The Geek Who Saved Christmas

“Tell me a number. I think I can work with whatever you need.”

I told him one I’d arrived at earlier after looking over my personal, non-business finances.

“Oh, we’re not even going to need close to that.” He laughed, holding up one of the papers, which had careful columns and even line drawings of various furniture items. “I’ve covered most of the large furniture pieces already.”

“You’ve what?” I blinked, both at his organization and his moxie both. “I don’t do charity.”

“This isn’t you accepting charity. It’s you doing a service. More than one service, in fact. Services. Plural.” He made a swooping gesture with his stack of papers.

“Explain.” My neck prickled. This still seemed awfully like him arranging charity on my behalf.

“Well, for instance, the dining room.” He pointed at the empty room beyond the living room. “My ex has been itching for a new set. Hers is from when we were together. Her new wife would also love a change, but they keep dithering over ‘what will we do with the old one.’ So, I gave them the excuse they needed. And I might have mentioned I had access to a truck and could handle the removal with my…neighbor.”

Gideon paused near the end of his speech like he was about to say friend and thought the better of it. We weren’t friends, even if the neighbor part was starting to get damn complicated.

“You volunteered my truck?” I wasn’t sure which part of Gideon’s nerve was the most shocking.

“Yes.” Gideon at least had the grace to look sheepish, glancing down at his papers. “I obligated you, but I figured you’d rather do a fair trade than have me arrange a favor from a different friend with a truck. My ex was delighted at the prospect of free, reliable labor to haul the old set away.”

“Yeah,” I said faintly, grasping for some way to make sense of the warp speed with which his mind moved. “You were married?”

“Yes. Right out of college. Married my best friend. She’s still my best friend, but about ten years ago, she came out in love with her other best friend. I didn’t want her to feel bad, so I came out too.”

It was such a Gideon thing to do. Brave, slightly misguided, and full speed ahead. My back tensed, his sort of boldness both unfamiliar and frightening. “You’re both gay?”

“I know. Such a cliché, right?” Gideon had a musical laugh, the sort that made people want to laugh right along with him. “And it was almost twenty years ago when we married, twenty-five when we started dating. Marrying my best friend was easy. Coming out was harder. But she did it, so I did too, and I was happier for it. How about you?”

“Me?” Apparently, somewhere in his whirlwind of sharing, he was asking for my coming-out story, but I needed a second to collect myself. “I…uh…”

“I’m sorry.” Shuffling his feet, he shifted his gaze downward. “I’m being presumptuous. I saw your little logo and simply assumed…”

It would have been easy to just nod or maybe say that we did a lot of business with the LGBTQ+ community, but something about the way he’d deflated made me more talkative. “You didn’t assume wrong. But you’re also right. Twenty years ago, things were different. My parents died. I had to get custody of Brandon.”

“I’m so sorry.” The overwhelming sympathy in Gideon’s eyes was a huge reason why I seldom shared even this much. Glancing over at Jim lying in her plaid bed, I focused on the rise and fall of her furry chest so I could get the rest of the story out quickly.

“Even if I’d been out, a single gay guy in his twenties was gonna be a harder sell to the social workers. So I kept my head down. Then when Brandon left for college, I could finally breathe.” I shrugged like the whole thing had been simple, like those early years hadn’t fazed me at all. Sharing the near past was far easier. “I had a lot of same-sex couples as clients by the time Brandon graduated. He and my couple of close buddies had long since known, so I told myself that putting the little rainbow up to try to get even more LGBTQ+ business was simply good advertising, nothing to get all worked up over like coming out to the social workers would have been.”

And if my hands had shaken when I’d ordered my new logo, well, I sure as hell wasn’t telling Gideon that.

“That’s still a long time to hold your breath.” Gideon nodded like someone who’d know, and I supposed maybe he would.

“Yeah,” I agreed, but in a tone that didn’t invite follow-up questions. “Tell me about the other deals you’ve arranged.”

“Okay.” Gideon’s tone was overly bright like he knew I needed a topic change and was having to work to restrain his always overflowing curiosity. “Now, the living room will require more imagination.”

“Try me.” He wasn’t the only one who could fake a hearty voice. Tapping into Gideon’s enthusiasm was way more interesting than talking about me. And he was rather cute when he got excited, all big gestures and fast-talking.

“Now, Cheryl had a living room set with a large couch for sale most of the fall. No takers despite a more than reasonable price. It’s still in their garage taking up space, and none of her boys want it.”

“What’s the catch?”

He laughed like I’d said something rather smart. “You got me. It’s ugly as sin and twice as heavy.”

“Sounds like a score.” I was more okay taking the unloved couch than I was with Gideon strongarming his ex into a dining set upgrade. “But hey, a couch is a couch, right?”

“We’re going for more than function here.” He gave me a withering look. “Cheryl’s sons and prospective buyers lack my vision. I found a cranberry-colored slipcover for a song. It’ll look divine with these walls, and the size means it’ll make a striking statement. Add some seasonal throw pillows, and voila!”

“Voila!” I echoed him, and he beamed at me with all the gratitude of Jim when I accidentally added too much kibble to her bowl.