Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball

by Donita K. Paul

  The light changed colors. The people stopped. From the other direction, pedestrians crossed the street, coming toward them, then turned off in either direction. Not even one person continued into this part of Sage. Cars, rather old cars, were parallel parked on either side in front of the shops, but none of the cars on the cross street turned down this block.

  “Just a minute, Cora. I want to conduct an experiment. Watch Sandy for me, will you?”

  He barely caught the puzzled frown on her face, but he heard her “Of course.”

  Simon strode back to the crowded intersection and watched the faces of those who passed by. It wasn’t his imagination. They all ignored this side street. He looked over at Cora and saw that Sandy had come to stand beside her. They both watched him. He gave a little wave he hoped was reassuring.

  A man dressed in an expensive black overcoat and a stylish, stingy-brim fedora approached from the other direction.

  Simon held out his hand. “Sir.”

  The man glanced up.

  “Could you tell me if there’s a bookstore down that street?” Simon waved toward Cora and his sister.

  The man paused, frowned, and pointed in the opposite direction. “There’s a big chain store two blocks over. Has a coffee shop, and I believe they’re having a string quartet play Christmas music this afternoon.”

  Simon shook his head. “No, I’m looking for a small shop in that direction.”

  The man’s frown deepened, then he shook his head and moved on.

  Simon bit his lower lip. Do these people not see the street we do? Impossible!

  Next he stopped a teenage couple. They told him of a classic comics store, but paid no attention to the street he pointed out. He stopped an old man and, with relief, heard him say he remembered a small bookstore down that way.

  “Have you been there lately?” Simon asked.

  The old man grinned and walked off.

  He’d try one more time.

  A mother and two children trudged past. The woman carried a younger, sleeping girl on her shoulder. The older girl plodded beside her mom. They put one foot in front of the other, looking weary.

  “Excuse me.” Simon smiled and held his hands out in a helpless gesture. “I’m looking for a quaint little bookshop. I was told there was one on Sage Street.” He pointed toward the two women he was supposed to be taking to see the Booterbaw sisters. “Do you know if there’s a bookstore that way?”

  The woman sighed, and her eyes followed Simon’s gesture. Her face lost some of its fatigue. “Oh my, how lovely.” She tugged gently on the older girl’s arm. “Let’s go down this street. It’s charming.” She hitched the sleeping child higher on her shoulder. “And not crowded. Maybe we can find a place to rest and have a snack.” She walked on to Sage Street, apparently forgetting Simon and his question.

  Simon watched the small family walk past Sandy and Cora, then focused his gaze beyond and studied the street.

  The shops and cars, and even most of the people, looked like they belonged together in some movie set meant to look like the forties or fifties. Except the cars weren’t so old, and the pedestrians weren’t wearing odd clothing.

  Simon responded to Sandy’s beckoning wave, but his mind kept working on the conundrum. Every time he thought he’d put his finger on what made the street so peculiar, he found he’d missed details that didn’t quite fit his assessment.

  Cora’s eyes sparkled as he came closer. “What were you doing?”

  “Let’s go,” said Sandy at the same time.

  Simon took Cora’s hand, and they strolled after his sister.

  “I was trying to see if everyone can see this street.”

  “What?” Cora’s face mirrored the bewilderment he felt.

  Had he actually thought some people didn’t see this part of Sage? What was the shopping district? Make-believe? No, he might call it unusual reality, but he’d not go so far as to proclaim fantasy here. The pavement felt solid beneath his feet. He heard city traffic and the chattering of people walking by. He smelled… a bakery. He stopped.

  The woman and her two girls sat on the other side of a large glass window. The mother looked at a menu. Simon read the lettering on the window. “Faerie Cake Bakery.”

  He squeezed Cora’s hand. “What are faerie cakes?”

  “A light cake. Usually it’s a cupcake, with adornments on the top. Sometimes the cake itself has a citrus zest added.”

  “Adornments?”

  “Nuts or fruit for adults, a dab of icing and sprinkles for kids.” Cora raised their linked hands and pointed at the window display. “Sometimes a face made of candies.”

  Simon peered down at Cora. “How do you know these things?”

  “The family I lived with during college cooked. Well, I guess most families cook, but they hardly ever went out to eat, and everyone would pile into the kitchen and have fun making stuff. Everything from spaghetti meat loaf to soda bread from an old Irish recipe.”

  “Spaghetti meat loaf?”

  “I know it sounds awful, but it was quite good. The smallest son suggested they put the meatball on the outside and the spaghetti inside.” Cora cocked her head. “So did you find out if only some people can see Sage Street?”

  “Inconclusive. No one said, ‘Are you crazy? There’s no street in that direction.’ But some of them looked at me as if I were crazy.”

  “That could just be a city dweller’s natural reaction to being spoken to when he or she is minding his or her own business. And a hint to you to mind your own business.”

  Simon didn’t take offense. She offered her opinion with a sweet smile, and he was encouraged that she had relaxed out of the employee-to-boss mode. He squeezed her hand once more.

  They started walking again. Sandy had paused several stores farther down the street.

  Simon twisted his lips. “A toy store? I don’t remember a toy store.”

  “Maybe you weren’t looking for a toy store.”

  “I don’t remember seeing the Faerie Cake Bakery either.”

  “I know you weren’t looking for faerie cakes.”

  Simon laughed. “No, I wasn’t.”

  She giggled, and the soft sound eased the tightness in his neck and relaxed the worry muscles around his eyes. Simon realized he held her hand and, at the same time, realized that it felt natural and that he had been holding it for some time. Even gripping it gently when something felt good.

  The act of engaging a woman’s affection had never been comfortable before. When had he taken hold of her hand? He couldn’t even remember.

  They stopped walking when they came up behind Sandy.

  “Aren’t they wonderful?” Sandy sighed. “All these old dolls. I bet they’re the kind of dolls people collect and put on shelves instead of playing with ’em.”

  “Would you like to collect dolls, Sandy?” Cora asked the question Simon had just formulated in his head.

  “No.” She turned her angelic smile on Simon and Cora. “I want a kitten to cuddle, not a doll I can’t touch.”

  Simon placed an arm around Sandy’s back. “Very wise, my pixie girl.”

  Sandy accepted the compliment with a nod of her head.

  The snow left off being gentle and dainty. Large flakes descended in increasing numbers.

  “I think it’s time,” said Simon, “for us to hone in on the costume shop and quit getting sidetracked.”

  The number of pedestrians thinned even more as the snowfall intensified, and the three dashed for the comfort of the store.

  11

  Bonnie and Betty Booterbaw welcomed Sandy and Cora like long-lost friends. Simon was relieved to get a less effusive greeting from the two lady costumers.

  Bonnie pulled Cora toward a rack of clothes. “I’m guessing these dresses are about your size. Let’s get to work. We’re closing the shop early tonight, because Betty and I have dinner engagements with our beaus.” She glanced at her sister and blushed.

  “Don’t look at me, Bonnie
. You didn’t have to tell.” Betty took Simon’s arm and steered him toward the door. “It’s going to take us at least an hour to pick the right dress for your friend. And it will only take ten minutes for you to choose an outfit. Why don’t you go visit some of the other stores?”

  Bonnie giggled. “She means you’ll be in the way, and your pretty friend may want to surprise you with the gown she wears.”

  A cat jumped down from a cabinet and twined around his legs. The air in the room seemed too hot and dry after the cold, snowy wind outside. Simon watched his sister and his “pretty friend” examine the dresses, exclaiming over colors and fabrics. Cora probably would take longer to decide on a costume than his easily pleased sister. A whole hour in this place would be tedious. Roaming the curious street was a much better alternative.

  “Right,” said Simon, making a beeline for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  He pulled out his cell phone as he walked. He tapped speed dial and soon heard a ring.

  “Hello. Greg Spencer at Ohgoodgrief Fellowship of Wobbly Christians.”

  “Very funny, Spence. You’ve been awful since you got caller ID. The elders should vote to take it away from you.”

  “Man, your signal is crackly Simon. Where are you?”

  “Sage Street.”

  “Oh, the part that doesn’t exist? That would explain the weak signal.”

  “It exists, Spence. I’m walking down Sage right now.” Simon stopped and turned a full circle. This outdoor mall, or whatever it was, was real.

  “Why are you on Sage Street?”

  “I brought Sandy and Cora shopping.”

  “So you officially asked the young lady out.”

  “Yes, and I bought her an ice cream soda, and we’ve been for a walk in the snow.”

  Silence answered him from Spence’s end.

  “Spence?”

  “I’m trying to catch up. Ice cream soda and a walk in the snow?”

  “Yes, and I’m going to ask her to go to a picture show tomorrow evening when Sandy is busy with her church group.”

  “Ice cream soda. A walk in the snow. Picture show. Is this some old song I can’t remember?”

  “No, it’s ‘sort-of’ advice from Mr. Kinnaught at the nursing home.”

  “Okay, buddy, I’d like to humor you, but I have a visitation to make. Why’d you call?”

  Simon stood still under the awning of a flower shop. Why had he called his best friend? To tell him he was falling in love? To tell him he was afraid he was falling in love? To say he’d gotten claustrophobic in a shop that hadn’t bothered him before? To say he’d gotten claustrophobic because he was too comfortable with and getting too close to a young woman he barely knew? Maybe to admit he was rushing toward a permanent commitment and needed some cautionary words.

  But he didn’t want cautionary words. He wanted reassurance that he, too, was allowed to fall in love and score an incredible wife. That he knew this was what he wanted. Maybe he’d come to the right circumstances and found the right woman. Perhaps he’d decided to pursue this course, and now he needed encouragement.

  “I called to say Merry Christmas, Spence. Merry Christmas!”

  “Well, that’s a hill of beans. We’ll talk tomorrow. Meanwhile, pray I have the right words to comfort a hurting mother and father. See you in church.”

  “Will do.” Simon snapped his cell phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. He sent up a quick prayer for his friend to minister to the parents he had an appointment with, then glanced up and down the street, trying to decide where he should hang out while waiting for the girls.

  He didn’t know what to do with the immediate future or what to do with long-range future. These questions should be fairly easy to address. Follow God’s direction, plain and simple. Now, to do it. Simon strolled east on Sage, confident that, at least, that action was not out of God’s will.

  “I think she should be a butterfly.” Bonnie pulled out a set of wings, brightly colored with black vein markings and big spots. “We have lots of these in different colors, Cora. You choose the dress you want, and then we match the wings.”

  Betty pulled out a different sort of wing set. “These are fairy wings. I’ve always preferred fairy wings.” The gossamer fabric over an almost invisible frame had no markings but the material glimmered and shifted shades as Betty moved the wings.

  Sandy looked up from where she petted a gray cat. “I like them both.”

  “So do I.” Cora looked from one Booterbaw sister to the other and then sighed. “Let’s pick the dress first. I really don’t think I can afford wings.”

  Bonnie patted her shoulder. “We’ll see, dear. Some of the dresses come with a free wing rental. You keep the dress and bring back the wings. After all, most people don’t have much use for wings, except to wear them to a wizards’ ball.”

  “Do you suppose fairies came to Bethlehem to see baby Jesus?” asked Sandy.

  “If fairies really exist,” said Betty, “then, of course, they would come. Every creature invited by the Father would want to worship the Son of God. But that doesn’t mean that anyone would have seen them other than God, His Son, and maybe the angels.”

  “So,” said Bonnie, “we wouldn’t know. A lot of things are like that. Sometimes we don’t know what dealings God has with a person until right before a person dies.”

  Sandy turned to look at Bonnie. “My father died. We know he went to heaven.” She stroked the cat’s fur. “But our neighbor, Mr. Winston, died, and we don’t know if he went to heaven.”

  “That’s just what I mean,” Bonnie said as she straightened a gown in danger of falling off its hanger. “We look at someone and don’t know. God looks in Mr. Winston’s heart, and God knows. And I think God sits some of those folks down right before they die and brings to mind all the clues that person has been given about Himself. Maybe He says, ‘When you think of all those facts in one breath of fresh air, do you still want to ignore Me?’ ”

  “Maybe,” Betty agreed. “God doesn’t do things our way, you know. He does them His way.”

  As Cora flipped through the rack of gowns, she thought about the sisters’ easy discussion of God mixed with talk of fairies. They stood strong in their belief in God and Jesus. Yet they did not cast fairies into a black pit with demons and witches. How did that work? She hadn’t been a Christian long enough to encounter this attitude of complete trust. “He does them His way.” And they obviously trusted Him to do things right. How far did their philosophy reach?

  “You said you don’t do much business at Halloween?”

  “Dear,” said Betty firmly, “we are not that type of costume shop. We carry the same stock all year. School plays use our goods more than trick-or-treaters. Many girls come here for their prom dresses.”

  Cora believed that mothers and fathers would be vastly relieved to have their teenagers pick from these gorgeous but modest gowns. On the other hand, none of the girls she’d gone to high school with would have chosen from these racks.

  “But if you want to do ghouls and dead things—”

  “Or near-dead things,” interjected Bonnie, “you’ll have to go to one of those cheap stores that have no commitment to art.”

  “Costuming is an art,” Betty added. “And we believe that catering to the darker nature of mankind is unwise. We concentrate on beauty.”

  Cora had to agree. The artistry in these costumes far exceeded the most expensive of scary Halloween attire. But she still didn’t know how they kept their prices so ridiculously low.

  After trying on nearly a dozen dresses, they narrowed their choices down to two. Sandy ignored the proceedings as she made friends with one cat after another, but when called upon to help with the final decision, she voted for the azure blue gown Cora modeled.

  “I like the sleeves,” she said.

  Cora held out her arms, and diaphanous streamers of fabric floated down from the seam along the back of her arm from the wrist to shoulder.

 
; The bell on the front door jangled, and Cora dove into the dressing room.

  She heard Sandy tell her brother they were almost ready, so he’d better pick his costume.

  “You can forget putting me in leggings like Prince Charming, Sandy.”

  Sandy giggled. “You can be a court jester. I saw a funny hat and balloony, baggy, clown pants over there.”

  “Why can’t I be a prince who wears normal pants?”

  “Here,” said Bonnie, “look at these. You won’t be embarrassed to wear them.”

  Cora wanted badly to peek, but she also didn’t want to be seen, and until Betty or Bonnie came to unbutton her, she couldn’t get out of the dress.

  She gave up trying to hear every word and turned to survey herself in the three-paneled mirror. The blue gown fit her beautifully. She felt gorgeous. Her heart zinged.

  “I’m pretty enough to go with the handsome and exceedingly efficient boss man.” She tilted her head and continued to admire her image as she pondered the situation.

  She had the approaching opportunity to stand in for Mrs. Hudson. What if someone in the office thought she’d used Simon to get that job? Maybe she shouldn’t be going with Simon and his sister to the Wizards’ Christmas Ball. Maybe this was one of those small things that bloomed into disaster. In her family one little misstep could lead to explosions of emotion that had long-range repercussions.

  But she’d moved into a different life with a different Person in authority—and that Person was not her mother.

  The curtain moved aside behind her, and Bonnie poked her head in. “Oh dear, you look like you just saw a car crash.” She tilted her head and looked seriously at her customer. “You have that alarmed look, one caused by a very unpleasant thought about something that might not even happen. Those unpleasantries don’t usually happen, you know. What were you thinking about, dear Cora?”

  “Catastrophe,” she whispered.

  “Well, stop it.” Bonnie began unbuttoning the dress. “Just stop it.”

  12

  Mr. Kinnaught had not mentioned dinner as part of his courtship of Lizzy, but after a late-afternoon matinee, Simon figured Cora would be as hungry as he was. They walked out of the theater into the mall, which was decorated with snowmen and reindeer.