I'll Be Home For Christmas

"Yes, well, if anyone wishes to speak to my wife, they will be forced to go through me," he said, using any kind of defense he could.

"And how difficult would that be, Mr. Clopman? You're familiar with my voice, but what about anybody else? Anytime someone asks to speak to your wife, you'd have to consider that it might be an informer. Your wife would become suspicious."

Yet more silence. The voice sighed. "Right..." it said. "Well. It would appear that you hold all the cards...and your demands, then?"

"Okay, Mr. Clopman," said Lola, easing up, "We don't wanna put demands on you. I am not trying to personally torment you. Now after having had Mr. Carlin visiting with us, we understand that his apartment was in, well, a shambles. So you and I are in agreement on that. Now, what if I could personally promise you that if you reinstate Mr. Carlin's lease, his home would remain tidy?"

"And how do you propose to uphold this guarantee?"

"Well, sir, the parent of our organization also runs a cleaning service for locals. We'd work out a schedule and deal with them to take care of Mr. Carlin's living arrangements such that his apartment would reflect an atmosphere of cleanliness and maintenance."

"I see, and the compensation for such a job would come from what source?"

"Leave that to us, Mr. Clopman. We'll iron it all out. I know you're concerned about your rent being paid adequately and timely, and I respect that. Please, my word is good—we'll work with Mr. Carlin so that he can keep an orderly home and also your rent."

Silence.

"Mr. Clopman," Lola softened her voice. "Please, we really do not wanna have to resort to blackmailing you. I am simply right now appealing to your sense of human decency, especially in light of the approaching holiday. We'd simply like to avoid an ugly situation and straighten things out to satisfy everyone. Sir, I realize your life is your own business. I have no ill will against you personally. We merely wish to protect an innocent man. You have my ironclad promise, we'll see to it that Mr. Carlin meets your tenant standards. But if he's forced onto the streets, he may not survive this winter. Please, sir. For us. For our sake. For the sake of Christmas. Please."

In the past several minutes, George's facial expression had morphed from surprise to disbelief, to awe, to wonder, to happiness, to an emotion he could not yet define. But most of all, he was moved beyond words. He had lost a chunk of his faith in humanity in the last few days, it was true, and he couldn't imagine meeting two people who would bend over backwards for him like this, going so far beyond the call of duty, seemingly unconditionally, to keep a roof over his head. He was about to cry.

The voice took several audible breaths. Finally, just under half a minute later—

"Very well; tenants' board meeting tomorrow at 10:00 a.m., to address lease reinstatement. Mr. Carlin is expected to attend."

George gasped. His eyes stung and welled up. He and an equally overjoyed Amy hugged.

Lola grinned and punched her fist in the air. "Thank you, Mr. Clopman! We can do that, no problem; he will be there, I promise. Thank you very much, and he will see you tomorrow morning. Merry Christmas, sir! Happy Holidays!" She hung up, spun around to George and Amy, smacked a triumphant palm on the counter and said, "A Christmas miracle! Guess who's no longer homeless!"

George jumped up, breaking into tears of joy, and threw his arms around Lola, hugging her as hard as he could.

"Oh, my God, I don't know how to thank you!" he cried. "You saved my life!"

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay!" Lola laughed. "George, honey, there'll be plenty of time for that later. Let's just eat already!!"

George fretted. "Oh, gosh, but...wait a minute...how am I going to afford the rent?"

Amy chimed in. "Well, we'll help you. And, we'll help you find another job too. Let's talk about it over dinner, and then later we'll get you that hotel room so you can have a nice, long, hot shower..." ...And then just see what happens after that, she thought, roguishly lowering her gaze to that lovely spot in his jeans, right between his legs, looking forward to it already.

George couldn't believe it. He had been rescued by the light of two angels. This was going to be a wonderful Christmas after all.