BAH, HUMBUG!(2)

Pushing back from the keyboard, he stood and stretched out the kinks that five hours of sitting had worked into his muscles. Not that the five hours had done much good. Neither had the past three weeks.

It was eleven in the morning and he was going to have to spend the rest of the day working.

He was supposed to have this book to his editor, Ernest Billings, by the end of January. It was December seventeenth now, and he was still struggling with making the ending work on the first draft--and that meant he had at least another month after he actually finished the ending before he could polish the entire manuscript enough to email it to Ernest. The book was supposed to be on the shelf in another six months, which meant everything was timed far too tight.

He’d never missed a deadline before. And, since he was determined not to miss this one, he was just going to have to work through the holidays.

He crumpled up a sheet of paper and tossed it into the growing heap on his floor next to the waste paper basket. He had a cleaning service that came in once a week to keep the rest of his house clean--not that he was a slob, mind you--but his office was off limits. And, during deadlines, it could get messy.

He glanced out the window. Oh, great. The neighborhood kids had Christmased his yard again. There was a plastic elf lounging next to the big pine tree between his house and the empty house next door, and he had not put it there. He sighed. He supposed this was what he got for living on an official Christmas Street, where the entire neighborhood--except Kyle--decorated excessively. He could move, but not until after he’d finished this book.

He’d go out later and add the elf to the growing collection in his garage.

The phone rang. He thought he’d taken it off the hook, but obviously had forgotten. He glanced at the Caller ID. When he saw his brother’s name, he groaned. Oh, well, might as well get it over with quickly. Keefe would just call every few minutes until the ringing drove him crazy, so Kyle picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”

“Hi, Kyle. Dad asked me to call. Bet you can’t guess why?”

Oh, he knew why. The annual family get-together on the ranch. Except he couldn’t take the dreariness any more. He was almost glad to have a legitimate excuse. “Sorry, Keefe. I’m having fits with this book and I’m not going to be able to make it.”

There was a slight pause. When Keefe spoke, his voice was still pleasant, but Kyle could imagine how much it cost him to sound that way instead of as irritated as he doubtless was. “Dad’s gonna be disappointed.”

“Don’t you think that’s playing it a little strong?”

“He didn’t want to call you himself, because he’d get too upset. He knew you’d back out.” The irritation was there now. “Besides, Alyssa wants to bring some cheer back into the holidays for the family.”

“Don’t have time this year. Sorry.”

“You can be such a pain sometimes. Justin’s Eagle Court of Honor is on the Sunday between Christmas and New Year’s. It would mean a lot to him if you came.”

Guilt shot through Kyle’s veins. But he fought it. He was not going to pack for the family’s annual guilt trip. “Sorry,” he repeated, a slight chill in his own voice. “You don’t understand. I have this killer deadline and...”

“Oh, I understand just fine. I understand that your deadlines are grandiose excuses for not spending time with the people who care about you. You know, you may think you’re this high-and-mighty author now you’ve sold a few mystery novels--“

Kyle bit his tongue. He would not mention that his books weren’t just any mystery novels, but New York Times best-sellers. Three best-sellers, but who was counting? And if he didn’t finish this one, he was afraid there wouldn’t be a fifth in the series. “Hey, this is my job. You’ve got a regular job--“

”Thanks for reminding me.”

“--but I write for a living. And that means I have to finish my books. And this one is a bear.”

“They’re all bears of some color or another. Come on, Kyle, can’t you come out for a few days? Bring your laptop. It will really mean a lot to Dad. And I’d kind of like to see your ugly mug myself. Besides, it’s your turn to host.”

“If you want peanut butter and banana sandwiches.”

“Have dinner catered. Or take us to Red Lobster. You can afford it.”

Kyle was tempted. He had ordered pizza in for so many nights in a row that the delivery guy--Jake--seemed like one of his best friends. The one he saw most often, at least. But he couldn’t afford to take the time off this year. “You can come, but I might not answer the door.”