Christmas Carol Clash

by Danni Roan

  “He’s a cat.”

  “Well yeah, but he has never broken anything in my shop. He doesn’t climb on the shelves, and if he walks across a table, he doesn’t even disturb the covering.”

  “So, he just decided to come terrorize me today, on the day before I open?” Her voice was sharp and filled with pain.

  Ryan felt his hand tighten on Carol’s. “I’ll help you put it back together.” His eyes bore into hers, and he smiled when she nodded.

  Carol didn’t know why she was accepting the man’s help, but she felt herself nod. “Thanks.”

  Something warm and strong brushed against her ankles, and Carol looked down to see the frustrating feline rubbing against her boots. “Now, he comes out.”

  “He likes you,” Ryan said, bending and picking up the cat that went slack in his arms. It was like trying to hold a greased watermelon, but somehow the young man held on. “Kooter, want a ride?” He lifted the cat to his shoulder, but the cat slid off, forcing him to ease the animal to the floor.

  “I’ll let my mom know what happened,” Ryan said. “She’s watching the shop. Then I’ll be right back.”

  “What about the cat?” Carol’s eyes were huge with horror that he was about to leave the animal purring on her feet.

  “Hopefully, he’ll follow me. Come on, Kooter,” he called, walking toward the door, but the cat stayed firm, rolling up into a fuzzy ball and wriggling on Carol’s boots.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ryan dodged out the door holding it for a moment in hopes that the cat would come home, but it just stayed there purring so loud you could hear it over the Christmas music.

  “Hurry,” Carol said, afraid to move for fear of falling. How much more damage would it cause if she tripped over the cat and crashed into another display. “You’re horrid,” she said, looking down at the massive cat as the door dinged shut. “You know that? Horrid.”

  The cat tucked in his paws and wiggled his back against her boots, holding her hostage in her shop.

  “Mom?” she questioned, wondering where her mother had gotten off to, but no one answered came back.

  ***

  “Mom,” Ryan crashed into his shop looking for his mother and found her standing at the coffee spot with another woman, similar in age.

  “I need this recipe,” the other woman said as she nibbled a cookie. “You did a great job on the decorations. I’m supposed to make a big batch for the opening tomorrow.”

  “Mom,” Ryan hurried toward his mother.

  “Ryan, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Evergreen. She’s a big baker, just like me.”

  “Hello,” Ryan said, distracted. “Um, mom, can you watch the shop?” His eyes flicked to the other woman. “There’s been a little accident next door, and I promised to help clean it up.”

  “What?” Mrs. Evergreen gasped. “Is Carol okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ryan’s eyes flickered to hers. “I’m afraid my cat got into the shop and knocked down a tree.” He felt his face flush, but there was nothing else he could do. “Kooter refuses to leave.”

  “The cat?” Mrs. Evergreen blinked. “Oh, dear. I’m allergic, you know. I can’t possibly come back in there if he’s still there.”

  “Ryan, you go on and take care of the mess. Judy and I’ll stay here and swap recipes.”

  “Thanks,” Ryan sighed. “I’ll try to get back soon. I’m sorry,” he added, turning and walking back out the door.

  Chapter 6

  Carol dropped to the floor, her legs crossed as the cat continued to occupy her boots. “You big beast,” she grumbled as the cat rolled onto her lap, then lifted his head, bumping it against her chin.

  As angry as she was at the animal, a smile twitched on her lips, and the deep rumbling purr seemed to soothe her. “I’m still mad at you,” she snipped, rubbing the cat’s ears. “You ruined one of my best displays.”

  The cat made that strange cacking noise at her, and Carol shook her head. “I hope that means you’re sorry.”

  The door opened again, and Mr. Troutman walked back in. He looked nice in a pair of dark trousers, a creamy yellow shirt, and a pumpkin-colored sweater vest.

  “Your cat won’t let me up.”

  Ryan walked toward her, a sad smile on his lips as he offered her his hand and pulled her back to her feet. “Our mother’s are in my shop swapping cookie recipes.”

  Carol shook her head. “My mom won't step foot in here with this beast in the shop.” She pointed at Kooter, who blinked at her. “She’s allergic.”

  Kooter twisted around Carol’s legs one more time then walked away, tail high before pouncing onto the counter next to the cash register and curling up.

  “I don’t think he plans on leaving anytime soon. How about we get to work and you can give me a bill for the damages.” Ryan’s warm eyes seemed to melt some of the frost around Carol’s heart, and she nodded, heading toward the wreckage of the tree. What was done was done, and she needed to make the best of it.

  “I’ll have to figure out the cost of every single trinket,” she sighed wearily; this was not the plan for the day.

  Ryan grasped the tree around the middle and lifted, cringing with every little shard of glass that tinkled back to the battered linoleum floor. He still couldn’t understand what had gotten into Kooter. The cat had never bothered the tree at his parents’ home or any other as far as he knew. Whatever had possessed him to climb this one?”

  “You don’t have catnip in any of these ornaments, do you?” Ryan asked as he set the tree back on its stand.

  “No,” Carol grinned, knowing the man was trying to reason out what had gotten into his cat.

  “Maybe we’d better secure this so it can’t fall over again.”

  “What are you going to do,” Carol’s grin brightened, “hang it from the ceiling so your feline friend can’t wreck it again?”

  Ryan laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve seen those images online,” his bright grin filled Carol’s heart. “I’m pretty sure they’re photo shopped, but you can’t tell. After all, cats do make the internet go round.”

  Carol found herself laughing as she walked to the back room and grabbed a broom, shaking her head. She was trying to let go of the pain from the mess on the floor. She needed to move forward.

  Ryan picked up an undamaged ornament and placed it carefully on a shelf. He could only imagine what this little feline fit was going to cost him. A handful of ornaments later, he thought that perhaps the damage might not be so great.

  A soft rattle from the corner caught his attention, and the young man hurried to where Kooter was batting at a hand-painted ornament.

  “If you break that,” Ryan hissed, “So help me, I’m dropping you at the pound tonight.”

  The cat sat back on his haunches, blinking up at the man who had taken him in as a half-drowned kitten meowing in the rain. Eyes still on the young man before him, the cat gave the ornament a swat rolling it right to Ryan’s toes.

  Ryan scooped up the ornament glaring at his cat and then sighed as he let out a breath. The decoration was of a cat, and it looked a lot like Kooter, right down to the big green eyes. “Relative?” he asked, placing the ornament on the shelf with care.

  Kooter turned away and began cleaning his paws.

  “Oh, you found the cat ornament,” Carol walked back into the main room with a broom and dustpan in hand. “I got that on the first day I arrived.”

  Leaning the broom against the wall, Carol picked up the ornament. It felt warm to the touch, and she could only assume it was from Mr. Troutman holding it a moment ago.

  “It’s cute,” Ryan said, shoving his hands in his pockets with a grin. “I thought it looked a little like Kooter.”

  Carol looked at the ornament and then at the cat. “There are definite similarities,” she smiled even though she was still annoyed at the cat.

  “Meow,” Kooter blinked, then sauntered toward the counter and jumped up next to the cash register.

  “We’d better get
this mess cleaned up,” Ryan said, picking up more of the undamaged ornaments. “I hope this won’t delay your opening.”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d care.” Carol grabbed the broom and started sweeping up the broken baubles. “You don’t like Christmas, remember.”

  “I don’t hate it either.” Ryan started fluffing the branches on the tree. “I’m not a Scrooge; I just don’t like all the pressure people put on themselves during the holidays. They have to find the perfect gift or make sure they didn’t forget anyone or buy extra for the kids.” He shook his head of sandy hair and scowled. “I’ve seen people run themselves into debt for this holiday.”

  “But it’s such a magical time, the cold weather, the lights, the songs. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” Carol swept some of the debris into the dustpan with a little tinkle.

  “I guess that’s true unless you’re stressed because you have to bake the cookies or make that special pie. Then there are all the relatives you have coming to visit. Christmas isn’t supposed to be about the gifts, food, or parties. It’s supposed to be about love, peace, and joy.”

  Carol stopped still holding the dustpan in her hand and looked up, meeting the man’s eyes. She had never felt stressed at Christmas. She enjoyed every aspect of the holiday and wanted to bring that same joy to others.

  “You may be right,” Carol was surprised by her own words. “But Christmas doesn’t have to be hard. I want people to be able to find the things they love in this shop, special items for special family and friends. There is joy in giving. Don’t you remember what it was like when you were a kid and woke on Christmas morning?”

  Carol’s smile was bright, and her eyes dreamy as she spoke, and Ryan couldn’t look away.

  “It’s like that if you’ll let it. You find joy in giving to others. Finding something that will make them smile.”

  “You love Christmas,” Ryan grinned.

  “And you love Thanksgiving.” Carol’s eyes sparkled. “You shouldn’t judge another’s choice in holidays. At least mine can be stretched over weeks. You get one day.”

  Ryan shrugged, returning to his work. Thanksgiving made him happy. All of fall made him happy, and other people seemed to have embraced the holiday as well. “What do you want me to do with these ornaments?” he finally asked.

  Carol looked down at the pile of shattered glass on the floor, then up to the decorations' meager remains. “I don’t know.” She looked at the tree. “I don’t have enough ornaments to decorate the tree properly without the ones that were smashed.”

  “You could push the tree against the wall and just decorate the front,” Ryan suggested helpfully.

  “That has to be the worst idea in the world. I’m probably going to have to take the tree down.” She turned, looking at her other displays, trying to figure out how she could rearrange everything in just one day to compensate for the missing tree.”

  “At least it’s just this ugly pink tree,” Ryan said, fluffing a branch and checking the lights.

  “Ugly?” Carol’s voice was more like a growl.

  “Well, seriously, who buys a pink tree?”

  “People with little girls that have birthdays on or around Christmas.” Carol cocked a hand on her hips and glared. “You would be surprised how many people fall in love with little things like this, especially when it was so perfectly decorated.”

  Ryan cringed. He had walked right into that one. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting a pink Christmas tree, but maybe it was best if he just kept his thoughts to himself from now on. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turning back to his work.

  A heavy knock fell on the door outside, and Carol scowled. She wasn’t expecting any deliveries. Her back room was stocked, her displays laden, and her signs up.

  “Hello,” she called, opening the door. “Can I help you?”

  “Delivery for Carol Evergreen,” a cheerful man’s voice echoed from around a large box. “Special delivery. Ho, he, he.”

  Carol held the door wide, letting the short man, almost entirely obscured by the box, step inside. “I didn’t order anything.”

  The man put the box on the floor and dusted his hands, sweeping his red ball cap from his head of snowy hair. “It’s got your name and address on it.” He grinned, his big belly poking over his black belt, and Carol smiled at him as he winked, tugging at his white beard. “Have fun.”

  “Wait,” Carol hurried to catch up with the man, but he stepped out the door and hurried around the corner. “Where did it come from?” she sighed as a cold blast of air ruffled her hair.

  “Everything alright?” Ryan stood at the door, gazing down at the box then looking at Carol.

  “I didn’t order anything,” Carol grumbled. “He didn’t even say who sent it.”

  Ryan shrugged. “It has your name and address on it.”

  Kooter walked over, biting into the corner of the box then leaping onto the top.

  “Stop that,” Ryan commanded.

  The big cat licked its paw and began washing his ear.

  “So, what is it?”

  “I have no idea.” Carol looked at the box. It did have her name and address on it, but she didn't know what it could be.

  “Well, open it.” Ryan prompted, his curiosity getting the best of him.”

  Carol crossed her arms and gave the man a hard glare. He was kind of cute, with his curiosity getting the better of him.

  Reaching for a box cutter, Carol opened the box to see carefully packaged ornaments.

  “There must be some mistake,” she said, looking up and meeting Ryan’s eyes. “I didn’t order these.”

  “There’s an invoice,” Ryan pointed helpfully.

  “A little something to get you started, Mrs. Clause.” Carol read the note aloud twice before shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Someone seems to think you need these,” Ryan said, pulling a little ornament from its chamber. “Uhm, I think you do too.” His eyes shot back to the tree, and he grinned.

  “Can you bring the box over to the tree?”

  Ryan nodded, grasping the box by the corners and lifting, but it didn’t rise far. “It’s heavy.”

  “Are you kidding? Didn’t you see the short man who carried it in?”

  Ryan shrugged. “You’re going to have to help if you don’t want these to go the way of the last batch.”

  Carol shook her head but reached for her side of the box. It was surprisingly heavy.

  “Told you so,” Ryan snarked, but softened it with a smile.

  For the next hour, they worked on decorating and adjusting every aspect of the tree. The new ornaments were exquisitely made and seemed to have been designed for the pink tree.

  Carol was just tying the last ribbon on a bough when someone else knocked on her door.

  “Mom?” Carol asked as she opened the door. “Where have you been?”

  “I’m having a nice visit with Betty, but we figured you two would be hungry. We brought pizza.” She held out a large brown box and grinned. “You two might as well have a bit of lunch while you work. I’ll bring the sodas in a second; just keep that cat away from me.”

  Carol turned around looking for Kooter, who was curled up under another tree sleeping the innocent's sleep.

  “Thanks, Mom. Are you sure you’re okay over there?”

  “Oh my yes,” Judy grinned. “Betty and I have been swapping recipes all morning. You don’t worry about a thing. We have it all figured out.”

  Carol gave her mother a look, but before she could say anything, the woman had handed her the steaming box that smelled like everything right in the world and trotted away.

  “Looks like we get lunch,” the young woman called, walking back to Ryan, who was studying the tree. Closing the top of the bigger box, she placed the pizza on top and hurried back to the door where her mother handed her an icy six-pack of root beer.

  “Have fun,” Judy Evergreen grinned. “I’ll see you at home tonight.”

  “Mom,
aren’t you staying?” Carol called, but her mother was already gone.

  Ryan took the root beer Carol offered him and popped the top while she grabbed paper towels from the back room. A minute later, they sat on the floor, eating pizza by the Christmas tree's light as carols played overhead.

  “It is kind of peaceful here,” the young man commented. “I really am sorry about what Kooter did.”

  “I know,” Carol looked up, seeing the white lights from the tree reflected in his glasses. “I guess I’ll have to expect some breakage.”