“That was what you thought, that your parents were lying?”
“Well, they were, weren’t they?” he retorted.
“I prefer to think of it as pretending,” she said.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t a good time. The old man was out of work, money was tight. I guess the whole thing sort of stuck in my craw.”
“Funny how those childhood experiences can do that,” she said. “I had a great childhood. I sure hope I can give Brock one.”
“Looks like you already are,” Stanley told her. “You’re a good mom.”
“You really think so?”
“Sure. You kind of remind me of my mom. She was the best.” Okay, they were getting kind of touchy-feely here. He downed the last of his eggnog and stood. “I better let you get to bed. Your boy will probably be up early.”
She stood, too, and walked with him to the door. Before opening it she asked, “Stanley, do you have plans for tomorrow?”
He could have had plans. Now he almost wished he’d taken his sister-in-law up on her Christmas-dinner invitation.
“Not really,” he said.
“Would you like to join us over here? I’m going to cook a turkey, and I’ve got the last of those cupcakes. The new neighbors are coming over.”
“Sounds like a crowd,” he said. She probably didn’t need one more piehole to feed.
“It’ll be a nice crowd. And I think my mom would like having someone her age to talk to. I know Brock would love to have you here. So would I.”
Someone genuinely wanted his company. He smiled. “Okay.”
“Great! Come on over around two.”
Back home he let Bonnie out to do her thing, and while she was in the back yard, he set her present—a new chew toy—under the tree.
“We’ll have Christmas morning together before I have to leave,” he told her as they went up the stairs to bed.
It was a quiet bedtime. Carol still hadn’t made an appearance. That night he slept dreamlessly, but he awoke feeling...not bad. Not bad at all. In fact, he decided, he was rather looking forward to the day, turkey dinner and all.
* * *
The traveling and later bedtime had worn Brock out, but by six he was bouncing on Lexie’s bed, waving his stocking around. “Mommy, it’s Christmas!”
“Yes, it is,” she said.
Her son was happy, her mother was with them, and the candy cane in the Christmas stocking was that they had company coming to join them. A true gathering of the neighbors, just like she’d envisioned when she first bought the house. She could hardly wait. She could especially hardly wait to see Truman. It was going to be a great day.
“Look what I got,” Brock said and dumped the contents of his stocking on the bed.
Out fell mini candy bars (bought on sale after Halloween at fifty percent off and hidden away). Also a tiny metal car, a set of Christmas-themed finger puppets, gummy worms and a small travel game—all ordered online. Thank God those had come in time.
“That’s quite a haul,” she said.
There was something else, a folded piece of paper. It wasn’t folded as neatly as she originally had done it, which meant Brock had looked at it.
He nodded happily. Then sobered. “Mommy, are you sure there’s no Santa?”
She tousled his hair. “There can be if you want there to be.”
The nod became very enthusiastic. “I do. Look what I got.” He handed over the paper.
She already knew what the little note said since she’d been the one who’d written it.
She unfolded the paper and said, “Let’s read it together.”
“‘Dear,’” she began.
“‘Brock,’” he read. “‘You are a good boy, and your M-m-m...’”
“‘Mother,” she supplied.
“‘Mother l-l-lo...’”
“‘Loves.’”
“‘Loves you,’” he said and beamed. “I know these words! ‘Merry Christmas. Santa.’”
“Well, what do you know,” Lexie said.
His brow furrowed. “Did Santa really write me?”
“Let’s not worry about who wrote that,” she suggested. “Let’s concentrate on what it says. You are a good boy, and your mother loves you. Now, your special gift from Santa is still coming but there’s something else waiting for you. Should we go downstairs and see what’s under the tree?”
His head nearly nodded right off his neck, and he bounced off the bed.
“Wait a minute,” Lexie called. “Why don’t you go knock on Grandma’s door and tell her it’s time to get up?”
“Okay!” He started for the door.
“First, come put everything back in your stocking.”
This produced a slightly impatient frown, but he obeyed.
While he was busy restuffing his stocking, Lexie donned her brace. Then, as he ran off to wake Grandma, she raced down the stairs, turned on the tree lights and started the train going. She grabbed her phone so she could capture that most magical moment in childhood, when he first saw the tree with its presents and promise of fun.
“Grandma’s coming,” Brock hollered. This was followed by the thunder of little-boy feet coming down the stairs.
Lexie had her phone set to Video and caught the intake of breath and the wide eyes followed by the squeal and the excited rush to the tree. God bless you, Stanley Mann, she thought as her son fell in front of the track and watched in wonder as the little train chugged its way around the presents.
Stanley, himself, had turned out to be a gift. Under those crusty layers of gruffness the man was solid gold. Like the valuable train set he’d given her son, he was a keeper.
Lexie had coffee ready by the time her mother came down half an hour later, a bathrobe over her pajamas. She’d gotten as far as combing her hair and, knowing Mom, had also brushed her teeth. Her smile, however, was a pale shadow of what it had been when Lexie’s father was alive. But she was there with them. That was what mattered.
The pile of presents under the tree was small. A game for Brock, a book Grandma had sent back when she hadn’t planned on coming up, some socks decorated with dinosaurs, and from Lexie’s cousins, who’d been dubbed aunties, Legos and a Harry Potter wizard training wand that came complete with lights and sounds.
Lexie loved the bracelet Mom had sent: rose gold with a heart bearing an L. And she knew she’d forever treasure the tree ornament made of Popsicle sticks, painted red and shaped into a sleigh, that Brock had made for her at school.
She baked coffee cake for breakfast and got the turkey in the oven, and by early afternoon the house was filled with an aroma that said Let’s eat.
Her mother helped her in the kitchen, made punch and assisted Brock in setting the table for their holiday feast. As they worked, Lexie kept up a line of cheerful chatter, but it was as if Mom was wearing armor and the arrows of cheer bounced off.
Still, she was there. It was a beginning, and you had to begin somewhere.
Truman and his girls arrived a little before two, the girls wearing red-and-green Christmas dresses and Truman in jeans and a tan Nordic-looking sweater with a border of reindeer running across his chest. He sure looked like what Lexie wanted for Christmas, and her heart gave a squeeze as if those little elves had moved from her tummy to trampoline on it.
He came bearing gifts, a box of candy as well as gift cards to the bookstore for both Lexie and Brock.
“We picked out the candy,” said Isobel, the younger sister.
“It was a good pick. We like chocolates,” Lexie said to her. “You didn’t have to do that,” she told Truman as Brock led the girls into the living room to see his train, but she was pleased nonetheless.
“My mother always told me you should never show up to dinner empty-handed,” he said.
“It sounds like you have a very smart mo
ther.”
“I do. I should have listened to her more often.”
She imagined he was talking about his ex but didn’t say anything, figuring that was a conversation they didn’t need to keep going. Christmas wasn’t the time to talk about past mistakes. It was about new beginnings waiting right around the corner.
“Speaking of mothers,” Lexie said, “come on in and meet mine. She wound up coming to spend Christmas with us after all.”
Introductions were made, and the grown-ups settled on the couch while the kids sat by the tree, following the progress of Brock’s new train, which hadn’t stopped running from the moment he first saw it.
Truman was polite to Mom, asking questions about where she lived, then following up with more questions when he learned she lived in Southern California. When that conversation dried up, he asked what she thought of Lexie’s new house.
“It’s very lovely, but the weather’s so gloomy up here,” Mom said.
“I hear it rains a lot in the Pacific Northwest,” Truman said. “But, looking at how green it is here, I think I can live with that.”
“It’s gorgeous in the summer,” Lexie put in. “You’d like it here then, Mom.”
Her mother said nothing, refusing to be drawn into admitting that was a possibility. Honestly, it was as if Mom was determined to do all she could to toss the merry out of Christmas.
The doorbell rang, and Brock popped up. “It’s Grandpa Stanley!”
Her mother didn’t look all that thrilled at her grandson having a replacement grandpa, and now Lexie wondered if it had been such a good idea to invite Stanley for dinner after all.
Brock opened the door, and in stepped Stanley Mann, looking festive in slacks and a shirt under a red pullover sweater. He’d accessorized with a red bow tie. And something even more amazing—a big smile.
“Merry Christmas, Grandpa!” Brock hollered as if their neighbor had suddenly gone deaf. “I got a train for Christmas.”
“You did?” Stanley said.
Brock took him by the hand and towed him into the living room. “Come and see.”
“That’s a nice one,” Stanley said and winked at Lexie as she approached. “Something sure smells good,” he said to her.
“Turkey and all the fixings,” she replied. “Stanley, I want you to meet our new neighbors.”
The girls said a polite hello, and the men shook hands. Then it was time to introduce Stanley to Mom.
“Good to meet you,” he said to her. “You’ve raised a great daughter.”
So polite and...sociable. Had Stanley been taken over by aliens?
Mom murmured her thanks but didn’t do anything to keep the conversation going. That didn’t appear to bother Stanley. He settled on the couch and observed the kids, chatted with Truman about trains and how nobody was interested in them anymore.
“Only old farts like me,” he finished.
“Brock looks like a convert,” Truman observed.
“That one is courtesy of Stanley,” Lexie explained, and her mother looked over at him in surprise. “He pretty much saved the day.”
Stanley waved away her praise, but the corners of his lips sneaked up.
“I had a Transformers train set when I was little,” Truman reminisced. “I loved that thing. Wish I still had it. I think it would be worth something now.” He nodded in the direction of the vintage Lionel set slowly making its way around the tree. “That one looks pretty valuable.”
Stanley shrugged. “It’s worth a few pennies.” Lexie brought the video up on her phone of Brock’s reaction to it and showed him. “And that’s priceless,” he said, watching it.
Yep, he’d been taken over by aliens.
Dinner was a boisterous and happy affair with the children at their own little table, in high spirits and giggling. Even Mom almost smiled a couple of times. Until after dessert. The children wolfed down their stale red velvet cupcakes, then pulled out Candy Land and set up camp in the living room while the adults lingered over coffee.
That was when Stanley casually said to Mom, “I hear you lost your husband.”
Lexie’s good spirits plummeted, and she braced herself.
Mom set down her coffee mug, stared at it. Said nothing. Lexie and Truman exchanged looks. What do you do in a moment like this?
Stanley appeared oblivious. “Hard,” he said. “I lost my wife three years ago.” He shook his head. “I still miss her.”
“I’d rather not talk about my husband,” Mom said stiffly.
“I can understand that,” Stanley said. “What’s worse is people butting into your life, wanting you to smile and come to big holiday gatherings and pretend like nothing happened.”
Gift or not, Lexie was going to wring his neck.
Mom looked at him in surprise, then nodded. Then frowned at Lexie as if it was all her fault that Mom had scared her half to death only three days earlier.
“Exactly,” she said.
“Yep, tough to move on,” Stanley said. He punctuated this bit of wisdom with a slurp of coffee. “But, you know, life is like living off your savings account. Each day you take another withdrawal, and pretty soon there’s nothing left. You gotta spend those days wisely, make the most of them, you know?”
Mom nodded thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting point.”
“I never thought of it that way,” said Truman. “That was really profound.”
Lexie said nothing. She was too surprised, both by Stanley’s advice and her mother’s reaction to it.
Stanley merely shrugged. “It’s something my wife once told me.”
“I wish I could have met her,” Lexie said.
“You’d have liked her. You remind me of her, always happy and positive. We need more of that in this world. Kind of balances out all the grumps,” Stanley concluded with another wink.
“Yes, we do,” agreed Truman, and the way he looked at Lexie promised a very happy New Year.
* * *
Back home that evening, Stanley turned on the lights on his Christmas tree. He put on a CD of Christmas songs, settled in his recliner with Bonnie and let the music wash over him. It had been a good day.
And to top it off, Carol paid him a visit later that night, perching on the end of the bed. She was dressed in a glowing white gown, and she looked like an angel, and his heart gave a squeeze at the sight of her.
“I thought you were mad at me, babe,” he said.
She smiled at him, showing off her dimples. “You know I could never stay mad at you, Manly Stanley.” She floated a little closer, and he caught a whiff of peppermint. “It looks like you had a nice day today.”
“I did,” he admitted and reached out to pet Bonnie, who was sleeping through the entire conversation.
“I’m glad to see you spending your life so wisely, darling.”
“I’m trying,” he said. Not defensively. He was, indeed, trying, and it felt good.
“It’s going to be a wonderful year for you,” she predicted. “Merry Christmas, Stanley, and have a happy life.”
“That sounds like good-bye,” he said and felt panic stirring in him.
“I can’t stay here forever. You know that.”
“Just a little longer,” he begged.
“You don’t need me now. You’re going to be fine on your own. I’ll see you much later. I love you.”
Then she was gone, just like that. But, thinking of her last words to him, he decided it was okay. It was time to let her go, time to move on.
Stanley settled his head back against his pillow and closed his eyes.
The next morning he woke up to see a thick, white carpet of snow on the lawn. Plenty for making a snowman.
“Come on, girl,” he said to Bonnie. “Let’s get going. We’ve got a life to live.”
And like Tiny Tim would have sa
id, God Bless Us, Everyone.
One Year Later
The town of Fairwood received a light dusting of snow on the first Saturday in December. It was enough to paint the trees white and provide a lovely backdrop as wedding guests drove up to the little church, but not so much that people would be afraid to drive. Even Shannon, who was one of Lexie’s bridesmaids, had no trouble getting there.
The sanctuary was done up with poinsettias and greens and red and white candles and smelled like pine. The pews were filled with friends of the bride and groom from both Fairwood and California.
Lexie stood at the back of the church, wearing a faux fur–trimmed wedding gown. She also wore a pink-pearl necklace that had once belonged to Carol Mann. In one hand she held her bouquet, made up of red and white roses. The other hand rested on Stanley’s arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him running a nervous finger under the collar of his tux shirt.
When she’d asked him to walk her down the aisle he’d protested. There had to be someone else, someone more qualified.
There was, but as far as Lexie was concerned Stanley was the man she wanted for the job. Neighbor, friend, confidant, still sometimes cranky, he had come to mean the world to her.
She watched as her son, the ring bearer, followed Truman’s daughters down the aisle. He was trying very hard not to step on the red and white-silk rose petals the girls had scattered, tiptoeing or leaping over them as he went and drawing some chuckles from the onlookers.
She could see her mother sitting in the front with her aunt and uncle. Mom still hadn’t moved up from California, but she’d visited during the summer and had accompanied Lexie and Truman and the kids on their trip to Icicle Falls to meet Muriel Sterling and check out the Sweet Dreams Chocolate Company. She was back for the wedding and would be watching over the children while Lexie and Truman honeymooned in Hawaii, then staying clear through Christmas.
Up at the altar, Truman stood looking at Lexie with all the adoration a woman could ever want. Her heart squeezed in response.
Funny how once upon a wish Lexie had been so determined to have a fancy destination wedding. It turned out she didn’t need it after all. She’d reached her destination when she moved to Fairwood, and there was no better place to start her new life with her wonderful man.
A Little Christmas Spirit Page 26
