The Christmas Town

by Donna VanLiere

  EIGHTEEN

  The workday is unending for Lauren. She stands behind the cash register and rings customers through without chitchat or any pleasantries. She is simply on autopilot and wishing for the day to be over. She is surrounded by coworkers: those she has known for the last four years and those who are new for the Christmas season. Many of the same customers make their way through her line and do their best to draw her into the world of the living, but she is unable to muster any interest or enthusiasm. Surrounded by people, she feels a loneliness she has never felt before. It is beyond loneliness; it is an emptiness that grows inside her chest. She slept little last night but kept replaying in her mind the time she spent waiting in the booth for her mother. She read the texts over and over hoping for a different outcome.

  On her break she doesn’t open her e-mail. She blew off Mary Richards and Laura and can’t bear to read an e-mail from either one of them. She is supposed to be at Glory’s Place after work today but decides not to go. She is tired of hoping and longing. She is tired of being disappointed and walking around always wanting a different outcome but getting more of the same. Glancing around the break room with its plain walls and metal chairs, she is convinced that this will be as good as it gets.

  * * *

  Gloria stands beside her grocery cart scanning the shelves of food in front of her.

  “Can I help you find anything, ma’am?”

  It’s Maria Delgado and Gloria offers a quick hug. “Maria! How are you?”

  “A little frazzled from pulling together both our move and the Christmas parade but it’s all good.”

  Gloria sets Marshall’s favorite natural peanut butter into the cart. “Can you give me a little hint as to who it might be, Maria?”

  Maria looks shocked. “Miss Glory! You know I can’t do that!”

  “Is it okay if I voted at each location? If that’s not okay then I won’t admit that I did it.”

  Maria laughs. “I think you’re well within the rules!” She hurries to the front of the store. “Sorry to run off. I’ll be late for a meeting with Les!”

  “I wanted to tell you something about Cassondra’s box.”

  “Is there something wrong with it?”

  Gloria sees she is in a hurry and shakes her head. “Go on. We can talk another time.”

  Maria waves and hurries to Les’s office. Ben is talking with him and Maria smiles. “Hi, Ben! How’s your day?”

  “It’s great, Mrs. Delgado.”

  She looks at Les and grins. “It is a great day, Ben! Thank you for reminding me of that!” She pauses, looking at him. “You are still coming to the Christmas parade, right?”

  He is about to leave the office. “I have the day off. It’s written on my calendar at home and the one here at the store.”

  She sets her purse down on the desk and folds her hands in front of her. “Ben, I came here to pick up the final votes for the grand marshal of the Christmas parade. Did you vote for anyone?”

  He looks sheepish. “No, I didn’t, Mrs. Delgado. I always wanted to but then I kept getting busy. I can vote now if you want.”

  Maria smiles. “Who would you vote for, Ben?”

  “My dad or my mom.”

  “Not for me?” Les says, spreading his arms out.

  “I can vote for you, too, if I’m allowed to put that many votes in.”

  Les and Maria laugh as she says, “That’s okay, Ben. The voting period is over now and I get to let everyone know who is going to be the grand marshal.”

  “What does a grand marshal do, anyway?” Les asks.

  She leans against the desk, folding her arms. “Well, the grand marshal sits in the carriage. You know, the tall red carriage that Mr. Lawson pulls with his horses?” Ben nods. “The grand marshal sits on top of that carriage and leads the parade, waving to everyone. He gets the parade started and sort of acts as the host of the parade.”

  Ben’s mouth opens in surprise. “You mean he has to wave at everyone?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a lot of waving!”

  “It is. But I know you’ll be great at it, Ben.” She and Les watch Ben and wait.

  His face registers wonder and disbelief at the same time. “I would wave? Why would I…”

  Maria steps forward to hug him. “The town voted for you, Ben. They want you to be the grand marshal of the Christmas parade.”

  He looks at Les and Les sticks out his hand for Ben to shake it. “The town got it right.”

  Ben grabs his head. “I need to tell my parents and Lucy!”

  Les pushes the phone on his desk toward him. “Call them right now.”

  “Another thing,” Maria says as Ben dials the number. “You get to have someone on the carriage with you. So you can think about which one of your family members or friends you’d like to sit next to you.”

  The very thought of choosing someone seems overwhelming right now and Ben shakes his head. “Mom!” he says into the phone. “Guess what just happened?”

  When Ben hangs up the phone Les waits for him to leave the office before picking up the phone and pushing a button. He winks at Maria and says, “Attention, all shoppers. It is my great honor to announce that our very own Ben Engler has been voted the grand marshal of the Christmas parade!” His enthusiasm is contagious as the employees and customers break out in cheers and applause.

  Ben’s smile feels like it’s pulled up to his ears and if he could pop he would do it right here holding on to a bag of oranges.

  “I voted for him,” Gloria says, sneaking up next to Maria.

  “You and most of the town,” Maria says.

  Grandon had written its own Christmas message and handed it to Ben.

  Gloria waves off Les’s offer to step into another line, looking exasperated with him. “Les! Don’t you know me better than that by now?”

  “It’s just a suggestion for anyone who’s in a hurry,” Les says, straightening chip bags on an end cap.

  “Congratulations, Ben!” she says, hugging him as he bags her groceries. “You will be the most handsome grand marshal the parade has ever had!”

  “What about Mr. Wilson?”

  Gloria laughs. “Oh yes, him too!”

  She congratulates him again and pushes the cart to her car. Before closing the trunk she peeks inside each bag, looking for Ben’s note. She pulls it out and closes the trunk, reading.

  Everything happens for a reason. Christmas isn’t an accident and neither is what is happening today.

  Merry Christmas! Ben

  She shakes her head and smiles, putting the note inside her coat pocket.

  * * *

  Cassondra raises her hand and Stacy looks at her. “What is it, Cassondra?”

  “Where’s Lauren?”

  “I don’t know. She might be running late today.”

  Cassondra looks over at the parking lot. “She’s really late because we’ve been singing forever.”

  Stacy shuffles her papers, looking for the next song. “She might be stuck in traffic.”

  “For like six hours?” Aidan asks.

  “We’ve only been singing for twenty minutes,” she says. She doesn’t tell them that she has already tried to call Lauren with no luck. Lauren was supposed to arrive at three o’clock today so they could meet at the gazebo along with Heddy and Dalton to figure out how the tables should be set up and where to put the risers. She tried calling at three-fifteen and then again at four-thirty.

  At the end of practice Cassondra brings lyric sheets to Stacy and looks up at her. “Will Lauren be back tomorrow?”

  “I’m sure she will. She might have gotten sick.”

  “I hope she doesn’t get that stomach thing. Aidan had that and puked everywhere.”

  Stacy laughs, straightening the sheets Cassondra has given her. “I’ve heard it’s pretty bad.”

  “Pretty gross,” Cassondra says. “If she has that then we might never see her again.”

  Stacy assures her that they will
see Lauren again, and as the children load into their cars for the afternoon she calls her number again.

  * * *

  Lauren ignores Jay as he waves good-bye to her at the end of her shift, just as she has ignored every phone call from Stacy today. Driving to her apartment she passes a church sign, which reads THE ANGEL TOLD THE SHEPHERDS NOT TO BE AFRAID. She stares at the sign as she passes. Was there really an angel? Did it really tell those shepherds not to be afraid? Did they realize they were part of an unfolding story? She tries to picture herself in that unfolding story but can only see herself in that booth at Jake’s BBQ as the book slammed closed.

  NINETEEN

  “Mrs. Delgado said that I get to have someone up on the carriage with me to wave during the parade,” Ben says, cutting into a meatball.

  Stacy sprinkles Parmesan cheese onto her spaghetti and Jacob spoons more sauce over his noodles. “That’s awesome!” Stacy says. “You didn’t tell me that part when you called.”

  Ben stops eating and puts his fork down. “When Mrs. Delgado told me about that I knew who I wanted to ride with me right away, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “It doesn’t matter which one of us you want to take,” Stacy says. “We’re just crazy excited for you!”

  Ben looks down at his food, tapping the fork on his plate. “Really, it’s okay,” Jacob says. “If you want to take your mom or Lucy that’s great.”

  “Not me,” Lucy says. “I don’t want to do that!”

  “It’s actually not any of you,” Ben says. His words come slowly, as if each one was handpicked.

  Stacy and Jacob exchange glances. “A friend from school or work or church is great,” Stacy says. “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know her name.”

  Lucy slams her fork onto her plate. “Her name? You like a girl? You have a girlfriend?”

  “No, I don’t have a girlfriend! She’s not my girlfriend, Lucy!”

  Stacy waves her hands in the air. “Okay, okay. It’s all right. How do you know this girl, Ben?”

  “She comes into the store.”

  “And you think she’s hot!” Lucy says, shoving a huge bite of meatball into her mouth.

  “No, I don’t, Lucy!” Ben pushes his palm onto his head and leans on the table.

  “Lucy, let him finish,” Stacy says. “Go ahead, Ben.”

  Ben keeps his head down, not wanting to look at his sister. “She’s new here and she always looks kind of sad. I thought maybe it would help her feel at home.”

  Stacy and Jacob look at one another again and smile. “But you don’t know her name?” Jacob asks.

  “There’s never been time to really ask her. You know how busy the store is right now.”

  Stacy wipes her hands on a napkin and puts it back in her lap. “I think it’s a great idea! The next time you see her you should ask her. Does she come in every day?”

  He shakes his head. “I haven’t seen her in a few days.”

  “The next time she’s in you just slip away from bagging for a second and ask her,” Jacob says. “But first … ask her what her name is!”

  * * *

  “Gloria, you cannot send her an e-mail,” Miriam says.

  Gloria rises to get more coffee. “Why not? Obviously we got the time wrong again. That’s all.”

  Miriam closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Two times in a row? Gloria, can’t you see it? We are just pawns in this girl’s game. For all you know she was outside the windows taking pictures of us.”

  “Why in the world would she take pictures of us?”

  “To prove to everyone that we’re a couple of patsies.”

  Gloria screws up her face, pouring coffee into her cup. “How does a picture of us sitting at Betty’s prove to everyone that we’re a couple of patsies?”

  Miriam waves her hand in the air as if erasing everything that Gloria has said. “You never understand anything!”

  “No one in all of Grandon would understand what you’re saying. We need to e-mail that young woman!”

  Marshall enters the kitchen and raises his voice to get their attention. “Why are you arguing so early this morning?”

  “Because she is batty and hardheaded,” Miriam says.

  Gloria gives Marshall an imploring look. “Does that even seem possible to you?”

  “I’d like to stay married so I’ll plead the fifth on that one.” He slips his coat on and kisses Gloria’s cheek. “I’m headed to the store.” He looks at them. “Should I even ask what you’re arguing about?” They open their mouths and he holds up his hand. “No, I shouldn’t. But I know you’ll both do the next right thing.” Glancing at them again, he isn’t so sure of that as he opens the garage door and heads to work.

  “And the next right thing is to contact her,” Gloria says. “What if she’s laid up in the hospital somewhere?”

  “What if she’s been arrested?” Miriam says.

  “Then the next right thing would still be to contact her!”

  Miriam scowls, sighing, and reaches for Gloria’s laptop on the table. “Let me contact her. I’m better with words than you are.”

  “You use words like ‘scrummy’ and ‘kerfuffle’!”

  “Exactly, Gloria. I am a woman of refinement,” Miriam says, pulling up Craigslist on the computer.

  Gloria looks over her shoulder. “Just keep your refinement out of the e-mail.”

  Miriam looks at her. “Are we telling her that we know each other?”

  Gloria shifts her eyes to the ceiling, thinking. “Yes. We need to let her know that we saw each other at Betty’s, and after we got to talking we realized we were both there for the same meeting.”

  Miriam begins to type: Unfortunately, it looks as if our time and place for meeting has been confused once again. We do hope that everything is tickety-boo for you—”

  “Wait! Wait!” Gloria says. “‘Tickety-boo’? Is that a cartoon character?”

  Miriam turns her head slowly to stare at Gloria. “A cartoon character, Gloria? Are you mad?”

  Gloria stands. “Am I mad? You just used the word ‘tickety-boo’ in an e-mail to a young girl who didn’t grow up in England and who probably doesn’t watch PBS.”

  Miriam begins typing again. We hope that everything is going great for you. She looks up at Gloria. “Happy?”

  “Very,” she says, sitting back down. “Keep going.”

  Gloria and I saw each other at Betty’s and—

  “Actually, she doesn’t know me as Gloria.”

  “You didn’t sign your name?”

  Gloria hesitates. “I signed a name.”

  Miriam glares at her. “A name? What name?”

  “Mary Richards.”

  “The Mary Tyler Moore Show?” Gloria nods. “Oh, that’s rich, Gloria!” She deletes Gloria’s name and continues. Mary Richards and I saw each other at Betty’s and because we have a close relationship—

  “That might be stretching it,” Gloria says.

  Miriam shoots her a glance and continues the e-mail.

  we began to chat and discovered that we were both there to meet you. We are so sorry that it did not work out and hope nothing is wrong. Maybe you’re getting ready for Christmas and no longer in need of a family. But if you are still looking for people to share your Christmas with, we would be happy to meet you.

  She looks at Gloria. “I feel we need to make sure this is not some big game to this young woman.”

  Gloria purses her lips and narrows her eyes, looking at Miriam. “What do you mean?”

  “We must question her sincerity.” Gloria begins to answer but Miriam talks over her. “I know that it grates on you to think that anyone could have less than honorable motives, but this is not Mayberry, Gloria. It is the twenty-first century and we live in a very cynical world.”

  “Said the queen of cynicism,” Gloria mumbles into her coffee cup.

  Miriam crosses her arms and sits ramrod straight. “You call me cynical. I call me cautious. I
call me wise. I call me—”

  “Oh, for the love of Pete! Just write something!”

  Placing her fingers on the keyboard Miriam types, talking aloud as she does. “Please do not take offense at this but we must be assured of your sincerity. Are you looking for a family with an honest heart or is this a ploy or a ruse of some kind? We merely want to be assured that this is not a game on your part.”

  Gloria rubs her temples as if plagued by an excruciating headache.

  “What is wrong with you, Gloria?”

  Gloria shakes her head. “I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to meet us again.”

  “And this will inform us if we indeed want to try to meet her again.” She types Mary Richards and Laura and positions the arrow over the send button.

  “Wait! Who’s Laura? Laura who?”

  “Laura Petrie,” Miriam says.

  Gloria laughs. “Mary Tyler Moore’s character from The Dick Van Dyke Show?” Miriam refuses to laugh. “Oh, we are quite the pair, aren’t we?”

  “Come on, Gloria! Should I press send?”

  “Against my better judgment but yes.”

  Miriam clicks send and gets to her feet. “I need to run. I’m helping Dalton and Heddy pick up some final auction items.”

  Gloria groans. “That reminds me! I need to pick up the box that Frank was making for us.”

  Miriam reaches for her coat from the back of the chair. “Did you tell Cassondra about her box going to the dump?”

  “No. But I will. I tried to tell Maria yesterday but she was about to tell Ben that he’d been voted grand marshal.”

  “Maybe Frank’s box will bring in more money than Cassondra’s,” Miriam says, buttoning her coat.

  Gloria puts the cups into the dishwasher and snaps it closed. “Maybe. But it was the spirit of the thing. She gave it with such a sincere heart and I thought for sure that box was meant for someone at the fund-raiser.”

  “Maybe that box was meant for you alone.” Miriam is pulling on her gloves, taking painstaking effort to make sure each finger is pushed as far as it can go.

  “Why me?”

  Miriam shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe Cassondra’s giving of the box was to remind you to give like a child or have hope like a child.”