“A friend of Cassondra’s is a friend of mine, and since we’re all part of the Glory’s Place family then we need to stick together!”
Lauren hangs up, feeling relief and excitement, and joins Dalton and Stacy to assemble baskets, trying her best to make rectangle and square picture frames fit alongside a vase, figurines, a pewter clock, and boxed chocolates inside a round basket. As she works she says, “Do any of you know Mary Richards?”
Stacy looks up at her, thinking. “No, I don’t believe I do.”
“Sounds familiar,” Dalton says.
“She works at WJM,” Heddy says, sorting through the mass of gift cards in her hands.
“WJM?” Stacy says. “Where’s that?”
“Minneapolis.” She smiles, looking up over her reading glasses. “Mary Richards was the associate producer for the six o’clock news.”
“Mary Tyler Moore!” Dalton says. “I knew that name rang a bell.”
“Have you been watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show?” Stacy asks.
Lauren shakes her head. “No, I’ve never heard of it.”
“Never heard of The Mary Tyler Moore Show?” Dalton asks. “I’m feeling like a dinosaur again.”
“A woman named Mary Richards said she lives here in Grandon.”
“Maybe she does,” Stacy says. “Gloria might know her. Why?”
Reaching for some gold tissue paper Lauren feels embarrassed that she brought it up. She’s not sure how Stacy, Dalton, and Heddy would react to her listing for a family on Craigslist. “I saw that she lived in Grandon and … was selling … her car,” she says.
“Are you looking for a car?” Stacy asks.
“No. My roommate.” She sprinkles some gold and silver stars over the items in her basket, and before anyone can ask more questions says, “How does this look?”
“Perfect!” Heddy says. “Now we’ll wrap cellophane around it and tie it up with a huge bow and call it the Classic Home basket.”
Lauren cuts some gold-tinted cellophane and works at wrapping it around the basket, creating a nice, long neck. Stacy moves beside her to tie it shut. “By the way, the guy who hit me has officially been charged with hit-and-run, possession of drugs, and breaking and entering. They thought he was the guy who broke into the jewelry store and it turns out that he probably was.”
“He sure stays busy,” Dalton says.
“He’d still be busy if Lauren hadn’t ID’d him as the guy who hit me.”
“And you were just driving through that day, right?” he asks.
“Yeah. Bad day at work and I ended up driving away the demons, I guess.”
Heddy puts a gift card among the goods for Lauren’s next basket. “How long have you lived in Whitall?”
“I was born there,” Lauren says, sorting through some of the ornate premade bows.
“That’s so strange,” Stacy says.
“What’s strange?”
Stacy organizes the items in her basket and shrugs. “I don’t know. It just feels like you’ve always lived here.” She smiles at Lauren. “You know, ‘I ran into Lauren today at Wilson’s. She was looking at the dresses.’”
“She was not looking at dresses,” Lauren says, laughing. “Trust me!”
Dalton wads up some tissue paper and stuffs it in the bottom of his basket, playing along. “Lauren was on the all-star team. Did you see her make that basket at the buzzer?”
“Lauren finally got her braces off but I thought she was beautiful when her teeth were crooked!” Heddy says, grinning.
“Lauren never had braces,” Lauren says, feeling self-conscious at all the attention.
“I wish there was a way we could keep you in Grandon,” Stacy says. “But your family and friends in Whitall probably wouldn’t like that.”
Lauren’s smile is sheepish as she finishes her basket. This building, this work, the kids who will run through here in the next few hours, these people … all of this, this is the beauty of Christmas that Ben hoped she would see.
TWELVE
Dalton, Stacy, and Heddy are finishing the baskets when Lauren picks up the cardboard box from beneath the table. She needs to drop these things off for Gloria before her meeting with Mary Richards, her meeting with Laura, and then rehearsal with the kids. “Don’t let Larry talk your ear off,” Gloria says, after giving Lauren his address. “If you don’t have one foot in the car he can take you all the way back to 1953 and you’ll be stuck there for an hour listening to stories about the first black walnut tree he cut down or the first canoe he made. He’s very interesting, especially if you’re not in a hurry!”
Lauren gets behind the wheel of her car and types the address into her map app: 115 High Smith Street. The location is found and it looks like it’s five miles from Glory’s Place. She’ll have just enough time to get there and back to Betty’s Bakery for coffee. She follows the directions down one street and up another and becomes puzzled when she finds herself in somewhat of an industrial area. Assuming that Larry’s workshop is among these buildings she continues to drive. When she runs out of directions she cranes her neck to see the street signs: Poplar and Lafayette Street.
She stops her car and zooms in on High Smith Street. Smith Road appears to be one mile from here and she puts the car in drive again and heads in that direction. Smith Road turns to the right and she follows it. This is a country road with lots of bends and turns and she drives for several minutes before seeing the first house number: 705. She looks at the clock in her car dash and realizes it might take a while before she reaches number 115.
House number 521 has a long driveway and Lauren turns into it, studying the map again. She has to be at Betty’s Bakery in ten minutes and calls the restaurant. “Is Holly there?” she asks, remembering her waitress. She’s grateful when Holly picks up the phone. “Hi, Holly! This is Lauren Gabriel. You sat down and talked with me about a week and a half ago. I was sitting—”
“I totally remember you,” Holly says. “How are you? What’s up?”
“I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes to meet Mary Richards but I’m way out on some country road and will be late. Do you know her?” Lauren strains to hear over the noise of the restaurant.
“Hmm. Mary Richards? No. But hold on.” Lauren hears her cover the mouthpiece of the phone as she shouts, “Hey, Betty! Do you know Mary Richards?” The faint sound of someone answering in the distance is heard. Holly uncovers the mouthpiece and says, “We don’t know her. When are you supposed to meet her?”
“In about ten minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll keep my eyes open for a woman sitting alone who I don’t know. When I see her I’ll tell her that you’re running late. How’s that?”
“Perfect! Thanks so much, Holly! I’ll get there as fast as I can.” She pulls back onto the road in hopes she will arrive at Larry’s house soon, but the homes are getting even farther apart now. After ten more minutes of driving she groans when she discovers that the numbers are now only in the four hundreds. She calls the restaurant again and asks for Holly. “Is she there yet?” she asks when Holly picks up.
“Nope. Just the regular crew. Same people who’ve been coming in for years.”
Lauren sighs. “That’s great! I’m still out on this never-ending road.”
“What are you doing?”
“Delivering stuff to Larry Maccabee. Do you know where he lives?”
“The wood guy?”
Lauren slows down to see the worn-out numbers on a mailbox. “Yeah.”
“I thought he lived somewhere closer to town but I’m not sure. His workshop may be out in the country.”
The number on the box has a 7 in it so Lauren knows this isn’t the house. “Thanks. If you see Mary, please tell her I’m coming. I really am!” She begins driving again but after another ten minutes she pulls into the end of a driveway and calls Miss Glory’s cell phone.
“Hello!”
Lauren is so glad she answered. “Miss Glory, it’s Lauren. I can’t find Larr
y’s house.”
“You can’t miss it, babe. It’s got a great big wood carving of a bear in the front yard. I should’ve told you that.”
Lauren backs onto the road and heads the way she was going, looking. “Do you know what color his house is?”
“Blue.”
“Well, do you know how many miles he lives out on this road?” She groans before Gloria can answer.
“What’s wrong, lamb?”
Lauren stops, putting her head on the steering wheel. “This road just ended! There wasn’t a number 115 anywhere on this road.”
Gloria puts her hand over her other ear so she can hear. “Which road are you on?”
“Well, High Smith showed up on the map but when I got to where it took me there wasn’t a High Smith, so I looked on the map again and a mile away there was a Smith so I took that road.”
“Are you on Smith Road? A country road?”
“Yes!”
“I am so sorry, babe! Larry only lives about a mile from Glory’s Place. High Smith Street is right in town.”
Lauren looks in her rearview mirror to make sure no one is behind her. There isn’t. Of course there isn’t because no one has been on this road in miles! “Okay. I’ll turn around and head back toward town. What road does High Smith run off? I’ll look that one up since High Smith doesn’t show up on my map.”
“He lives two houses down from the corner of High Smith and Bagley.”
There is so much noise in the background that Lauren struggles to hear. “Bagley. Got it. Thanks, Miss Glory.”
“I’m so sorry for your trouble. I should have asked Larry to pick up the box. He could have easily walked to Glory’s Place. He could use the exercise.”
Lauren turns the car around to head back toward town. “No big deal. Thanks, Miss Glory!” She taps the phone number for Betty’s Bakery and this time Holly answers. “Holly! It’s Lauren again.”
“Mary Richards is a no-show,” she says.
Lauren is relieved yet a bit hurt. “Okay. Maybe something came up. We were only going to meet for thirty minutes so I assume she’s not coming. I’m also supposed to meet a woman named Laura. She should be there by now.” There is a pause and Lauren pictures Holly looking across the restaurant at faces.
“Would she have anyone with her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“There’s only one woman that I don’t know and she’s wearing a business suit but she’s with a man and another woman. Could that be her?”
Lauren glances at the cardboard box on the seat next to her and feels doubt, frustration, and anger bubble up in her mind. “It doesn’t sound like her.”
“Hold on. I’ll ask her.” The line goes silent but before Holly can return Lauren already knows the answer. “She says her name is Audrey.” Lauren feels her heart jerk a bit and lets up on the gas pedal. There is no point in hurrying any longer. “I’ll keep a lookout for someone I don’t know.”
“Thanks, Holly.” She hangs up and feels like a fool.
* * *
Miriam enters Betty’s Bakery and spots Gloria sitting alone. “What are you doing here?” she says, taking a red cashmere scarf from around her neck.
“People commonly come here to eat, Miriam!”
“Especially you!” she says, sitting at the table. “What’s strange is that you don’t have any food in front of you. Nor do you have anything to drink. It appears as if you are waiting for someone. Are you meeting Marshall?”
Gloria is annoyed and crosses her arms. “No, I am not meeting Marshall. I came here for lunch.”
Miriam turns to look behind her. “So your food is coming? What did you order?”
“What’s with all the questions, Nancy Drew?”
Miriam leans onto the table, looking at her. “What are you doing here, Gloria Wilson? Who are you meeting?”
Gloria opens her mouth to answer but looks more like a carp gulping for air. “I think I can ask you that same question. What are you doing here? You told me you had a meeting. I don’t see you meeting with anyone unless your meeting was supposed to be with me.” She picks up her phone. “Let me check my calendar. No. It doesn’t show that I have a meeting with you at this time so who are you meeting here, Miriam?”
Miriam runs her tongue under her upper lip, squinting at Gloria. “I already had my meeting. If you must know I got my brows waxed. I have come in here for a bite to eat.” She glances toward the door and down at her watch.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“I’m not expecting anyone, big mouth! How about you? I saw you look at the door.”
“I looked at the door because you looked at the door. I’m not expecting anyone. I just came here to eat like every other hungry person in here.”
“Then you may as well eat with me,” Miriam says, leaning back in the chair.
“Fine!” Gloria says, also leaning back in her chair. “You may as well eat with me.”
And with that both women bury themselves in the menu.
THIRTEEN
The bells on the door ring as Lauren enters and Holly smiles from across the restaurant, waving. She shrugs and shakes her head, mouthing “She’s not here” before refilling an iced tea for a customer. She is busy so Lauren looks for an empty table. She notices someone waving and smiles when she sees Gloria and Miriam. They wave her to their table and she takes off her coat, walking toward them. “Did you find Larry?” Gloria asks, moving her purse so Lauren can sit.
“Finally! I left him my cell number so he can call me when everything is done and I’ll pick them up. I thought he was really nice.”
“Did he tell you the story of making the mayor’s desk?” Miriam says. “Or traveling ten hours one way for a load of curly maple?”
“No. He told me about making a kitchen table for his daughter’s wedding gift. It started off as cherry but somehow the curly maple was speaking to him so the legs are curly maple.”
Gloria and Miriam laugh and Gloria rests her hand on Lauren’s. “Lunch is on me today.”
“But you’re both done eating,” Lauren says, looking at their empty plates.
“There’s always room for pastry,” Gloria says.
“That’s actually her motto,” Miriam says. “She even had Larry engrave it on a piece of curly maple and has it hanging in her kitchen.”
Gloria shakes her head and raises her hand, motioning for the waitress. It’s not Holly but an older woman named Loni. “I’ll take some coffee and a raspberry cream cheese pastry to share with Miriam. What would you like, babe?”
“A turkey club sandwich with chips,” Lauren says.
“And a bowl of the chicken tortilla soup,” Gloria says. Lauren opens her mouth and Gloria puts her hand in the air. “Trust me. You have to try Betty’s chicken tortilla soup.”
“What would you like to drink?” Loni asks.
“Just water,” Lauren says.
“Peach tea,” Miriam says. Lauren looks at her but Miriam isn’t finished. “Do you just have peach today or do you have the raspberry-peach?”
“Raspberry peach,” Loni says.
Miriam points at her. “That’s the one! Just a little sugar, Loni. This isn’t the South where they drink their tea so sweet it puts your teeth on edge.” She looks at Lauren. “Trust me. It’s much better than water.”
Gloria and Miriam both look at Lauren and she smiles, feeling uncomfortable. “So what do you do when you’re not being fabulous by helping nonprofits with their fund-raisers?” Gloria says.
“I just work at a grocery store in Whitall. I’m a cashier.”
Gloria smacks the table. “I was a cashier once.”
“That was when stores just kept their cash in a cigar box beneath the front counter,” Miriam says.
Gloria glares at her. “It was at Sharp’s Drugstore back home.”
“Back when pharmaceuticals consisted of cat’s claw and leeches.”
Lauren laughs as Gloria’s pastry is set before her and Loni
sets down the raspberry peach iced tea. “Just for that I’m not sharing my pastry with you.”
“I didn’t want it anyway,” Miriam says.
Picking up a knife, Gloria cuts it in half and slides one portion onto a plate and drops it in front of Miriam. “No you don’t! You would love for me to eat this whole thing and gain weight just so you can shake your bony finger at me and tell me that you told me so. Well, no way, sister.”
“Have you always fought like this?” Lauren says, sipping the tea.
“No,” Miriam says. “The arguments began only after we met.”
Loni brings the soup and Lauren’s eyes bulge. “I’ll never be able to finish this and a sandwich.”
“Take it home!” Gloria says. “Marshall and I get lots of second meals from leftovers from Betty’s.”
“I wish they had a place like this in Whitall.”
Miriam bites into the pastry and follows it with a sip of coffee. “So … what are your Christmas plans?”
Lauren eats the soup, thinking before she shrugs. “I don’t really have a lot of plans.”
“Are you eating Christmas dinner with your parents?” Gloria asks, glancing at Miriam.
“No.”
“Do they live near you?” Miriam asks.
“Well, I didn’t know it but my dad actually lived here at one time.” Although she’s looking into her soup she can feel Gloria and Miriam exchanging glances. “He’s not here anymore.”
“What’s his name?” Gloria asks.
“Vic Gabriel. Travis told me he worked for the parks department before getting fired.” She looks at them. “Did you know him?” They both shake their heads and she takes another spoonful of soup.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Gloria asks.
“Sixteen years ago.” Loni sets the sandwich on the table and Lauren thanks her.
“Well, some people are not fit to be parents,” Miriam says. Gloria looks at her but Miriam continues. “I think he’s a coward and a fool for leaving you.”
“Remind me not to have you counsel any of the children at Glory’s Place,” Gloria says.
“I wouldn’t say that to a small child, Gloria, but Lauren needs to know that it wasn’t her fault.” Miriam looks at Lauren, raising her finger in the air. “It wasn’t. His leaving was not your fault. He left because he is a little, little man without an ounce of courage or backbone or decency. Real men don’t leave their children.”
The Christmas Town Page 8
