by DiAnn Mills
The place smelled of freshly ground coffee and the coal smoke belching from the rusty potbelly stove in the back corner. It was a mom-and-pop affair with farm equipment on one side and dress goods on the other.
“He’p you, mister?” a grizzled old codger asked. His whiskers touched the top button on his faded flannel shirt.
“I’d like to make a phone call. I’ll reverse the charges.”
The shopkeeper nodded to the wooden box on the wall near the end of the counter. “There it is.”
Our butler, James, had Dad on the phone in less than a minute. “I just wanted to check in,” I told him. “We’re having a swell time.”
“Did you give that girl a ring yet?” The old man had a mind like a vise. Once it clamped on to something, it wouldn’t let go.
I sighed. “No. I haven’t found the right time.” The diamond lay deep inside my inner coat pocket in a velvet pouch. I hadn’t touched it since we arrived.
“Well, see that you do. With her pulling for you, you could be a senator someday. She’ll charm fat accounts out of the woodwork.”
“Dad, I’m not sure I want to join the firm. I’ve been doing some serious thinking—”
“Well, think about this, then. I’ve spent a small fortune on your education, and I’m willing to spend more. But if you welsh on my investment, you’re going to regret it. Do you understand me, son?”
“Yes, Dad. I understand.” I held the silent receiver a moment, then said, “Have a merry Christmas.”
He grunted. “Pete and his wife are in the country, and Ron is at a house party for the holidays. I’m alone with James and the cook. Call me before you leave Vermont.”
“I will, Dad. Good-bye.”
I left the store wishing I hadn’t called. Dad had his ideas and I had mine. What was I going to do?
I aimed my roadster toward Stowe. Mrs. Anders lived near the north end of the narrow road in a square cottage with frost-killed marigolds lining the walk. My breath came out in white billows as I knocked on her door.
A rawboned woman opened it and looked me up and down. “Yes?”
“I’m here to collect the lamps and rugs for the Christmas pageant. Honey Simmons sent me over.”
“They’re right here.” She pulled the door wider.
I had everything loaded and delivered in an hour. On the way back the roadster suddenly developed a cough. I reset the choke and listened closely. I’d have to check it out before Monday.
My thoughts drifted to Julie. Maybe I should talk to Honey about her sister. Maybe if I told her what she was doing to Julie, she’d ease up a bit.
I saw my chance when I reached the house and she said, “Let’s go to the attic. I’ll show you the boxes I need.”
I dropped my leather cap on the newel post and followed her up two flights. The attic covered half the house. It was dusty, organized, and cold as the Arctic.
“That box,” she said, pointing to a cardboard carton on the floor, “is the china.”
“Honey.” I ignored the props and turned her to face me. The look on her face said she expected me to kiss her. “It’s about Julie,” I said.
Her mouth tightened. “I’ve noticed you’re spending a lot of time with her.” “Please try not to embarrass her.” I wanted to smile, to ease the tension, but my lips felt stiff. It must have been the cold.
“I haven’t embarrassed her.” She sounded indignant.
“I can think of several times when you have.”
“When?”
“Making her sit on the bed for practice when none of the rest of us had to get into our parts. Calling me into the library when she was wearing…Honey, you can’t be so dumb that you don’t understand what I’m trying to say.”
“Jim darling, I haven’t asked her to do anything that she’s not going to do in front of a hundred people during the pageant.”
“Just giving her the main part embarrasses her.”
“I was trying to be nice to her.”
“It’s not working.” I lifted the carton. “Let’s go down. You’re shivering.”
“Wait a second. Why are you so interested in Julie?”
“She’s vulnerable. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“I wouldn’t hurt Julie for anything. She gets stubborn sometimes, and I have to give her a little push.” Her eyes narrowed. “You did the same thing when you took her to the river.”
“That was different. She had a great time skating. She’s miserable about the pageant. Can’t you see that?”
“You like her, don’t you.” It was an accusation.
“Of course I like her. She’s your little sister.”
“She’s two years older than me. And she’s not the fragile flower you’re making her out to be.”
I bit back a sharp reply. “Forgive me for mentioning it.” I turned away. “I’ll take these to the car.”
She followed me downstairs and disappeared into the library. I stopped to catch my cap from the post. Honey was usually so sympathetic. What had happened to her?
Two more lonely trips to the attic, then I drove to the church. With the pulpit to move and the props to arrange, I was busy until Bob and Tubby arrived—scratched and seething—dragging a four-foot spruce behind them.
Chapter 8
There you are, Julie!” Millie said. She pulled out my chair at the lunch table, and I sat. “Ham sandwiches and potato salad,” she whispered, “at nine and three.”
“I’m catchin’ forty winks after this.” Bob’s lifeless voice was almost unrecognizable. “I’m beat. If I’d known we were going to be lumberjacks today, I wouldn’t have gone skating before breakfast.” Though I couldn’t see anyone’s face, when I’d come down for lunch I’d sensed that the party spirit had soured. The only one in a good mood was Millie, who seemed terribly amused.
“Don’t fuss,” Alice told him. “Exercise is good for you. Builds muscles.”
“He’s got plenty of muscles,” Lucy said, “around his mouth.”
“Can it, girls.” For once, Tubby was serious.
“We’ll all rest for an hour,” Honey said. Her voice sounded dull. “Dress rehearsal’s at two-thirty.”
“I want to go shopping,” Alice said. “I haven’t bought a single Christmas present yet.”
Even Jim sounded subdued. “After practice I’ll take everyone on a drive to Stowe. I’d like to look around myself.”
I leaned toward him. “Will you have room for me?”
“Certainly.” His voice lost its apathy when he said, “Delighted to have you aboard.”
We all filed upstairs when Millie started clearing the table. It was the first time my sister had been silent since she’d arrived.
“What’s wrong, Honey?” I asked, lying back on the bed. “Did you quarrel with someone?”
She punched her pillow. “Tubby and Bob have turned into two spoiled cabbages, Alice is bored, and Lucy whines until I want to slap her. Even Jim’s in a bad mood.” The bed creaked as she moved. “The house party has gone wrong, and I’m not sure why.”
“Maybe you’re expecting too much of everyone,” I said carefully, not wanting to rile her. “They came here for a good time, and you’re putting them all to work.”
“Well, that’s just too bad, Julie. The pageant is tomorrow, and we have to see it through—no matter who likes it and who doesn’t.”
I turned away from her and closed my eyes. How could anyone get through to her? Sometimes her mind wore armor plating.
Since we had to change into our costumes, we girls walked to the church half an hour earlier than the fellows. My tiny Sunday school class acted as a dressing room. We were constantly bumping elbows and losing things.
Honey flitted from Alice to Lucy, helping them with buttons, joining in their snickers, reassuring Lucy on the fit of her gown. Finally, Honey said, “I’m going out to see if the children playing the Ruggles family are here yet.”
“Millie!” Alice yelped. “That dress makes you lo
ok like a pregnant elephant.” She giggled. “Isn’t this a panic?”
Millie laughed. “I put powder in my hair to make me look older. I’ll be the first pink-haired cook in history.” She pulled the nightcap over my curls and brushed stray strands away from my face. “You look like an angel,” she whispered close to my ear.
I touched her hair. It was pulled back into a fat bun with wisps hanging down all around. Millie’s springy mane was impossible to tame. How had she managed to fasten it up?
Honey opened the door and called inside, “Okay, gang. Let’s go knock ’em dead.”
“One look at us,” Lucy said, “and they’ll keel over for sure.”
Dress rehearsal went surprisingly well. Only Bob had to be coached with his lines. Now that the props were in place and everyone in costume, I almost felt that I really was Carol Byrd. Despite the sad ending, it was a lovely story—one of my favorites.
At the end I sank into my pillow and closed my eyes.
From the audience Honey said, “Now the children sing, ‘My Ain Countree,’ and the curtain falls.”
“What curtain?” Lucy asked. Her voice echoed in the empty auditorium.
“Mother will have it ready by tomorrow morning. We’ll run a wire from there to there and slide the rings over it.”
“Shouldn’t we do it today?” Jim asked. “There may be a slipup if we wait too long.”
“Mother’s not finished with it yet,” Honey said.
“Let’s get the wire up anyway,” Jim said, stepping down to the lower level. “Where is it?”
Honey’s shoes made the floor vibrate. “In that box by the organ.”
The cast began to chat. I threw back the quilt and eased out of bed.
The children gathered around me. “You look beautiful, Miss Julie,” little Mary Parks said, swinging my hand.
Her sister Maud said, “Get that bug away from me, Billy! I’ll tell your mama!”
“What bug?” I tried not to flinch. If only I could see that rascal, Billy.
“Don’t worry, Miss Julie,” Billy Gates said. “I’ve got it in my pocket.”
“It’s a spider,” Maud said.
Billy got louder. “No it’s not. It’s just a beetle. They live in our basement when it’s cold like this.”
That was my cue to leave. “I want to change, Millie,” I said reaching for her, “so I can drive to Stowe with the others.”
“You want me to go along?”
“If you don’t mind. I’d like to buy some Christmas presents. I haven’t been Christmas shopping since…you know.”
Millie gripped my hand, and we headed toward the classroom at the back of the church. Five minutes later, the other girls arrived, excited about our outing.
Jim’s car had soft leather seats and a humming heater that reached to the backseat, where Millie and I stuffed in with Tubby and Bob.
“Meet back here at five-thirty,” Jim said as he cut off the engine, “and I’ll buy supper. There’s a nice place just down the street, The Snow Goose.”
“That’s a lovely café,” I told him when we reached the sidewalk. “I haven’t been there in years.”
Millie was buzzing inside. I could feel it.
Jim said, “Honey, I’m Christmas shopping this afternoon. Would you mind going along with the girls?”
“Of course not.” The lilt was back. “See you in a while.” She and her friends moved ahead. Her voice drifted back. “Where do you want to go first?”
“A dress shop,” Alice said. “Do they sell glad rags in this hick town?”
Lucy added, “I want some chocolates. Big fat ones.”
I turned toward Millie. “Let’s go to Smithy’s, Millie. I’d like to find a hand mirror for Mother.”
An hour later, Millie and I were loaded down with packages.
“We’d best get back, Julie. It’s five-twenty.”
“Already? I’ve hardly gotten started.”
“C’mon. I don’t think I can carry any more.”
I laughed, delighted. “I did get carried away, didn’t I?”
“It sure is good to hear you laugh, girl. Here, hold my arm and let’s go.”
The wind had turned bitter. I tucked my chin deeper into my sheepskin collar.
Jim greeted us with, “Two down and three to go. Have you seen the other girls?”
I smiled. “Not me.”
He took my bundle. “The trunk’s open. I’ll lay these inside for you.”
“We haven’t seen the girls all afternoon,” Millie said. “I heard they were going to look at clothes.”
Tubby groaned. “They could be hours. I’m starved.”
Jim thumped the trunk lid down. His keys rattled. “The Snow Goose is less than a block away. Let’s go ahead. I’ll leave a note on the window.”
I felt Jim’s presence beside me as we entered the restaurant. He had a special smell, a mixture of wool and that heady cologne he always wore.
“I’ll take your coat if you’d like,” he said, while we waited to be seated. His hands felt whisper light on my shoulders. “Party of eight,” he told the hostess, placing my hand on his arm.
The smell of seasoned steaks and coffee filled my senses. I sniffed hungrily. It felt so good to be out again. Jim read me the menu and placed the order moments before the tardy girls arrived.
“Sorry to be late,” Honey gasped, sliding into a seat across from Jim. “We found a luscious place full of handmade, hand-painted carvings.” She laughed. “The girls had to drag me out.”
“We weren’t trying too hard,” Lucy said. “I spent two month’s allowance. Give me a menu, Tubby. I’m famished.”
The conversation turned toward Christmas plans. Tubby and Lucy had to leave right after the pageant so they could be home in northern Vermont for Christmas. Jim would drive them to the train in Waterbury. Bob and Alice would stay on. Alice’s parents were in Italy, and Bob’s single father was living it up in California—two poor little rich kids with no place to go for the holidays.
I listened to their insolent attitude toward their parents and thought of Mother and Dad. Maybe there were some things worse than a physical injury.
Christmas Eve was a miserable day. During the night the temperature rose to thirty-five degrees and rain came down in sheets. It beat against the windows and drove a chill into the house that the fireplaces couldn’t chase away.
Lucy spent the morning packing her bags and worrying over a lost sash. Honey paced the floor with a case of nerves over the pageant that evening. I wasn’t worried. Once she got to the church she’d be fine. As a matter of fact, I was feeling better about the pageant all the time. My part was easy, and the children had calmed my fears about how I looked to the audience.
While I was dressing, Mother came in. “Julie, I want you to put on this extra set of woolens. That flannel nightgown isn’t nearly warm enough for the drafty church. And with this rain, it’s worse. You’ll catch your death up there in front. The heat never reaches up there. My feet turn to ice when I’m sitting in the choir.”
“Mother, I hate those scratchy things. My long flannels will be enough.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist, dear.” She turned to Millie. “Help her with these, will you? I’ve got to put the finishing touches on more pies for tomorrow’s dinner. Those boys have completely emptied the pie safe.” She hurried away, ignoring my objections.
Millie didn’t move.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I wonder where she found these.” Pause. “I suppose they’ll keep you warm enough. That’s what counts.”
“Millie, tell me!”
She stifled a snicker. “They’re striped like peppermint candy, the leggings and all.” Patting my arm, she said, “No one will see them, love. It won’t matter in the least.”
“Won’t they show through the white gown?”
“Not with three petticoats over them. Don’t worry, I’ll check you over before anyone sees you.”
We decided to leave the house at five to give plenty of time for our hair to dry. With rain still pouring down, there was no way to keep from getting soaked.
We stood in the hall, screwing up courage to make a dash for the car, when Lucy whooshed open her umbrella and grumped, “I don’t know why I’m bothering. With that wind, this bit of silk is just a token of despair.”
My shoes got soaked in a puddle on the run from Jim’s car to the church.
“Just take them off,” Millie said. “No one will know your feet are bare. Your legs stay under the quilt. I’ll put the shoes on the radiator to dry.”
“And get wet again on the way home.” I touched my hair. “This feels like a frizzy mop. Oh, I wish it weren’t raining tonight.”
Lucy said, “Get a shingle bob like me and you won’t have to worry about it.” She stepped closer. “Hey, what are those?”
Alice nudged in. “Are you playing the part of a candy cane tonight, Julie?”
My face grew warm. “Mother insisted I wear these because of the dampness.”
Lucy said, “They’re pippin. Wish I had a pair.” Then she laughed.
I bit my lip to hold back a sharp answer.
Soon, children swarmed over the church like bees over a clover field. Not only the ones in the play, but all their brothers and sisters with some cousins thrown in. I heard Honey calling to them, frantically trying to keep order.
Chapter 9
Jim, please help me with the children,” Honey said minutes after I stepped inside the church. Her face was flushed from chasing two speeders through the oaken pews. She pushed the delinquents toward me. “I’ve got to see to last-minute details, and they keep running around the church, yelling and knocking things over.”
I took two grimy hands and said, “I’ll put them all down front in the choir’s chairs.”
She smiled and touched my arm. “You’re the greatest.”
No stained glass or velvet in this church. The floor needed a coat of varnish, the wainscoting needed paint. It was a far cry from the cathedral my parents attended, but I felt a warm spirit here I’d never felt there.
