The Christmas Lamp (2 page)

Sobering, Dusty bent forward. “You know the plan if this thing gets out of hand.”

Ronnie nodded. “Ten-four.”

Tipping his hat, he walked on as Roni turned toward home. Dusty worked hard to keep the season. He’d lost a nine-year-old son fourteen years ago about this time of the year, so the holiday held even more significant meaning to him. The boy had chased a baseball into a line of traffic.

Though Roni was a distracted teenager at the time, she could still remember the sight of Dusty sitting in the middle of a busy highway, all traffic stopped as they watched the grieving father cradle his son’s lifeless form, rocking the child gently back and forth.

After that tragic day, Dusty was determined to keep Pete’s legacy alive. The boy loved Christmas and all that went with it.

Turning up the collar of her light jacket, she started toward home. The house was a short walk from the office, so she didn’t need to invent an excuse to exercise. Her aging blue Volkswagen convertible remained in the garage until Saturdays, when she did her shopping.

A smile touched the corners of her mouth as she thought of the new consultant’s arrival. Residents expected the town tree to be knocked over. It wouldn’t be a Nativity Christmas if it sat untouched for the next five weeks, but the incident had to be disconcerting to the newcomer.

Drawing a deep breath of fresh air, she dismissed the worry. The annual tree lighting would take place this Saturday night and then holiday activities would be in full swing.

“Roni! Merry Christmas!”

She spotted a familiar face. “Merry Christmas, Wilma.

How’s Lowell today?”

“I took him to the doctor this morning. He’s doing fine. Just a case of indigestion.”

“Good — It’s nice to see you.” By now Steil’s Hardware was coming up. Usually Roni breezed right past the store.

Hammers and screwdrivers didn’t interest her, though she was handy with both tools. Aaron Steil stood in the window setting up a Christmas display.

And then she saw it. The lamp. A gaudy, black-net stocking leg with a fringed shade, an exact replica of the one featured in the movie
A Christmas Story
.

Her gaze riveted on the object. The sight brought back rich memories of the hours she’d spent watching the classic movie with her mom and dad. Images of Ralphie, the kid who longed for a Red Ryder, carbine-action, two-hundred-shot, Range Model air rifle for Christmas raced through her mind. The renowned line rang in her head.
You can’t have a BB gun, kid! You’ ll shoot your eye out!

Aaron waved and Roni lifted a finger, pointing to the price tag.

He frowned, and she motioned to the white ticket dangling on the cord. Tracing her gaze, he brightened and glanced at the price then mouthed, one ninety-nine.

A hundred and ninety-nine? Dollars? He had to be kidding. He held the lamp closer to the window, brows lifted expectantly.

She shook her head. No. Too much. She couldn’t.

Smiling, he set the lamp on a round table and pulled the chain. Soft light pooled over the sidewalk where Roni stood. The effect brought a lump to her throat. Mom.

Christmas! The smell of fresh pine in every room, cookies baking in the oven. When Mom was alive she had insisted on a fresh cut tree every season, and Roni still observed the tradition. It wasn’t Christmas until a huge tree filled the parlor corner, decorated with childhood ornaments and family keepsakes.

It was silly to continue family traditions with no one to share them with, but she did — and most likely she always would, but she needed to start her own customs.

She’d turned into a creature of habit. Her biological clock wasn’t exactly running out, but her dream of filling the house with children had started to look less likely. She’d be thirty in January, and there was not a marriageable prospect in sight. Nativity had only a few single men, and she didn’t get to Springfield or Branson that often.

Life was passing her by, but she had no inclination to stop it. She was content, even happy, with small-town life. She made sure that she was involved with community work, and the town was her family.

Darkness closed in as she continued to stare at the funky lamp until the wind picked up. Dry leaves skipped across the street and landed in yards already piled high with dying vegetation.

Snuggling deeper into her jacket, she took a final look at the lamp, and then walked home to her empty house.

2

“Coffee, Miss Elliot?”

Roni glanced up to find Jake Brisco standing in front of her desk. For a second she fixed on his cobalt blue shirt and marveled at the way the color brought out the darkness of his eyes. The man was drop-dead gorgeous. Startled, she shoved the financial spreadsheet aside. “Yes, right away, Mr. Brisco.” Pushing back from the desk, she got up and started for the coffeemaker when he stopped her.

“No. Do
you
want coffee?”

Her? Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder.

He flashed a smile, his eyes sparkling with what seemed to be mischief. “How do you take it? Black? Cream and sugar?”

“Cream.”

“Cream it is.” He motioned to her desk. “Don’t let me disturb you.”

Jake Brisco was getting
her
coffee? She drew a deep breath. That was a refreshing change. She eased back to her desk and sat down.

Judy cleared her throat. “Good morning, Mr. Brisco.”

“Morning, Judy.”

Coffee, and he remembered names. Roni shook her head in disbelief.

He poured the coffee into three foam cups, added cream to two, and turned to Judy. “How do you take your brew?”

The clerk sent Roni a curious glance. “Black?”

By eight thirty, the administrative staff: Roni, Judy, and part-timer Tess Miller, were in their seats in the break room. Mayor Stance came in and joined the group a few minutes late.

“Good morning, ladies.”

“Good morning, Mayor,” the women parroted.

Stance smiled. “How’s the sick young’un this morning, Judy?”

“Kept me up half the night. It’s just croup, but the two older ones will probably have it by tomorrow.”

“Ah, the joys of parenting.” The mayor lifted a bushy brow in Roni’s direction. “Coffee?”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” She got up and poured the liquid, then added heavy cream and two packets of sugar.

Jake rifled through a stack of papers when she returned to her seat. “I trust we’re ready to get down to business?”

Baritone
, Roni noted. Clear, oozing authority, but nice enough. She wondered how long the pleasant manner would last.

He looked up and met her eyes. “It seems Nativity has a problem.”

“Not much of one,” the mayor assured. “We could have solved this on our own, given enough time.” He cleared his throat with a watery hack. “But no one listens to me.”

Luckily, Mayor Stance’s objections had been voted down, but it still wasn’t likely he’d take to change easily.

Yet he loved this town, so Roni figured he’d do what it took to help the town survive.

Stance continued. “We’ve hit a little financial rough patch, that’s all. Since the new highway bypassed us, we’ve had trouble keeping businesses. All we need are some fresh ideas on how to do that, and we’ll be in fine shape.”

Jake glanced at the spreadsheet. “Last night I went over the annual revenue, numbers of employees, and payroll expenditures.”

Tess sat up straighter. “I’m not going to be laid off, am I?”

Roni glanced at her. The retired librarian openly confessed that giving up work wasn’t what she expected. She couldn’t live on her social security and small pension, so she had sought a part-time job. The widow depended on the extra income and was worth every cent the town paid her, as far as Roni was concerned.

Brisco frowned. “I’m not here to disrupt lives, Mrs. Miller; I’m here to find solutions to the town’s problems. Looking at the situation from a purely ‘cutting corners’ aspect, we’ll need to start with the small things and see if we can get the town solvent without taking drastic measures.”

Roni relaxed. Maybe he wasn’t going to be hard-nosed and impractical about this. A nip here, a tuck there, and everything would be fine.

Her gaze drifted out the window and toward the street, where the city crew restored the annual tree. Christmas wasn’t the time to cut jobs or put poor widows out of work. Her thoughts skipped to the decorations waiting in her attic. Soon she could start festooning her house with holiday splendor —

“Would you agree, Miss Elliot?”

Roni’s gaze snapped back. “I … would certainly give the matter serious consideration.”

What had he said? What was she giving serious consideration?

Jake nodded. “Good. It’s a small thing, but the little things are what we’re looking for. Moving on, let’s discuss the town tree.”

Easing forward, Roni poised her pen. Undoubtedly, next year he’d want to make the spruce smaller and less — obtrusive.

Jake’s eyes fixed on the report. “How many times a season is the tree knocked over?”

The women exchanged glances.

“Once,” Judy said.

“Maybe a couple of times,” Roni corrected.

“At least three,” the mayor amended. “Admittedly it sits in a bad place, but it looks so good in the intersection, so we’ve left it.”

“Three?” Jake’s brow lifted. “And each time you replace the decorations?”

“Not all of them, of course,” the mayor said. “But we do go through a bunch of lights and ornaments. I wouldn’t expect a newcomer to understand, but it’s sort of a town tradition.” He leaned back, smiling. “Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without our tree, and Nativity wouldn’t be Nativity if the tree didn’t get knocked down now and then.”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “About the decorations. You continue to use the old bulbs instead of the energy efficient ones?”

“Why, yes. The energy efficient bulbs cost more, and besides, there’s something special about those old bulbs.

You know — ”

“Tradition,” Jake provided. He turned a page. “Have you considered a nativity scene instead? I saw a large church on the corner of Chadwick and Lucas on the way over. It appears to be on the main track, and well suited for a holiday decoration.”

Tess entered the conversation. “That’s my church. We have a live nativity scene the Sunday before Christmas.

The congregation supports the endeavor through our offerings. I don’t think folks would take kindly to anyone other than us doing the scene.”

Jake lowered the paper. “There has to be a more appropriate place for the tree other than in the middle of the street. Drivers turn the corner and they’re on the thing before they realize it.”

Everyone shifted as the atmosphere took on a strained feel. Roni tensed. Now he was messing with the big things.

“Shall we move on?” Judy voiced Roni’s thoughts.

Jake paused. “Not so fast. I agree we’ve spent a lot of time discussing the tree, but sacrifices are needed. I suggest that we start the painful process of getting the town back on budget by doing away with the tree if it’s hit again.”

Before he could move on, the mayor intervened. “Let’s not be hasty, Brisco. One unfortunate tree incident isn’t cause for panic.”

Yeah. Let’s not be hasty, Roni silently mimicked.

The consultant held his ground. “I ran a quick tally on the price of replacing lights, tinsel, and ornaments, and the hourly crew cost of the work. The total will surprise you.”

“Oh?” The mayor frowned.

Mentally sighing, Roni thought of all the times she’d put the tree cost on Stance’s desk and he’d shoved it aside. It was costly, but well worth the expenditure.

“Each time the tree is knocked down, the restoration price tag is over three hundred dollars. If that happens three times every year, the annual cost is almost a thousand dollars.” He glanced at Tess. “That amount equals, say, a month’s pay for a part-time employee.”

Roni shook her head. “But we’ve always had a tree …”

His tone remained the same. “We’re on a quest to cut corners. We need to begin with the tree.”

“But the tree is already up for the season,” Roni argued. “It would be senseless to take it down now.”

“But if the cost to put it back up is someone’s job …” Tess reminded.

Roni couldn’t argue. Tess had the most to lose from these fiscal cuts. She glanced at the usually town-loyal part-timer and knew she was worried about her income.

“The tree’s up now,” Brisco explained, “and if it stays up we don’t have a problem. But next year the town should revisit the idea of decreasing the tree size and setting it in a more suitable place.”

“You know, this isn’t just about tradition; this is about Christmas — bringing the community together, good will to all men and that stuff,” Roni noted.

Jake nodded, thoughtful, and then moved on. “So, can I see by a show of hands that we’re in agreement?”

“Regarding?” the mayor asked as though he’d just shown up.