The Christmas Layover

by Robert Tate Miller

  …

  By the time Ally and Jake left the green, Santa’s Village had shut down for the night and Santa and his helper elf had gone home to bed. The clock in town hall was just pealing midnight when they arrived at Peggy’s front gate. The snow was really coming down, and Ally loved watching it swirl in the light of Bethlehem’s old-fashioned lampposts. They’d scarcely spoken at all on the five blocks from the green back to the house. Ally noticed that only the front porch light and a small dim one upstairs were still left on. She wondered if Noel and Peggy were worried about her, or if they simply assumed she was with Jake.

  “Thanks for walking me back,” Ally whispered as if she might wake up the neighborhood. She felt a strange charge in the air and recognized it. It was the same charge she’d felt in high school on a first date. The charge of uncertainty that came when you weren’t sure if he was going to try and kiss you. What are you thinking? she asked herself. You don’t even know if he likes you. It’s all wrong. The opposite-worlds thing never works. If he tries to kiss me, I’m going to give him my cheek. It’s for the best.

  “Well, goodnight,” Jake said, and then Ally watched as he turned and headed across the street to his house. She wanted to call after him. Go on. Say something to get him to turn back. But, instead, she just watched him go, as the snow fell onto her deep purple beanie and the shoulders of her coat and her cold-kissed cheeks.

  “Why didn’t you try to kiss me?” she whispered.

  “I think he wanted to kiss you.”

  Ally had just slipped into bed beside Noel. She was sure her roommate was fast asleep and was surprised to hear her whisper in the dark. The room was dark except for the soft glow from the mini-Christmas tree on the dresser.

  Ally turned toward her bedmate. “So, you saw?”

  “Oh sure. Out the window. There’s a really good view of the front gate.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ally said. “We’re just…friends. Acquaintances, really.”

  Noel yawned. “Guess I just imagined it. Night, Ally.”

  “Night, Noel.”

  Ally lay awake in the dark for the next ten minutes before drifting off. Had Noel just imagined it, or was her first impression the correct one? Did Jake want to kiss me? And, if so, then why in the hell hadn’t he tried? Was it because of Kate?

  …

  By the time Ally showered and did her morning meditation, it was already past ten. It was December 22nd, and she woke up rested and determined not to let thoughts of gloom and doom rule her day. She could compartmentalize, put off her troubles for a few days. My worries will always be there after the holidays, she thought. Boy, will they be there. She literally was in the position of having to rebuild her life—almost from scratch. She thought of a Beverly Hills lawyer who was a regular yoga student. Maybe he could send a cease and desist letter. But send to where? Desist what? Tim had taken money that was—technically—just as much his as hers. He had unfettered access to everything she had. I’ll ask Devyn to look up the lawyer’s contact info, Ally thought. What could it hurt?

  Where had Tim gone? Could he still be in town? Ally remembered there was a cop that lived two doors down on Bay Street. She tried to think of his name. She thought she might have him in her contacts. Could they maybe throw out a dragnet, catch the fleeing lovebirds at the airport? She scrolled through her contacts and found him. He picked up on the first ring.

  “And why would we stop him?” detective Austin Fromm asked Ally. He was kind but firm. He’s trying not to blow sunshine up my ass, Ally thought.

  “I dunno,” Ally said. “From running off with my money. From ruining my life. Isn’t life ruination illegal these days?” Ally suddenly realized how lame she sounded.

  The detective’s voice was calm and straightforward. “If he had access to those funds, there’s nothing the police can do. This is a civil matter, not a criminal one. Maybe you should sue him.”

  Ally hung up and tucked her phone in her back pocket. Tim had royally screwed her over, and she’d screwed herself. Trust had screwed her. She’d fallen in love with a con man. But, for some strange reason, her heartbeat was normal. Why aren’t I more stressed? She thought about Jake and their time in the Victorian bandstand, the walk back, the kiss that never was.

  Somehow, hearing about his tragedy had diminished her own lousy situation, at least temporarily. She decided to walk down to the square to get a coffee from Charlie’s. She wasn’t fooling herself. She just wanted an excuse to see Jake. Ally heard the sound of voices coming from the kitchen and paused in the doorway. Peggy and Noel were standing by the center island. Ally listened as Peggy gave an eager Noel a lesson in Christmas cookie-baking.

  “The secret to a good Christmas cookie is one part instinct, one part originality, one part ingredients, and two parts love. You can’t forget the love, or they just won’t come out right.”

  Ally smiled. It sounded like a recipe you might find in a yogi cookbook.

  “Morning, guys,” Ally said.

  Peggy and Noel turned as Ally walked in. “Oh, good morning, Ally,” Peggy said. “I trust you slept well?”

  “Oh yes,” Ally said as she entered the kitchen. “I haven’t slept that well in a long time.”

  “Ally, we’re baking Christmas cookies,” Noel said. Ally could see the little-girl giddy glow on her face. Noel seemed perpetually young and innocent, and Ally envied her for it.

  “So I see,” Ally said.

  “Peggy thinks we should enter the Great Christmas Cookie Bake-off. It’s this contest they have every year to pick the best Christmas cookie baker in Bethlehem. It’s tomorrow night, so we have to hurry and come up with a recipe. They grade big on originality.”

  “Sounds fun,” Ally said.

  “Great!” Noel said. “So, you’ll do it with me? You’ll be my baking partner?”

  Ally realized she’d walked right into that one. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not much of a baker.”

  “Please? Peggy said she’d mentor us. The winner gets a Christmas gift basket valued at fifty dollars. Isn’t that cool?”

  “Wow,” Ally said. “That does sound cool. But what if the airports reopen, and we’re already gone?”

  “I’ll enter your cookie for you,” Peggy said. “And, if you win, I’ll hold the prize for the next time you visit.”

  Ally didn’t want to hurt her host’s feelings, but she couldn’t imagine herself ever returning to the little town tucked away in northwest Colorado. Then again, an idea that would have been preposterous twenty-four hours earlier was no longer totally beyond the realm of possibility. There was something about the place that made her feel a sense of peace, a feeling she had struggled to capture in Los Angeles, even on her most meditatively perfect days.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” Ally said. “I’ll be your baking partner.”

  “Ally, that’s so great!” Noel said. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

  “But first I need coffee,” Ally said. “Thought I’d run down to Charlie’s. I really like their coffee, and I get it for free now that I work there. Be back in a while and then we can figure out how we’re going to win this contest thing. Because, hey, I’m not in it for second place.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Peggy said.

  “It’s going to be so fun, Ally!” Noel said.

  Ally smiled. “Well, I do love fun. BRB.” As she headed out of the kitchen, she overheard Noel translate for Peggy.

  “That means ‘be right back.’”

  …

  The morning air was crisp and cool, enough for Ally to see her breath, but not enough to make her uncomfortably chilly. She had to admit that the tolerance for cold she’d acquired growing up in New York had softened since moving to sunny L.A.

  Bethlehem was a gregarious and friendly town, and everyone she passed called out “Good morning,” “Happy Holidays,” or “Merry Christmas.” Some tagged on a “Good to have you with us” or “Welcome,” assuming correctly she was one of the plane people. Hell
, Ally thought, it may not be Manhattan or L.A, but it’s not the worst place on the face of the earth. Ally felt her phone hum and checked it. Her mother. She clicked ignore. She was trying to stay positive, and she knew talking to her mom wouldn’t help her mood.

  As she strolled through the bucolic small-town neighborhoods, Ally knew she was going to have to deal with the chaos of her life sooner or later. Tim had left a swath of devastation that she would have to face when the new year rolled around. She tried to think back, wondered if she should have seen the signs. Was there any way I could have seen this coming? she thought. Was I blinded by love? Was I too trusting? Ally wondered what it must be like to grow up in such a town. She couldn’t imagine, with her New York City girl sensibilities, how she would have survived it. There were no museums or blaring taxis, no Central Park or corner vendors, no chaotic Times Square. Maybe it was the hustle and bustle of that big-city life that had led her to seek solace in the world of yoga in the first place. Would she have become a yogi had she grown up in Bethlehem?

  As she entered the square, Ally spotted a number of others she recognized from the plane. She figured that Bethlehem couldn’t have more than two thousand people in the whole town, and the surprise airplane diversion had swelled the population by more than ten percent. Ally stopped outside a vacant brick storefront. There was a “for lease” sign in one corner of the dusty window. She peered into the empty room. It looked like maybe it had been a hardware store at one time. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in there sitting in Sukhasana in front of a yoga class. Her imaginary students weren’t the bleached, toned, surgically enhanced, and earbudded L.A. crowd. Instead, they were local, ordinary, everyday Big Corn Country peeps—small-town folk of all shapes and sizes. She still couldn’t quite picture it. Yoga comes to Bethlehem? That’s a stretch, Ally thought and then smiled at the pun.

  When she opened her eyes, Ally caught a reflection of Charlie’s Diner in the dirty glass. A few days before, she didn’t even know such a greasy spoon existed, and now it seemed such an important part of her life, at least the surreally temporary life she’d carved out in the tiny burg in northwest Colorado.

  If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans, Ally thought. Her plans were simple and straightforward a week earlier. She would fly to New York, get married to a man she thought loved her, and then head off on a tranquilly blissful honeymoon in Bora Bora. Yet, here she was, spending Christmas in Bethlehem, her life diverted down an uncertain path that had no clear resolution in sight. And yet, as she looked across at the little restaurant on the square, she thought of Libby and Robbie and Louie inside doing their thing. She thought of Jake at the register or chatting up a customer. She wondered if Maddie was there, refilling coffee cups and changing the song on the jukebox, keeping a watch out the window for Amelia, ready to warn Robbie so he could run to the back.

  …

  “Maybe you should just tell Amelia how you feel.”

  The breakfast crowd at Charlie’s Diner had thinned until there were only a few scattered customers left. Jake sat in a booth across from Robbie. He had a cup of coffee and a copy of The Bethlehem Bugle on the table in front of him. The headline was “Bethlehem Welcomes Stranded Travelers.” Robbie was nibbling on an orange cranberry muffin that Libby had baked that morning.

  “I could never do that, Jake,” Robbie said as if Jake had asked him to cut off his own arm. “I thought you were going to help me. This isn’t helping at all.”

  “Well, I just think you should be a little bold,” Jake said. “After all, she’ll only be here through the holidays, and then she’ll head back to college.”

  “Maybe that’s for the best,” Robbie said. “Then I won’t have to see her and know that I can’t have her.”

  Jake shook his head. “You know what I think your problem is?” he asked. “I think that you think you don’t deserve Amelia.”

  “That’s exactly it,” Robbie said. “I don’t deserve her. She’s beautiful and amazing and perfect, and I’m—no offense—a busboy at a diner in a town with one traffic light.”

  Jake glanced out the window and saw Ally crossing the street, heading straight for the diner. He was suddenly distracted. “Well, Robbie, I just think…you should…tell her…how you feel.”

  “Maybe you should tell her how you feel,” Robbie said. Jake looked at him. The boy had a sly grin on his face. He obviously noticed Jake eyeing Ally’s approach. Jake abruptly slid out of the booth and stood up.

  “Okay, glad we had this discussion.” He turned toward the door at the sound of the chime. For some reason even he couldn’t explain, he picked up a napkin holder as if he thought it would be better if he looked like he was in the middle of doing something.

  “Morning,” Ally said. She smiled at him, glanced at the napkin holder. Jake put it down on the table. He felt his blood pressure rise. He noticed Robbie with a mouthful of muffin, staring up at him with an “I know a secret” look on his face.

  “Back to work,” Jake whispered. “Those dishes won’t do themselves.”

  “Sure, boss,” Robbie said. He slid out of the booth. “Morning, Ally.”

  “Morning, Robbie.”

  Robbie gave Jake a wink and a playful jab in the arm and headed back to the kitchen. Ally gave Jake a look that said what was that about?

  “He’s had a little too much caffeine this morning,” Jake said. “How’d you sleep last night?”

  “Surprisingly well,” Ally said, “considering I had a pregnant lady beside me. Fortunately, Noel’s a light snorer.” Jake chuckled, but it was more out of nervousness than amusement. Ally always made him feel like he was fifteen and about to ask a pretty girl to dance.

  Ally stepped over to the counter. Jake could feel Libby watching them while she adjusted her apron. “Actually, I just came for a cup of coffee,” Ally said. “You got me hooked.”

  “Sure thing,” Jake said. “Free coffee for all Charlie’s staff. You can help yourself.”

  Jake thought back to their conversation the night before and wondered if he’d over-shared. She did ask, he reasoned. He never liked to talk about Kate, avoided the subject at all costs, yet Ally had drawn it out of him so easily.

  Jake looked and saw that Libby and Robbie were now standing side-by-side, watching Ally and Jake like they were acting in a scene from some romantic comedy. Jake glared at them, and they sprang back into action like they’d just been unfrozen in a game of freeze tag.

  “So, can you sit for a bit?” Jake asked. He pretended to fiddle with the register to cover.

  “Oh, I’d like to,” Ally said, “but I promised Noel I’d help with the Christmas Cookie Contest baking.”

  “Oh, so you’re entering the bake-off?” Libby asked as she picked up a coffeepot from the warmer.

  “Yes,” Ally said. “That is—if we’re still here.”

  Libby paused. “Well then, I’m not sure you and Jake can be friends anymore. Seeing as how he’s in the contest, too, and that makes you competitors.” Libby poured the coffee into a to-go cup. “Good luck. Jake’s won the blue ribbon two years in a row.”

  “Is that right?” Ally said, smiling at Jake. “A man of many talents.”

  “Yeah,” Jake said, “I think it’s great you’re entering, though. As long as you don’t mind shooting for second place.”

  “Oh, I see how it is,” Ally said. “You do know you’ve thrown down the gauntlet, right? Now I’m actually going to try.”

  “I just don’t want you and Noel to get your hopes up,” Jake said. “I’d hate for you to be disappointed.” Jake took the coffee cup from Libby and handed it to Ally.

  “May the best cookie win,” Ally said. Ally took a sip of coffee as her eyes lingered on him. Hold on to your heart, boy, Jake told himself. Hold on to your heart.

  Ally said her goodbyes and headed out, shooting Jake one last little smile at the door. He stepped over to the window and watched her walk away, enjoying her retreat in a way that made him feel a little
guilty. He felt Robbie step up beside him.

  “Have you kissed her yet?” Robbie asked.

  Jake gave him a look. “Now what kind of question is that? Of course not.” Jake again flashed back to the previous night. Did she want me to kiss her?

  “You know what your problem is?” Robbie said. “I think that you think you don’t deserve Ally.” Robbie headed off to clear a table. Jake grinned and shook his head as he remembered his own words spoken moments before to his employee.

  “Well played.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By early afternoon, Ally and Noel were well into Peggy’s Christmas cookie baking boot camp. Ally had noticed a sudden temperature drop on the way back from Charlie’s, and, shortly after noon, a light snow began to fall. Christmas had officially arrived in Bethlehem.

  “All right,” Peggy said, “before we commence your culinary masterpiece, we must name it. I do believe that the cookie naming is half the battle. Our judges love a good turn of phrase.” Ally and Noel exchanged a look.

  “Well, Noel?” Ally said. “What do you think?” Ally could see the expectant mother’s mind percolating.

  “Let’s see,” Noel said. “We’ve got cranberries and walnuts and chunks of white chocolate.” Noel chewed on her pinkie finger for a moment and then lit up. “I’ve got it! Crazy Cranberrilicious Chocolate Christmas Chunks!”

  “Perfect!” Ally said. She gave Noel a fist bump.

  Peggy clapped. “Wonderful! The judges will love that one.”

  For the next half hour, under Peggy’s watchful eye and guidance, Ally and Noel mixed, blended, stirred, cracked eggs, rolled dough, greased pans, and chatted it up like giddy schoolgirls. Ally couldn’t believe how much fun baking could be. Just like working at the diner, she found herself happily distracted from the depressing thoughts that rolled through her mind like storm clouds. She was having fun, and when the counter radio announced that the airports would be closed again the next day, as well, Ally actually felt a bit relieved. She was in no hurry to move back into the tempest of uncertainty that awaited her in her real life. She figured that, as long as she stayed in Bethlehem, she’d be safe. It was as if the fates had gifted her a haven in which to wait out the storm, both literally and figuratively. The actual snowstorm might only last a few days, but she was realistic enough to know the cyclone that was enveloping her life might take a bit longer to blow over. So, if baking cookies and waiting tables could give her a reprieve—however brief—she was ready to embrace it.