by Judy Baer
• • • • • • • • • • • •
Merry, preoccupied, was still staring at the front door when Abby entered.
“Hey, kiddo! What’s up?” Abby bounced in with the enthusiasm that usually matched Merry’s own, pulled off her stocking cap, and revealed a pixie haircut filled with static electricity. She had light brown hair, gray eyes, and a big smile that revealed a slight overlap in her two front teeth.
“I thought we could unpack more decorations and set up an extra tree in the kitchen. I found some incredible new ribbon when I was in Minneapolis. Wait till you see it. I—Merry, what’s wrong?” Abby stopped chattering and peered at her friend. “Are you okay? You’re pale as a sheet!”
“I’ve just seen a ghost,” Merry whispered. “The really bad spirit in A Christmas Carol. I saw Christmas Future.”
“There are no ghosts, Merry, you know that.”
“Then this one was a living, breathing nightmare. He wants to cancel Christmas!”
It took some prodding on Abby’s part to get the entire story out of Merry—Jack Frost’s arrival, his ownership of much of Frost, his dismay at its holiday flavor, and his suggestion they needed to tone things down in the Christmas decoration department. She left out the words he’d used to describe his thoughts. Ridiculous. Gimmicky.
“Why does he care?” Abby demanded. “It doesn’t have anything to do with him. He hasn’t been here since he was a child, and now he breezes in and wants to change things?”
“He didn’t discover that his father had inherited property here until the man’s will was read,” Merry said. “Now that it’s come to him, I suppose he thinks he’s responsible and needs to do something about it.”
“Leave it alone, that’s what I say,” Abby said, scowling. “We’ve been just fine until now. Why fix what’s not broken? Until you started this store and the rest of the town picked up on this Christmas village theme, it was just like all the other little towns around here. You are the one who helped Frost! Because of your advertisements, people come from miles and miles around to do their Christmas shopping.
“You’re practically an industry around here! What about the man who carves wooden Nativity sets or the ladies who knit kitchen dishcloths to sell at the boutique?” Abby crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “How dare he breeze in here and ruin things for us?”
“I don’t know if he’s going to ruin things,” Merry said weakly. “What he actually said was that he was going to get ‘this bogus Christmas spectacle pruned down to size.’”
“Like that’s not ruining things? Oh, please! What are you going to do about it, Merry?”
“Me? Why am I the one to do something?”
“Because you’re the one who brought the fun of Christmas back to Frost. You believe that we should never forget it is Christ’s birthday, but you want us to celebrate with that in mind. I’ve heard you say it a million times. ‘There’s much more joy in the season when you know its Reason.’ You’ve got your head on straight about Christmas, Merry. If he actually tries to change things, you have to confront him.”
“Maybe I have gone overboard, Abby. It could be a hang-up with me. I have the Christmas crazies.”
“You felt you were missing something special, and you created a way to provide it for yourself and others. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Merry nodded but didn’t say more. She would have to run this by her neighbor. Hildy, an original resident of Frost, had moved here from Minneapolis to live out her days in the home she’d grown up in. She usually had wise and sensible advice when Merry asked for it. She needed someone clearheaded to help her sort it out. Then customers began to arrive and swept every other thought from Merry’s mind.
After Abby had left for the evening, Merry put the Closed sign on the door and meandered to the bookcase. She pulled out the photo album in which she’d recorded the birth and growth of Merry’s Christmas Boutique.
The house had been a mess when she got it, and she’d sometimes regretted selling her parents’ home in Minneapolis. Snapshots of ragged holes in the walls revealed ancient lath and plaster. The plumbing was a tangle of rusting pipes, and the un-caulked windows let heat from the inefficient old furnace escape into the out of doors. The beautiful hardwood floors had been nicked and stained with ancient and disgusting spills. There were birds’ nests in one of the bedrooms and signs of a raccoon in the basement. It had been backbreaking work, but Merry, with a lot of local help, had turned the place into a point of pride for Frost.
Now this house was not only her home but also her business and her refuge. She knew it would have been nearly impossible to build a Christmas boutique in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul with the savings she had. It didn’t sit well with her that Mr. Jack Whoever-He-Was Frost had arrived on her doorstep determined to change the things she loved.
Stomach churning with anxiety, Merry put down the album and picked up her Bible. It opened to Hebrews, and she knew immediately the verse she needed to read. It was in the thirteenth chapter, second verse. “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
Jack Frost, an angel? She couldn’t picture it. Neither was she willing to ignore God’s Word. Sometimes it was just harder to obey than other times.
With a fresh cup of green tea by her side, Merry opened another book from her shelf, a book on the myths and legends surrounding Christmas.
Jack Frost: an exemplification of cold and frost, a variation on Old Man Winter. He is the one supposedly responsible for the color changes in autumn foliage, cold fingers and toes, and the fern frost designs on windowpanes in winter. Jack Frost is often portrayed as a disturbing mischief-maker.
That was a pretty good description of the Jack Frost she’d met this afternoon—a troublemaker. Sighing, she got up to stoke the fire.
Flames licked upward from the logs and snapped and crackled red-orange when she prodded the fragrant-smelling birch. She hung the poker back among the fire-place tools and stood there warming her hands. It was cold tonight. She returned to the book of Christmas lore again and continued to read.
Jack Frost is normally happy-go-lucky and cheerful unless provoked. Then, in some legends, he kills his victims by covering them with snow.
She groaned and sat back down in her chair.
A naughty sprite. A very naughty one. Was there an omen in this?
She was grateful when the phone rang. She wanted to quit replaying her conversation with Jack in her mind.
“It’s a Merry Christmas at Merry’s Christmas Boutique. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Merry, it’s Zeke.”
“Hey, Zeke! What’s up? Are you working late tonight?” She and Zeke had been friends ever since she’d moved to the area. They’d gone out a few times before they decided that, for them at least, friendship was more important than dating. He worked for a bank in Blue Earth, and he’d given her wise counsel about starting her business. During that time she’d been in desperate need of a big brother. Zeke filled the bill nicely. God had given her someone to watch out for her. Their friendship was one of the best parts of having moved to Frost.
“A little. Are you busy?”
“Just winding down. These are hectic days for me—holding Christmas teas, keeping the store open, refilling stock, all that. I’m so grateful that I have Abby to help me.”
“Oh.” There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line.
“Zeke? What is it?”
“You just answered the question I’d planned to ask you when I called. I, of all people, should know how it is for you at this time of year.”
“Why don’t you ask me the question before you decide what my answer is?”
“There’s a note on my desk asking me to call you and see if you’d be willing to rent out a room tonight. This individual didn’t realize every hotel in a forty-mile radius is filled with high school basketball players and their families for the holi
day tournaments.
“I know you don’t really promote the bed-and-breakfast this time of year, but whoever it was didn’t want to drive back to the Twin Cities tonight if he didn’t have to.”
“Well, maybe . . .” she said hesitantly. “It is the way I cobble together a living—renting out rooms, the Christmas boutique, teaching mornings, and part-time subbing . . .”
“Forget I called. You don’t need more on your plate, Merry.”
“No, Zeke, wait. Maybe I should. I spent more on stock for the store this year. I need every bit of income I can earn in order to sleep better at night.”
“I tell you what, I’ll call this guy and tell him that you’re normally closed over Christmas but that he can have a room for a hundred and fifty bucks a night, take it or leave it.”
“That’s highway robbery!”
“Here, maybe, but if he has to drive back to the Twin Cities, a hotel room and gas are going to cost him that. I’ll leave the choice to him. I’ll call you if he decides to come, okay? It’s getting late, but I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t take you up on it.”
“Fine. Let me know.”
At that moment a ruckus started in the kitchen.
“Zeke, I’ve got to go. Peppermint wants out.”
“Okay, talk to you soon.”
Merry hurried to the kitchen, where her border collie was pacing by the back door. She’d trained Peppy to ring the string of sleigh bells she’d hung on the doorknob when nature called. Unfortunately he enjoyed ringing the bells a little too much, and he’d paw at them until Merry ran into the kitchen to stop him.
After clipping the dog out on his chain, she returned to the house and picked up the phone. The message light was on.
“Hey, Merry, it’s Zeke. That guy is coming by. He’ll take any room you have and be grateful for it. I checked with my boss. He’s a well-respected businessman and apparently has good credentials.”
Merry smiled as she put down the phone. Zeke was still watching out for her.
Humming, she heated milk for hot chocolate and put out some peppermint candy cane cookies on a plate for her new guest. She liked her house to be a cozy respite from the harsh realities of the world. Then she hurried upstairs to check the linens and turn on the gas fireplace in the guest room she planned to put him in.
She was descending the stairs when the doorbell rang. She peeked out the lace-covered glass in the door’s side window and saw a figure hunched against the cold, his ears buried in his collar.
Merry threw open the door and welcomed him inside. It took a moment to realize who had turned up on her doorstep. Ebenezer Scrooge himself, Jack Frost.
“You!”
He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m sure you didn’t expect me to return, especially after . . . well, you know . . . that comment about Christmas.” He glanced around the room filled floor to ceiling with ornaments, garlands, and gifts. She could sense what he didn’t say. He hated it here, the commercialism, the way Frost had changed.
“Now, at least, I know what I’m dealing with. You and I obviously have very different attitudes toward the holiday.” She couldn’t resist giving him a glance as chilly as the out of doors.
He was treading on dangerous territory when he said anything negative about Christmas. She’d worked hard to create the Christmas she’d yearned for as a child. Making Christmas wonderful for others was the way she combated her own loneliness.
His shoulders sagged as he sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair.
Merry realized how tired he must be. “Sorry. We’ll switch to neutral territory. I’ve got cocoa and cookies in the kitchen. You can either join me or take them to your room.” She turned toward the kitchen door and he followed her.
Without comment, he dropped into one of the chairs and put his head in his hands. “I can’t believe every single hotel room was taken.”
“We have lives out here in the country too.” She set a red-and-green mug in front of him. “High school sports is a big deal for these small communities.”
“My mistake. I just assumed . . .” He picked up a cookie and bit the crook off the red-and-white cane.
He was assuming a lot more than just that, Merry thought. Prune down Christmas? He had things to learn about that as well.
Discreetly she watched him down the food in front of him. The tension across his eyes and forehead were obvious, and the tightness in his jaw told her that the day hadn’t been an easy one. Well, it hadn’t been a picnic for her either, she thought ungraciously.
Shame on me! She quickly readjusted her attitude. How could she judge this complete stranger? Even one whose personality rubbed against hers like a fingernail on a chalkboard.
“Would you like to sign the register?” Merry handed him a record book embossed with the words Merry’s Christmas Boutique and B&B.
“Merry? Is that how you spell your name? As in Merry Christmas?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Merry Noel is my mother’s idea of a good name for a baby born on Christmas Day.”
“I see. Nice. I think.”
He followed her up the stairs to the room she had chosen for him. Merry threw open the door to reveal the large room, which at its center had a king-sized four-poster bed dressed with lace and a fluffy down comforter. The firelight flickered in the hearth, leaving the room slightly shrouded in the dimness.
Had she known her guest would be anti-Christmas, she might have moved the mini Christmas tree from the seat in the bay window, but it was too late now. If he didn’t like it, he’d have to unplug it.
“Wow,” she heard him say as she crossed the floor and turned on a lamp on the antique table she’d found in the attic. “This is amazing.”
“Glad you like it. I’m sorry if this room isn’t up to your usual standards,” she added a little petulantly. She still hadn’t quite forgiven him for that crack about Christmas in Frost.
“Listen, I’m sorry about this afternoon. I didn’t mean to insult you—or Frost either. It’s just that I’ve chosen to live my life without the trappings of Christmas. They desecrate a holy day. I believe . . .” He broke off and looked up as the fireplace crackled.
Strong words, Merry thought.
“You can turn the fire off from the bed. Here is the remote. There are extra comforters and towels in the cupboard if you need them, and bottled water in the bathroom. Is there anything else I can get you?”
He looked at her ruefully. “I apologize if I offended you. You can blame me for being too blunt.”
He yawned sleepily. Somehow he looked much more appealing tonight—a little heavy-eyed, a bit ruffled, and a lot handsome, Merry noted as she backed toward the door. “Good night, Mr. Frost.” Merry turned and was gone.
She didn’t see him staring after her with a bewildered expression on his features.
“What did you think of him, Peppy?” Merry asked the border collie as she washed her face and readied herself for bed. “You’re a good judge of character.” The dog had, more than once, reacted with a savvy she sometimes didn’t feel herself toward the men she’d dated. Now she only went out with guys Peppy liked.
Peppy whined and put his head on his paws and stared up at her with expressive eyes.
“I notice you didn’t even bark at him. Did you like Jack Frost?”
Peppy’s tail began to fan softly back and forth across the bathroom floor.
Merry snorted. “That shows me you’re losing your touch. You like a man who’d put me out of the Christmas business? Peppy, Peppy, Peppy.” She waggled her toothbrush at him. “I’m going to get my take on people from Eggnog from now on.”
The cat was a sure bet. He didn’t like anyone—especially men.
Chapter Three
• • • • • • • • • • • •
Merry awoke to see the sun shining on the pristine blanket of white that had fallen during the night. She arose, shrugged into her robe, and sat down in the recliner she kept by the window. He
r prayer chair, she called it. The snow sparkled like diamonds in a jeweler’s case, and she marveled at the way it covered the landscape and created a winter wonderland. The woodpile, which had been a dark stain against the snow, was now a perfect white rise in the backyard. The dead tree that needed to come down had become a sculptural vision against the blue sky. Snow hid the defects and washed the world clean, even if only for a little while.
She picked up the Bible from the basket beside her chair and opened it to Isaiah.
“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.”
It was why she loved winter. The snow was an ever-present reminder of the forgiveness and cleansing she had in Christ.
The coffee had just finished when she heard footsteps on the stairs.
Mr. Frost entered the kitchen. His dark hair was still damp and his face clean-shaven. Merry felt something like an air tickle in her stomach, the kind she got on the roller coaster at the Minnesota State Fair.
Ignoring that, Merry poured him a mug of coffee and handed it to him. “Good morning.”
“Thank you,” he said somberly. He took the cup and held it with both hands, warming his palms.
“Chilly? I can turn up the thermostat.”
“No, it’s just that waking up to snow is a little different for me. I’m psychologically cold, I guess.”
“Where’s home?” Merry asked as she retrieved cranberry muffins and a fluffy egg bake from the oven.
“California.”
“No wonder you’re cold. You haven’t acclimated yet. Your blood is still thin.”
“Is that a medical diagnosis?”
“Not that I know of, but it feels true, doesn’t it?” When she returned with the fruit compote, Frost was bowing his head over the table.
Praying. That was encouraging. He believed the Christmas story, no matter what else he thought about the season.
She sat down across from him and passed the egg bake. “Sorry I’m so casual, but I have to leave too, so I thought we could eat together. I hope you don’t mind.”
