“Arnie and Dot being on this trip, are you okay with that?” asked Pat.
“Of course I’m okay with it. Why shouldn’t I be? I want to see them happy.” She did. Really.
“You can’t expect Arnie to carry a torch for you forever,” Pat said. “Especially if you were never going to reciprocate.”
Ouch. “I never expected him to,” Muriel said and shifted in her seat. Although, maybe she had. As she examined her heart, it was looking more and more that way. Dog in the manger Muriel. She didn’t want Arnie but she didn’t want anyone else to have him, either.
“Anyway, they’re only friends.”
“Friendship often grows into more,” Pat said. “Look at Ed and me.”
Muriel didn’t want to look. “That’s different. You and Ed are a perfect match. Dot and Arnie wouldn’t be right for each other.”
“Muriel, you’re jealous,” Olivia said in surprise.
“I most certainly am not,” Muriel snapped. “I’m happy for both of them and I hope they have a wonderful time.” She was not jealous of her friend. She wasn’t that petty.
The look Olivia and Pat exchanged showed how much they believed her. In denial and in trouble.
“Does anyone want dessert?” Chocolate. She needed chocolate.
Chapter Eight
Kindness is the key to happiness. No kind gesture is ever wasted.
—Muriel Sterling, A Guide to Happy Holidays
Robert Cratchett had been trying to shovel his front walk when Sienna left for work on Friday. He’d looked—big surprise—irritated and more than a little red in the face from the exertion. And no wonder. The guy had to be in his seventies. He probably shouldn’t have been trying to do that on his own.
She wasn’t going to be the one to help him, though, not after everything that had happened in the last few days. If he needed help, he could ask one of the other people on the street. She was over trying to be neighborly. That was one ugly tree who would never look good. No amount of cookies would ever sweeten him up and all the kindness in the world would never penetrate his crusty shell.
Anyway, she reasoned, she didn’t have time for Cratchett. She had to get to the bookstore. The old grump was on his own.
She felt more than justified as she crept her way down the street, which had a new coating of snow...until her conscience kicked her.
He didn’t want anything from her, she reasoned, kicking back. He’d made that clear. It wasn’t her fault he was too stubborn to find a nice retirement home and leave the snow shoveling to someone else. Not that any retirement home would be nice once he arrived. So why bother?
She’d seen him again at the grocery store when she’d gone in on her lunch break to pick up some much-needed groceries. She’d started down the bread aisle only to discover him at the other end, inspecting a package of cinnamon rolls. She’d immediately turned her cart around and gone the other way.
“I think I truly hate the man,” she said to Rita when she came to pick up Leo.
“You can’t be hating anyone at Christmas. Santa won’t bring you anything,” Rita said and freshened Sienna’s mug of tea.
“There’s nothing I want, anyway,” Sienna retorted.
Rita cocked an eyebrow. “Sex?”
“Overrated,” Sienna scoffed. And then a vision of Tim Richmond entered her mind, and it was a vision to behold. There he stood in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, that big chest bare. He smiled at her.
She realized she was wearing a goofy smile and quickly wiped it off her face.
Too late. Rita had seen. She shook her head. “Now you’re lying. Boy, are you on the naughty list.”
Yes, she was.
By Saturday morning she was feeling guilty about her bad attitude regarding her neighbor. Muriel’s book didn’t help.
Kindness is the gift that keeps on giving, Muriel wrote. Sadly, it’s one thing we simply don’t get enough of these days. Is there someone in your life who could use an extra serving of kindness?
Yeah. Someone who didn’t deserve so much as another single drop of that valuable commodity.
Not even the smallest kind gesture is ever wasted.
“It would be on Cratchett,” Sienna muttered. She shut the book, tossed it next to her on the bed and snuggled back under the covers. Why did she keep reading this book, anyway?
Because Muriel Sterling was right. She sat up again and pulled the book back to her.
Remember, we all have people in our lives who stretch our patience and challenge our generosity. But I believe that God often brings those people into our lives for a reason. Sometimes it’s so we can help them. Other times, believe it or not, it’s so they can help us. When we rise above our petty dislikes and our hurt feelings, we become better people.
Sienna already had an ex to help her become a better person. She didn’t need Cratchett for that.
Think of the oyster and the pearl it produces. The pearl starts out as a grain of sand, an unwanted irritant. But it’s not going anywhere, so the oyster has to deal with it. Without that irritant the oyster wouldn’t be able to make a pearl. You might have an irritant in your life.
There was an understatement.
But it could turn out that the very person who irritates you is exactly what is needed for you to produce something rich in your life.
Sienna sighed. “Okay, fine.”
Although, really, she already had enough to deal with between her day job and raising her son alone. She much preferred ignoring Cratchett altogether and focusing her energy where it would be appreciated.
Her bedroom door opened and Leo came bounding in, wearing his superhero pajamas. “It’s snowing!”
The thrill of winter hadn’t worn off. She loved her son’s enthusiasm, but they still needed to work on manners. “Leo, you’re supposed to knock on the door before you come in. Remember?”
Leo frowned.
“Let’s try it again.”
He trudged out of the room as if he’d been told there was no Santa Claus and shut the door. Then knocked. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, you may,” she called, and once more he raced into the room and dived onto the bed.
“It’s snowing,” he informed her, bouncing up and down on his knees.
“So you said.” The stuff was beautiful and she understood her son’s excitement. If only it would fall on just the lawns and leave the streets and sidewalks alone.
“Can I go out and play?”
“After breakfast. But first you need to get dressed. Your clothes are on your bed. Why don’t you go put them on?” She laid out his clothes for him every night. Having to select a wardrobe for the day left him standing and staring at his dresser, paralyzed by indecision.
“Okay,” he said cheerfully, then clambered off the bed and raced out of the room.
Seven thirty in the morning and they were up and running. There was no sleeping in for moms.
She showered and dressed and then stopped by Leo’s room to make sure he was on track. He’d gotten as far as putting on his T-shirt and sweater—backward—and was sitting on the bed still in his pajama bottoms, picking at his toes.
Although she assured herself constantly that her son would be able to live a happy and productive life, there were times when dark moods settled over her, when she worried about what would happen to him after she was gone. Who would be his advocate? He had no siblings, only a cousin who would probably marry and move away.
The dark shadow hovered over her now, but she squirmed out from under it, reminding herself that even though her boy was slow, he was still teachable. He was mastering the basic life skills. He’d manage. Besides, it was many years before she had to worry about him being on his own. She didn’t have to start today.
“How about you quit bei
ng a monkey and playing with your toes and get the pants on?” she suggested.
“I’m not a monkey,” he said and laughed.
“No, you’re not. Come on. Off with the jammies.”
Another five minutes and Leo was racing down the stairs ahead of her. “I want pancakes!”
“Pancakes it is,” she said.
“With peanut butter and bananas.”
“With peanut butter and bananas. Yes, sir.”
Leo became engrossed in the ritual of breakfast, setting the table with Mom supervising, stirring the pancake batter and watching as the pancakes rose on the griddle. He always wanted three pancakes, each one spread with peanut butter and sporting eyes made from banana slices and raisins lined up for a mouth. Leo never hurried through breakfast.
Or any other meal for that matter, and sometimes Sienna thought those other children who used the R-word could learn a thing or two from her son. Leo knew how to stay in the moment and savor it.
But finally, the savoring was done and the teeth were brushed and he was bundled up and ready to go outside. She sent him into the backyard to play, suggesting he try to make snow angels like she’d shown him earlier in the week. He lasted all of five minutes, then was back in the house.
“It’s cold,” he reported.
And he was bored all by himself out there. She knew his friend Jimmy was in Seattle with his family for the weekend, so there would be no playmate for Leo. Since snow was still such a novelty, she hated to have him stuck inside when he could be having fun in it.
Which meant she was going to have to put on her snow pants. “I tell you what, I’ll come out and play in the snow with you as soon as I get a couple of things done. Meanwhile, you can watch cartoons. Would you like that?”
Leo nodded eagerly. He loved cartoons and would happily sit in front of the TV like a turnip all morning if Sienna let him.
It was tempting, but after she’d cleaned up the kitchen and put in a load of laundry, she dug out her snow pants and parka. “Shall we make a big old snowman for all the neighborhood to enjoy?” she suggested once she had him bundled up again.
“Yes!” Leo cried and blasted out the front door.
Sienna followed at a more leisurely pace. The snow had stopped but not before adding to the thick blanket covering their front yard. She walked partway across the lawn, pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and snapped a picture of her snowcapped house and sent it to her mom. Then she stood for a moment, enjoying the peace of a world wrapped in soft silence.
Until her son gave her a playful shove, catching her off balance and sending her toppling into the snow. “Oh, very funny,” she said as she got back on her feet.
Leo thought so. “I got you,” he chortled.
“Now I’m going to get you,” she said.
He was off and running with a screech and she chased him around the yard until they were both breathless. Then she caught him and gave him a big, smacking kiss. “Are you my favorite boy?”
“I am!”
“Good. Now, favorite boy, should we make our snowman?”
Leo nodded eagerly. “Yes!”
“Okay. Remember how I showed you.” She bent and formed a snowball. “Let’s roll this along until it gets really, really big.”
Leo was all over that and she watched as he chased his growing snowball around the front yard. This was one of those moments to treasure. And record. Out came the phone again and she made a short movie.
She’d just put her cell away when she heard the crunch of tires on snow and saw Cratchett pulling up in his Cadillac. He aimed his remote at the garage door, which shuddered into action, then stopped halfway up.
Cratchett stopped his car in the driveway and got out, breaking the snowy silence with a string of words she hoped her son didn’t hear. He slipped and slid his way over the latest covering of snow up to the door and tried to raise it manually. It didn’t budge.
Sienna could almost feel a miniature Muriel Sterling-Wittman on her shoulder, whispering, Kindness.
Mr. Cratchett didn’t look like he was in the mood for kindness. He gave up on the garage door, muttering and sliding his way back to his car. This was not the time to get neighborly. Anyway, she didn’t know how to fix broken garage doors, and she doubted she’d be able to hoist up Cratchett’s door any more than he could.
He opened the trunk and took out a large paper grocery sack, then started back to the house again, still muttering. He hit a slick patch and lost his balance. He did manage to stay upright, but the sack tumbled out of his hands, dropping onto the snow. Out fell a loaf of bread, some frozen dinners and two apples. A soup can dived into the snow on the yard.
Okay, she was going to have to help him before he fell and broke his neck. She hurried over. “Let me help you,” she said and snagged the can.
“I don’t need any help,” he informed her as she tried to help him straighten up.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she said and dropped the can into his bag. “It’d serve you right if you fell and broke your hip.”
“Now you sound like my nephew,” he said, his brows beetled. “I don’t know why you don’t mind your own business.”
“I don’t, either,” she said irritably and marched back to her own yard. Kindness was so wasted on this man.
But not on you. Think of the pearl, whispered that imaginary Muriel.
Sienna told her to take a hike.
She refused. The pesky voice of Muriel Sterling, author extraordinaire, kept hounding Sienna as she helped her son put together his snowman. “Okay, fine,” she finally muttered after they’d completed the snowman’s face with the requisite carrot nose. “I get it.”
“Get what?” Leo asked.
“Nothing. Why don’t you see if you can build a baby snowman to keep this guy company?”
“Okay,” Leo said eagerly.
Sienna got him started rolling his snowball around the yard, then fetched her snow shovel and went next door to take care of a certain undeserving man’s slippery front walk. Leo didn’t last long on his own in their yard. A few minutes later he was asking to help Sienna with her shoveling.
“Don’t you want to work on your snowman?”
Leo shook his head. “I want to help you. Mrs. Brown says I’m a good helper.”
It was in little moments like this that she knew she had a very special boy. “Yes, you are. All right, then,” she said. “Go into the garage and get the other shovel. It’s leaning on the wall right next to the door.”
He nodded eagerly and bounded off, then returned a moment later dragging a shovel behind him. He mimicked her, digging in the shovel and pushing the snow with loud grunts. “This is fun!”
Fun. Right.
Shoveling was hot, sweaty work and halfway through, she took a break to lean on her shovel and catch her breath. She glanced in the direction of the house and caught sight of Cratchett peeking through the living room drapes. The curtains immediately twitched shut.
Her son might have had some mental challenges, but Cratchett was emotionally stunted, and if you asked Sienna, that was a far worse problem to have.
She was almost through with the job when Tim Richmond arrived. “What’s this?” he greeted her.
“It’s my good deed for the day.”
“I’m helping,” Leo added.
“I can see that. Good job, my man,” Tim said.
She pointed to the grocery bag he was carrying. “You’re a little late with that. Your uncle was already out getting groceries.”
Tim stopped and frowned at the Cadillac in the driveway. “He flunked the vision test when he went to renew his license. He’s not cleared to drive.”
“That doesn’t seem to be stopping him. He probably intended to hide the evidence but his garage door got st
uck.”
Tim shook his head. “This is going to make for an unpleasant conversation.”
Sienna couldn’t resist. “That should hardly come as a surprise since your uncle has a gift for unpleasant conversations.”
“He does,” Tim agreed. “So why are you being so nice to him?”
“He’s my ugly-tree project.”
Both Tim’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
Cratchett was on his front porch now, demanding to know if Tim was going to keep him waiting all day.
“I’m coming,” Tim called back irritably. “I don’t know why he has to do that,” he muttered.
“He’s not nice,” Leo explained.
“Sometimes he’s not,” Tim agreed.
Sometimes?
“I’ll finish shoveling the walk,” Tim said to Sienna. “I’d say you’ve done enough.”
Considering who she’d been doing it for, she couldn’t have agreed more.
“You know, I’d like to hear more about this ugly-tree project of yours. How would it be if I came over when I’m done with my uncle?”
He was big and masculine and had a nice smile. He was the kind of man who showed up to help his family when he was needed. Unlike her ex, he appeared to be not only responsible but thoughtful. So why not?
Because Leo would get attached and be disappointed when it came to nothing.
And surely it would, since when it came to men, she couldn’t seem to sort out the duds from the good ones. Tim seemed like a great guy, but she’d thought that about men before. She did not need to go barreling down Heartbreak Highway again.
She opened her mouth to tell him she was busy but before the words could come out, Leo said, “If you come to our house, my mama will make you hot chocolate.”
“That sounds good,” said Tim. He must have sensed her hesitation and, in order to avoid her canceling her son’s invite, made a quick getaway. “See you both later.”
And so it was a done deal. Tim Richmond was coming over for hot chocolate, and Sienna felt like she was sixteen again, getting asked out by the captain of the football team. He’s only coming over for hot chocolate, she reminded herself. Nothing’s going to come of this.
Christmas in Icicle Falls Page 11
