The Christmas Lamp

by Copeland, Lori

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Brisco. And yes, she did mind. She wasn’t feeling the friendliest toward the interloper today, but she moved aside and made a place on the bench for him.

  He opened a sack, and took out a cellophane-wrapped sandwich with a tuna sticker.

  He’s eating tuna from a convenience store vending machine.

  Removing the sandwich from his hand, she broke off part of her roast beef and handed it to him.

  He flashed a remorseful grin. “Thanks. The selection was between this and egg salad.”

  Nodding, she poured coffee from a thermos. They ate in silence, in the unseasonably warm noon hour. Both looked the other direction as the dump truck drove off with the holiday tree.

  He bit into roast beef, pausing to examine the bread. “Is this brown mustard?”

  “Yellow.”

  “I love yellow mustard. It’s hard to get on a sandwich anymore.”

  Roni hadn’t thought about it because she didn’t eat out that often, but she wondered if yellow mustard would soon go the way of the town holiday tree. Dumped.

  Frustrated and disappointed, she wasn’t inclined to make idle conversation. She was starting to think her initial assessment of Brisco was right. Sure he had a job, but what about a conscience? Did he even have one?

  Jake broke the silence. “The mayor seems to think that the first cold snap will up the Christmas spirit. He was on the phone with the Springfield weather service when I left the office, to get an updated forecast.”

  “It’ll turn cold,” she predicted, more hopeful than confident. She refused to consider otherwise. Then, aware that she was not being very good company, she opened a snack baggie and offered him a corn chip. He eyed the contents. “I gather you’re a small eater.”

  She shrugged. “Now that you’ve had time to look over the ledgers, do you think you can get the town back on its feet?”

  Downing the last bite of roast beef, he smiled. “With the right cooperation.” He eyed her cup.

  Easing the thermos closer to him, she invited. “Be my guest.” Drinking from a thermos wasn’t exactly hospitable fare, but she only had one cup. And she wasn’t out to impress him with social skills.

  “Thanks, but I’ll just get something back at the office.” Stretching out his legs, his gaze skimmed the park surrounding the gazebo. “It really is a nice town. And you have to admit, the gazebo lights look great.”

  She didn’t have to admit it, but they did. The newly added miniature flashing lights, all in blues and greens, were charming. Workmen were busy lining the outside of the gazebo with the same theme. He must have gotten on the phone early this morning and set the work in motion.

  “Who came up with the idea to go with green and blue?”

  “Tess. We were kicking around some different ideas and she thought that blue and green might be a nice change from the usual multicolored lights.” Jake paused, and sat up straighter. “What would you say if I suggested that we skip the ice rink this year and have the children do something special? Last winter I was overseas during most of the holiday and I saw some kids making small tree decorations. Paper shaped like horned cornucopias, tree ornaments — that kind of junk.”

  “Don’t call it junk,” Roni interuppted.

  “Sorry, I don’t share the same mushy sentiments as you.”

  “Obviously.”

  They sat in silence until Jake continued, “Someone said the children could take their stuff to area nursing homes. Ever give that any thought? Giving of one’s self — isn’t that what it’s all about instead of sticky sentiment? Local churches could donate time to oversee the project.”

  “Junk” had been elevated to “stuff.” No one could accuse him of being overly syrupy. Roni licked mustard off her fingers. “Tess actually thinks Nativity traditions ought to change?”

  Jake shook his head. “Tess and I were just trying to come up with solutions. Even you have to admit that change can be good. And getting the town involved in activities that wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg would appease your Christmas spirit and unite the citizens.”

  Even her? How dare he. She loved and supported her community. She was willing to make needed changes but she didn’t have to like them. She wadded up the baggie and stuffed it into her coat pocket, another one of mom’s frugal habits. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few errands to run before I go back to work.”

  “Are you sure?” He sat back, crossed his arms behind his head, and gazed up at the clear blue sky. “We could sit here and try to figure this out. It’s a fine day.”

  Maybe for him. “Wonderful weather for September, but it’s December now. What we need is some freezing temperatures so we can enjoy the ice rink.” She glanced at her watch. “I really must be going.”

  “Roni?”

  “Yes?”

  “Think about my suggestion. The gift of time and effort represents the true meaning of Christmas. After all, God’s gift of his Son is what started it all.”

  So he does have a spiritual side. She reached for her purse. “I’ll mention the idea to the mayor. But remember, he’s not much for change, especially sudden change, and I’m not sure we can even cancel the rink rental at this late date.”

  “You talk to him. It can be done.”

  She left him sitting in the balmy sunlight, enjoying his day.

  Or his work. She wasn’t sure which.

  Stepped on her toes again, didn’t you, Jake. He was the bad guy, and he knew she would like him more if he had taken away her yellow mustard rather than her traditions.

  Well, old man, you are not here to make friends. He studied Roni as she crossed the street and paused in front of Steil’s Hardware. Who needed a sentimental nut in their life? Not him. His gaze shifted to the gazebo area. He imagined the place filled with holiday revelers and children making gifts. Tradition was burying this town, so Roni had to ask what she wanted more, solvency or business as usual.

  His gaze retutned to Roni who still stood in front of the hardware store window. He’d seen her stop there on her way home at night. What attracted her attention?

  She moved on, and he got up and crossed the street, psychologically sharpening his surgical knife. This afternoon he planned to tackle the annual Christmas parade. The city spent an inordinate amount on floats. Businesses kicked in and did their share, but according to the ledger last year’s parade had cost Nativity a lot of money. Many of those former businesses had closed or left to relocate in Branson.

  Now, according to his notes, the town was about to spend thousands on an hour-long holiday parade.

  Jake Brisco is getting on my nerves. He got rid of the tree.He wouldn’t dare mess with the parade or the rink.

  As Roni stared at the leg lamp, Aaron’s face appeared in the window sporting a knowing grin. Was it that obvious that she longed for that silly lamp? What purpose would the object serve, especially at Christmas? Christmas was a time for celebrating Christ’s birth, not fishnet hose. Yet the meaning of the movie classic was clear, at least to her. There was a lesson to learn behind the flagrant commercialism of Christmas; family, warts and all, was one of God’s greatest gifts.

  Yet truthfully, a hundred and ninety-nine dollars was a stiff price for a good laugh.

  Roni walked on, leaving Aaron to shake his head.

  Warm air ruffled her hair, and she wondered if the global warming that the experts touted so much was going to interfere in Nativity’s holiday. Even more disturbing was the thought digging deeper into her mind every day. If Nativity couldn’t remain solvent, it would go the way of so many other small towns. Soon broken windows wouldn’t be replaced, and the square would be reserved for roosting pigeons. Once that happened, there would be no need for a city administrator.

  Then what?

  She would have a choice of selling her house and moving, or making the drive to Branson or Springfield every day for employment. She’d worked for the city since she was old enough to hold a job. What would she do
if she lost that security? Her credentials were enough for employment elsewhere, but she was content, even stuck in her ways, here in Nativity. She didn’t want to change jobs and start all over. Nativity was home, but the Jake Briscos of the world understood bottom-line profit more than lifelong comfort and stability.

  Shortly after lunch, Jake answered his cell phone and heard the friendliest voice he had heard in days. He had concluded the meeting with the committee, and eliminating the ice rink had been a fight. And while no one had personally confronted him with blame, there was underlying doubt, hurt, and frustration.

  Grandma Mary’s voice came over the line. “Hello, dear. I know you’re very busy, but I wanted to confirm our holiday plans. You’ll join me on Christmas Eve?”

  Grandma Mary. Youthful for her age, always well groomed, always with a smile in her voice. He regretted the years he’d spent away from her. The past few holidays they’d connected and Jake kinda liked having a grandma. Mary had heart worries, but she was still a vibrant woman. He’d been so busy that he hadn’t gotten out to her place but once, and that had been only a brief visit. The same argument took place: she insisting that she pay Jake for his services to Nativity and he refusing to take a cent. “I wouldn’t miss it, Grandma.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it either. You know, dear, I’ve given quite a lot of thought to your present this year, and I think you’re going to like what I’ve selected.”

  Presents? He hadn’t given the idea any thought. “Come on, Grandma. You know presents aren’t important to me.”

  “Nor to me, but some presents are invaluable.”

  A tie. Handkerchiefs. Gloves. Jake grinned. He could live without them.

  “Jake, dear. How’s the work coming along?”

  “Not so well, Grandma. I’m afraid your neighbors are set in their ways.”

  “Now, now,” she chided. “You must earn your money, Jake.”

  “I’m not taking your money, Grandma. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  Her tone turned censuring. “I would not have hired you if I thought you were going to be unreasonable about this.”

  “Okay,” Jake agreed, unwilling to get into another lengthy discussion about wages. He wouldn’t accept a cent for what he considered child’s play. This town didn’t stand a chance of survival, and it wouldn’t take more than a few weeks to prove it to Grandma. Still, she needed to feel that she could make a difference. Jake stepped into his office and sat down. “Have you got a minute?”

  “Of course, dear. Is there something you need?”

  “A little perception?” Leaning back in his chair, he relayed his morning. She knew these people. Maybe she could offer advice on closed minds. “The town thinks I’m an ogre.”

  She laughed softly. She was an amazing woman. Strong, but compassionate. Wise, but not overbearing in her wisdom. She’d told him that Grandpa had been the same; well respected within the community, a man of his word. Jake suddenly realized that Roni shared many of his grandparent’s most endearing qualities. Straightforward, and able to endure hardships without folding.

  Once he explained his situation, he asked, “You think I should leave the Christmas budget alone?” The town was doomed anyway. He could make all kinds of noises about cuts and sacrifices, but his instincts told him that like so many other small towns in the area, Nativity would someday cease to exist as a business community. Its future was pointed toward becoming a bedroom community for Branson and Springfield.

  “Yes, it is a rather perplexing dilemma,” Mary mused. “If your grandfather were alive, he’d know what to do. Traditions are a valued part of Christmas, and I do know the town loves its holiday season.”

  The wistful tone that now entered her voice told Jake that her mind was occupied with the events of a Christmas Eve long ago, memories of a time neither of them enjoyed recalling.

  “Roni thinks I’m ruthless.”

  “Roni?”

  “She works in the administration office.”

  “Oh yes. The Elliot girl.”

  Grandma admitted that she didn’t socialize anymore, not since Grandpa died. But she still loved her town, and she wanted the community to survive. He told Mary a little about the city administrator.

  Grandma’s voice turned playful. “I’d love to meet her sometime. She sounds delightful.”

  “She is …” Jake paused. “Now don’t get any ideas. Before I’m through here, it’s likely I’ll be stoned or run out of town on a rail.” He was fast becoming the most ostracized guy in town. Returning to the original question, he asked. “What do you think, Grandma? Am I being too hard on the town? Honestly, between you and me …”

  Roni paused in front of Jake’s doorway on her way to the coffeepot. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his voice came to her. “… the cuts aren’t going to matter. The town has too many financial obstacles to overcome. I’ll do what I can, but in the end Nativity is probably getting ready to enjoy its last Christmas celebration.”

  Too many financial obstacles to overcome. Roni closed her eyes to a sudden light-headedness. She’d known — or sensed — that this would be the outcome of Jake Brisco’s tinkering, but the knowledge still rocked her.

  “Just give the phone to …” Judy strode past, rolling her eyes at Roni. “Anabelle, give the phone to your older sister. No — don’t — Anabelle! Put the babysitter on the phone. Right now. No. Right now! Is that the sound of the stool flushing? Where’s the cat?” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Have you ever had a day when you wished you could volunteer for a one-way ticket to Mars?”

  Absently nodding, Roni continued to the mayor’s office with papers requiring his signature.

  This was one of them.

  6

  Jake reached to switch off the radio. Outside the window, the grass actually looked greener than it had been yesterday. Radio and TV weathermen had been ecstatic about the continuing warm spell. Old-timers were grumbling that “winters weren’t like this when I was a kid.” His eyes searched a clear blue sky for change, but the heavens looked more like May than December.

  Turning back to his desk, he studied the miniature town model he’d started constructing. During a brainstorm one morning, he had driven to Branson and visited a couple of craft shops. Before anyone else came to work he had brought in everything he needed for a town model.

  “Jake?” He turned when he heard Roni’s summons.

  She stood in the doorway, frowning. “The ice rink committee is back again. Do you want to talk to them?”

  Actually he didn’t. This meeting wouldn’t be any more pleasant than the last one. “Send them in.”

  She turned, and then turned back. “Perhaps if you took money from the snow removal fund and temporarily shifted it to pay for the rink …”

  “And when it snows and we need money for road clearance?”

  “It might not; we’ve had many years when we got only a smattering.” She stepped closer. “This year is starting out very mild. It wouldn’t be that hard to move the money. The rink would bring in revenue that could go back into the street maintenance fund.”

  Shaking his head, he sat down at his desk. “Borrow from Peter to pay Paul.”

  She grinned. “I haven’t heard that old phrase since Mom died.”

  “It’s one of Grandma’s favorites.” Reaching for a ledger, he scanned the columns. Gravel, ice melt, snowplows, gasoline, manpower. There were ample amounts allotted to cover several good snowfalls, but his job wasn’t to move checkers. He was there to balance the long-term budget, not gamble on climate patterns. The weather could turn in a matter of hours. He pitched the book on his desk. “No can do, Roni. The rink is out this year.”

  Her crestfallen expression didn’t help his mood. When she turned on her heel and left, he sat back, steeped his fingers, and studied the miniature town laid out before him. Days like today made him wish that he had followed his dream and remained in the air force. Flying was his love, not spoiling the holidays for
a pretty, brown-eyed woman who, if only for a moment, made him consider the cockamamie idea of taking money from snow removal to provide an ice rink.

  The committee appeared, and he mentally armed himself for another shoot-out. If their stormy expressions meant anything, he would need a bigger gun.

  Around five thirty, Roni glanced up to see Jake leaving his office. The committee had taken up half of his day arguing and he was behind on his paperwork, but the rink was out for this year. The cancellation fee would be minimal compared to the construction itself.

  He approached, yawning. “Are you working late too?”

  She nodded without glancing up from the computer. “End of the month reports.”

  She finished the report and pushed a key. In the back room the sound of a printer filled the office.

  “Done?”

  Gathering her purse and keys, she smiled. “All through. I’ll lock up.”

  “Do you have time to grab a burger with me?”

  “Can’t. Mimsy is waiting for her dinner, and I need to check on Ed.”

  “Ed?”

  “My elderly next-door neighbor. If I don’t watch him closely, he won’t eat properly.”

  “So, we feed Mimsy and Ed and then we’ll feed ourselves.” He knew he wasn’t high on her list of preferred dinner company, but she was a rational thinker. She knew that his decisions were sound.

  He trailed behind her, flipping off overhead lights.

  “Leave the one on in the mayor’s office for a nightlight,” she reminded.

  After she locked up they started toward her home. “What about your car?”

  “I’ll get it later. How late does the café stay open?”

  “It closed half an hour ago. Do you like Chinese?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Mr. Wong’s always open late.”

  By now they were passing Steil’s Hardware. Jake suddenly paused, apparently caught by the window display. “Look at that.”