Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball

by Donita K. Paul

  “Nothing that can be explained.” Betty scooped up the two cats and dumped them out the front door, bells ringing wildly.

  Bonnie put another out, but while the door was open, one of the cats outside slinked in. Simon and Cora tried to help, but one cat out always meant one or two back in. This process went on for five full minutes, before a giggle made them all stop and turn.

  Sandy stood outside the fitting room in a gown meant for a princess. She held a small satin clutch purse in her hand.

  Simon stared. Transformed. That was the word he wanted. His unsophisticated little sister looked enchanting.

  She grinned at all of them, and the cats quit their caterwauling.

  Sandy twirled around almost gracefully. She patted her full skirt down a bit, then turned expectant eyes on her big brother. “How are we going to get Cora a ticket?”

  6

  Cora felt terrible. Sandy was not going to enjoy the ball with her brother because she had it in her head that Cora ought to go too. But Cora didn’t want to go. Simon Derrick had practically been forced to issue the politely worded invitation. If Sandy had not been standing right there, Simon would have dodged the circumstance neatly. And besides that, at this point, Cora couldn’t go. No ticket provided a perfect excuse.

  Betty Booterbaw clapped her hands together. “I know. We’ll call Billy Wizbotterdad.”

  Cora blinked. “From the bookstore?”

  “Not really. He’s Bill’s son. Doesn’t work at the shop. He’s a whiz at computers.”

  For some reason Betty’s statement set Bonnie off in a fit of giggles.

  “What good will it do to call this Billy?” asked Simon.

  “Oh, he organizes the ticket part of the ball, among other things.” Betty shushed Bonnie, then turned back to their customers. “He’ll know if any of the shops still have tickets left, or if anyone has returned a ticket.”

  She clapped her hands together once more. “There! We have a plan. Bonnie, help Sandy out of the dress. Is that the one you want, dear? You look lovely.”

  Smiling broadly, Sandy nodded as Bonnie bustled her back to the fitting room.

  “Um,” said Simon, “I think I better look at the price.”

  Betty’s words were muffled as she bent behind a counter. “Ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents.”

  She pulled out a battered black phone directory, opened it, and flipped through the pages.

  “Here he is.” Betty picked up a telephone, the old-fashioned kind that had a horn-shaped base that held the mouthpiece on the top. A bracket cradled an earpiece on the side. She lifted the earpiece and jiggled the bracket. “Hello, June, get me Billy Wizbotterdad, please, 4893. Yes, it’s about the ball. If you hear of anyone with an extra ticket, let me know.” She winked at Cora and Simon. “She’s putting me through.”

  Cora turned to Simon and pulled him toward the door. “That’s impossible,” she whispered, then realized even the whisper had come out too loud and lowered her voice. “That phone doesn’t have a cord going to the wall.”

  “It’s probably a cordless.” He didn’t sound convinced. He frowned as he stared back between racks of clothing at the old lady carrying on a lively conversation with Billy. Simon leaned closer, still watching through the gowns. “It’s a mock-up of an old phone to fit the atmosphere of the shop, but it’s got to be a cordless phone.”

  His chin almost touched the top of her head. He smelled of some wonderful aftershave. She didn’t have much experience with men who smelled good. She drew in a slow, long breath, enjoying the heady fragrance.

  Totally unaware of her, Simon repeated, “Cordless.”

  He’d broken the spell.

  Cora couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Or a cell phone.”

  He bent down to whisper, “No.” Simon’s serious tone brought her eyes to his face, now so close to her own. He stared at Betty and her contraption with a puzzled frown. “I just looked into changing my service and saw all types of cell phones. That wasn’t offered by any company I researched.”

  “Simon!” Cora had never used his first name. Now she used it but in a tone that said, “How can you be so dense?” She gasped. What a complete ninnyhammer! Without a doubt, it was time for her to go back to work.

  Simon’s head turned too quickly, his nose bumping hers. They both pulled back.

  “What?” he asked, his face a shade redder.

  “I was being sarcastic about the cell phone.”

  “Oh.”

  This man needed lessons in the finer nuances of conversation, but Cora was not going to volunteer. She faked looking at her watch. “I’ve got to go. My lunch hour is over.”

  Simon grabbed her arm. “No, you don’t.”

  “No?”

  “Remember?” He spoke in a rush. “You have Mrs. Hudson’s permission.”

  He clamped his mouth shut. An uncomfortable moment stretched. Cora wondered if she should pull her arm out of his grasp or just wait.

  Simon let out a sigh and spoke in a slow, controlled manner. “And we haven’t had lunch.” He looked toward the fitting rooms. “And this gown business is way over my head.”

  Cora agreed with that assessment. Sandy was going to need some intimate apparel suitable for under the dress, and she’d give a monkey’s banana her brother hadn’t even thought of that. Perhaps his mother would take charge in that department.

  Bonnie brought out Sandy’s dress on a padded hanger and hung it on a hook behind the counter. “We’ll steam press this before we bag it so it will be nice and fresh for the young lady.”

  Cora’s attention shifted from the gown to the two old ladies and then to a cat stretched out on a glass case filled with hats. She whispered to Simon, “All of this is strange. Even the price of the dress is wrong.”

  “Too much?” asked Simon.

  Cora rolled her eyes. “About six hundred dollars too little.”

  Simon shook his head in disbelief. “Well, Betty did say it was an old dress.”

  “Tack on another hundred or two for the word ‘antique.’ ”

  Betty laughed into the mouthpiece of whatever it was she held. “Thanks, Billy. I’ll send the customers by the candy shop.”

  She hung up and waved Simon and Cora to come back to the register. “I located Billy, and he said to send you to the Garland Candy Shoppe. He’s having Michelle hold a ticket for you. The store’s easy to find. There are ropes of candy strung in the window like Christmas garland.”

  Sandy came out of the back room with her coat over her arm. Her face glowed. She touched the skirt of her dress gently. “So beautiful.” She tackled Simon and gave him a big hug. “Simon, I love it.”

  He squeezed her back. “And Betty has found another ticket. Let’s go have lunch, pick up the ticket, then come back and get your dress.” He smiled at the ladies behind the counter. “Do you want me to pay for it now or when we come back?”

  “When you come back is fine,” said Bonnie. “We’ll have the dress in a nice bag, ready to carry home. Did you want the little clutch purse too?”

  Sandy nodded.

  “How much?” asked Simon.

  “Ten dollars.”

  Cora poked Simon with her elbow, but he didn’t seem to notice. She wanted to hiss at him but figured that would draw attention from the Booterbaw sisters. Surely Simon would get the hint. Ten dollars for that clutch was a ludicrous price. The price tag should be fifty, at least.

  “Yes, we want the purse.” Simon took Sandy’s coat and helped her put it on.

  In a minute they were back on the street among a scattered array of Christmas shoppers. Cora stewed for a moment longer as they walked, then took a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. She could smell peppermint and chocolate.

  “The crowds aren’t as thick here,” said Simon.

  Cora exhaled, enjoying the touches of Christmas spirit on the street. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Another oddity.” Simon stopped in front of the glasswor
ks store, and Sandy became absorbed in the spun-glass ornaments and figurines.

  Simon turned to Cora. “That phone is some kind of communication apparatus like a wireless intercom. Something that works only on this street so the owners can keep in communication. I bet this whole street is owned by one corporation, and it’s only made to look like two rows of separate, unusual, old-fashioned shops. The whole thing is an advertising gimmick.”

  “There’s only one thing wrong with that theory.”

  He squinted at her, waiting for her to speak. She caught the expectant look in his eye and realized he had focused his attention on her. Not many people really looked, really listened, really paid attention when she spoke.

  “Uh.” She’d forgotten what she was going to say. “Oh! Advertising. There isn’t any. Hardly anyone knows about this street. No one’s heard of the Wizards’ Christmas Ball.”

  “Not no one. My pastor’s heard of it.”

  Sandy tugged on Simon’s sleeve. “I’m hungry now.”

  “Me too.” Simon surveyed the street. A number of small carts with huge wheels and brightly colored paint dotted the street. “Where did all these vendors come from?”

  Cora shoved her gloved hands into her coat pockets. The street looked like a set of a movie, or the scene could be the picture on a Christmas card. “They must come out for the lunch crowd.”

  “Chili!” Sandy darted to a nearby vendor where a big sign gave a menu that sounded just right for strolling down the street and window-shopping while they ate. Sandy read slowly but accurately. “Chili. Chili dogs. Chili and mac. Corn dogs. Corn on the cob. Corn pone. Simon, what’s a corn pone?”

  A man in a thick plaid coat with a huge white apron over it picked up a stick of corn bread with tongs. “Here ya go, little lady. This is corn pone. Give it a try.”

  Sandy took the offering and sank her teeth into the golden yellow stick. She turned and nodded to Simon and Cora. “It’s good.”

  The air around the cart smelled of onions, spices, beef, and tomatoes.

  Cora’s stomach growled. “I’d like chili.”

  They joined Sandy as the man was showing her an ingenious cup divided into three deep compartments.

  “My own invention,” he said. “I put your chili in here, your corn pone in here, and when you get your drink from one of the other vendors, it goes right in here.” He turned the molded plastic container over to reveal a thick stick handle. “You hold it here and don’t get your mittens soiled.”

  Sandy giggled. “Like the three little kittens.”

  The vendor nodded seriously. “Just like the three little kittens who soiled their mittens.”

  Simon bought their lunch and hot apple cider from another vendor. Cora graciously accepted the treat. Who in the office would consider a vendor meal to be an intimate lunch with a higher-ranking employee? No one.

  Cora smiled. She could relax and enjoy this outing. The shop, the meal, the company felt just right. Was the happiness zinging around in her heart that Christmas feeling she was trying to catch? At least she was on the scent of the real thing, right?

  Carolers in old-fashioned clothing sang on the corner. One man played an accordion. The instrument fascinated Sandy, so they stood for a while, listening to older versions of traditional carols.

  When the chili and corn pone disappeared, Simon collected their empty containers and tossed them in the trash barrel next to the curb. He put a ten-dollar bill in a kettle for donations and steered his ladies away from the musicians. “We need to find the candy shop.”

  Sandy pointed across the street. The Garland Candy Shoppe’s window blinked with Christmas lights strung among festive ropes of peppermint sticks, gingerbread men, candy trains, and marsh-mallow snowmen in fake pine boughs.

  They walked to the corner and crossed to the other side of the street. Sugary, spicy fragrances greeted them when Simon opened the door. White walls and ceiling dominated the showroom with alternating pale green and blue shelves that held boxes of candy. A long display case exhibited confections on white paper doilies behind glass. Beyond the front room, a dining area included chairs and cloth-covered round tables.

  Simon leaned over and spoke quietly in Cora’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Looks like you can have breakfast, lunch, or dinner here. A meal of chocolate and cotton candy?”

  A young woman came from the far end of the counter to greet them. “I’m Michelle. You must be the family needing one more ticket to the ball.”

  Cora choked, but Sandy handled the situation in her usual forthright manner. “Simon and I are family. Cora is a friend.” She pulled Simon by the sleeve toward the glass case of goodies. “Can we have dessert?”

  Michelle nodded to the back. “In the second room, we have a coffee and tea bar. There’s a small selection of pastries at the end of this counter, near the register.”

  “I’m too full,” said Cora.

  “Really?” Sandy turned to her, her eyes big and round. “Too full for dessert?”

  Simon chuckled. “I’ll get you something small, Candy-Sandy, and you can take a box home to Granddad, Aunt Mae, and Mom.”

  Cora watched Sandy agonize, but for a surprisingly short time. She suddenly pointed at the Christmas apples, dipped half in green candy coating, half in red. Sandy chose cocoa, and Cora found a Scottish blend of tea. While Simon paid for a box of treats to take home, three drinks and the apple on a stick, she and his sister went to find a seat.

  Sandy stirred her cup and blew on it. “Simon’s called me Candy-Sandy forever. That’s better than Sandy-Candy. Candy-Sandy says I’m sweet. Sandy-Candy is yucky. When I was little and got too dirty, he called me that until one day I cried.”

  “I think all big brothers can be a little mean at times.” Cora had big stepbrothers, and a little mean was not how she would describe them—but that wasn’t something she’d share with Sandy.

  “Simon’s never mean now. He grew up.” Sandy paused and, with concentrated effort, winked her right eye. “I won’t grow up. It’s an advantage I cherish. A gift from Jesus.”

  She pronounced “advantage” carefully but slurred “cherish.”

  Cora frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “This is what Jesus said: ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’ Then the Bible says Jesus took the children in His arms and blessed them. That means that people who think like a little child are special to God.”

  Cora tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. “You memorized that verse.”

  Sandy nodded and sipped her drink carefully. “I know lots of verses. I’m pretty good at memorizing. Better than Simon.” She giggled.

  “I’m not very good at that either.”

  “My mom helps me. Did your mom help you?”

  “No, she didn’t.” Now that was a conversational path she did not want to follow. “Sandy, you are going to need a special slip to wear under your beautiful gown. Will your mom take you shopping for it?”

  Sandy grinned and nodded. “Aunt Mae and Mom will think that’s fun. And they’ll make jewelry for the ball too.”

  Simon came to the table and deposited the festive apple in front of his sister. “There you go, Pixie.”

  She screwed up her face at him. “When I’m twenty-five, you have to stop calling me Pixie.”

  “All right. I’ll remember. But you have to help think of a new nickname.”

  “Besides Candy-Sandy?” asked Cora.

  Sandy took a bite of her apple and nodded as she chewed.

  Simon sat down and handed Cora a stiff slip of paper. Cora almost groaned out loud. She held one of the elusive tickets.

  “Thank you,” she said instead, trying to sound delighted.

  “Oh good!” Sandy’s eyes crinkled behind her glasses. “Now we can go back to the nice cat ladies and pick out a dress
for you.”

  Cora couldn’t help it. The groan left her lips before she had a chance to rein it in.

  Sandy put a sticky hand on Cora’s sleeve. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh Sandy, I’ve never owned a dress like those. I probably can’t afford one.” Considering the prices at the costume shop, she realized, that probably wasn’t totally true. She threw out one more desperate and very legitimate excuse. “And I don’t even know how to walk in something that big and fluffy.”

  Simon’s sister patted her arm. “I’ll help you. ‘Be brave and try new things.’ It’s our family motto.”

  Cora almost reminded Sandy that she was not family and didn’t have to be brave and try new things, but she looked across the table and saw Simon’s quirky grin and uplifted eyebrows. All right. Just this once, she’d “be brave and try new things.”

  7

  Stubborn.

  And a fast talker.

  Cora Crowder had his goat. And probably his cow and chickens as well. He couldn’t remember all the reasons she’d given for why she couldn’t shop for a dress at the store then and there.

  Simon finally hustled Sandy and Miss Crowder out of the Booterbaw Costume Shoppe and down Sage Street so that Sandy could catch her bus back home. Encumbered by the package containing the pink princess costume, he let Sandy and Cora chatter as they walked. He took the job of transporting the prized dress quite seriously. And he didn’t mind the opportunity to eavesdrop.

  Cora listened to Sandy, really listened. Few people outside the family did. This was one of the preconceived ideas that drove him crazy. Some people took one look at his sister and decided she wouldn’t have much to say, but in actuality, Sandy was quite a thinker, almost a philosopher in her straight manner of looking at things.

  Cora laughed with Sandy, and as she did, Sandy came out of her shell and said some pretty outrageous things. Cora took it all in stride. The two stopped to look in a window, and both young women glowed as they gazed at the display of tiny houses. Sandy looked like an elf. Cora looked like… an angel. His heart warmed just to see the joy in her expression. He cut the feeling short. He needed to appreciate the lady for her kindness to his sister and her efficiency at work. He didn’t need to go overboard and wonder how it would feel to pull her into his arms and kiss her.