Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek

by Janet Tronstad

  “We’re get ting to be a regular cultural center here in Dry Creek,” Mrs. Hargrove continued. “What with the ballet and then the Christmas pageant. I can take my Christmas tree over to the barn anytime you want and Charley can move the fire place he made over so we’ll be all set for the ballet. And with the hay loft, there’s even stairs you can use for when Clara goes up to her bed room to sleep.” Mrs. Hargrove stopped all of a sudden and shook her head. “There I go again. Making every one’s plans for them. I’m working on controlling my organizing spirit this Christmas.”

  “Don’t worry about it with me,” Lizette said. “I’m happy to have a little guidance.”

  Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “Well, I sup pose you do need some one to show you the ropes for the first time. It’d be a pity if we didn’t have everything ready for our Dry Creek ballet premiere. At least I think we should call it a premiere in our advertising, don’t you?”

  “Advertising?” Lizette had a sinking feeling. She’d been focused on practicing and get ting the costumes ready. “It’s probably too late for advertising. I wasn’t thinking. Newspapers usually need more notice. The performance is Friday.”

  “Edna will free up some place in the Miles City section of the paper,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “It won’t be much, but that’s only one way to let people know. We can also put up posters.”

  “I don’t have much money for printing and things like that,” Lizette cautioned her. “I thought this would be a small performance since it’s our first one.”

  “Don’t you worry about a thing,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “And, believe me, we won’t have a small turn-out.”

  Mrs. Hargrove should run for president, Lizette thought a few hours later. And not just of the USA. Mrs. Hargrove could run the world. She had arranged for Edna to do a re view of the Nutcracker at a special dress rehearsal the cast would do Wednesday afternoon. That way people in the area would know about the Nutcracker and Lizette wouldn’t have to pay for an ad. And, if that wasn’t enough, the older woman also talked with Glory Curtis, the pastor’s wife, and got an offer from the woman to create full-color posters to hang both at the hard ware store and at several locations in Miles City.

  “She’s an artist, you know,” Mrs. Hargrove confided to Lizette when she hung up the telephone. “She used to work as a police sketch artist—that’s what she was doing when she first came to Dry Creek—and now she’s gaining quite a reputation for her portraits.”

  “That’s an un usual occupation for a pastor’s wife. A police sketch artist?”

  “Oh, well, she wasn’t married to Matthew then,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “Although she’s al ways been an in de pen dent-minded woman, so it wouldn’t make any difference to either of them if she was working for the police still—except for the fact that Matthew didn’t like the thought of people shooting at her.”

  “Well, no, I sup pose he wouldn’t.”

  “I tell my daughter, Doris June, that a woman can be and do about any thing in Dry Creek these days. She’s al ways so worried about her career, but there’s nothing to say she can’t have a career right here.”

  “I hope your daughter does come home soon.” Lizette had heard about Mrs. Hargrove’s plans to have her daughter come home and marry some local man from Judd. She hated to think that the older woman would be disappointed, but Lizette thought it was likely. “It must be hard when your daughter doesn’t do what you want her to do.”

  “Ah, well,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “A mother can hope.”

  Lizette was glad she was able to make her mother’s dream come true even if her mother wasn’t here to enjoy the fact with her. Sometimes, when the day was done and the streets of Dry Creek were quiet and dark, Lizette talked to her mother and told her all about what was happening with the Baker School of Ballet.

  Sometimes, in stead of pre tending to talk to her mother, she actually called Madame Aprele and told her about what was happening. The odd thing was, she didn’t exactly tell either woman the whole truth.

  Lizette didn’t want to disappoint them, so she made it sound as if the school was a real school and not just space in an old store. She made her students sound like real students and not just a few people she’d man aged to talk into dressing up in costumes. She certainly wouldn’t tell either of them that her premiere performance was going to be held in a barn or that both her Mouse King and her Nutcracker were hope less at ballet.

  One thing she could tell them, though, Lizette thought cheerfully, was that she was having some one from the local paper come to the dress rehearsal to write a re view of the performance. That should make them both feel that her school was doing well.

  Judd never thought he’d worry about the problems of being a Nutcracker. “If he’s wearing a red military coat and black boots, you know he’d never agree to having some little girl stand in front when he’s battling a mouse.”

  “Rat,” Pete corrected him. “I’m a rat.”

  Pete was standing be side the fire place that they had just moved over to the barn from Lizette’s dance studio.

  “When he’s battling a large rodent,” Judd corrected him self. “A Nutcracker just wouldn’t do that. He’s got more dignity.”

  Judd had got ten a better picture of the pride a Nutcracker would have when he’d seen the poster Glory Curtis had drawn. The poster showed the Nutcracker standing tall with the little girl, Clara, at his side. Glory had used both Judd and Lizette for models in the poster, and even though the sketch was in pencil, Judd swore it was the best like ness any one had ever made of him, and the girl looked exactly like Lizette.

  Judd figured people would know him as the Nutcracker for miles around. He didn’t want people stopping him in the grocery store and demanding to know what kind of man he was for let ting a girl stand between him and danger.

  “But Clara owns the Nutcracker,” Lizette protested. She was draping an afghan over a wooden rocking chair that Charley would sit in as the narrator. “She’s only protecting what is hers.”

  Judd had nothing to say to that. Actually, he didn’t want to say much to that. It made him feel pretty good.

  Pete, how ever, had something to say. “It’s only a nut cracker. Who’d be fool enough to risk get ting a rat bite just to save a wooden utensil? You could get rabies.”

  “He’s her prince, that’s why,” Lizette said as she tucked the back of the afghan into the arms of the rocker and then stood back to look at her work. “There. That’s straight.”

  Pete grunted. “It doesn’t do any good to have a prince if you’re dead because of rabies.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lizette said as she moved the rocker closer to the fire place. “You’ll do a good job of fighting him in the beginning and look very impressive.”

  “I could still switch and be the Nutcracker,” Pete suggested.

  “Not on your life,” Judd said. He knew Pete wasn’t so much dismayed at being a dead rodent as he was envious of Judd for get ting to kiss the ballerina. Well, actually, he hadn’t kissed the ballerina since that first time, but he figured one of these days Lizette would for get about the stage kiss and go for a real one.

  “It’s too late to make changes,” Lizette said as she put a picture frame on the mantel of the fire place. “We have the dress rehearsal at two o’clock to morrow afternoon—I know it’s not our usual time, but Edna needs to come then in order to get our re view done for the paper.”

  “She’s not going to take pictures, is she?” Pete asked.

  Lizette shook her head. “I don’t think so. She said there’s not much room for the re view even.”

  “Good,” Pete said.

  “You’ll be able to get off work, won’t you?” Lizette said to Pete. Pete nodded.

  “I know you don’t have to worry,” Lizette turned and said to Judd.

  “One of the good things about owning your own place,” Judd said as he helped Lizette place a small rug in front of the fire place. “I’m free as a bird when it comes to my schedule.”


  Judd hoped she appreciated that he was a man with prospects. It didn’t seem like she even noticed.

  “I’ll start with a quick rehearsal of the kids a couple of hours earlier, so I won’t take either of you away from your work any longer than necessary,” Lizette said as she straightened up after placing the rug.

  “I can spare the time. I don’t answer to any one,” Judd said as he brushed his hands on his jeans. Lizette wasn’t even listening to his declaration of in dependence, so Judd gave it up. “As long as you’ve got plans for the kids, that’ll give me a chance to run into Miles City with out them. I want to check with the courts about their father. I’m wondering if any one has asked him for more information about Barbara.”

  “You should have plenty of time to go to Miles City and back,” Lizette said. “And if we finish early, I’ll just put all of the kids to work cut ting up those dried plums for the pas tries I’m making.”

  “Really?” Pete brightened up. “The boys in the bunk house have been asking what kind of pas try these sugar-plum things are.”

  “It’s like a cream-filled croissant with raisins, except there’s a different kind of cream and the raisins are plums and it’s not really croissant dough.”

  “But you don’t need to go to the ballet to get one, do you?” Pete asked.

  Lizette laughed. “I’m afraid so. I know you’re hoping the others won’t come, but that’s the only way to get a sugar-plum pas try. Unless there are leftover ones after the ballet.”

  “There won’t be any leftovers,” Pete said.

  “If you need any last-minute things from the store in Miles City, let me know since I’ll be going in there any way,” Judd offered.

  “I haven’t thought of what to use as a cloth on the table where we’ll be serving the pas tries and punch,” Lizette said. “Maybe you could buy some white silk fabric at the store—some of the washable kind would work best.”

  “I haven’t seen any fabric stores in Miles City,” Judd said. He didn’t add that he wouldn’t know silk if he saw it. He was more of a denim and flannel kind of a guy.

  “Oh, I’m sure they must have a store that sells bolts of fabric,” Lizette said. “You’ll just have to ask around.”

  Judd decided he would have to take her word for it. She was probably right any way. It was the kind of thing a woman would know.

  Besides, Judd thought to him self, at least buying some silk would give him a good reason for going into Miles City apart from his vague un ease. He was beginning to wish that Amanda and Bobby’s father was al ready in the jail in Billings. Maybe there was something Judd could do to speed up the process if he went into Miles City and talked to who ever was in charge at the jail. Surely they could find room in the Billings jail if they put their minds to it.

  Judd didn’t know why he was feeling nervous. Everyone he had asked said that the jail in Miles City was built like a rock. A body had more chance of freezing to death in side their cell there than of actually making an escape.

  Of course, Judd wasn’t sure he was worried about the jail.

  For all Judd knew, his un ease might not even be about the kids’ father. It might be about the up coming ballet. Judd figured he knew his part as well as he was ever going to know it, and he was smart enough to realize that Lizette had organized everything, so he more or less stood still while she went twirling and dancing around him. He was more of a post than a dancer. Still, he was un easy about the whole thing.

  He’d never in his life performed in front of an audience. When he was riding in the rodeo, there had been an audience, but there was nothing required of the performers but to stay on the back of a horse. It was different than the ballet.

  In this ballet, he was supposed to be the prince. Him—Judd Bowman. He knew that Lizette didn’t have many contenders for the role, but still. He’d never figured he was a prince kind of a guy. He was more like the guy out in the stables who took care of everything while the prince was in side talking to people and impressing the princess.

  If Judd had known that the Nutcracker was more than a utensil, he’d have thought twice about volunteering for the role. Even now, if any man but Pete stepped for ward and said he wanted to play the role, Judd would be tempted to let him.

  A man could just pre tend to be something he wasn’t for so long in life. Judd figured his limit would be Saturday. He hoped he would get through the ballet with no problems. Then he could go back to counting out his nails so he could finish working on that fence of his like the solitary guy he was meant to be.

  There wasn’t any thing wrong with building fences, he re minded him self. He needed those fences, and that’s what he’d started out to do that day he’d come to town with the kids. This whole ballet business had just been a distraction. He needed to get back to business. Besides, the whole world would be a better place if people had more fences.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was only six o’clock, but Lizette was wide awake. She was lying in her bed in the back of her dance studio and looking at the hands of the clock on her night stand. For a moment, she thought her alarm must have gone off, but it hadn’t. It wasn’t scheduled to go off for an other hour.

  Lizette had just had a dream about mice escaping into the audience and the Nutcracker’s hat falling off his head. The reason she was awake was that she was having performance jitters. She hadn’t had those in years. The odd thing was that she wasn’t even worried about the dancing. She could dance Clara’s role in her sleep, and she’d simplified everyone else’s steps so they would look fine even if they for got everything she’d taught them. Clara did all of the true ballet dancing.

  No, she wasn’t fret ting about the dancing; she was worried about more basic things—things like the tin soldier dying in the wrong place or the mice giggling in the middle of their fierce attack.

  Or the Nutcracker for get ting how to stage a kiss and giving her the real thing. Not that she was worried about thinking the kiss would mean any thing. She’d given her self that speech enough times the last time it happened that she didn’t think she’d fall for that illusion again. Even if their lips did happen to meet, she would know it was just an acting kiss.

  But it could still fluster her so that she would for get some steps in the performance. Since she was really the only one dancing, that could be a problem. She was going to have to remember to tell Judd again that their stage kiss didn’t require any physical contact. The audience couldn’t see if their lips touched or not. They were supposed to air kiss be side their lips, not on their lips.

  Maybe she should draw him a diagram, Lizette thought as she stretched and threw back the covers.

  Ohh, it was cold. Lizette had the heat on in her room at the back of the studio, but she had kept it low. Until she knew how much money she would be making each month, she didn’t want to spend too much extra on heat. That was an incentive to get more students if nothing else was.

  Lizette reached under the quilt that covered her bed and pulled out the sweat pants and sweat shirt that she’d put there last night. Her neighbor Linda, at the café, had taught her that trick. When it was cold out, you took your clothes for the next day to bed with you and they were warm when you got up. Of course, Linda recommended put ting them just under the top blanket in stead of between the sheets. That way, she assured Lizette, the clothes didn’t get wrinkled.

  Lizette pulled the sweat pants on.

  She then quickly pulled on the sweat shirt, telling her self she should just go over and take an other look at the stage they had made in the barn. She wanted to see what everything looked like in the muted light of morning. This lighting would be the closest to the subdued light they’d have on their actual performance and Lizette didn’t want to miss any chance to see how the shadows would fall. She wasn’t sure how the shadows could help her, but knowledge al ways made one better pre pared.

  After all, she told her self as she walked to her stove and turned the tea kettle on, her very first ballet
production was going to be re viewed this afternoon. She hadn’t realized quite how important that was until she had talked with Madame Aprele a few days ago and told her about the up coming re view.

  Of course, she hadn’t told Madame Aprele that the re view was going to run in a section of the paper called “Dry Creek Tidbits” or that Edna Best, the woman reviewing the ballet, obviously didn’t recognize the Nutcracker and was, by her own admission, more comfort able covering the bait and pound age re ports during fishing sea son.

  Lizette saw no reason to dismay her former teacher when the basic facts them selves were encouraging. Her ballet performance was scheduled in a large local community center, her dress rehearsal was Wednesday at two o’clock, during which time a re viewer would be present to critique the performance, and the Snow Queen was predicting a good audience turn out for the actual performance.

  Madame Aprele was ecstatic with the news, and Lizette told her self she should just focus on the good things that she had told Madame Aprele.

  It took Lizette ten more minutes to wash her face and fix her hair. She thought about put ting some makeup on just to help keep her face warmer, but decided against it. Then she put her wool coat on and wrapped a knit scarf around her ears and neck. She had put a tea bag in her cup of hot water a few minutes ago, and now she poured the tea into a thermal mug so she could take it with her to the barn.

  The air was cold out side. There was no fresh snow, but the snow from yesterday was still on the streets of Dry Creek. It had been tramped down and was starting to be slippery.

  The day promised to be gray, and Lizette wondered if she’d gone out too soon. The hard ware store was still closed, as was the café. There was a bathroom light on in the par son age next to the church, but there were no other lights in the houses along the street. Most people had sense enough to stay in bed until the sun had a chance to warm up the day.