It Really IS a Wonderful Life
By Linda Wood Rondeau
IT REALLY IS A WONDERFUL LIFE BY LINDA RONDEAU
Published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC, 27614
ISBN 978-1-938499-45-6
Copyright © 2012 by Linda Rondeau
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION,
Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Cover design by Wisdom House Book: www.wisdomhousebooks.com
ebook conversion by Reality Premedia Services Pvt. Ltd. www.realitypremedia.com
Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at:
www.lighthousepublishingofthecarolinas.com
For more information on this book and the author visit: www.lindarondeau.com
All rights reserved. Non-commercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “It Really IS a Wonderful Life by Linda Rondeau published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Linda, Rondeau.
It Really IS a Wonderful Life / Linda Rondeau 1st ed.
Printed in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Epilogue
More Candle Light Reading from LPC
Prologue
Dorie threw the letter and shrugged as it landed on top of the leftover peanut butter sandwiches. Maybe she should finish reading it, just in case she’d misunderstood the opening paragraph. She picked up the memo again and flicked off the residue along its edges, skimming the next few lines. When done, she subdued the urge to scream. The kids were asleep—finally.
As she read, she mouthed the words with clenched jaws. “Thank you for your interest in Bargains Galore. I am sorry to inform you that the position for which you applied has been filled… .Blah, Blah, Blah. Sincerely, James Paul Sullivan …”
Regardless of the perfumed words, they still stung.
“What is it with this town?” She ripped the rejection into pieces and tossed it into the trash. “I can’t even get a job at the local dollar store. Somebody, somewhere, must need a computer programmer.”
Focus on the positive, Dorie. Mom’s voice echoed in her memory. She’d spent a great night with the children, her favorite people, a read-a-thon and Fern Gully, and bedtimes with no rebuttals from Josh or squalls from Emma, all huge positives.
But when the kids went to sleep, the nights became a desert crossing, interminably long and arid. She settled into the recliner—Devon’s chair—and flipped through the television channels. Nothing of interest. Just news, reruns, or cartoons.
She clicked off the television and picked up the newspaper. With a discordant sigh, she skipped over the first seven pages and turned to the classifieds. Scanning the five employment ads, she screeched an entire sonnet of Midville condemnations, then threw the paper at the wall.
Now her tirades beamed toward her late husband. “Devon, you had no right to get yourself blown up fighting a war nobody cares about anymore. How do you expect me to raise these kids on my own when I can’t even get a job?”
Boomer’s bark brought her back from the edge of uncontrolled rage, a precipice she teetered on all too often these days. He nudged the crumpled newsprint in her direction. Some people believed Irish setters could read minds, but the last she knew, they couldn’t read newspapers. Maybe he sensed something there—something good.
A breeze from the open window stirred its pages.
She bent over to pick it up. A jelly smudge brought her attention to the announcement: Midville Players casting call. Who would have thought a puny town like Midville would have a drama group?
Curiosity numbed her anger. “Midville Players will hold auditions for their upcoming Christmas production of It’s a Wonderful Life—”
Did she dare? She’d played an angel in a Christmas pageant once. That had been a lot of fun, and her teacher had said she was the best angel. This would be different, though. Still, what was the worst that could happen?
You’d look like a fool and find new depths of rejection.
Discretion warned her to avoid any more opportunities for failure.
“Now don’t let your mind go there, Dorie.”
Devon had always encouraged her to try new things. Besides, didn’t Daddy say the best way to find a job was to circulate? Since moving to Midville four months ago, her only networking had been with her parents’ retired church friends. Time to find a new circle of friends closer to her age.
She picked up the phone and hit the first number on her speed dial. “Mom, will you watch the kids for me tomorrow night?”
Chapter One
What a day!
Jamey Sullivan engaged the security system, then stepped outside Bargains Galore. He took out his Android and called Sherrie, his store manager.
“Hello, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Glad to hear your laryngitis is gone.” He’d hate to face another day of ledgers, carbon copies, and miles of cash-register receipts. Sullivan Enterprises operated in the dark ages of business machines.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back to train the new cashier tomorrow.”
“Glad to hear it. I hate the system we’re using. We need an overhaul.”
Sherrie huffed her defense. “Not a day goes by without your saying so, Mr. Sullivan. Our current system worked fine until we added the new stores. Maybe we do need a new way of doing things, but you know how I feel about change.”
Sherrie had been with Sullivan Enterprises since Jamey’s father opened the first store. Who better to lead the company into a new age? However, she’d refused every training offer he’d made. Not even Pop could change her mind.
“How’s Mr. Sullivan senior tonight?”
He sensed her empathy. “Thanks for asking. He keeps losing ground every day. He’s fading away before my eyes. I’d give anything to go fishing with him one more time.”
There weren’t many in Midville he’d miss when he left, except for Sherrie and his high school buddy Gabe Wellington. Sherrie was li
ke his second mother, sure to pin his ears back when he needed it and even quicker with an offer of encouragement when faced with disappointment.
“Not many sons would have done what you did, Mr. Sullivan, giving up a promising career to help an ailing parent. Midville’s proud of you.”
Midville might be proud of him, but any good deed wears thin after a while. Wasn’t four years enough of a sacrifice?
“By the way, aren’t you late for auditions?”
“On my way. Take care of yourself … see you tomorrow.”
Jamey checked his watch, pocketed his Android and hopped into his Nissan. He missed his Audi. Even his old Mini Cooper had more class than this gray sedan. He’d grown to accept it though, since Pops gave it to him. How could he refuse a dying man?
Jamey sighed as he turned onto the main road. Community theater could hardly match the thrill of Broadway, but for the moment, Pop needed him more than The Great White Way needed another self-deluded actor.
Yet, the unknown lingered in his soul. “For all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these ‘it might have been’.”
He’d wanted to take over the business from Pop, to do this one last thing for him. Love demanded it, not duty. Yet, Jamey doubted his motives. Was he still the little boy trying to win Pop’s approval?
When Pop got so sick that he’d stopped coming into the store, Jamey had suggested Pop sell the business since Junior Harwood wanted it badly enough. But Pop wouldn’t hear of it. Every time Jamey brought up the possibility Pop gave the same well-rehearsed monologue. “Son, Sullivan Enterprises prevents Harwood Industries from monopolizing Midville’s economy. Having two horses in town gives folks options.”
Jamey squeezed the steering wheel, his frustration intensifying with each thought. He’d have to tell Pop sooner or later about signing with an agent, but if he left now he’d feel like a traitor, deserting Pop when he needed help the most.
Jamey pulled into the Little Red Hen Preschool and surfed for a parking place. His usual spot next to Aunt Gillian had been taken by the owner of a red Cavalier with nearly bald tires and a scratched bumper. No one in the theater group drove that model. Someone new? Good. Midville Community Theater needed a few fresh faces.
He found an empty spot and let the Nissan idle while he convinced himself he should go through with the audition. What if his agent called? If he landed a role, would dropping out be fair to the cast?
Zeke “The Parrot” Fournier would make a good understudy. He never put his own slant on a role, but he could mimic anyone. Danny Riley was directing this play. If no one else understood Jamey’s hasty departure, Danny would.
But the question was, would Pop?
***
Dorie scanned the large play room of the Little Red Hen Preschool and took two deep breaths to calm her nerves. This seemed an odd place to hold auditions; then again, nothing about Midville fitted her expectations. While the crowd mingled, Dorie stood against the wall and trained her eyes on the carpet. If she kept still enough, maybe no one would notice her.
How silly. That would defeat her whole purpose in coming.
She glanced over the assembly of hopefuls for a familiar face. An older woman across the room looked like someone from Mom’s church.
Mom’s church.
Dorie shook her head with the thought. After four months, shouldn’t she think of Midville Community Church as her own? It’d be nice to feel more connected, but how?
Dorie strained to remember the woman’s name but blanked.
She caught a glimpse of a young man, mid to late twenties, coming toward her, not surprised she didn’t know him. Except for her parents, their pastor, and their friends, everyone in Midville was a stranger.
“Is this your first audition?” he asked.
At first glance, the obese giant of a man resembled Emma’s roly-poly doll, and Dorie half-expected him to rock back and forth when he talked. Zeke’s smudged work pants hung embarrassingly low off his waist. At least she guessed his name was Zeke since that was the name on his greasy shirt. She should be courteous. So far, he was the only one who seemed to notice her. And she had come here to make friends. Zeke looked like a mechanic, and a mechanic might be a good friend to have since Devon’s seven-year-old Cavalier rattled a bit here and there.
Daddy harped daily that the car needed new tires and a battery. He even went so far as to insist that Dorie buy an SUV. “Four-wheel drive is better for North Country winters.” Daddy was probably right. A lifelong car dealership owner, he could probably wrangle her a good deal, but no way could she part with Devon’s car and not feel like a traitor.
Gargantuan Man offered a handshake. “Hi, I’m Zeke Fournier.”
There was something likeable in the man’s friendliness. Guilt flushed through her soul because of her snobbery. “I’m Dorie Fitzgerald. I’m a little nervous. How does this thing go?”
“Have you filled out your audition form yet?” Zeke pointed toward a rail-thin woman whose child-sized knit top hung on her body like a shawl. She handed out forms with the efficiency of a nurse at a vaccination clinic. “You need to see Evie. And don’t be nervous. This theater group is pretty casual. I guarantee there’s not a wild animal in the bunch.”
“Everyone I’ve met in Midville seems nice. I’m relatively new in town. My folks retired here a few years ago. I joined them in June.”
Zeke smiled. “Welcome to Midville.”
“Have you done much theater, Zeke?”
“I’m in just about every play. Midville Players doesn’t have that many men, so I always get a part.”
Dorie smiled. For all his size, Zeke’s friendliness was a balm she desperately needed. He pointed to the far right corner. “That’s Danny Riley, the director. Evie’s the properties manager, but she often promotes herself as the assistant director. Danny likes getting new people involved, so you’re practically guaranteed some kind of part …”
Zeke droned on about the Midville Players while Dorie’s eyes zoomed in on Danny, whose near-black hair and yellow Oxford shirt set him apart from the flannel-clad men skirting nervously back and forth. An aura of confidence surrounded him as he sorted through a stack of papers. Even his diction demanded attention, his consonants accentuated with the precision of a Shakespearean actor.
“He’s a real asset to our theater group. He’s a playwright as well as a professional actor. Even played Hamlet on Broadway.”
Dorie glanced back toward Danny who owned a self-assured gait—not pompous, but rather purposeful. A picture-perfect, model-handsome man in Midville? She thought men like that existed only in fairy tales. She blushed at his allure.
“Danny’s not from Midville?”
“He was born here and came back two years ago with his wife and kids. Our version of Welcome Back, Kotter.”
Wife and kids? Dorie’s cheeks heated. Though Danny might be out of circulation, she’d noticed him, even held a vague romantic fantasy for a brief moment, the first since Devon had died. There was hope in that. Hope she might be ready to date again. As quickly as she held the hope, guilt squashed it. How could she think of a romance? It’d only been a year.
Dorie breathed fresh resolve. “Thanks for the intell’, Zeke. I’d better get one of those forms before it’s too late.”
Gestapo Woman rose from her chair as Dorie approached, her vaporous demeanor a wall of resistance. Dorie’s five-foot-four-with-pumps frame shadowed beneath Evie’s five-ten-with-flats height shadowed Dorie’s five-foot-four-with-heels frame. The woman hadn’t looked that tall from the other room. She glared at Dorie as if she were a plate of lima beans. Would Evie spit her out or swallow her whole?
“You’re late.”
Great! Rejected before she’d even had the chance to make a fool of herself. Mom always said the best way to deter a sour spirit was to offer a smile and a compliment.
“Evie, right?”
She nodded.
“I see you’re very efficient. I’m sorry for the in
convenience. I arrived early, but I didn’t know I had to fill out an audition form. May I please have one?”
Chapter Two
Jamey clicked his pen as he studied the audition form.
Every few minutes Evie had glanced his way, her eyebrows moving up and down in a grotesque attempt to flirt. He ignored her overtures, although she had her good points—almost attractive except for being thin, even thinner than he was, so thin she’d get lost behind a flagpole. Evie seemed all business, but he liked the unpredictable in a woman. Humorless, she tended to turn even the simplest tasks into a process. Definitely not his type.
Then again, what was? He hadn’t dated in over a year.
Not for lack of opportunity. There were lots of available, attractive women in Midville. Why take the risk? Small-town girls came with small-town visions, content with picket fences and brick houses. Not the life Jamey Sullivan pictured for himself. He wanted more. If he became romantically involved now, he’d have to break it off when he returned to the Big Apple - his personal end of the rainbow.
Jamey returned to completing his form. He scribbled his usual curt responses. Besides Danny Riley, no one in Midville came close to Jamey’s credentials. Ridiculous to keep stating the obvious. Danny gave Jamey meaty, supporting roles, roles requiring depth and empathy, roles he much preferred, like Quasimodo or Cyrano de Bergerac.
Evie’s squeaks brought him to attention. “I suppose I could let you fill one out, but you’ll have to give it to Danny yourself.”
Jamey studied the blonde Shirley Temple. Anyone tussling with Evie had to be either brave or naïve. The woman had been Midville High’s debate champion four years in a row. Should he play Gawain and rescue the fair maiden from the dragon’s claws? He handed the dragon his incomplete form. “Evie, would you be a doll and give this to Danny after you hand this nice lady a form to fill out? Danny knew I’d be late … business meeting at the store.” Evie’s eyes rolled but she gave the stranger a form, then stomped into the main room with Jamey’s paperwork.
It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long Page 1
