Aaaarh! There are times when I'd love to go out in the wild and let go with a primal scream. Not that it would accomplish anything other than making me feel better. It certainly wouldn't go anywhere towards getting me out of the predicament I find myself in at the moment. Two years ago, fresh out of college with dual degrees in business and the arts, I started a small business specializing in out of the ordinary Christmas decorations and dealing with specialty shops that cater to the carriage trade. For those with the bucks who want to outdo the neighbors or are having a special occasion, I have two people who, for a fat fee, will go into a person's home, coordinate the holiday decorations, make them up, then install them. However, most of my business orders from specialty shops come in via the net.

Now in the first week of November and business beginning to roll, it's just my luck that my computer operator walked into my office last week and quit. He's been offered a less demanding job at a far higher salary than I can afford to pay, so I can't blame him. I immediately contacted the two colleges in town that have computer departments, placed want ads in the daily paper, and inquired at the temporary help places with no success. It seems anyone with training is being snapped up just as my man was. The one applicant I interviewed was completely lost when she looked at the system I use for orders, sales, and the items set aside for use by my decorating crew. Even if she had been that interested, none of us have time to train her, so here I am with orders starting to pile up, and my secretary and I can't keep up with all the ordinary aspects of the business, much less the computer work.

The last straw came this morning when my warehouseman turned in his running inventory sheet for the week and told me it will be another week before a shipment of gold fruits we use in wreathes and garlands comes in. I tell him to put the part-time help on creating stock items until then, and I'll follow up on the delayed order. There's enough to do to keep them busy for a few days at least.

I went back to my paperwork only to be interrupted just now by my secretary. "What is it this time, Joyce?"

"A young man to see you."

"I don't have the time," I snarl.

Bless her, she's accustomed to my moods. "I think you NEED to see this one, Randy," she says with a smile, which tips me he must be very attractive. She does enjoy looking at handsome young men.

I sigh in resignation. "Okay, then, send him in."

Despite my mood, I'm immediately taken with the neat dress of the blond young man who walks into my office with the aid of crutches. I wave him to a chair in front of my desk, noticing that he's unusually good looking.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm Val Connar, a senior at Summerhill College. I saw your notice on the bulletin board for computer help. When I realized what type of business you run, I knew I would like to be a part of it. My mother ran a florist shop, so I'm no stranger to decorating."

"I've got plenty of help in that department. What I'm desperate for is someone to take over our computer operation."

"I'm majoring in fine art with a minor in computer science. I set up the spreadsheet for my mother's shop when I was a junior in high school so I believe I can handle your program."

I close my eyes in a moment of silent thanksgiving, then say, "I need someone full time. What about your class schedule?"

"I'm only taking nine hours this semester, so I have classes only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

"Then effectively, you would be out four hours on those days, counting time for getting here from the campus?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come over to the work station and take a look at the programs I'm using." At this point I'm willing to take anyone who will work.

He pulls himself up, literally, by grasping my desk, then placing his arms in the cuffs of his forearm crutches walks awkwardly across the room. I pull up another chair to my workstation and he drops down into it.

He recognizes my programs as quickly as I pull them up, even pointing to one of them and asking why I haven't upgraded. I tell him I hadn't been notified of an upgrade, and I don't have time to read ads that come in the post once September arrives.

He asks if I want him to enter anything, so I hand him the inventory sheet and watch as his finger fly over the keyboard. Most impressive, both in terms of speed and skill.

"Why haven't you found a job already? You're certainly better than most."

"Some don't want me because of my problem with walking. The others didn't want to let me have time off for school. I quit my last job because the boss told me school was a waste of my time and if I didn't quit I'd get fired." He smiles. "I promised my mother I'd finish my degree, so I told him to stuff his job and quit. Now I need to work to pay for my last semester."

I shake my head. "That has to be the dumbest thing an employer has ever done. I'd be encouraging you to continue your education."

"Then you're the type of man I'd like to work for."

I ask him to move back to his chair by my desk and while he's doing that I pour us mugs of coffee from the pot I keep going on top of the file cabinet. He takes it straight just as I do.

"I guess Joyce told you I'm Randolph Stanton. We all go by our given names here. Now, here's the situation … ," I lay it out for him, and finish by apologizing for the low salary I can pay him, but with the promise of a bonus in mid January, when the customers usually pay their accounts. He looks a little disappointed, so I add, "If you like us enough to become permanent, I think we can work something out to your benefit. This is a new business, so we've got some growing to do before I can match the bigger outfits."

"I like the way you've been totally honest with me. I'd like to work here, especially if you'll let me continue school."

"That's one of my demands. You will, and I repeat will, finish school."

"One other thing. Most of the time I use a wheelchair. Does that bother you?"

"As long as you're comfortable doing your work, I don't give a damn what you use."

He smiles broadly. "In that case, I'm ready to go to work. Where's my desk?"

"You mean you're ready now?" I can't believe this.

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Randy like everyone else, and forget the sir. You can also forget the tie and jacket. But if you're ready, you're hired. Your office is next to mine, so it'll be easy for you to call me if you need any explanations."

After he struggles up, he follows me to his office and sits down in front of the computer, switching it on. I yell for Joyce to bring in the stack of stuff that she's been trying to enter in between her other duties, tell him where the restroom is, and let him go to work. I tell Joyce to add him to the payroll immediately, like now, and give her a two-thumbs-up when I pass her desk on the way back into my office, then settle myself to other work.

An hour later, Joyce comes in asking me if I'm going to lunch or if I want her to bring me a sandwich when she returns from the deli where she usually grabs her lunch. I tell her what I want, and ask if she'll do the same for Val, because of his problem walking.

When she returns from lunch and brings in my sandwich, I tell her to leave Val's on my desk as well, and yell for him to join me at my desk. We'll eat together and talk over anything he's run into.

I can hardly believe that in just over an hour he's downloaded the upgrade of my main record keeping program and made headway inputting information that would have kept me here half the night.

"I'm really enjoying myself, sir. I hope I take a few minutes sometime soon to look around in the warehouse to see what you're selling. I enjoy Christmas and all the decorating. I looked at your catalogue while the program was loading. You have some beautiful things."

"Let me know, and I'll take you through. I don't bother with a display because most of our orders come in by computer, and the catalogue is enough. It will be good for you to have a general knowledge of our stock, so you can answer any questions that might come up if Joyce and I are busy."

"Thanks." He looks wistful for a moment. "Guess this is as close to Christmas as I'll get this year."

"Why? I usually close the week before Christmas. Doesn't that give you enough time to get home for the holiday?"

He shakes his head sadly. "I'll have to spend it in a motel. My mother died last spring and I had to sell our house to pay her medical bills, so I've got nowhere to go when the dorm closes."

"I'm sorry, Val. I know it's going to be hard for you."

"I'll survive just like I did after the accident."

His tone dissuades me from asking, so I show him a set of designs one of the decorating crew and I have put together for a special job.

"Looks turn of the century," he comments.

He really does know this stuff. "Precisely. The owners have just finished restoring a huge old Victorian, and want everything in keeping with the period. They are one of the homes on a charity house tour this year."

"May I make a suggestion or two?"

"Please do."

He points out that a more liberal use of dried materials sprayed with a transparent pearlescent coating would give the arrangements an antique look. He also suggests that if we hire school kids in rural areas to gather things like dry hydrangea heads, goldenrod, cones from conifers, and so on, we could create our own stock of items at less cost than buying them commercially. Preparing them would involve a minor cost on my part and also provide year 'round employment for a few of my better part-time help.

When he finishes, he looks at me in alarm. "I hope I wasn't out of line, sir."

"Not at all. We have meetings to discuss every special job and everyone gets a chance to contribute. None of us have a lock on all the good ideas. I can already see your work in a florist shop is going to be valuable. Thanks, Val."

"Glad I could help, sir."

With Val taking care of the computer entries, I'm able to reduce the stack of paper on my desk by over half when Joyce sticks her head in the door to say she's leaving. I can't believe it's after five already. I finish up the item I'm working on and get ready to leave myself. As I close my office door, I notice the light is still on in Val's office. I look in to see him working steadily.

"Hey, Val! Quitting time was half an hour ago. What are you doing?"

He turns with a smile. "Just finishing up today's entries, so I can give you a summary when I come in tomorrow."

"You don't have to impress me by putting in overtime on your first day for heaven's sake. There's nothing so vital it can't wait. Let's go so I can lock up."

"Sure thing, boss," he says with a grin.

The entry to our offices is two steps up from the sidewalk. Val holds tightly to the rail with one hand as he steps slowly down. When he's solidly on the walk, he looks at me. "If you like my work, it would sure be nice to have a ramp for my chair before long."

"I like your dedication already, so I'll have a couple of the guys on it tomorrow. They'll put it at the back door. That's closer to the parking."

"Thanks. I'll see you as soon as I'm out of class."

I slow my usual fast gait to match his as I walk around the building to our small parking lot. "You have a car?"

He points to an Oldsmobile Cutlass a couple of years older than my Buick Century, the only two cars left in the lot. "That's it. I hope I didn't take anyone's place."

"That's a place for customers. Park next to mine tomorrow. I'll have the guys paint your name on the curb where the guy before you parked."

"Thanks. Good night, Randy."

"See you."

First thing the next morning, I get my warehouse crew building the ramp and painting the parking space marker. I finish up all the current work and start on the stuff I've let pile up for later attention. It's almost noon when I get a phone call asking for an estimate on decorating another of the homes to be on the tour. I tell Joyce to send one of the guys on the decorating crew to the address for a look, and start out the door to get lunch when I see Val pull into his parking space. Wondering if the guy stopped for lunch, I wait.

He opens both the front and rear doors on his Olds and gets a folding wheelchair out of the back, then hoists himself into it, and closes the doors. I'm surprised to see both his legs have been amputated just above the knees. He wheels himself over, then smiles.

"I didn't think you'd have the ramp this soon."

"Hey, a reasonable request gets action around here," I say half jokingly. "Did you get any lunch?"

"Didn't have time. Class ran a little longer than usual."

"Then come on. There's a place down the street where I always eat."

"I left a lot of work piled up."

"The boss is happy, so no sweat. Besides, I like to take new employees out to eat when they first start. The way things are going I may not have another opportunity any time soon."

"Thanks." He turns his chair.

"Need a push?"

"I can take care of myself, " he snaps, letting me know I've committed a faux pas. Then he smiles up at me. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap. I'm used to this. I only need help on high curbs or steps."

"Whatever." I walk along side and tell him about the possibility of wanting him to attend a meeting with the decorating crew this afternoon. "I have a feeling your input will be valuable."

"Glad to help any way I can."

Over our lunch He mentions that he has a small library of books on architectural styles and furnishings, and several on types of Christmas decorations in various periods. Most are for historical restorations like Williamsburg, but a few cover later periods. He tells me he'll be glad to keep them in his office for reference. If I didn't already know, I know right then Joyce was right in saying I needed to see this young man.

Cary is so late getting back from looking over the potential job and discussing it with the owner of the house, I schedule the meeting for the first thing tomorrow.

I sleep a little late, so I arrive at the office just ten minutes before everyone else. Val's car pulls in next to mine just as I get out. He rolls the window down and calls, "Need your help if you don't mind. I brought those books along."

I walk over and see at least a dozen books stacked on the passenger seat. "No need for you to carry them. Just stack 'em in my lap and I'll let you push us in." Which is exactly what I do.

The one shelf for books in his office is too high for him to reach, so I put the books on his desk, remembering a low bookcase in Joyce's workroom. It used mostly to hold junk, so I tell him to wait while I get it.

"Perfect," he says, and places the books in the order he wants.

Half an hour later, Val and Cary are seated in my office to work on the estimate for the decorating job. Cary lays out two dozen Polaroid pictures he's taken of the interior. "Gonna be a bitch, boss," he says. "Revival, as you can see, and the interior is formal as hell. She wants something totally different."

Cary and I brainstorm for a few minutes, then Val says, "Try Della Robbia. It fits and it isn't used often."

"Della, what?" Cary asks.

"Della Robbia. It uses a lot of fruits and ribbon. Could work in some cupids, too, but we can use gold angels since it's Christmas."

"Don't remember ever seeing any," Cary replies.

"Let me get the book and I'll show you." Val wheels himself out rapidly.

"That guy's something," Cary says to me.

"Damn right he is. He's a computer whiz and is getting a degree in art. Going to bother you working with him?"

"No way. I've been running out of ideas lately. I can make up anything he can give me a design for. Shame the kid's got no legs. I damn sure wouldn't be as cheerful as he is."

Val returns and flips opens the book he's brought in. "Here," he says to Cary.

"Yeah, I know what you mean now. I've seen a similar picture, but never thought about using it. It'll go great in that house. Let me make up a small piece to see what it takes to get it right. Can you come to the workroom and keep track of what I use? Danny's out on a job."

Val looks at me.

"We'll both go. I want you to show Cary the pearlescent paint while we're there. I stopped at the wholesalers on the way in and got one," I tell him.

It's not until then that I remember the workroom is part of the warehouse and three steps up. When we're at the steps, Val looks at me questioningly. I nod at Cary, and we lift his chair to the entry. Cary takes the weight easily. He's built more like a professional boxer than a decorator, and I try to stay fit.

With Val's guidance Cary and I pull the materials from inventory and take it back to the workbench Cary has appropriated as his own. He's put everything he could possibly need at hand, and raises hell if anyone else touches it. But he's so skilled that within a half hour he holds up the finished wreath for approval. Val makes one suggestion at which I'm amazed Cary does not complain.

When he's made the change, Cary grins at Val. "Man, you're something else. This is exactly what that place needs."

It is a beautiful piece of work, but far too ornate for my tastes which run to the traditional. But as I have learned well, the customer is always right, taste or no.

Val looks at Cary and shakes his head. "I've never seen anyone do such beautiful work so swiftly. You're fantastic, Cary."

Cary grins modestly, but I know he's thrilled at this compliment from a new comer.

"Okay, guys, back to the office. This one is going to take a hell of a lot of time to work an estimate for. You have the measurements, Cary?"

"Don't I always? Look, boss, you're gonna have to build a ramp here for Val. I'm gonna need his help if we land this one. Danny's good at the usual stuff, but he ain't gonna be worth shit at this."

I smile and say, "If that's what it takes." But I'm stunned. Despite his talent, Cary has never worked well with anyone. He tolerates Danny, but that's about all I can say.

Four and a half hours and three pots of coffee later, Val finally turns from his computer and hands Cary the last page of the printout. "This is a list of what you'll need for the entire job, Cary. I've checked against inventory, and have an order to go to the manufacturer the minute you tell me we've got the contract. He has everything we need in stock and can truck it in next day."

Cary's mouth drops open. "You can do all that just by messin' with your computer?"

Val grins. "You've got it in your hand." He hands me another sheet of paper. "Here are the costs of what it will take according to Cary's figures. I hope you're gonna soak 'em for this."

I look at it and my eyes widen. "You're damn right I am, especially if you wind up helping Cary instead of doing your job."

"Won't be that much. Cary knows what he's doing, but I'll help him work out some variations so it doesn't get repetitious."

One look at Cary's face tells me he's looking forward to Val's help. I look at my watch. " Damn, it's seven-thirty. Let's go get something to eat, guys."

The least I can do is pay for their dinners, so I order steaks all around. Cary actually smiles at me when I suggest it and Val looks surprised.

Though courteous and pleasant enough to deal with potential customers, Cary is usually rather sullen at all other times. Handsome is one word that would never be used to describe his rugged features. So I'm amazed at the pleasant way he banters with Val over our dinner. Val has a sharp wit and always a perfect come-back. Cary actually laughs a few times, a first as far as I know.

I look up to see Cary at my office door about ten the next morning. "Sorry to be late, boss, but I stopped off at the library and looked up some of that stuff Val was talking about last night. He in yet?"

I'm almost afraid to answer, knowing the contempt Cary has for college students. "He has classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He comes in about one."

"He's a college kid?"

I nod. "Get's his degree in the spring."

"Damn! I sure hope you can keep him on. He's got some real smarts we can use around here."

I grin in relief. "Tell me something I don't know. It's up to him, but I'll do my best."

"Make damn sure you do. I can work with that guy, and I ain't never seen anybody come up with cost figures fast as he done. Hell, he's worth a lot more than I know you can pay him."

"I'll give you no argument there. If we get this job, you and Val can look for a nice bonus."

He nods. "Good. I may need it."

That afternoon the laughter I hear from Val's office is so uproarious I slip next door to see what's going on. Cary is holding one of the Val's books open to a full page illustration of the famous Manikin Piss. "We ought ta get one of these, paint it gold, and set it in one of them Della Robbia wreaths for them to serve punch from." He says between peals of laughter.

Val is just sitting there wiping his eyes from laughing so hard. He composes himself long enough to say, "I thought you had some taste, man. That is tacky!"

"Hell, all that money don't mean they got any taste. By the time I finish that job I'm gonna puke. A little is okay, but a whole house full is too damn much of this crap."

"Remember your bonus depends on our getting this contract," I say, snickering to myself.

"Then I'll try to control my gag reflex," Cary fires back in an unusual show of wit.

Joyce is sitting at her desk with an open mouth when I start to pass by. "Was that really Cary laughing?" She asks.

I can only shake my head. "Believe it or not."

"I don't. That Val is something else if he can make Cary laugh."

"He's even asked Val to help him on the job."

She clutches at her heart dramatically. "Oh, God, I think I'm dying. Never!"

"Get used to it. Vals' shaking this place up."

She shakes her head in disbelief and turns back to her computer keyboard.

When I open the door the next morning, Val behind me, the phone is ringing. I answer and listen for a moment, then hang up and grab Val's hand. "We got it! The profit from this one will give us the best year yet."

"Cary's going to be wild when he hears this. Mind if I tell him?"

"Go ahead. I think I saw him driving in."

The warehouse is about thirty feet from the office building, but I clearly hear Cary scream, "Holy shit! After what Randy quoted them! Damn, guy, we gotta get busy. Go put that order in now."

Val comes back grinning from ear to ear. "'Guess you heard Cary."

"Along with half the town. Go get that order processed. They're sending the contract back by messenger."

I have to turn regular orders over to Joyce and spend a lot of time with Cary and Val working on the project. Despite the pressure Cary doesn't snarl at anyone, but stays cheerful. A few days later I have to refuse a smaller contract because of lack of personnel and work space.

The specified day arrives. It takes two of our trucks to deliver the decorations, and I go along with two others to help Cary install them. Val has come in with his legs on, for Cary has insisted he come along to supervise, another first for Cary and another surprise for me.

We're all whipped by the time we've finished, but the owner is delighted and fulsome in her praise of our work. Unexpectedly, she hands me a check for the full amount of the contract before I leave.

The next week, we finish up some smaller stuff, then I close for the holidays. I'll check the answering machine daily for emergencies, but we usually have nothing to do the week before Christmas Day. I think to ask Val what he's doing for the holidays. I live alone, so I'll be glad to have him stay with me while the dorm is closed.

He grins when I ask. "I'm spending them with Cary. He has nowhere to go, so we'll party together."

I get an invitation to Cary's apartment for drinks and dinner on Christmas Eve. I've never been there before, so I'm stunned at the beauty of his place. The Christmas decorations are traditional and beautiful, as I might have known they'd be, but I'm more impressed with the tenderness he shows toward Val.

I'm not certain who cooked our dinner, but it's superb. Val and Cary constantly snip at each other teasingly, keeping me laughing so much I can hardly eat. I'm glad I accepted their invitation because I'm seeing a Cary I never thought existed.

My real shock comes over our after dinner coffee. They both look at each other, then at me.

"Brace yourself, boss," Cary says. "We've got something to tell you."

My heart sinks, afraid they're going to tell me they're quitting.

"What?"

"I know is going to come as a big shock, but ..." Cary looks at Val.

I look at Val and see him grinning. "Cary and I are in love. I'm moving in with him."

"You're kidding!"

"No way. He finally told me he's gay, too, and he loves me."

"Yeah." Cary smiles and reaches over to stroke Val's stumps. "This guys got it all."