Candy Cane Calaboose

by Spaeth, Janet

  She’d stay for this one song, and that was it. How long could a song take? A minute, two tops, right? She’d allow herself the luxury of one song, then she had to get to work.

  But the lure of the familiar carols soon wrapped their magic around her, and she stayed for “He Is Born” and “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.” As the last note drifted into silence, she glanced at her neighbor’s watch.

  It was a few minutes after ten!

  Trends was already open! She scooped up her purse and made a hasty, muted farewell to the members of the hymn sing and raced out the door, down the hall, past a surprised Nadine, and into the cold clear air of a Minnesota morning.

  It wasn’t as if no one was at Trends to open it. Selma was scheduled to be there at eight-thirty, and she was so reliable that Abbey knew she was there by eight-fifteen. But Abbey needed to be at the mall, at Trends.

  Actually, what she needed was to be away from here, away from Golden Meadows and this whole bizarre scene with Mike. And away from all those hymns. Her mind swam with the memories of long-neglected melodies, and the words came back to haunt her. It was amazing how easily they sprang back into her mind, although it had been years since she’d set foot inside a church.

  The carols, of course, she’d heard every minute of every hour of every day since November fifth, the official start of the holiday season at the mall. She could sing them in her sleep. Abbey snorted. She probably did sing them in her sleep.

  She snapped her attention back to the road as a patch of ice nearly sent her car spinning off the paved parking lot. Now there was a metaphor she could understand: Be in control. Hold the steering wheel tightly and never take your eyes off the road ahead, and you will stay directed. For her, that meant staying on track, straight toward her MBA and a real career with mega-bucks in her bank account. If she kept her target in sight, as she had been, she’d stay on the path to her heart’s treasure.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear Aunt Luellen saying something about heart’s treasure. Abbey shrugged. If it was Aunt Luellen, it was undoubtedly something from the Bible.

  She’d had her dose of religion for the day. A couple of rousing Christmas carols, and look at her. She was wrapped in that soft-focus, greeting-card kind of glow that retailers relied on to pull them through the Christmas season.

  There were Christian retailers, she was sure, who looked upon the season as a time to celebrate Jesus’ birth. But there were just as many, if not more, who saw this as a season of profits, and a tiny baby born in a stable played only a minor part in it. The thought saddened her, even though she wasn’t a dyed-in-the-wool Christian like Aunt Luellen.

  Christmas was the base of the retailer’s year. It was what carried them though the lean times in other months and kept them going. Without Christmas to boost their sales, many stores would not be able to stay in business. And now that she was a store manager, she was part of the feeding frenzy when it came to Christmas. She had to be. She had a responsibility to the storeowners and the other employees. Abbey sighed and pushed away the thoughts that jostled around in her mind, arguing with each other. Why did Christmas have to be so complicated?

  She pulled out of the Golden Meadows parking area and into the stream of traffic, trying to squish the not-so-tiny voice that insisted she didn’t believe a word she was thinking—that Christmas was a time of holiness and joy, and that stores like Trends played only the most minor of roles in its celebration.

  The wise men may have bought the newborn Jesus gifts of incomparable value, but somehow she didn’t think they would have shopped at the Cedar Mall, with “forty-two individual stores offering the region’s widest assortment of shopping pleasure,” as the television commercial boasted.

  As if on cue, she could hear Aunt Luellen’s voice from many childhood Christmases: “The greatest gift of all was not what they brought Him but what He brought us.”

  Abbey sighed. That was true. What was a television set compared to everlasting life?

  Or a pair of goofily grinning frog slippers?

  five

  The mall was already filling with customers, even though it had been open less than an hour. Selma was busily refreshing the stock from one of the cartons that seemed to arrive every hour, although Abbey knew deliveries were only twice a day.

  “Hey, Stranger, good to see you! Don’t tell me you over-slept!” Her clerk grinned at her.

  “Ha. I don’t even sleep, so oversleeping is too much to ask for.” Abbey said it lightly, but the weariness that seeped into her bones told her that her words weren’t that far from the truth.

  “No kidding. One of these days you’ll have to try sleeping. It’s vastly underrated, at least in your world,” Selma commented wryly.

  “After Christmas. Then I’ll have time.”

  Selma snorted inelegantly. “After Christmas come the returns, then it’s Valentine’s Day, then. . .”

  “Okay, I’ll take a Wednesday off sometime and try sleeping.”

  “Wednesdays are Senior Citizens days here, remember?”

  Abbey made a face at her salesclerk. “Whatever. I’m too tired to argue.” Their eyes met, and both women laughed.

  “Okay, lecture ended. Now, where do you want these?” Selma handed Abbey a box of brightly colored slipper socks, and Abbey gasped.

  She’d gone all the way out to Golden Meadows to pick up the gift, but she’d left without it. She slammed her fist down on the counter.

  “Okay,” Selma said, drawing the two syllables out. “What just took you from mellow to mad?”

  “These slippers.”

  In one smooth movement, Selma reached out, took the box, and tossed it under the counter, then smiled innocently at her boss. “What slippers?”

  “No, no,” Abbey responded with a frustrated sigh. “They just reminded me that I was supposed to pick something up, and I forgot. Now I have to go back, and I don’t really want to.”

  Selma knelt to get the box again. “Anything I can do to help?” Her voice was muffled from under the counter.

  Now there was an idea! Selma could go to Golden Meadows. . . . But before the thought took full root, Abbey dismissed it. She had to see this through to the end.

  “No, I’m just busily berating myself. For some reason I can’t seem to remember to pick up the gift my aunt Luellen sent to Golden Meadows.”

  “She sent your Christmas present to Golden Meadows? Isn’t that a retirement home?” Selma threw back her head and roared with laughter. “Honey, I think your auntie is trying to tell you something!”

  “You are not even a little bit funny,” Abbey responded, although she had to smile. “All I need is a simple brain transplant, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Would that be out-patient surgery?” Selma ducked the teasing swipe Abbey gave her.

  The two spent the rest of the day companionably un-packing new arrivals and setting up the merchandise. As soon as they emptied one box, another arrived to take its place, or so it seemed. Between the two of them, they barely made a dent in the towering stacks of cardboard boxes, all marked “URGENT: OPEN FIRST.”

  “I’m here!” The voice of the college student who worked part-time called to them from the front of the store.

  “Hi, Brianna.” Abbey groaned as she rose from the crouched position where she’d been retrieving an entire boxed shipment of rings that had broken open a few moments ago. Rings had rolled all over the store, coming to rest in the most difficult-to-reach positions. “What are you doing here so early?”

  “Early?” Brianna looked confused. “I’m here to work. I’m supposed to be here at five, aren’t I?”

  Abbey and Selma exchanged glances. Selma said affectionately, “Yes, Dear, but it’s only—” She consulted her watch and gasped. “It’s nearly five!”

  “No wonder I’m so hungry. Selma, you can go on home, and Brianna, if you’ll straighten that holiday sweatshirt display, I’ll—”

  “Get something to eat.” Selma pushed Abb
ey toward the front of the store. “You haven’t even had lunch, and I suspect you skipped breakfast too. I’m on for another hour anyway, and Brianna and I can certainly cover long enough for you to get a decent meal.”

  Abbey opened her mouth to object when a familiar voice spoke from behind her.

  “I’ll take care of it, Selma. Come on, Abbey, let’s go get some grub.” Mike grinned at her.

  “Some grub?” Brianna laughed out loud. “Man, you’ve got to do something about your romantic style.”

  It seemed to Abbey that everyone began to speak at once, and the mayhem ended only when she was unceremoniously shoved outside the open gate of Trends, her coat in her hands, with Mike laughing at her side.

  “I think we’re going out to dinner,” he said at last.

  “I don’t need my coat for that. Actually, I don’t need dinner at all but—” As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly.

  “The case of the tattletale tummy,” Mike said. “Let’s go.”

  “Just let me put my coat back. We can run down to the pretzel place and grab a stuffed pretzel and a soda.”

  He put his hand on her arm. “No pretzels. We’re going to go out for a real dinner.”

  “A real meal?” A terrible thought struck her. He had said that he often ate with his grandmother. “Oh, no, Mike. We’re not going to eat at Golden Meadows.”

  He shook his head. “No, but I do go out there sometimes to eat with Grandma. I like to do that.”

  She shuddered. “I don’t mean to be horrid, but I can’t imagine that being anything you’d want to do.”

  “Well, I like it. But that’s not where we’re going to-night. We’re going to a real restaurant, the kind where you sit down, they hand you a menu, you get a salad and a meal with vegetables. And maybe a dessert that doesn’t come wrapped in plastic.”

  It did sound good. So Abbey allowed herself to be ushered through the icy-cold parking lot, then driven to a nearby family restaurant, Ginger’s. The restaurant’s brick and glass exterior was softened by chintz curtains and tablecloths, and Abbey detected the warm inviting scent of meatloaf. She had to admit it; this was a great idea. She was starving.

  “This must be new. I’ve never been in here before,” she said as she sipped the water the waitress handed her.

  Mike shot her a curious look. “It’s been here about a year and a half. I’d ask where you’ve been, but I know—working.”

  “That’s not really fair,” Abbey protested. “It’s not like I don’t have any life at all outside Trends.”

  Mike smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry. It came out sounding harsher by far than I intended. It’s just that it’s been true of me. I realized that my whole life was revolving around work. I’m trying to cut back a bit.”

  Abbey couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’re cutting back? That’s ludicrous.”

  He seemed surprised. “Why do you say that? I don’t work nearly as many hours as you do.”

  “Who was the only person besides me at the mall at eleven o’clock at night when I got locked out of the store? You. Mike Tucker. Workaholic.”

  He had the grace to look abashed. “That’s true. But I am trying to do better. Like not grabbing a hot dog or a pretzel in the evening and calling it dinner.”

  “We’re busy, Mike,” she said in her own defense—their own defense. “It’s not like we have the time to do full-course meals.”

  “We don’t? I don’t know about you, but I’ve been neglect-ing myself lately.”

  “Neglecting yourself?”

  “I know. Sounds kind of selfish, doesn’t it? But I’m starting to realize that I’ve got to take care of my body. And that includes eating right as well as getting some exercise.”

  Abbey glanced at him suspiciously. “Are you one of those exercise fanatics?”

  He struck an exaggerated muscle-man pose. “I’m in the running for Mr. America, hadn’t you noticed?” He laughed, and for the first time she noticed that he had dimples. Actually, very cute dimples. The kind that made his eyes light up like— She broke off that train of thought before it could go further.

  He was still talking, and she pulled her attention back to his words. “So I promised myself that one day I’ll join a gym, and I will, but right now if I can make a turn around the mall with the other mall walkers, I consider it my exercise for the day. No, right now I’m aiming for some sleep and some veggies. Baby steps first.”

  The waitress appeared with their coffee. “You ready to order?”

  Her words took Abbey by surprise. She hadn’t even looked at the menu. “What do you recommend?” she asked Mike.

  “They have really good soup,” he said.

  Soup sounded wonderful. Nice and warm and filling, the perfect food for a cold December evening.

  “I’ll be right out with the bread,” the server said as she collected their menus and left.

  “We get a loaf of homemade bread with flavored butter. It comes with our meal,” Mike said. “It’s just this side of heaven.”

  “I haven’t had homemade bread in years,” Abbey commented. “Not since Mom made it, and that has to be, wow, four years ago? They’ve been gone that long?”

  Mike’s forehead wrinkled with concern, and it took Abbey a moment to realize why. “Oh, I didn’t mean that kind of gone, I meant gone as in gone from Minnesota. They live in Connecticut now. Dad was transferred just shortly after I graduated from high school. I guess that’s something you wouldn’t have known.”

  He nodded. “Probably. Are you going to go out there for Christmas?”

  “No.” For the first time since she and her parents had been separated, she felt a twinge at being apart from them at the holidays, but she quickly suppressed it. “That’s okay. We’ve only got Christmas Day off anyway. It’s not worth it. What about you?”

  “Well, Dad passed on last year.”

  Abbey felt herself flush. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. What a horrible thing to bring up at this time of year.”

  “It’s certainly true I miss him, but I miss him every day of the year. It’s still raw, and it hurts, but I know he’s celebrating Christmas in heaven.” He smiled contemplatively. “To be honest, that’s what gets me through. I know you might not believe it, but it’s enough.”

  His words took her by surprise, and her expression must have mirrored her feelings, because he continued, “I’m not saying that those first days didn’t hurt with a pain as if someone had cut my heart right out of my chest, but my faith is strong, and his faith was stronger. He taught me that this life is great. . .and the next life is going to be even greater.”

  “How about your mother?” Abbey wanted to change the subject. She was in no mood for the turn the conversation was taking. She didn’t want to think about things like religion, at least not now. She wanted to relax.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t believe, not really. She did. She just didn’t have the time to reason it all out. One of these days she would, when she had time.

  Mike didn’t seem to be bothered by her lack of inter-est in his family’s faith. “Mom moved to Arizona, and she lives with her sister in a mobile home where she can reach out her bedroom window and pick an orange for breakfast. She says she doesn’t care if she never sees another snowflake.”

  “So she’s not coming up here for Christmas?”

  He shook his head. “No. I won’t get to see her at all this Christmas, sad to say. I have to stay here because of the store. This is the worst time of year for a toy store owner to take a vacation.”

  Abbey smiled. “I suppose you’re right. It’s the price you pay for owning your own store.”

  “Keep that in mind, Abbey, in case you decide to trade in managing for ownership. But I’ll pop down there in February and visit. Right about then I figure I’ll really need a blast of warmth. It’ll be interesting to see what she thinks about celebrating Christmas in the desert.”

  “Arizona is a real change from Minnesota,” Abbey commented. “I d
on’t know if I could do it. I need snow and sweaters and mittens for it to be Christmas.”

  “I know what you mean,” he agreed. “But there are times when I think I’d really like to try a Christmas without snow.” He shivered. “Like last night. Did you hear how cold it got? Can you imagine what it must have been like to live here before electricity?”

  “I remember reading about how people used to live in sod houses,” Abbey said. “First off, I can’t for a minute imagine what that was like.” She shuddered. “Living in a house made of dirt? And what was it like to heat it by a stove? I’m glad to have my house, that’s for sure.”

  “And my coffeemaker,” Mike added, with a wry grin. “These cold mornings, I think I take all that for granted.”

  Their food arrived, but they barely noticed it, chatting companionably about the blessings of modern appliances, especially furnaces. All too soon, the soup was gone, the coffee cups drained, and Mike leaned back and rubbed his stomach. “I don’t know about you, but I’m stuffed. We’d better get back.”

  They’d talked about nothing, but at the same time they’d talked about everything. Abbey thought that over as they rode in the comfortable dark cocoon of Mike’s car. Somehow she felt she knew Mike better, but how on earth had that happened? The most personal their conversation had gotten was about their parents and where they lived now. Hardly the kind of thing that would qualify as an innermost secret. But now she felt closer to him.

  And, she realized with surprise, she liked him. She really liked him.

  He pulled into the snowy stretches of the mall’s parking lot. As she opened the door on her side of the car, he pulled on the handle from the outside. Suddenly their faces were only inches from each other, and the strangest thing happened. Her mouth poised for his kiss, and she felt herself leaning in toward him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Abbey hadn’t had much experience with romance. Her knowledge was pretty much limited to some clandestine smooching behind the school with Edwin Carlson when she was fourteen. But she’d heard that a really good fellow and a really good kiss would sweep her off her feet.