by Amanda Tru
“It was nice meeting you, too,” Emma echoed. “And thank you.”
Yes, as opposed to her previous encounter, Reese Daniels definitely deserved a thank you.
The door shut and Emma made her way back to the car, determined to head downtown to meet a man named Moose before her courage failed her.
Emma scanned the long table full of odds and ends. It mostly resembled yard sale items and included everything from tools to decorative plates. None of Emma’s ornaments were in sight.
“Can I help you find something specific, miss?” a grizzled man in bright orange pants and a camouflage coat asked as he approached.
“Are you Mr. Moose?” Emma asked.
“Moose, but no Mr.,” the man grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. His smile split a graying, scraggly beard that tied with a rubber band several inches past his chin.
Emma reached in her pocket and pulled out the ornament. “Reese Daniels told me she purchased this ornament from you, and I was wondering where you got it and if you have any others?”
Moose reached up and took off his worn, floppy cap to scratch his balding head. “I don’t know any Reese Daniels, and I don’t reckon that’s one of mine. Might be, but it don’t look familiar.”
Trying not to feel discouraged at the utter lack of interest and help, Emma persisted, “Reese said she purchases things from you for her work as an event planner. She’s in her twenties and shorter than me with blonde hair and blue eyes.”
With his gaze fixed in the direction of a few pigeons hopping along the sidewalk about fifteen feet away, Moose shook his head. “Don’t sound familiar.”
All of a sudden, Moose’s arms came up into firing position as if he held a rifle of some kind.
“K-pow!” he shouted, the sound echoing against the tall buildings around them. One of the birds immediately flew off, startled at the noise.
The gunshot sounded so much like a real one that before Emma could check again to make sure his hands really were empty of a weapon, her arms flew up over her head in a defensive reflex. Orion startled as well, his ears perking up on high alert as he maneuvered between Emma and the man shooting a pretend gun.
Emma sucked in a breath and drew her hands back down, reassured that though Moose’s sound effects sounded amazingly realistic, the gun remained invisible to everyone but him.
“K-pow!” Moose shouted again, and the other bird took off in a flurry of flapping wings.
Again, Emma startled, her hands coming up to shield her ears, now terrified that there were more than just the two pigeons for Moose to target.
Apparently satisfied that the perimeter was secure, Moose turned back to Emma, found a toothpick in his pocket, and stuck it in between his teeth. “Now who is this you said buys things from me?”
Emma nervously wet her dry lips. She really wanted to turn around and leave, but after such great effort in getting here, she couldn’t give up. Besides, Moose’s arms hung loosely at his sides and his toothpick performed a slow, relaxed dance as he idly chewed the tip. Clearly, Moose’s weapon was holstered for the moment.
“Reese Daniels,” Emma reminded. “Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Oh, and she has a tiny mole or freckle on the left side of her mouth, right about here,” Emma pointed to the corner of her own mouth.”
Moose’s eyes flashed, and he popped out his toothpick to ask, “Is she the young lady who plans parties?”
“Yes, that’s her,” Emma nodded eagerly, sure that she’d already mentioned that fact.
“Oh, yes, I know her,” Moose said, nodding firmly and reinserting the toothpick. Though he gripped the stick of wood tightly between his teeth, he continued to speak around it, his words only slightly muddled. “She comes around and buys things from time to time. I can’t tell you what she buys. Don’t remember. I don’t even pay attention to all the stuff I got.”
He waved for Emma to follow him to the other side of the table. “Come down here and I’ll show you the other Christmas ornaments I got. Don’t remember one like that nest baby, but we can check.”
Emma and Orion followed Moose to the pile of ornaments mounted on the front corner of the table. There didn’t seem to be much of any recognizable organization to the ornaments or the rest of the table, and Emma guessed that customers were simply supposed to sift through the wares.
Emma reached out her hand and scooted a few of the ornaments over an inch or two, but it was apparent that none of them were similar to the ones she made.
“Now here is a fine one,” Moose said, picking up what looked like a crumpled aluminum can. “It’s made out of a can of soda. My mother made it to look like an angel. Isn’t that somethin’? My mom is 90 years old and still crafts ornaments for the Haberdashery.”
Emma accepted the ornament he held out to her and examined it. In some ways, it did indeed look as if it had been painted by a 90-year old. The can crumpled slightly off center, making it clear to imagine the opening just might be a mouth of a Christmas caroler. With the tab pulled off revealing the perfect little bump of a nose, it clearly only needed a layer of spray paint and detailing on the face to create a cute little caroler with a wide-open mouth and elf-like hood. Unfortunately, the paint job missed the target, and instead of cute, the caroler looked slightly sad and a bit freakish. However, Emma thought the idea adorable and readily saw the potential in the crumpled up can.
“Drat those blasted birds!” Moose muttered.
Emma looked up and followed his gaze to where a few pigeons pecked near a park bench about twenty-five feet away. Though they didn’t show any inclination of coming in their direction, Moose glared at them, clearly in warning.
“You don’t like birds?” Emma asked, voicing the obvious.
The toothpick struck a taut pose between his clenched teeth. “Not when they pester customers and poop all over the sidewalk, table, and even the merchandise. I can’t shoot them in city limits, but the pigeons don’t need to know that.”
The pigeons took a couple steps forward, and Emma saw Moose’s hand twitch in anticipation of the trespassers coming within range.
“I’ll buy this one,” Emma said suddenly, taking out her wallet and hoping to distract Moose from his planned mission with the pigeons. Maybe the purchase would also buy her a little more information, though she was beginning to doubt its existence. “The Haberdashery is what you call your business?” she prompted.
“Yes, ma’am,” Moose answered, accepting a ten-dollar bill and digging the change out of his coat pocket. “A haberdashery is the shop of a haberdasher.”
Emma looked at him, waiting for him to continue his explanation, but instead, he just cocked his head at her, a slow grin spreading across his face once again revealing the several holes where teeth should have resided and the jaunty toothpick pointing out from one of them.
“I suppose you want to know what a haberdasher is,” he said finally.
As if reciting a dictionary definition, Emma responded. “In America, a haberdasher traditionally referred to someone who sold men’s clothing and accessories, but a more British definition refers to a dealer of small things or notions. I expect that second definition is the one you adopt.”
Moose threw his head back and laughed, the toothpick precariously jiggling on the edge of his lip. She waited for it to topple, but amazingly, it survived its jolly dance unscathed. “You’re a smart one!” he cackled.
Emma tucked the soda can ornament into her purse and turned back to Moose with the baby Jesus ornament in her palm once more. “You’re sure you don’t know where this ornament came from?” she asked, a touch of despair in her voice.
Moose shook his head, the toothpick bobbing up and down as he chewed it in thought. “Nope, if that party gal said she got it from the Haberdashery, she probably did. I just don’t remember it. I get stuff donated all the time for me to sell. Some people just bring me their leftover yard sale stuff. What sells goes one way. What doesn’t sell gets loaded into my truck at the end of the day, and we hea
d the other way. It’s not like I keep inventory. Sorry I can’t be more—”
“K-pow! K-pow! K-pow!”
Emma jumped yet again. Orion stood and pressed his side against her leg. Following the direction of the imaginary gun braced against Moose’s shoulders, she saw the flap of wings disappear around the corner of a building.
“Three!” Moose shrieked in delight. “I got all three of them that time!”
That’s the moment Emma realized she had arrived at a dead end.
Quickly saying her thanks to Moose, she left him to take aim at a few other pigeon insurgents and returned to her car with only a crumpled aluminum soda can and at least several year’s loss of hearing to show for her efforts.
“Brooke, I’m ready for Wayne’s ring,” Emma said upon finding Brooke in the back of the Out of the Blue Bouquet cleaning her work area. Emma had barely made it back from Brighton Falls before the shop’s closing time.
“Let’s go get it,” Brooke said with a friendly smile of greeting.
Orion, rather tired of a long day escorting Emma, was overdue for his afternoon nap and found himself a spot to curl up near the Christmas tree displaying Emma’s ornaments. However, while Orion seemed to feel comfortable enough to relax and enjoy a few off-duty minutes in the safety of Brooke’s florist shop, Emma felt no such comfort level.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” Emma said, her words quick and overly bright. “I wanted to get caught up on my other orders first, and Wayne didn’t indicate there was a rush. I almost have the ornament ready though, so if I get the ring, I can mail it tomorrow. Actually, I made several of the same ornaments. I’ll put next year’s date on Wayne’s and this year on all the others. Then I’ll bring all but Wayne’s ornament to restock the inventory here.” Emma knew she was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. If she lost her focus on the mundane details, then she would feel the weight of the dead ends and hurt she’d encountered today. She needed to get the ring and make it home before her day caught up with her.
Brooke unlocked the safe and pulled out the ring along with the paper Emma had written the information for Wayne’s order and set them on the counter in front of Emma. Emma glanced at the paper, making sure she’d remembered everything right, especially since her memories of that day were still a little fuzzy.
“I don’t see that I wrote an address,” she said, looking up and down the single page. “Where should I ship the ornament?”
“Remember?” Brooke asked, coming around the counter to look over her shoulder at the paper. “Wayne left in such a hurry that he said for you to just call his mom and get the address.”
Emma truly didn’t remember Wayne saying that, but she didn’t want to admit that her memory was still so spotty. “You don’t have the address?” Emma asked, hoping she wouldn’t need to make a call.
“No, I don’t. My mom does, but I don’t even know which address to ask for. Did Uncle Wayne want it shipped to his house or the store?”“ Brooke shrugged in answer to her own question. “I don’t know, but I’m sure Grandma does. Do you want me to give you Grandma Barbara’s number?”
Emma shook her head. “No, I know I already have it in the church directory. I’ll give her a call tomorrow after I have the ornament completed and boxed up ready to ship.”
Emma opened the little velvet box and looked at the ring. “So, your uncle is going to propose?”
Brooke shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Uncle Wayne isn’t exactly predictable. It’s a beautiful ring and a cute idea to tie it to an ornament marked for next year. Who knows, maybe you and I will sometime get a ring in just such a romantic way.”
“That would be nice for you,” Emma said kindly.
“And not for you?” Brooke questioned.
“It’s not really a possibility for me,” Emma said simply, shutting the ring case and putting it in her bag carefully.
“Why not?” Brooke asked.
Ignoring the question, Emma looked up at Brooke and pasted on a smile. “Thanks for your help and for keeping the ring for me. I’d better get home now. I know you need to close up shop here.”
“Emma, what’s wrong?” Brooke asked, her brow furrowing with compassion.
Emma looked at her blankly. “I’m fine.”
“You came in here talking loads, but now you refused to answer my question. Both of those aren’t like you at all. Plus, I can tell by the sadness in your eyes. Something is wrong.”
Emma looked at the floor, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t used to having anyone read her emotions. Usually, she hid everything behind a wall, and she knew that she didn’t show emotion like other people. Even her mom often commented on how difficult she was to read. No matter if she was happy, sad, angry, or excited, apparently her face remained impassive.
“It’s just been a hard day,” Emma said dismissively. “I guess Mondays are supposed to be hard, right?”
“What happened? Brooke asked.
Emma braved a glance up, trying to decide if Brooke really wanted to know or was just making polite conversation. The compassion that still shone from her kind face was her undoing.
“You were right,” Emma whispered. “Leo Jacobs is not very kind.”
Emma could have told her about the ornament she’d found and the steps she’d followed to the dead end. She could have talked about how exhausted and discouraged she was and how she was seriously considering closing her shop. Instead, Leo’s name floated from her mouth almost without her permission.
“Oh, Emma,” Brooke said sympathetically. “What did he do?”
“Nothing he hasn’t done before, I’m sure. This time it just hurt more. He was quite blunt and forceful in telling me not to call him anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Emma.” Brooke’s eyes filled with tears and her lip trembled. “I know how rude and hurtful he can be. Not to excuse him, but I don’t think he, himself, realizes the hurt he causes others with his words and attitude. “
Emma felt touched at Brooke’s response. Emma hadn’t even shed a tear over the incident, and yet Brooke was crying for her!
“Have you talked to Kate?” Brooke sniffed, dabbing at the moisture in the corner of her eye. “Does she know what he said to you?”
“No, why should she?” Emma wondered if she had somehow missed a planned meeting with Kate that she didn’t know about. “I haven’t seen Kate since the party last Friday.”
Brooke shrugged. “I just thought that if she knew, she could talk to him. Kate’s the only one Leo listens to, or maybe she’s just the only one who dares tell him off.”
Emma’s eyes flew wide in alarm. “Oh, I wouldn’t want her to do that! I probably bring out the worst in Leo. I know I don’t always understand social cues. He had to be blunt and rude for me to understand.”
Brooke pursed her lips and eagerly began rearranging a strand of twinkle lights that wound around the counter, even though Emma didn’t see why they needed to be repositioned at all.
As she worked, her tense words came softly, “Emma, you deserve someone who cares for you enough to protect you in every way and takes great care in communicating in a way that doesn’t hurt you.” She looked up with sincere blue eyes and nodded to the little flower sitting in a pot by the register. “Emma you’re an African violet—delicate and beautiful, but you are watered differently than other flowers. African violets can’t be watered from the top, only by the roots soaking up water from the bottom. They will die if watered like other plants. Emma, you simply need someone who will cherish you and take care to communicate with you in the way you need, like an African violet.”
Emma studied the dainty flower, immediately feeling a connection and deciding she needed her own. “Thank you, Brooke. It’s very sweet of you to think of me in such a beautiful way, but I don’t think a man exists who would want to take the time to care for an African violet. Roses are a lot easier to care for and more elaborate in appearance.”
Brooke smiled gently. “The right person woul
d love that you’re different and enjoy caring for his violet. Emma, you need someone who loves you. I’m just not sure that’s the grouchy police chief.”
At the absurd idea, Emma’s scoffing came out more like a giggle, but it held no joy. “Leo Jacobs would never love me, but that doesn’t make him unique. I don’t think I’d ever want someone to love me, at least not in a romantic way.”
Completely abandoning the twinkle lights and the violet, Brooke looked at Emma with serious concern. “Why not, Emma?” I don’t know that Leo Jacobs is capable of love, but why can’t God have some other Prince Charming in your future?”
Emma shrugged and examined the tile floor of the shop. “I would feel bad for him because he should have someone normal who could love him better than I. Most men would see me as the one incapable of love.”
“Emma,” Brooke called her name and paused, waiting for Emma to finally look her in the eye.
As she finally made the eye contact, Brooke spoke directly to her, eyes serious. “Anyone who took the time to know you would realize that love exudes out of every little thing you do. The reason you make those ornaments is love for God and others. The reason you try to hold a conversation or teach the children at church is because of love. Those things are not easy for you, and yet you do them anyway. The reason why you make snowflakes for a withdrawn little four-year-old after experiencing your own difficulties is because you loved her without knowing anything about her. I know that the same love that overflows from your heart will also translate into a romantic love that the man God chooses will be blessed to experience.”
Emma swallowed, touched by words she couldn’t quite believe. “Both you and my mom are so sweet to think the best of me and hope a man will do the same. I’ve always known I was different and tried to prepare myself with the idea that romantic love is not part of God’s plan for me. It seems that after today, that really was a wise assessment.”
Brooke blinked. “Emma, are you saying that you have romantic feelings for Leo?”
