Christmas Treasure

by Bonnie Bryant

  “We could have a trash and treasure sale.” Stevie untied the red scarf from her neck. “There’s lots of stuff in my closet we could sell.”

  “Stevie, we’d have to pay someone to haul the junk in your closet away,” said Carole with a laugh. “I’ve seen what’s in there, and I don’t think anybody would be interested in buying it.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Stevie said with a sigh. “I probably do have a lot more trash than treasure.”

  The girls gazed at the empty table before them, trying to come up with an idea. “How about a bake sale?” Carole finally suggested. “We could bake cookies and cupcakes at home and sell them to hungry shoppers at the mall.”

  “That wouldn’t work for me,” said Lisa glumly. “I’m too busy baking scones and shortbread and bannocks for my mom to bake anything extra.”

  “Me neither.” Stevie looked embarrassed. “I’m not such a hot baker to begin with. The last cookies I baked came out of the oven as hard as rocks. Alex and Chad actually used them as hockey pucks at the ice rink one afternoon.”

  The waitress returned and put two cups of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows in front of them, along with Stevie’s red, white, and green sundae. “Enjoy,” she said, shaking her head at Stevie as she walked back to the counter.

  “There must be something we can do.” Carole frowned as she wrapped her hands around her cup.

  “I’ve got it!” cried Lisa. “This is so easy! Why don’t we set up a booth and just collect contributions? People shopping could come by and drop either money or toys right in. We could use a big cardboard box and paint a sign over it saying what we’re doing. We could work every afternoon after school and all day Saturday.”

  “That’s a great idea!” said Stevie. “We wouldn’t have to bake anything or haul a bunch of junk out of our closets.”

  “And we could work in shifts, so all of us wouldn’t have to be there all the time,” added Carole. “You’re a genius, Lisa!”

  “Thanks,” Lisa said with a smile.

  “Where could we set the booth up?” asked Stevie as she took a big bite of ice cream.

  “Why not right here, in front of TD’s?” said Lisa. “They probably wouldn’t mind, and Stevie can run in for refreshments if she starts feeling faint.”

  “Good thinking,” said Stevie. “But we’ll have to ask the manager.”

  “Maybe the waitress will ask him for us,” said Lisa. “Carole, you ask her. She thinks you’re a celebrity.”

  “You really think so?” Carole took a sip of her hot chocolate.

  Stevie nodded. “Absolutely. You’ve got the best chance with her. She thinks I’m crazy, and she doesn’t really know Lisa, but you—you’re a big star.”

  Just then the waitress came over to the table with their checks. “Anything else I can get you girls?”

  “Actually, there is.” Carole took a deep breath. “We’re trying to raise money to help out my dad and the Marine Corps, and we were wondering if we might set up a collection booth outside your store.”

  “A collection booth?” The waitress frowned.

  “Yes. We’d like to collect money and toys from the people who shop at this center. We’d have a sign, and we’d stay away from your door and everything. And we’d be gone by Christmas Eve.”

  The waitress gave a quizzical frown. “If it were up to me, I’d say sure, but I’ll have to ask the manager. Sit right there and let me see what he says.”

  She went behind the counter and disappeared into the back room. For a long moment nothing happened.

  “What do you think he’s saying?” Stevie asked in a whisper. “Maybe he thinks we’re just too weird and he doesn’t want us hanging around the shop at all.”

  “Oh, Stevie, don’t be paranoid,” said Lisa. “We’re good customers. We may be a little weird, but think of all the hundreds of dollars we’ve spent on ice cream in the past year.”

  In a moment the waitress appeared from the back room and walked over to their table. “The manager says okay. Normally he wouldn’t go for it, but I told him you were good kids and this was for a real good cause. And, shoot, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?”

  “Thanks,” the girls all said together.

  “We really appreciate it,” Carole added with a smile.

  “I hope you get lots of money,” the waitress said as she took the money for their ice cream. “Imagine, people mean enough to steal toys from needy children.” She shook her head again as she walked to the cash register.

  “Okay,” Carole said, leaning over the table excitedly. “So far, so good. Now what?”

  “My parents just got a new TV set,” said Stevie. “The box is huge and it’s still in the garage. We could use that.”

  “I could work the first shift tomorrow after school,” Lisa volunteered. “My Scottish relatives are due in late tomorrow afternoon, but I could work until they come.”

  “Okay,” said Carole. “Then I’ll make the sign. I think we’ve got some cardboard at home I can use.”

  “All right,” Stevie said. “Then, Carole, you make the sign, I’ll bring the box, and we’ll all meet here tomorrow as soon after school as we possibly can. We’ll set up right outside the door, so everyone who walks down this way will be sure to see us. If they ask what we’re doing, we’ll say we’re The Saddle Club from Pine Hollow Stables, and we’re proud to be helping the U.S. Marines.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Carole with a grin.

  Stevie held her hand up for a high five. “Then the Marines can relax! The Saddle Club is on the job! And with a few good girls to help them out, it’s bound to be a success!”

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON Carole and Lisa met in front of TD’s. Though the air was cold, the sun was bright and the area was teeming with shoppers. Carole carried a large sign attached to a rake handle, while Lisa had brought a manila envelope to store their money in.

  “Wonder where Stevie is?” Lisa asked, looking around the parking lot for the Lakes’ station wagon.

  “Her school gets out later than ours does,” replied Carole. “She’ll probably be here in a few minutes. Let’s go ahead and lean our sign up against the building.”

  Lisa looked at the sign Carole had made, HELP THE U.S. MARINE CORPS CHRISTMAS TOY DRIVE was spelled out in bright red letters, but a curious, blobby-looking ball was splattered in the middle of the sign. Lisa frowned. “What’s that basketball thing supposed to be?”

  “The Marine Corps insignia.” Carole gave a sheepish laugh and shrugged. “It doesn’t look much like the world with an anchor through it, does it?”

  Lisa tilted her head to one side and squinted with one eye. “Well, it kind of does if you look at it this way.”

  Carole giggled. “I guess I’m not such a great artist. Maybe people will just read the letters and not notice anything else.”

  Just then a woman carrying a shopping bag from an expensive store came out of TD’s. She wore a long fur coat with a matching fur hat. Lisa nudged Carole with her elbow. “Look,” she whispered with excitement. “Our first customer!” She stepped forward.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but we’re collecting money to help the Marines replace the stolen toys.” Lisa held open her envelope. “Would you like to make a donation?”

  “Not today,” the woman snapped. She gave Lisa and Carole a funny look and clutched her shopping bag close to her chest as she hurried down the sidewalk.

  “Gosh.” Carole blinked. “Wonder what was the matter with her?”

  “I don’t think we look professional.” Lisa frowned. “I mean, it’s just you standing there with a sign and me with an envelope. We need Stevie and that big box. It’s almost three-thirty. Where could she be?”

  Suddenly they heard a car horn. They looked across the parking lot. There, scrambling out of the back of the Lakes’ station wagon, was Stevie, carrying a huge box high above her head. It had pictures of toys pasted to it, and it was almost bigger than she was.

  “Look!” Carole laughed
. “She looks like a human box with legs!”

  Stevie teetered across the street carrying the box, finally careening onto the sidewalk. “There!” she said with a gasp. “Here’s the collection box. Sorry I’m late. We had to drop Alex off at basketball practice.”

  “It’s okay,” said Carole. “We’ve only had one customer, anyway.”

  “Did we get any money?” Stevie asked, her eyes bright.

  Lisa shook her head. “No. I don’t think the woman took us seriously. But everybody will now, since you brought that box. Those pictures on it look great.”

  “Thanks. My mom said we could bring out old beach chairs to sit in. They’re in the back of the car.” Stevie ran to her car and returned with three aluminum chairs. Carole arranged the box just beside TD’s front window and leaned the sign up against the wall. Once they were set up, Mrs. Lake waved and drove off.

  “There,” said Stevie, stepping back to survey their collection booth. “It looks good. Now all we have to do is wait for people to come by. I bet we’ll have a hundred dollars by the time my mom picks us up.”

  They unfolded their chairs, sat down behind the box, and waited. Several people in cars drove by and looked at their sign, while a few other shoppers went into the electronics store near TD’s. One man stopped and said how terrible it was that criminals were now stealing from needy children. He wished them lots of luck but donated no money. A little later two other women stopped because they’d seen Carole on television.

  “Is Tress Montgomery as glamorous in person as she is on the air?” asked a woman who wore bright purple ear-muffs.

  “Yes,” answered Carole. “And she’s very concerned about all the toys being stolen. Would you like to give a donation?”

  “I’m on a real tight budget because of Christmas,” the earmuffed lady explained. “But I can give a little,” she added as she dropped a dollar into Stevie’s box.

  For a long time nobody else came by. The sun began to set and the air grew colder. Far down at the other end of the walkway the girls could see another person collecting for another charity, only this person was dressed in a Santa Claus suit and was ringing a bell.

  “Maybe tomorrow we should bring a bell and dress up in Santa Claus suits,” said Stevie with a sigh, eyeing the single dollar lying in the bottom of the box. “Maybe that would attract more attention.”

  “I know,” agreed Lisa, rubbing her hands to keep them warm. “We’ve got to do something. I’m going to have to go in a few minutes, and we’ve only gotten one dollar.”

  “When are you relatives arriving?” Carole asked. Maybe if they talked about something else for a while their collection problems wouldn’t seem so bad.

  “Late this afternoon.” Lisa rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “Did you and your mother get everything baked?” asked Stevie.

  Lisa nodded. “I think we must have baked everything that’s ever been invented to bake in Scotland. Plus, we’ve cleaned the house from top to bottom, until it shines. Our house could be a five-star hotel!”

  Carole frowned. “Are your relatives real picky?”

  “I don’t think so. I haven’t seen them in years, but they used to be just regular, normal people. I think my mother’s just gone off the deep end, as usual.” All the girls knew that Mrs. Atwood often worked overly hard at getting things as close to perfect as possible.

  “Do they have any kids?” Stevie asked.

  “They have two sons, Eliot and Douglas, who are about our age, and twin baby girls whom I’ve never met. Since I’m in charge of entertaining Eliot and Douglas, I thought I’d bring them over to Pine Hollow so you guys could meet them. They’re really nice.”

  Stevie snickered. “Do they wear kilts and dance those jigs?”

  “I don’t think so.” Lisa shook her head. “Mom is pretty sure they wear jeans.”

  “Good,” said Carole. “Then we can take them riding.” Just then a car pulled up beside the curb. “Hi, girls!” Mrs. Atwood called as she rolled down her window. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine, Mrs. Atwood,” Carole and Stevie called together.

  “Lisa, you need to come home now. The Rosses are on the way,” Mrs. Atwood said.

  Lisa got up from her chair. “Bye, guys. Sorry I have to leave. Good luck with the toy campaign. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  “Bye, Lisa,” Stevie said. “Thanks for all your help.”

  They sat there and watched as Mrs. Atwood drove away. “Gosh,” Carole sighed. “It feels like it’s getting colder.”

  “I know.” Stevie rubbed her arms to keep warm. “Why don’t I go get us some hot chocolate? My mom gave me some extra money in case we got cold.”

  “That would be great, Stevie.” Carole smiled.

  Stevie disappeared into TD’s. A few more people passed by Carole and the big box. All were sorry the Marines’ toys had been stolen, but everyone seemed to be in a hurry—rushing around to get their own Christmas errands accomplished. By the time Stevie returned with two cups of hot chocolate, Carole had collected only ten more dollars.

  “I don’t think we’re going to have a hundred dollars by the end of the day,” Carole announced sadly as Stevie handed her a cup. “I don’t think we’re even going to have twenty-five dollars.”

  “This is terrible,” said Stevie. “I don’t understand. Everybody’s sorry the toys were stolen, but nobody wants to do anything about it.”

  “I think people are just too caught up in their own business.” Carole blew on her hot chocolate. “I mean they’re all buying presents or buying wrapping paper or going to the supermarket to get stuff for Christmas meals. It’s like they want to help, but they just don’t have the time.”

  Stevie took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Maybe this afternoon isn’t such a great afternoon. I mean, maybe tomorrow afternoon will be better. And Saturday. Everybody’s in a good mood on Saturdays.”

  The girls sat and drank their hot chocolate. Carole thought about how disappointed her father would be when she came home and told him that they’d collected only eleven dollars all day. She knew he would be very proud of them for trying, but she wanted to show him that The Saddle Club could make an important contribution. The sun was sinking low in the sky and a cold wind had started to blow from the west when Stevie tapped her on the shoulder.

  “I don’t know about you,” Stevie began, “but I’m freezing.” She peeked inside the box. “We’ve gotten eleven dollars so far. What do you say we call it quits for today and start again tomorrow afternoon? My mom should be here in a few minutes, anyway.”

  “Okay,” Carole said resignedly. She looked at Stevie. Her cheeks were bright pink. “Maybe everybody will be more in the Christmas spirit tomorrow.”

  They stood up and began folding their chairs. Suddenly they heard footsteps hurrying along the sidewalk behind them. “Why, what’s this?” a voice asked. “Is somebody giving away kittens?”

  They turned around. An elderly woman stood there, peering into the box. She was dressed in baggy, paint-spattered jeans and a rumpled, dirty-looking coat. Battered tennis shoes with unmatched laces were tied on her feet, and she wore a green stocking cap pulled down to her ears. She looked quizzically up at Carole and Stevie through thick glasses. “There aren’t any kittens in here! Just money.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am,” Carole explained quickly. “We’re not giving away kittens. We’re trying to collect money to replace the toys that were stolen from the Marines’ toy drive warehouse.”

  “Stolen?” The woman blinked. Her eyes were pale blue. “When?”

  “Two nights ago,” said Stevie. “You may have seen my friend Carole here on television. She was in the paper, too.”

  “No, I don’t have a television, and I haven’t taken the paper in years.” The woman chirped a little birdlike laugh. “There’s too much bad news to read about these days, anyway. I’ve heard it can raise your blood pressure to dangerous levels!”

  Stevie and Carole exchanged a q
uick glance. This was one of the strangest conversations they’d ever had.

  “You say somebody stole all the Marines’ toys?” she asked again. “What are the Marines doing with toys, anyway? They’re grown men!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carole replied. “But every year the Marines collect toys for all the needy children in the area. This year somebody broke into their warehouse and stole all the toys. If we don’t help, none of these children will have anything for Christmas.”

  “Oh, how terrible.” The old woman’s blue eyes softened with concern. For a moment she looked as if she might cry. “I can’t think of anything worse than some little child not getting anything for Christmas.” She wasn’t carrying a purse, so she dug down into the pocket of her jeans. She pulled out a key, a wadded-up tissue, and two dollar bills.

  “Here,” she said, dropping one of the bills into Stevie and Carole’s box. “Take this. It’s not much, but it might help some.” She gave an apologetic smile. “Everybody deserves something at Christmas.”

  “But—” Stevie began.

  “Merry Christmas to you, girls,” the old woman said, hurrying away. “I’ve got to hurry and catch my bus.”

  “Thank you!” Stevie and Carole called together. They watched as the woman hurried off, whistling and talking to herself. She walked to the bus stop, said something to the person in the Santa Claus suit ringing the bell, and sat down on a bench. In a moment the bus pulled up. The doors opened and the woman climbed on. She waved to Stevie and Carole as the bus passed by and pulled into the late-afternoon traffic.

  “Gosh,” said Stevie, waving back. “I was going to give her dollar back to her. She’s probably on some senior citizen gift list herself.”

  “I know,” Carole agreed. “Do you think she’s homeless? I can’t imagine that anybody who had a real home would be out dressed like that.”

  Stevie shook her head. “I don’t know. She sure doesn’t look like she has a lot of money.”

  Carole swallowed hard. “I know. And she gave half of what little she had to buy toys for needy children. And that woman who was wearing a fancy fur coat didn’t give us a dime.”