I didn’t understand what he meant, but he seemed pleased with the idea so I returned his smile. “Right. That’s good.”
“Fingers crossed.”
I set my phone on the island and copied his crossed fingers gesture. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but do you mind if I ask what happened to your shoulder?”
He wiped his palms on his jeans. “Last Sunday in Seattle, I got sandwiched between a three-hundred-pound brick wall of a linebacker and a tight end before hitting the turf hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I made the ESPN highlights and the sports page…for all the wrong reasons.”
My brow creased as I tried to make sense of his explanation. Without knowing what a linebacker was, I was lost. I made a mental note to look it up and settled on, “I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“Me too. I walked away with a mild concussion and a shoulder sprain. Those guys sit out the remainder of the game, then wrap up their wounds and show up to practice ready to play. It doesn’t work like that for refs. I might be one of the younger ones, but I’m forty, and I don’t rebound quite as fast as I used to. That’s okay. I have the rest of November off to heal and spend time with Linc before he leaves for Indiana to see his grandparents for Thanksgiving.”
“So you’ll be healed in two and a half weeks?”
“Hopefully. It’s just a sprain, and it’s not my first. I know better than to ignore it. If I give it some rest, I’ll be fine. The timing sucks, though,” he grumbled, gazing toward the muted TV on the other end of the room.
“Because of the holidays?”
“No.” He gave a dismissive wave. “I don’t care about the holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas aren’t a big deal to me. It’s football season and—”
“Not a big deal?” I gasped in horror. “How can you say that? The holidays are…everything!”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Everything.” I smacked my palm on the island as if to emphasize the sentiment. “Peace, joy, goodwill to all. Christmas lights, decorating trees, making cookies, going to office parties, buying gifts for friends and family, watching holiday movies…I could keep going.”
“You like Christmas, huh?” he asked indulgently.
“Like it? I love it. I love Hanukkah too, and I’m not even Jewish. I love all holidays…except Halloween. If the decorations and celebrations are sweet and harmonious, rather than designed to scare the devil out of me, Halloween is fine. Otherwise, I can buy my own candy, thank you very much.”
“Noted.” Mr. McSwoony chuckled as he picked up his mug again, grimacing when he took another sip. “Meh. I don’t think I like tea.”
If possible, my eyes widened even more. “You don’t like tea?”
“I never drink it. Maybe it needs sugar or—why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m the Grinch.”
I tried and failed to school my features into something neutral…without success. I knew I was supposed to be sympathetic, but he wasn’t making it easy. Did he really say he cared more about football than the holidays?
“I’m having a difficult time comprehending that anyone wouldn’t like Christmas—or tea. You might actually be the Grinch.”
He barked a laugh. “Maybe. I’m not green, but I’ve been feeling pretty damn grumpy lately.”
“I’m sorry that your physical woes have gotten you down,” I huffed woodenly.
“Well, thanks. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, of course. I think—” I stopped suddenly when a brilliant idea hit me out of the blue. “I know how to help. I’m going to bring holiday cheer to your home!”
“Huh?”
“It’s mid-November now, so I’d suggest beginning with pumpkins and fall accoutrement. Nothing outlandish. The day after Thanksgiving is when the big guns come out.” I pushed my mug aside and turned, visualizing where everything would go.
“The big guns?”
“Yes, my roommates and I will purchase your tree, hang a wreath on your front door, mistletoe in a place of strategic significance, etcetera. In short, we’ll transform your lovely home into a magical winter wonderland. Your son will love it. Best of all, we’ll take everything down and neatly store it for next year when the holidays are over. How does that sound?”
“Uh…that’s a generous offer. But I’ll be busy in December. I should be there right now.” He pointed at the flat-screen television across the room meaningfully.
“Where?”
“Pittsburgh. Sure, it’s a crap game between two mismatched teams and watching it at home is seriously painful. But on the field…it’s invigorating. As for Linc…he wouldn’t know what to think if I bought a Christmas tree. He doesn’t expect that from me.”
“What does he expect?”
Mr. McSwoony shrugged. “I’m the fun dad. We play games and go on adventures. He’s eight now, though, and he’s smart as hell. The smart part is where I need your help.”
“Tutoring?”
“Not exactly. What I really need is a science guy. Linc has become rabidly interested in the subject lately. He’s been looking up experiments online and I’m all for it, but…I don’t want him to get hurt. That’s why I was hoping Ash or you or one of your other friends could steer him in the right direction with some authentic NASA-style experiments that are cool and safe. Ya know?”