The Christmas Shoppe

by Melody Carlson

  “I’m on it,” Alice promised.

  Susanna returned to her office to go over the budget some more. By lunchtime, she was feeling extremely curious as to how the mayor’s visit had gone. Not only that, but she was determined to try once more to talk some sense into Ms. Honeycutt before this got any further out of hand. She hurried over to the Barton Building, arriving just in time to see the mayor emerging.

  Susanna blinked, seeing that he had an old catcher’s mitt with him. In fact, he was actually wearing it, along with a very odd expression—sort of a dazed-looking smile.

  “Mayor?” she said.

  He looked at her as if trying to place her face. “Oh, Susanna,” he finally said. Then he chuckled. “That reminds me of a song.” He broke into singing, “‘Oh, Susanna, don’t you cry for me. ’Cause I come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee.’” He laughed as if that were hilarious.

  “How did it go?” she asked him, trying not to question his sanity.

  “Just great,” he said.

  “She’s willing to close the business?”

  “Well . . . uh . . . I don’t know.” He looked perplexed. “I’m not really sure.”

  “But I thought you—”

  “I have to get going,” he said as if he were suddenly uncomfortable about something. “I’ve got some unfinished business to take care of. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course.” She watched as he hurried away, the catcher’s mitt still on his hand like he was late for a ball game.

  Weird. Very weird. Susanna supposed that it was up to her to negotiate this thing with Matilda. Her plan was to come at her positively but firmly. Unless Matilda was a fool, she should see the sensibility of Susanna’s suggestions.

  Preparing a little speech inside her head, Susanna opened the door and cautiously entered. She could handle this. It was her job to handle it. Diplomatically but with authority, she would inform Matilda that there was a better place to locate a business like this, and she would assure her that they would find a perfect building for her business.

  However, Susanna had barely opened her mouth before she began to feel that she was participating in a scene from Alice in Wonderland.

  “A perfect building for my business,” Matilda echoed her.

  “Yes,” Susanna said. “We could find a—”

  “Perfect is unrecognizable, Susanna. You find it only when you quit looking. The harder you try to hold on to it, the easier it slips away.”

  “I mean a place that’s zoned for secondhand.”

  “The second hand moves quickly, dear. The longer you wait, the harder it is to catch it.”

  “I mean your thrift shop, Ms. Honeycutt.”

  “Please, call me Matilda. And a thrift shop it is not. The real treasures of this world cannot be purchased with any sum of money. But they can be given away for free.”

  “Please,” Susanna said firmly. “I’m only trying to help you, Matilda, but I need your cooperation. You need to understand that there are people who want to drive you out of business . . . out of town, even.”

  “No one can drive me where I do not wish to go, Susanna. Not in a car or in a truck or on a camel. Don’t be worried about me, dear. Really, I wish you would continue your shopping. I haven’t even had my lunch yet, and I’m—”

  “I didn’t come here to shop,” Susanna said.

  “Of course you did. You just forgot what you were looking for. Perhaps you just need some—”

  “I’m not here to shop,” Susanna repeated. She frowned. “Can’t you understand that I’m not looking for anything here today?”

  Matilda’s pale eyes opened wide. “Are you saying you have everything you need in this life? Everything?”

  Susanna considered this. “Well, no, of course not, but I just—”

  “Then go ahead, dear. Feel free to browse . . . just as long as you like. I’m sure you’ll find something you can use, if you’ll just be open to looking.”

  “But I—”

  “I’ll even give you some privacy.” Matilda walked toward the back room, her bracelets jingling as she left the otherwise quiet room.

  Susanna wanted to scream. Instead she turned around and exited the building. Seriously, that woman was crazy!

  In all his days of living in Parrish Springs, Tommy had never seen anything like what he was witnessing at tonight’s city council meeting. He was a wordsmith, and even he couldn’t find the vocabulary to describe it. Mental-illness terms like schizophrenic and bipolar came to mind. Yet he couldn’t use words like that in his news story. He scratched his head and listened as Mayor Gordon spoke in Matilda Honeycutt’s defense again.

  “I understand your concerns,” the mayor was telling the head of the lynching committee (Tommy’s nickname for Ben Marshall tonight). “But I feel you haven’t really given Matilda Honeycutt a fair shake.”

  “A fair shake?” Ben retorted. “What about—”

  “Please refrain from your rebuttal until your turn,” the moderator reminded Ben.

  “This woman has been in our town only a short while,” the mayor continued. “I think it’s hasty on the part of the community to attempt to give her walking papers so soon.”

  “What about the laws?” someone from the back of the room shouted.

  “Order!”

  “All I’m suggesting,” the mayor said in a surprisingly patient tone, “is that we let Matilda Honeycutt continue her business until the end of the year. I plan to help her petition for a—”

  “She’s put you under her spell,” a woman’s voice called out. “That Matilda Honeycutt really is a witch.”

  Several others started to chime in. Not everyone was calling her a witch, but most of the comments were unfavorable. However, there were a couple of people who, like the mayor, were trying to defend Matilda.

  “Order!” the moderator shouted for the umpteenth time. “You people will come to order or security will escort you out!”

  The mayor attempted to continue his speech about tolerance and timing, but again and again he was interrupted until finally the meeting was abruptly ended, and with the help of security, the mayor hastily exited the room. After he was gone, a few of the councillors, including Councilman Snider, remained behind. They volunteered to “continue the conversation” by fielding comments and questions “off the record,” but it was clear that the speakers simply wanted to rant and vent.

  “I’m not calling her a witch,” Cindy from the Clothes Horse said, “but she is definitely a troublemaker.” She waved to the crowd. “Look at us. This is that woman’s doing. We’ve never fought like this before.”

  “You just don’t understand her,” another woman said. “You don’t know what she’s doing, and you won’t even give her a chance to show—”

  “This is about the law,” Ben said. “We can’t allow her to come in here and break it like she’s doing.”

  “That’s right,” Councilman Snider agreed. “If we don’t respect the law, we will have nothing but anarchy. Cindy is right. Look at us tonight.”

  “The holidays are upon us,” Lauren from the Shoe Inn added. “Not only is our shopping season at risk, but so are our peace and goodwill toward men.”

  “What kind of goodwill is it to throw a newcomer out of town just because she wants to run a different kind of business?” someone else said.

  On and on it went until Tommy felt his head was spinning. For the first time in his reporting history, he wished he’d brought a handheld digital recorder with him. There was no way he was getting all these quotes. His article, at best, was going to be as much mumbo jumbo as this crazy meeting.

  Thankfully, someone at city hall finally had the good sense to turn the houselights out. He glanced around the council chambers, now eerily lit by the green glow of the emergency exit signs, trying to see if he could spot Susanna Elton. Her seat up front was vacant, and he suspected she was the one responsible for cutting this brouhaha short.

  “Anyone who wants to keep dis
cussing this is invited to my place,” Councilman Snider offered.

  “You mean anyone who wants to help with your witch hunt,” someone said.

  As they were exiting the chambers and the building, the argument continued, with a pause outside at the foot of the city hall stairs. Tommy considered joining the group at the councilman’s house, but he had a headache that was growing worse. Besides, he could guess what people would say. More and more of the same.

  As he headed for the parking lot with the group not far behind him, another mental-health label hit him—obsessive-compulsive. That is what they were. It was like they were stuck in a rut and couldn’t let it go. All they could think was that Matilda Honeycutt was the enemy and it was up to them to rid their fair city of her evil presence.

  Tommy knew there were two sides, sometimes more, to every story, and rather than wasting his time at the councilman’s house, he intended to get the other side of this one. He planned to start with Matilda Honeycutt herself. He wished she had come to the meeting tonight, wished that she’d been present to speak out in her defense or at least explain what she was up to. However, as he was about to get into his car, he thought she was probably wise to have avoided it. Who needed this kind of chaos?

  “Hello?” a female voice called quietly from the shadows.

  He turned to peer across several cars, spotting Susanna Elton in the shadows of a streetlight. She was waving and looking as if she were trying to be discreet. Maybe, like him, she was fed up with the drama.

  “Who are you hiding from?” he whispered as he joined her.

  “Councilman Snider,” she whispered back. “He wants me to join them at his house, says it’s my responsibility to come.”

  “Your responsibility to whom?”

  “The city. He says it’s my fault this is happening.”

  “Why?”

  “He blames me for Matilda Honeycutt—all of it.”

  “Oh.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “I think I get it.”

  “His car is parked next to mine, and he’s right back there. I’m waiting for him to leave before I go.”

  “I see.” Tommy peered into her eyes. They looked even darker and bigger in this dim light, and they seemed a little frightened. For some unknowable reason, this made him want to protect her. “Want to hide out with me?” he offered.

  “Hide out?”

  “My car’s right there. We could get coffee or something. Then I could bring you back after the rabble-rousers are gone.”

  “Coffee sounds lovely. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. It might help my headache.” He led her to the car, hurried to open the passenger door, and waited for her to get in. Feeling like James Bond, he rushed around to the other side and hopped in, starting the engine.

  “You have a headache?” she asked with sympathy.

  “I’m not sure if I had it before the meeting or if it’s the result of the meeting.”

  “I can understand how tonight’s insanity would give anyone a headache.”

  “Insanity,” he repeated. “That’s exactly how I wanted to describe it.” He told her how he’d been fixated on mental-health disorders tonight. She laughed, and for some reason that made his head feel a little better.

  Soon they were seated in a quiet booth of the coffee shop, and together they tried to make heads or tails of tonight’s crazy meeting.

  “What boggles my mind more than anything is the mayor,” Tommy finally said. “I’ve never seen him act quite like that.”

  “I know.” She nodded her head. “It was weird. Almost like he was in a dream, or maybe just dazed.” She told Tommy about finding the mayor with a catcher’s mitt outside of the Christmas Shoppe and how he sang “Oh, Susanna” to her. “It was truly bizarre,” she confessed. “Straight out of The Twilight Zone.”

  Tommy tried to wrap his head around that. “You probably don’t want me putting that in the paper.”

  She blinked. “No, of course not. I can trust you, can’t I?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, sure. To be honest, I wouldn’t even know what to do with that one. It is bizarre.”

  She told him about her own visit with Matilda today. “I only wanted to reason with her,” she explained, “and yet she kept putting up these roadblocks. It was like she was playing mind games with me. I finally just gave up.”

  “What do you really think about her?” he asked. “Off record?”

  Her brow creased, and she sat quietly for a long moment. “I don’t know for sure. Initially I liked her and I wanted to help her. I still want to help. Especially after hearing some of those horrible comments tonight. But I just don’t understand her. It’s like she doesn’t care . . . like she doesn’t even want my help.”

  “Maybe she’s just independently wealthy and eccentric.”

  “Maybe.” Susanna frowned. “Or maybe it’s something else.” She told him about her assistant’s theory. “I don’t think she’s right,” she said quickly. “Matilda just doesn’t strike me as malicious or evil.” She shrugged. “But then, I’ve been accused of being naive more than once.”

  “You don’t seem naive to me,” he told her.

  “Really?” She looked into his eyes. “What do I seem to you?”

  He considered this. “You seem very smart. And careful. Although . . . I have to admit that tonight you seemed a little bit scared.”

  She looked worried. “Did it show?”

  “Not so anyone else would notice. I guess I was looking harder.”

  She seemed slightly relieved. “The truth is I am worried.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Her brows arched. “This is my job, Tommy. I’m the city manager, and now it looks as if I’ve managed the city right into a nasty dispute—and right before Christmas too. According to Councilman Snider, I’ve messed up. Badly.”

  “Oh . . . I see.”

  “And I have a child to support. I moved us here, including my mother-in-law, who has been acting strangely lately. I have good reason to be worried. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t think Councilman Snider could make my life miserable?”

  He chuckled. “He can make anyone miserable. But here’s what got my attention tonight—for the first time in a long time, Councilman Snider and Mayor Gordon are on opposite sides.”

  She nodded slowly. “Good point.”

  “A point that might count for you.”

  She smiled. “Thanks. I needed that morsel of encouragement.”

  “Thank you. I think I must’ve needed this late-night coffee break, because my headache is nearly gone now.”

  “Glad I could be of service.”

  He held up his empty coffee cup. “Care for another round?”

  She peeked at her watch. “I should probably get home. Rose is with Megan, but it’s late, and . . .”

  “I totally understand.” He stood and, to his own surprise, actually reached out his hand to help her up. Not that she needed help. It just seemed a good excuse to touch her, to connect. He hoped she wouldn’t mind.

  “Thank you.” She smiled prettily.

  Feeling as awkward as if this were a real date, he couldn’t think of one more thing to say. They silently walked to his car, where once again he opened the door, waiting for her to get in.

  “You’re a dying breed,” she told him as he was about to close her door.

  “What?”

  “Gentlemen these days are hard to come by.”

  “Oh.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

  They were both quiet as he drove back to city hall. The parking lot was vacant now. “Here we go,” he told her as he pulled right next to her car. A sensible white Subaru wagon.

  She thanked him again as he opened her door and helped her out. “Would it be forward of me to ask what you’re doing for Thanksgiving? I’m sure you must already have plans by now.”

  The truth was he planned to eat Thanksgiving dinner at the same place he’d eaten for years—his
best friend Darren’s home—but instead of admitting this, he simply shrugged.

  “You don’t have plans?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Then please join us!”

  He smiled. “Sure. I’d love to.”

  “Oh, that’s great. It’ll be Megan and Rose and me, as well as a couple of other singles I invited from work. I’d love to have you there.”

  He was a little disappointed about the “other singles” bit but decided it was better than nothing. “Can I bring anything?”

  “Are you kidding?” She laughed. “Remember Rose? She has it all under control. No, just come, and bring along plenty of patience since you know how she can be.”

  He nodded. “Will do!”

  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Great article. You made me sound much smarter and nicer than I really am.”

  “You might need it too,” he said, then wished he hadn’t.

  She sighed. “You could be right about that. Anyway, I do appreciate it.”

  “That reminds me, I’m sending a photographer to get some shots of you at work tomorrow. Is that okay? I asked him to set it up with your assistant.”

  “Sure. Thanks for the heads-up.” She waved as she got into her car.

  Tommy watched as she drove away. For the first time in a long time, he felt a real sense of hope, like maybe there was more to life than what he’d been experiencing this past decade or so . . . like maybe there really was a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. Or perhaps he was simply doing it again—getting his hopes up just high enough to have them smashed down to smithereens again. Only at this stage of life, at his age, he doubted he could take it. Especially during the holidays!

  Tommy hadn’t really meant to eavesdrop on Tuesday afternoon. He simply wanted to get a quote—even just one short, succinct sentence—from Matilda Honeycutt. He wanted it before it was time to put the paper to bed. He’d gone into her shop, which appeared to be open, but not seeing her about, he’d ventured to the back room. Eventually he wandered upstairs and tapped lightly on the door to her apartment. He had to get a quote. Not just for his article or for the townsfolk, but for Matilda too. So far she had distanced herself from the fray. It seemed only fair that she should be able to have some words from her own lips printed in her defense.