Merry Cherry Christmas

The cream walls were decorated with dozens of framed family photos. Jeremy was eager to examine the pics of younger Max, but followed as Valerie led him past the solid dining table into the kitchen, where a thin man with wispy gray hair was taking out a tray of golden pinwheel pastries from the oven.

“Got it?” Valerie asked.

“’Course I do,” he grumbled. He dropped the tray on the gas stove top with a clatter, the Santa-themed oven mitts comically big on him. Valerie and John shared a look but said nothing. She went and kissed the man’s papery cheek.

The kitchen had clearly been remodeled, with a big island and white cabinets that gleamed. The marble countertop along the wall under a small window was cluttered with the baking ingredients, a spray of flour over the wood floor.

“This is Jeremy. Max’s friend.”

“Oh, you mean you didn’t pick him up on the street corner? Of course he’s Max’s friend.” Extending his hand, he said, “I’m Pierre.” At the last second he realized he was still wearing the oven mitts and took them off to reveal gnarled fingers.

Jeremy shook his hand, which felt dry and bumpy but had a surprisingly crushing grip. “Very nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for having me.”

“Well, why wouldn’t we?” He wheezed a laugh and went back to his cookies, picking up a spatula to transfer them to a wire rack.

Jeremy followed Valerie and John out of the kitchen and down a passageway that looked very new. They explained that they’d had a sitting room converted into a bedroom and en suite bathroom for Valerie’s father, passing the closed door and heading back to the main living area.

“It’s a really nice house.”

“Thank you, Jeremy.” Valerie gave him a smile. “What a polite young man you are.”

“Max said your parents are away? Where did they go?” John asked.

“Oh, they’re on a cruise in Hawaii.”

“You chose rural Ontario over Hawaii? You need to give your head a shake!” John exclaimed with a hearty laugh.

Max appeared, glaring. “Dad.”

“It’s okay,” Jeremy said, trying to laugh along. “I wasn’t actually invited to Hawaii.” He quickly added, “My parents are paying for res and my tuition. I can’t expect more. It’s only fair they get to treat themselves and my little brother. They’re meeting up with my mom’s old friend who lives in the States, and she has kids my brother’s age, so it all works out well. I had a late exam, so I couldn’t go anyway…”

He trailed off, aware of the awkward silence and pitying expressions.

“It’s okay. It’s not like they kicked me out or told me they hate me. It’s all very civil.” He winced internally as he said the soulless word.

“Civil,” Valerie echoed. “My goodness.” Her face pinched before she forced a bright smile. “Lucky for us we get the pleasure of your company. And another helping hand for Saturday!”

Jeremy nodded eagerly. Anything to get off the subject of his parents. “What’s the event?”

She answered, “We do three Saturday open houses leading up to the holidays and promote it with a Christmas tree farm not too far from here. Joint flyers and ads encouraging folks to visit us both and make a full day of it. We coordinate to make sure we have different activities. Oh, John, did you ask Hunter if they need more syrup for this weekend for their flavored coffee and hot chocolate?”

“Let me text him now.” John pulled out his phone.

In a conspiratorial half-whisper, Valerie said, “The tree farmer has a young lover who’s done such a wonderful job promoting the business.”

Meg hopped off the last stair, coming down from upstairs. “He’s probably, like, twenty-five now. Super hot if you’re into twinks. Nick Spini was such a grumpy fucker before Hunter came along. Super hot if you’re into lumberjack daddies.”

Lips thin, Valerie’s nostrils flared as her eyes narrowed. “Megan.”

Meg shrugged, trying not to grin. “Am I wrong, Mom?”

Valerie opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. “Fine,” she muttered. “You’re not wrong, but language.”

John, who seemed to be happily ignoring the whole exchange, glanced up from his phone. “They’re running low. Max, can you run over a few cans this afternoon? Then we can decorate the tree.”

“Cool,” Max agreed. “Jer, let me show you your room.”

The stairs creaked under them, another fresh garland and golden fairy lights wrapped around the banister. The upstairs hallway was narrow, the floor uneven.

“They renovated downstairs first, as you can tell,” Max said. “That’s the master at the end of the hall, and they have their own bathroom. We’re stuck with the ancient one that’s the second door on the right. Meg’s up on the left, this is you, and this is me across the hall.” He motioned to the first room on the right.

Jeremy couldn’t stop the spark of excitement at sleeping so close to Max. Maybe we can just… No! We can’t. Only friends! No benefits! At least not until January.