The Christmas Trust, Page 2

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  Marv slid his Thanksgiving-plumped butt into the bucket seat of his New Cadillac CTS. Thanksgiving—now there’s a great holiday! Family, food, and no mandatory gift to people you can’t stand. The pinwheeling panhandler didn’t leave his mind, though, and suddenly, he remembered where he’d seen him. It was the company picnic this past summer. The three-legged sack races were up next and Marv’s wife was paired with the VP of their division, Joe Skives, who Marv couldn’t stand. Joe had the same cockeyed run as that bum. Joe and Maggie were only halfway to the finish while everyone else was untangling the gunny sacks from their ankles and slapping the winners on the back.

  Joe’s abrasive words, the ones he could not stand—bounced off the inside of his hard skull. “Hey, Mac! Hey, Mac...”