let me know it. I guess you could say it was a jumble of different things that all came together at once.”
Pablo nodded. He had seen the transformation in his brother. The joy, the light in his eyes each time he saw Jamie.  “Thanks,” he said, gulping down more coffee and reaching for a slice of coffee cake on the table.