The Christmas List: A Novel

The sun broke through the east windows, waking Kier to a clear, bright morning. He was still in his clothes and still alone. He looked at his watch and groaned. It was past nine. He rolled over to the phone and called the desk.

“This is Jim Kier in 211. Was the canyon closed last night?”

“I don’t believe so. We had guests arrive past midnight.”

“Did anyone leave a message for me?”

“Just a minute.” The man was gone just a few seconds. “Sorry, sir, I have no messages. But we do have breakfast ready. This morning we’re serving our cheese and sausage omelet, homemade granola, fresh squeezed orange juice, buckwheat pan—”

“All right. I’ll be down.”

Kier hung up. From outside he could hear the scraping blade of a snowplow. He walked over to the window; it had stopped snowing but it looked like the storm had dumped over a foot of snow. In the parking lot below a red Ford pickup with a plow was clearing the parking lot, pushing snow into banks taller than the truck itself. It occurred to him why she hadn’t called. She probably tried my cell, he thought. Kier changed into his sweats and went downstairs. There were several couples already in the dining room. Fred greeted him with a pot of coffee.

“Good morning, Mr. Kier. Would you care for some coffee?”

“I’d like some decaf.”

“Right away. I have a nice little brew called the Mormon Blend.”

Fred walked back to the kitchen. When he returned a few minutes later he was holding a coffeepot in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. As he poured the coffee he said, “I want to show you something I think you’ll find interesting.” He laid the newspaper out on the table. “You not only have the same name as this fellow, but you look an awful lot alike.”

Kier took a sip of coffee as he cast an uninterested glance at the paper. “I look nothing like John McCain.”

“No, sir, the article below that.”

Kier scanned the page until he saw the picture. Above it was the headline:

Local real estate mogul dies in automobile crash

Kier set down his coffee. “What the . . .”

Utah real estate developer James Kier was pronounced dead after his car collided with a concrete pylon on southbound I-80. Rescue workers labored for more than an hour to remove the Salt Lake man’s body from the wreckage. Authorities believe Kier may have had a heart attack prior to swerving off the road.

Kier was the president of Kier Company, one of the West’s largest real estate development firms. He was known as a fierce, oftentimes ruthless, businessman. He once said, “If you want to make friends, join a book club. If you want to make money, go into business. Only a fool confuses the two.”

Kier is survived by his son, James Kier II and his wife, Sara. See page 1 of the business section for more on James Kier.

Kier stared at the picture. “That’s me,” he said. He set down his coffee, “This is . . . crazy.”

“Maybe that’s why your guest didn’t come.”

“You might be right.” He reflexively reached for his cell phone and again remembered he no longer had one. “Never mind breakfast, I’ve got to make some calls.”

“Here, take a pastry with you.” Fred quickly retrieved a cheese Danish from the buffet table and wrapped it in a napkin. “Wife made ’em.”

“Thank you.” Kier took the pastry and his coffee and returned to his room. His first call was to Traci. Still no answer and her voice mailbox was full. Not surprising, he thought, she must be inundated with calls about me.

Next he called Lincoln, who answered on the first ring.

“Hello.”

“What’s the difference between a lawyer and a vulture?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“The lawyer gets frequent flier miles.”

“Who is this?”

“Who do you think, monkey boy?

There was another long pause. “Kier?”

“Back from the dead.”

Lincoln started to laugh. “It’s really you. I’ve been freaking out here. I thought you were dead. Or do they have pay phones in hell?”

“No, they have cell phones, they just drop the call every five seconds.”

Lincoln laughed again. “Where are you calling from?”

“Park City.”

“This is surreal. When Carol called to tell me, I didn’t believe her. But when I tried to call you, there was no answer.”

“Well, my cell phone did die.”

“So what happened?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m guessing that the reporter got the wrong Kier. By the way, I want you to sue him and the rag he writes for. I want to own the thing.”

“I’ll start checking for precedents. Of course we’ll have to show damage, but that shouldn’t be too hard. You know, there’s more than just the local paper. There’s been television and radio coverage not to mention the Net. There’s a whole river of comments up on the paper’s Web site already.”

“Really?” Kier said. “That should be interesting.”

“I don’t recommend you read them.”

“And why is that?”

“You know how people are. The Internet is the bathroom stall of media.”

“What, no respect for the dead?” Kier said sarcastically.

“Not exactly.”

“Whatever. I’m headed back to town. Assuming the roads are clear, I’ll be home in a couple of hours. I need to get a new phone.”

“Talk to you later, chief. And congratulations.”

“For what?”

“Not being dead.”

Kier hung up the phone, showered and shaved. As he was getting dressed his curiosity got the better of him and he went to the Web site of the Salt Lake Tribune. His story was third down on the local page. Underneath the story was a stream of comments.

Maguire17: Ding dong the wicked Kier is dead!!!!

LFB09: Someone must have thrown a bucket of water on him.

Mojo777: The article said Kier died of a heart attack before he crashed his car. I thought you had to have a heart to have a heart attack.

LFB09: Kier had a bank vault where his heart should have been.

Mojo777: Fitting that the car burst into flames. Just getting him used to where he’s going.

Hope17: Show some respect for the dead.

Mojo777: Why should we? Kier showed no respect for the living.

Supertramp11: Amen to that. He was divorcing his wife while she had cancer. They served her the same day she got home from her first chemo treatment. Who does that?

Mojo777: Apparently he really had it out for cancer sufferers. Didn’t you read the story about his evicting that man dying of cancer?

Prowler2000: Kier should have died of cancer. Slow, painful cancer. Would have been poetic.

Maguire17: My neighbor was in a deal with Kier. He committed suicide.

Prowler2000: Is that true?

Bbaklava: I heard the same thing.

Supertramp11: I can vouch for that.

Aurcadia500: I worked for Kier three years ago. He ridiculed me in front of the entire office just for having a poinsettia plant in my cubicle at Christmas. That guy was the Grinch, Scrooge, and the Bergermeister rolled into one.

Prowler2000: Bergermeister. LOL!!!

Supertramp11: That’s true too. Kier was adamant that no time or money be wasted on holiday decorating. He called Christmas decorations “Idiot Glitter.”

Hope17: You shouldn’t judge him until you’ve walked in his shoes.

Mojo777: Love to walk in them. Bruno Magli no doubt. And I promise I wouldn’t kick anyone. More than Kier would do.

Aurcadia500: Never criticize a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes. That way he can’t do anything to you because you’re a mile away and you’ve got his shoes.

Prowler2000: ROFLOL 😀

Kronos345: Wow, Kier had a fan. Hooda thunk?

Prowler2000: Yeah, what’s with the fan club, Hope 17? The man was a monster.

Hope17: I’d say you didn’t really know him.

Kronos345: Why is it that everyone always tries to make people look better after death? He was what he was.

Supertramp11: Believe what you want, Hope17, Kier’s only motivation in life was money. Gain was his only critereon for action, no matter who was hurt, no matter who was left in ashes. Just yesterday he celebrated taking some old man’s property. Believe me, I knew Kier—I played squash with him every week for seven years.

Kier’s jaw clenched. Supertramp11 was Tim Brey. That traitorous weasel. I’m going to hand him his head on a platter. He began to type in a comment, then restrained himself. Brey was on a roll and he wanted to let him dig himself deeper. And he was curious as to the identity of Hope17.

Hope17: This is Sara. And shame on you, Tim. Jim took care of you and your family for more than ten years.

Supertramp11: I’m sorry, Sara, but for your sake not his. Of all people, you had the most to complain about. He made your life a living hell. I know the truth about him serving you the divorce papers. I asked him to wait until after your chemo but he wouldn’t.

Hope17: He did some bad things. But he was a good man once. I believe he would have come back someday.

Alleykat9: Like Darth Vader.

Supertramp11: Your loyalty is touching, Sara, but you lost the man you loved long before yesterday. He was dead, Sara. Dead and buried.

Alleykat9: This is like “Days of Our Lives.”

Prowler2000: Better.

Mojo777: Is that still on the air?

Hope17: Then I will always love the man he was. I only wish I could have saved him. I would have given anything for that. I would give anything to have the man I married back.

The comments continued for several more pages but Kier just stared at the last entry. How could Sara still care about him after all he had done to her? He walked to the bathroom. Bending low over the sink he splashed his face with water. Then he looked in the mirror. He felt sick to his stomach and angry. But more than anger or even betrayal, he felt something still stronger. He felt shame.