A Small Town Christmas

by Sheila Roberts

  Glen crossed his heart. “No more wiggling.”

  She smiled down at him. “You promise? We have witnesses, you know.”

  “Teamwork,” Glen promised.

  “Oh, that’s so sweet,” murmured Laura’s mother as Laura rewarded Glen with a kiss.

  “Henpecked,” muttered his dad.

  “Leonard, be quiet,” said his mom.

  “That was all real touching,” Chuck said, “but what about the turkey? And the peas and spuds are burned. I hate to say it, bro, but this dinner sucks. This is like prison food or something.”

  “I don’t think cooking is your thing, Glen,” one of the women said diplomatically.

  Laura got up and picked up the platter with the bad-news turkey. “Don’t worry, guys. Mom, Edna, you want to help me?”

  Glen’s mother and mother-in-law each scooped up bowls of disaster food, and followed Laura out of the dining room. A couple of minutes later they returned, bearing a platter of cold, sliced ham, a big bowl of potato salad, a molded Jell-O fruit salad, and Mom’s dinner rolls.

  “Plan B,” Laura told Glen and kissed the top of his head. “We had it hidden in the extra fridge in the garage for just in case. And we’ve got Mom’s Christmas cookies for dessert. I just couldn’t let you keep working without a net, not when you’ve been trying so hard. It wasn’t fair.”

  Glen sighed in relief. “Thanks, babe.”

  “Well, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” his dad cracked.

  “Yeah, but you still need batteries,” teased Frank. Maybe Frank wouldn’t get invited back next year.

  “Don’t worry. I bought some,” Laura said.

  “She saved your bacon,” Frank told Glen. Frank was definitely not getting invited back next year.

  The turkey and all its trimmings had been consumed, and Carol’s old-fashioned figgy pudding had been a hit. Even little Chloe had liked it, licking the sauce from her bowl. Now they all sat in the living room, which was scented by bayberry candles and decorated with a small ceramic tree on the coffee table, watching the gas flames dance over the fake logs in the fireplace and listening to a CD of Christmas music.

  Carol looked at Chloe, cuddled in her mother’s lap and fighting the heaviness settling on her eyelids. They’d probably be moving in another year. Would she ever see or hear from them again? Maybe not, but that was okay. Maybe it was all right to risk letting people into your life, even if they drifted on out, because the time they were there was so special.

  “This sure beats that turkey potpie I had in the freezer,” Darren said from his spot on the couch. The way he smiled at Carol told her he wasn’t planning on drifting off any time soon.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. One thing she was sure of, it was nice to have someone here with her right now. She smiled at him and said, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  She looked back at the fire. Funny, the images you could see in a blazing fire. For a minute there the flames moved in a way that looked like two people dancing.

  Rosemary Charles stood at the door of Rick’s apartment, stamping snow off her feet and waiting for him to answer the doorbell. She pressed it again. What was taking him so long answer, anyway? It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting her. He’d asked her to stop by on her way to her parents’, insisting that he had something important she needed to see. What she needed to see at Rick’s Scrooge-in-residence place she couldn’t imagine, but she was curious enough to let him lure her over for some hot buttered rum.

  She suddenly heard strains of “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” coming from inside the house. And then Rick opened the door. He was wearing a Santa hat.

  She blinked. “What are you doing?”

  “Just thought you’d like to see how I celebrate Christmas,” he said, and stepped aside for her to enter.

  “I got the impression you didn’t.”

  “Well, you got the wrong impression. Want to see my tree?”

  “You have a tree?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a tree.”

  “Oh, I can hardly wait to see this,” she said, following him into the living room. He’d probably decorated it with old Budweiser cans.

  But he hadn’t. It had old-fashioned tinsel on it and all kinds of those collectible ornaments she saw every year at Hallmark. “This is impressive,” she said, moving closer for a better look.

  In fact, the whole apartment was impressive. The neutral-colored walls were jazzed up with framed photographs of mountain and sea scenes—Rick’s work, obviously. He didn’t have a ton of furniture, but what he had was nice: brown leather sofa and love seat, a sturdy coffee table made of cherrywood. It had two steaming mugs sitting on it.

  Rick handed one to her.

  “How did you manage this?” she said, holding up the mug.

  “I’m organized.”

  “So, tell me about the tree.”

  “Not much to tell. My mom has gotten me ornaments for Christmas every year since I was born. Of course, she got me other stuff, too,” he added, then frowned. “Socks, underwear, pajamas.”

  “You poor, deprived child,” Rosemary teased.

  “Well, we could always count on Santa for the cool stuff,” Rick said.

  “The stuff you got from Santa probably wouldn’t be as valuable as these ornaments.” She smiled at him. “It’s a great tree.”

  “I don’t put one up every year. It’s a pain in the ass.” He smiled at her. “I just put it up when I’m planning on having really important company.”

  She felt suddenly fluttery inside and took a sip of her drink. “Well, I’ve got to say, you have great taste. All except for the music,” she added.

  “Hey, that’s a great song.”

  She nodded at the tree. “So, was this what you wanted me to see?”

  “That and what’s under it,” he said, moving closer to her.

  She looked down and saw a small package wrapped in gold foil. “What’s this?”

  “Something for you.”

  “Oh, my gosh. Really?”

  He picked it up and gave it to her. “Open it.”

  She did and her jaw dropped. There was the necklace with the pink quartz she’d admired at the Hollydays Fair. She looked from it to Rick, stunned. He was grinning like an oversized elf.

  “You can shut your mouth now,” he teased, and lifted a finger to her chin. “Or, come to think of it, you can leave it open.”

  It was a kiss to remember. He smelled like aftershave and tasted like hot buttered rum.

  “So,” he murmured after that enticing sample of possible Christmases future. “You got your outfit all picked out for New Year’s Eve?”

  She grinned up at him. “Who’s paying? Who lost the bet?”

  He looked over his shoulder at his tree. “Let’s call it a draw, but I’ll pay.”

  Joy and Bob and their kids were almost the last to leave the party this year. It was a first.

  Al pumped Bob’s hand as they walked out the door. “Thanks for doing that, Bob. It was really great. I loved it that you made Lonnie the murderer.”

  “We’ll do it again next year,” Bob promised.

  Joy could hardly believe her ears. She threaded an arm through Bob’s as they made their way down the front walk. “Will we? Really?”

  He nodded. “Why not?”

  She sighed happily. “That was fun.”

  He smiled down at her and said, “Yes, it was.”

  Those were the sweetest words she’d heard in a long time, and, after all they’d been through this season, they felt almost too good to be true. Note to self: Reward husband properly later. She tugged on Bob’s arm, slowing them down to let the kids go on ahead of them. “Did you mean what you just said? Really?”

  He considered a moment. “Yes, I did. And even if I didn’t I’d still be there. I love you, hon, crazy family and all.”

  Al’s front door opened to let out a couple other stragglers, and music from his Christmas CD danced out into the
cold night air, a choir singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

  No need to wish it, Joy thought happily. She had it.

  Glen had done all the dishes after dinner, but he made sure he wasn’t alone. He’d bullied his brother and Frank into helping him. Now the kitchen was clean and the family was busy exchanging presents, and Glen found himself wishing he was back in the kitchen, especially when his father-in-law opened his gift.

  “Drill bits and nuts,” he said. “Interesting combination.”

  “If you’d been at Hank’s today,” Glen began.

  Laura’s dad cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I was. You did better than I did.” He lowered his voice and leaned over to Glen. “Your mother-in-law’s getting a handwritten gift certificate.”

  Poor Dad, Glen thought. Although he hadn’t done much better for Laura.

  “Oh, well. A gift certificate is better than nothing,” his father-in-law decided.

  Wait a minute. That gave Glen an idea. And it was a great one. He felt so pleased with himself he almost crowed. Santa would be up late tonight, but it would be worth it.

  “Say,” said his mom. “Isn’t it time we left for church?”

  Glen looked at his watch. “Whoa, you’re right. Hey, everybody, we’ve got to get going.”

  “You got the right costume this time?” teased Frank.

  “Funny,” snapped Glen. Not only was Frank not getting invited back next year, he might not even live to see next year.

  Everyone hugged, kissed, then rushed out and piled into cars, and ten minutes later the family was settled in pews for the early Mass, witnessing a new generation of kids celebrating the Christmas story. Watching his daughter sing in the angel choir with his wife seated next to him and his son on his lap made Glen remember why he loved this season so much. And this year he had a new appreciation for all of it. So much effort went into making all the celebrations he loved, effort he’d taken very much for granted. Never again. He was a new man and he was going to prove it to Laura with a grand gesture.

  Back home, when it was just them, he got the presents he’d bought earlier wrapped and stashed under the tree while Laura put the kids to bed. Then they filled the kids’ stockings together. As it turned out, the stocking stuffers were about the only things that he’d managed not to screw up on. Laura told him it was because he was the world’s biggest kid.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said, suspecting an insult.

  “No, there’s not,” she agreed with a smile. “I think that does it. Let’s go to bed.”

  “You go ahead. I’ve got a couple more things I need to do,” Glen said.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him. “It’s over, you big goof. You’re done. You can come to bed.”

  “Not quite.” He kissed her. “You go on. I’ll be up in a little bit.”

  She shook her head at him like he was nuts. “Okay.”

  As soon as she was gone, he slipped into the spare room office and began making his Christmas creation for her, using everything he could find from old stationery to some of the kids’ colored craft paper. He got so engrossed in his project he didn’t even hear Laura come in until she said his name. Then he about jumped out of his skin.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He threw an arm over the scattered bits of clipped papers. “Nothing.”

  “Glen, you’ve been in here for almost two hours.”

  Time flew when you were being brilliant. “Really?”

  She slipped around him and loosened a rectangle of red construction paper from under his elbow.

  “Hey,” he protested.

  But it was too late. She was already reading it. “Good for one back rub. No expiration date.” She gave him a smile that told him he was really onto something, then freed another bit of paper. “Good for one night of dinner and dancing. Dancing, huh? Boy, you’re really trying. So how many of those coupons have you made?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.”

  “And are they all for me?” she asked, her voice teasing.

  “Well, they’re not for Frank.”

  She grinned and dropped onto his lap, slipping her arms around his neck. “This is really sweet.”

  Man, she smelled good. “What I found for you didn’t seem good enough,” he confessed. “I’m sorry, babe. I’d ordered something really great from that stupid Internet site and—”

  She put her fingers to his lips to shut him up. “You already gave me what I wanted for Christmas. You helped. It was all I ever really wanted.” She slid off his lap, the flimsy material of her nightgown whispering through his fingers. “Now, why don’t you come to bed?” she suggested, her voice silky.

  It looked like Glen was going to get something he really wanted for Christmas, too. He followed her out of the room, leaving the coupons on the desk. They’d still be there in the morning.

  Merry Christmas to all, he thought with a smile, and to all a good night.

  Twenty-four

  …And a Happy New Year

  “The worst was the frozen turkey,” Glen said, and proceeded to describe the finishing touch to his disaster dinner. By the time he was done, Bob and Joy’s other party guests were nearly in hysterics. “I don’t want to be a woman for Christmas ever again,” he concluded.

  “You won’t have to be,” Laura assured him, patting his leg. “Just a helpful husband.”

  “That I can handle. Man, what a nightmare this all was.”

  “You did do okay with the costume for the Christmas pageant at church,” she reminded him.

  He rolled his eyes. “Real hard. We were down to one bag.”

  Pete gestured to Bob’s disaster tree. “At least you got the tree right, and that’s more than Bob can say.”

  Bob pointed a warning finger at him. “No fishing for compliments, Martha Stewart. My tree may not have won any contest, but it makes a statement.”

  “I hope you’re not fixing to tell us what it says,” Sharon said in disgust.

  Whatever it said, it had been the perfect tree to shelter all the funny white elephant gifts the Stitch ’N Bitchers and their husbands had just finished fighting over.

  “Well, I have to admit, I was pretty mad when Kay started this,” said Jack Carter, who was sitting on the Robertson’s couch with an arm around his wife, “but at least I can see now how easy it is to get carried away with shopping.”

  “He actually spent more this year than I usually do,” Kay added.

  “So there was something for your children under the tree after all?” Joy asked.

  Jack made a face. “Like I was going to let my kids come over and find nothing under the tree.” He shook his head at Kay. “Kay exaggerates.”

  Kay said nothing. She didn’t need to. Her smug smile and the new bit of bling-bling on her finger said it all. Her cheapskate husband had learned his lesson.

  “Hey, any progress on finding the crooks who ran that Web site?” Glen asked Bob.

  Bob shook his head. “Not that I know of. Don’t hold your breath about getting any of the merchandise you ordered.”

  Glen shrugged. “Oh, well. We made out okay anyway. But, let me tell you, I’m sure glad I’m not in charge of the shopping next year.” Looking at his wife, he quickly added, “But I’m helping with it. I’m helping with everything.”

  “It’s almost midnight,” Joy said, passing around the plate with Bob’s bonbons one last time. “Let’s break out the champagne.”

  Bob and Glen disappeared into the kitchen to open bottles and Carol helped Joy set out the glasses.

  “I wish Jerri could have been here for this,” Carol said.

  “Me, too,” said Joy. Wouldn’t she have loved to see Carol in her new, red sweater, smiling across the room at Darren. He was looking at her like she was blond gingerbread, and Joy suspected the new year was going to bring serious romance into Carol’s life. And she hoped it would bring a complete recovery and per
fect health to Jerri’s. “Next year she’ll be here.”

  A loud pop proclaimed the champagne ready, and everyone gathered around the dining room table while Joy and Carol poured it.

  With the glasses filled, they all looked to Bob for a toast.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, here’s to our successful negotiations and an end to the strike.”

  “Amen to that,” Glen said heartily. “And here’s to Christmas being a lot better next year.”

  “And maybe a little messier,” Sharon added, smiling at her husband.

  Joy decided her Christmas couldn’t get much better than this one had turned out. Bob had really come through, and for the first time in many years, she had felt like they were a couple at her family’s holiday gathering. It had been the perfect Christmas. And tonight’s party had been perfect, too. Not too many people, which made Bob happy, but plenty of fun, which was all she needed to rev her batteries for the New Year.

  Everyone clinked glasses and guzzled champagne; then, shortly after, the party broke up.

  “Hey man, great time,” Glen said to Bob as they were leaving.

  Bob put an arm around his wife. “We’ll do it again next year.”

  * * *

  Food Favorites

  From Joy and Company to you

  For those of you who don’t want to go

  on strike this Christmas, Joy and her friends

  thought you might enjoy some of their

  favorite recipes.

  * * *

  Dave’s Peppermint Fizz

  You can also make this with vanilla ice cream and a drop of red food coloring, if you can’t find peppermint ice cream or if you want a more delicate flavor.

  2 generous scoops peppermint candy ice cream (or chocolate chip mint)

  1 shot peppermint schnapps (you can measure this with a regular liquor shot glass, but Sheila, er, Dave, just uses one of those little espresso shot glasses)

  ½ cup club soda