The Christmas List: A Novel

Eddie Grimes

Former owner of Grimes Construction. You forced him out of business and into personal bankruptcy. His current residence: 657 Gramercy Avenue, Salt Lake City.

An inversion had settled into the valley, leaving the air brown and thick. Kier sat in his car with the heater on, Linda’s list in the folder on his lap. While visiting these people and doing what he could to make things right had seemed a good idea in theory, sitting in his car outside the home of the first of his visits cast his plan in a different light. According to Linda he had ruined these people’s lives. What kind of reception could he expect?

He looked again at the name before him: Eddie Grimes. He didn’t need to read the file to remember the man or what he had done to him. Grimes had once owned Grimes Construction, a small but well-regarded and profitable local construction firm that was growing quickly. Grimes had bid against Kier on a large development and won the job. Kier didn’t need the work—in fact he was struggling to keep up with his own workload—but he was angry at losing the project and threatened by the success of the upstart competitor. Kier decided to squash the burgeoning company. With the information he had gathered in the project’s bidding process and his knowledge of the market, he knew that there was a problem with the availability of certain supplies, especially drywall.

With his substantial cash reserves Kier bought up all the drywall in the Rocky Mountain area, enough to stock his next three projects and, in the short run, to create a regional shortage. When it was time for Grimes to order the needed material, there was none to be had in the state or any of the surrounding areas. The soonest he could find was more than thirty days out. Grimes’s project was brought to a complete standstill, costing him substantial late fees and overhead each day his crew sat idle. Another contractor, also caught in Kier’s manufactured shortage, informed him of Kier’s purchase. As humiliating as it was, Grimes went to Kier to ask him to sell him some of his drywall. Kier not only refused, but berated Grimes for his poor planning, calling him a “donkey among thoroughbreds.”

As his losses grew, Grimes was forced to lay off his workers and to eventually abandon the project altogether at a huge financial loss, forcing his company into bankruptcy. Also lost was his reputation. With such a public failure, no one would work with Grimes Construction again.

The development was awarded to Kier, who not only capitalized on Grimes’s completed work, but raised his price to complete the job, forcing the investors to pay nearly 20 percent more than his original bid. Kier bought himself a villa in Palm Springs to celebrate the project’s completion.

Pouring salt on the wound, Kier named the back road leading to the development’s garbage Dumpsters “Grimes Street.”

At the height of his success, Grimes had built himself an eight-thousand-square-foot home on the east bench of the valley. Kier had driven by it with Sara. She gasped when she saw it. Though Kier wouldn’t admit it, he was also impressed. It was a beautiful French château-style house impeccably landscaped with cobblestone walks, statuary, and potted kumquat trees lining the front walk. Kier could only assume that the home was lost with everything else. The house Kier now sat in front of was a far stretch from what he’d seen before. This place was small and badly in need of repair; ironic, Kier thought, for a homebuilder.

What do you say to a man you’ve destroyed? Kier wondered. How could he make things right? As he considered his dilemma he had an idea. Kier’s company could use the talents of a building contractor as skilled as Grimes. He could offer him a top-level position, eventually even stock options. And even better, the extra 20 percent Kier had made from the sabotaged project would more than cover the cost of hiring Grimes. He suddenly felt good about the meeting; they’d work something out. Who knows, he thought, by afternoon they might be laughing and swapping stories.

Kier climbed out of his car, walked to the gate in the chain link fence, and let himself in. The walk leading up to the front porch had not been shoveled. The curtains in the front windows were drawn and the only indications that there was life inside the house were the paw prints in the snow of a large dog leading to and from the front door.

Kier trudged through the snow and climbed three steps to the porch. There were two pairs of skis leaning against the house. Kier pushed the doorbell. He didn’t hear anything so he rapped on the door with the back of his hand. His knock was answered by the low, menacing growl of a dog that soon erupted into fierce barking. A minute later the doorknob turned. A pretty teenage girl with short brown hair that perfectly framed her face opened the door. She wore ear buds that ran down her shirt. She positioned herself between the excited dog and the narrow slot between the door and the doorjamb. With the door open the dog barked even more fiercely.

“Is this the Grimes residence?”

She pulled a white earbud from her ear. “Sorry, what?”

“Do the Grimeses live here?”

“Yes.”

“Is your father here?”

The girl, still struggling with the dog, grimaced. “Yeah, but he’s watching TV.”

The dog pushed its nose past the girl. It was a large black and brown German shepherd, its teeth bared. Kier watched somewhat anxiously as the small young woman strained to push the dog back. “Stop it, Samson. Sit! Sit!”

“Do you think I could speak with him?” Kier asked.

“I think so. I’ll see.” She reached back for the dog, then stepped back from the door, pulling the dog by its choke collar. “C’mon, Samson.” Even with her commands the dog strained against her. “C’mon, stupid dog.” She left Kier alone on the porch with the door open. Kier looked inside. The room was simply furnished but tidy. There was a large family picture of Grimes, his wife, and three children. On the side wall was a Catholic icon with candles and a large picture of Jesus with an exposed heart. He could hear a distant conversation.

“Dad, someone’s here for you.”

“Who is it?”

“Some man,” the girl replied.

A moment later Eddie Grimes appeared from the darkened hallway, wearing a San Francisco 49ers T-shirt and denim jeans. At first he just stared, not recognizing Kier. It was evident when he realized who was at his door. “What are you doing here?”

“Eddie, I came to—”

“You came to what?” He shouted angrily. He walked up to the door. “What are you doing on my property?”

“I just came to—” He didn’t get another word off. Grimes threw a punch to Kier’s face, connecting with Kier’s nose and knocking him backward off the porch and down the stairs. He landed on his back on the snow-covered walk below, smacking his head on the surface. Kier saw stars and had there not been a couple feet of snow on the ground the fall likely would have knocked him out. A flash of pain shot up his leg. He groaned as he looked up, wet, aching, and dazed. Grimes was standing above him on the porch, red-faced. “I told you if I ever saw you again . . .” He let off a string of curses in machine-gun fashion. Kier put his hand to his nose. It was bent at a slight angle and when he drew his hand away it was covered in blood.

“Eddie, listen . . .”

“I’ll give you five seconds to get off my property before I break you into a million pieces.”

“I just wanted . . .”

“I don’t care what you want. No one cares what you want.” He turned back toward the house. “Lucy! Let Samson out.”

“But Dad . . .”

“I said let him out!”

Kier struggled to his feet. “Eddie . . .”

Grimes was made even more furious at his daughter’s refusal to release the dog. While Kier struggled to his feet, Grimes went back inside, emerging a moment later holding the dog by its choke collar. The dog strained against his grip, worked up by his master’s shouting. “Get him, Samson. Sick ’em. Tear the bum’s legs off.”

The dog lunged wildly against Grimes’s grip. Kier staggered backward toward the gate, searing pain shooting up his leg with each step. Then the dog pulled loose. Forgetting his pain, Kier turned and ran the last few yards to the gate, slamming it shut behind him. The dog bounded through the snow and smashed against the gate, its body bouncing off the chain link. The dog was just inches from Kier, snarling and frothing at the mouth.

Grimes stood on his porch shouting and shaking his fist. “If I ever see you on my property again, you’re dog meat, Kier. Dog meat! You stinkin’ . . .”

Kier didn’t hear his final words as he had climbed inside his car. He wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, then started his car and drove off.