Fruitcakes and Other Leftovers & Christmas, Texas Style

by Lori Copeland

  That afternoon, between poring over the ledgers with Anne, and learning other aspects of the business, Beth waited on customers. Anne kept records in an ancient ledger, the figures written in tiny script Sales were meticulously entered along with purchases, deposits, and checks written, but Anne hadn’t balanced the books in years. Bookkeeping was not Beth’s strong suit, but even she knew checkbooks had to be balanced. She would have to buy a computer and software to bring her books into the twenty-first century.

  “It’s going to snow,” Aunt Harry announced when Beth walked into the kitchen a little after six that evening. She proceeded to the stove and lifted the lid on a pot, sniffing but unable to detect an aroma. Water boiled vigorously.

  “What are you cooking, Aunt Harry?” she asked casually.

  “Cooking?”

  “In the pot.”

  “Is there something cooking in the pot? Well, add a little salt, will you dear?”

  Beth switched off the burner, and stepped to the refrigerator to make a cold turkey sandwich. “I’m not sure I like you quitting that good job and buying a bookstore. You’ll have to work longer hours,” Harry complained. “What did Mr. Herring say about this?”

  “He’s the boss, so he wasn’t happy I quit, but I had accumulated over six weeks vacation time. The trip to Europe wasn’t a problem. And I told him I would stay on until he found someone, but he knew I didn’t really want to. His wife’s filling in until they can hire someone to take my place. I told him they could call me anytime they need my help.”

  “Well, I still think you should have stayed where you were.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on working long hours. I’ll hire a part-time high school student when Anne leaves.” The doorbell rang as Beth licked mayonnaise off the knife. “Are you expecting someone?” If one more of Aunt Harry’s friends dropped off a plate of divinity, she would scream.

  She opened the door and there stood Russ, balancing a stack of various-size bowls and pans in both arms. For a moment her heart stopped. This was the second time she’d seen him since she got home from her trip. The first was when she stopped by David’s just to drop off the dog souvenir she bought in London.

  “I’m returning,” he explained when her eyes focused on the armload of utensils.

  “I see Aunt Harry kept you well fed.”

  “Extremely.” Handing the dishes off, Russ gave her a kiss. “Glad you’re back, and thanks again for Astor.” He chuckled. “Jasper’s not impressed, but I like him a lot.” He gave her a quick hug. His unexpected display of affection took her breath away. “Your world tour didn’t take long.”

  “Two weeks,” she said, breathing deeply. Did he have any idea what those casual, “I’m your good friend” kisses and the hug did to her? Did he know the desire he was unleashing? “I’m too old to start over.”

  He stepped around her, and took off his jacket. He looked so handsome. Better than any man she saw on her brief “exploration.” She stared at his trim buttocks, then shook her head and closed the door. “Aunt Harry tells me we’re the talk of the town now that we won the lottery.”

  “We’re the talk of something, all right. It’s been a zoo around here. You missed all the hubbub. We’re celebrities. Morning Sun threw a big party last week, and a couple of newspapers in Philadelphia sent reporters to cover the story.”

  “That’s what Aunt Harry told me.” Beth regretted now that she boarded the plane for Europe three days after the big win. She was so eager to see the world—well, it wasn’t her first mistake. She hated crowded airports, crazy cab rides, and being a stranger in town. Why hadn’t she just stayed in Morning Sun and enjoyed her win?

  “Heard you bought The Reader’s Nook.”

  “Yeah, can you believe it? I’m a businesswoman now. Stop by someday. There’s a whole section on physical fitness and one on investments that you might be interested in.”

  “David?” Aunt Harry called from the kitchen. “Is that you? I’m cooking again! Sit down and I’ll bring you a bowl of soup.”

  Beth shook her head, mouthing. “I don’t recommend the soup. She’s boiling salt water.”

  “No, thanks, Harriet. I’m not really in the mood for soup,” he called back.

  “Beth, fix David a sandwich!”

  “Would you like a sandwich?”

  “I’m always in the mood for a sandwich.” Russ trailed her to the refrigerator. “So, you didn’t like Paris?”

  “I liked it—just couldn’t understand a word anyone said.” She handed him the jar of mayonnaise.

  “Italy?”

  “Okay. Lots to see. Things I studied in school.”

  “Like?”

  “Pantheon, Trevi Fountain. The Spanish Steps. St. Peter’s. Michelangelo’s Pieta.” She sighed. “The Sistine Chapel. It’s beyond a person’s imagination.”

  He nodded solemnly. “It is, isn’t it. What about New York?”

  She grinned. “I visited Saint Patrick’s Cathedral twice. Ever been there?”

  He nodded. “A few times.”

  “Trump Tower?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Pyramids?”

  He accepted the plate of turkey. “Pyramids? Never. Don’t tell me you made Egypt, too?”

  “No.” She spread mayonnaise on two pieces of bread. “I’m just trying to figure out somewhere you haven’t been. How’s your investment venture?”

  “Profitable, I hope, but too soon to tell.”

  “Well, hope you make a fortune.” That was the thing about dreams versus commodities. You knew right away if a dream was worthwhile. No waiting around for the quirky stock market to respond, no bullish or bearish markets to contend with.

  Beth had dreamed of traveling since she was old enough to say jet lag. Now she’d seen priceless art, the Seine and the Thames, had shopped Harrod’s and Bloomingdales. She’d eaten scones, fish and chips, and had tried one French fry with mayonnaise. While all that had been very nice, she’d felt out of place and lonely. They were all nice places to visit, but…

  It was on the plane coming home when she decided there was nothing wrong with the mall at Morning Sun.

  “I realize now what my priorities really are. I took my dream vacation, but the dream was sometimes a nightmare. Now I want to live my life.” She lifted the lid off the pot and poured the hot water down the sink. Even Aunt Harry’s nuttiness didn’t bother her so much now.

  Adding turkey, lettuce and tomato, she finished making the sandwich and handed it to Russ. “Coffee?”

  “Milk.”

  Aunt Harry smiled, reaching out to give Beth a hug. “I’m awfully glad you’re home, darling.”

  “Me, too, Aunt Harry.” Beth’s eyes met Russ’s over Harry’s shoulder. “Me too.”

  “YOU’RE FLYING to your sister’s tomorrow?” Beth turned the Open sign Friday morning, and smiled at Anne.

  “Morning flight. I’m all packed.” Anne looked around the store’s new interior. Mist shone in her eyes. “My, it’s been years since I took any time off.”

  “Well.” Beth closed the door, shivering. “You know you always have a job here, if you want it.”

  With Thanksgiving only a week away, Beth’s grand opening was scheduled for Saturday night from five until ten. The renovations had taken less than a week, with a crew of four, and the store looked splendid. The old beige walls were now a sunny yellow. The scarred pine floor had taken on a new sheen. The shelves were spanking clean, the books all dusted. There were even some old tomes found hidden away on the tall, top shelves that just might pass as collector’s items. They now decorated a small reading area at the front of the store.

  Potpourri scented the air with rose and mulberry. Coffee, assorted teas, and hot apple cider simmered on a mahogany table, convenient to browsers. The front window held the week’s bestsellers and children’s books in a separate smaller display. Beth was very pleased with the results. The only dark spot on the honzon was the low-hanging gray clouds that threatened sno
w, rain or both.

  Beth kept an eye on the pending storm all during the afternoon. Switching on the small radio, her worst fears were confirmed.

  “A winter weather watch has been issued for the county. Rain beginning by midnight, turning to freezing rain by morning. Sleet mixed with snow for Saturday…”

  “Great. Just what I need,” Beth groused.

  Before Aunt Harry went to bed, she assured Beth that snow or no snow, the grand opening would be a success. Aunt Harry could talk. It wasn’t her money on the line. If no one attended the opening, they would be eating nine dozen sandwiches, cookies and crab-stuffed mushroom caps for the next month.

  With one last glance out the window, Beth climbed into bed, and lay there imagining every disaster possible. The weather would turn nasty. Absolutely no one would show up for the grand opening.

  Rain beating against the window awoke her at midnight. At two o’clock she awoke again, and this time by driving sleet that pelted the glass. Disaster was at the door, and beating on the panes with a vengeance.

  Around four, she got out of bed and heated a glass of warm milk, hoping it would help her get back to sleep.

  When the alarm went off at six, Beth opened one eye to peer out the window. Bounding out of bed, she looked out the window to see a thin layer of snow dusting the bushes. Sighing with relief, she showered and dressed in a spruce-green dress with a flared skirt, brushed her hair up into a loose pouf, and hoped for the best as she went downstairs to have breakfast with Aunt Harry.

  “I hope this clears up by tonight,” Beth told her as she reached for a piece of toast.

  Harriet tsked. “You don’t need wishes. It’s only days away from the official Christmas season. A little snow won’t keep shoppers at home.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Beth kissed Harriet’s weathered cheek. “You coming down this afternoon?”

  “Oh.” Harriet frowned. “I might. George said he’d stop by later today—I’ll wait and see if he comes.”

  “Try to come, Aunt Harry. I need bodies.” Lots of bodies with big appetites to eat dozens of crab-stuffed mushroom caps.

  Aunt Harriet rummaged through the cabinets.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Oh, I want to bake my fruitcakes this afternoon. Have you seen the WD-40?”

  “It’s the green can on the top shelf. And it’s Pam, Aunt Harry.”

  “Of course, dear.” Harry added the cooking spray to her baking items on the cabinet.

  Business was slow. Traffic hardly moved. Frequent bursts of sleet left a layer of ice on the road and on the shop windows. Wringing her hands, Beth watched the street crews spread salt and gravel. The knot in her stomach tightened.

  She paced the floor, staring out the window. No one was coming. The grand opening was a complete bust. Toby, replete in top hat and tuxedo, sat in the reading area eating cookies and dropping crumbs on the new Persian rug. Strains of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman” entertained an empty bookstore.

  “Hey, look!” Toby got up and mashed the crumbs deeper into the carpet as he bolted to the window. “It’s snowing!”

  “Wonderful.” Beth sank to a chair. Absolutely wonderful! She was doomed.

  She stood and lifted the coffeepot from the burner. It was full. “Toby, we might as well close the store and go home before it gets any worse.” She switched off the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup.

  Cups were stacked and ready to pack in a bag when a school bus braked in front of the store. Beth glanced out the window. “What is a school bus doing out this time of the day—and in this weather?”

  Toby didn’t answer, but pressed his nose against the pane to watch.

  The door of the bus whisked open, and Harriet got out. Then Mary Ann, followed by George.

  Beth walked to the front of the store and watched the bus empty. She silently counted each person as they stepped off the vehicle. There were thirty-six passengers.

  Harriet waved and turned to point to the driver. Russ grinned back at her from behind the wheel.

  Beth wasn’t going to cry. She knew now why she could never leave Morning Sun. The weather was worsening by the moment, but friends and acquaintances were here to shop.

  She wiped a tear from her eye.

  Anne was among the first through the front door. “Hello,” she greeted warmly as people poured through the doorway. The shoppers spread out, exclaiming over the recent changes.

  “Anne!” Beth exclaimed, taking her hand. “I thought you had a morning flight.”

  “Canceled because of inclement weather.” Anne squeezed her shoulders. “I’d decided to take a later flight, anyway. I couldn’t miss your grand opening.”

  Beth watched Russ get off the bus, and her heart sang. She threaded her way through the crowded room, headed toward the door. Had Aunt Harry coerced him into driving the bus? He entered the store, knocking snow off his hat and gloves. When he spotted her, he smiled.

  “You…” She was at a loss for words. “Who’s responsible for this?”

  He shrugged. “Harry and I thought your customers might need a little help getting here tonight. George provided the bus, I agreed to drive, and Harriet called everyone she knew and told them we’d get them here if they wanted to come. “And—” he gestured to the crowded store ”—they wanted to come.”

  Beth’s eyes again filled with tears of gratitude. “Thank you.” It wasn’t the business she appreciated, it was the love behind Harry’s and George’s actions.

  Russ stayed behind the counter, keeping out of the way. A young mother helped her two small children choose suitable reading material, an older couple in the reading area sipped tea and perused travel books, a businessman leafed through computer manuals.

  Beth hurried to set the cups out again, and put on fresh coffee.

  “The place looks great.”

  He was completely at home in the bookstore. Handsome, confident, his cheeks red from the cold, hair tousled and glistening with melting snow. Beth couldn’t have loved him more.

  The door opened again, and two women with mufflers covering their faces rushed in. They stomped snow from their boots and sniffed the sweet aromas appreciatively.

  “Welcome to The Readers’ Nook,” Toby greeted, his gap-toothed grin making him look like Tom Sawyer in a tux. “Please help yourself to a cup of hot tea, or cider. You can have a cookie, if you want it.”

  “That coffee smells wonderful,” one woman said, drawing off her gloves and muffler. “Where’s the mystery section?”

  “Mysteries—third shelf on the right.”

  “Thank you, young man.”

  The grand opening exceeded Beth’s wildest expectations. Even without the busload Harry and Russ brought, several shoppers braved the storm to come. Standing room only was the rule of the evening.

  “Thank you, Aunt Harry,” Beth called, trying to keep up with register sales.

  “For what?” Harriet stacked another cookbook on her arm. “It was all that nice Foster boy’s idea.”

  Beth glanced at Russ who was busy making coffee and adding to the mulled cider. The room was utter chaos.

  Outside, the snow was coming down in heavy sheets.

  Ten minutes before nine, a line formed at the counter. Parents with small children were first, followed by one, then another shopper. Beth and Anne rang up the purchases, packing the customers’ treasures in white sacks decorated with a large red poinsettia. Russ announced he would go out and warm the bus.

  “Brrr,” George said, pocketing his change as the door closed. “The temperature’s dropping like a rock. Want to get a pizza on the way home, Harry?”

  Harry laughed. “George, you have an empty pit for a stomach. I’m full of stuffed mushrooms and fruitcake.”

  Russ came back into the store, stamping snow off his boots and brushing the white fluff out of his hair. “Folks, we have a small problem.”

  Beth glanced up from sacking a purchase. “What’s wrong?”

  “The str
eets are a solid sheet of ice. You can’t stand up out there.”

  The door opened, and two customers who left a few minutes earlier, entered the store and quickly closed the door behind them. The older woman looked stricken. “We can’t get out of the parking lot.”

  “We practically had to crawl back,” her daughter said. “The sidewalk and parking lot are like an ice rink.”

  “Uh-oh,” Russ muttered as the lights dimmed, came back up, then went out entirely.

  “Hey, neat!” Toby shouted.

  Not so neat, Beth thought with a sinking heart.

  “What’s going on?” a voice demanded from a darkened aisle. Several other customers quickly felt their way to the checkout counter.

  “Don’t panic.” Beth tried to keep her voice reassuring. “I have a flashlight.” She rummaged blindly through a drawer. “Somewhere.”

  She located it and handed it to Russ.

  He switched it on, then shook it. “Doesn’t work.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake…” Beth’s mind whirled. There were at least forty customers still in the store! What would she do with forty stranded customers?

  “Batteries,” Russ mumbled. He rattled the empty case. The room would have been pitch black if the scented candles weren’t burning. Beth knew if the electricity was off, the heat was, too.

  “Here,” she said, coming up with three C batteries.

  “Takes four.”

  “Dam.” She tossed the batteries back into the drawer. “Well, now what?”

  A groan went up in the room. Forty customers were stuck for the night.

  Harriet rose to the occasion. “Listen you nillys. This could be fun. Beth? Where are all those other candles you ordered? Bring them out.”

  Beth felt her way back to the storeroom, eventually locating the three dozen new, scented, three-inch Christmas candles she’s ordered a week ago. Some in the crowd had matches and Beth used the burning candles to light more. The wicks sputtered to life, and the aroma of pine and cranberry filled the room. The front door opened, and Beth expected to see another stranded customer, but it was a policeman.

  “You folks all right?”

  “Yes. Any chance of the electricity coming back on soon?” Beth asked the policeman.