The Christmas Lamp (4 page)

Leaving him standing at his vehicle, she walked off, carefully picking her way across the glazed sidewalk. She’d worn a low heel this morning, never thinking that the weather would turn bad.

When she reached Steil’s Hardware she paused to admire the Christmas lamp. Its peaceful warmth lit the gray day. For the first time in years she allowed her mind to consider what her life would have been if she had married Paul. Young and in love, she’d accepted the young county worker’s proposal six years ago. Then Mom got sick and Roni had to make the painful decision to commit either to Paul or to a possibly long, drawn-out parental illness. Paul wanted children immediately, and she knew that if she had Mom’s full care that kids weren’t a possibility.

In the end, duty won out. She broke the engagement. Paul was now happily married with two young children, and she was still single and working for a failing administrative office. By now she could have had a comfortable home, two children, security, and a family to go home to every night and share her day.

Her breath formed white vapors as she visualized the leg lamp in Mom’s front parlor window — her window now. She had the whole empty house to herself and Mom’s cat, Mimsy. It was time that she formed her own traditions. Mom would be horrified by the cheesy lamp, but tastes varied, and it was her life now.

The neighbors would think she’d lost her mind if she stuck that tacky lamp in the window. Yet if she had the money she’d buy the thing in a second. The more she looked at it the more she wanted it.

Aaron’s face popped up and he pointed to the lamp, grinning.

Shaking her head, she playfully turned both empty coat pockets inside out and let them hang.

Frowning, he wagged his finger and directed her eyes to the newly erected poster.
Christmas Comes But Once a Year!

True, but utility and gas bills arrived monthly, and they both wanted their money. They didn’t see the holiday in the same carefree manner as others. As much as she wanted the lamp, it would have to wait until another year.

Who knew, if Jake Brisco was all about cutting Christmas traditions now, it might not be long before he was into eliminating jobs. She had seniority, and the town couldn’t run without administration, but if times got any worse, Nativity could cease to exist. Jake never cared about the town; he’d never visited his grandma unless forced to.

The lamp looked even more fanciful.

Shaking her finger at Aaron, she moved on. Mimsy would be waiting for her at the back door, expecting dinner.

As she walked home she consoled her loss with the thought that at least something would be waiting for her.

She dodged an icy spray from a delivery truck as it flew past. She detested bad weather, and if this stuff stuck around, winter would be early this year.

She had slipped the key into the lock when she sensed it. Then the faint “tinkle” of breaking glass reached her ears. The speeding delivery truck came to her mind.

Stepping back to the edge of the porch, she leaned out to look for the tree, and sure enough, it was gone.

Picking her way out to the sidewalk for a better look, she spotted the truck driver standing in the intersection. The pavement had just enough glaze to be treacherous. He took off his hat and wiped his eyes.

Heartsick, she turned back and made her way onto the porch where she rested her head against the front door panel.

There went the tree.

If she knew Jake Brisco, which admittedly she didn’t, when he said something he meant it. She made a mental note to cancel Saturday night’s annual tree lighting.

Nativity had just suffered their first fiscal cut.

4

Jake rifled through a sheaf of papers, his mind on Grandma’s frantic phone call this summer.
You have to come save my town, Jake. You’re smart like your grandfather. You’ ll know what to do. I go out so little lately, but I still love my town and its people. I can’t sit by and watch it die.

As soon as he could get away he’d taken a leave of absence, and now here he was. Why, he had yet to figure out. These people were hung up on tradition; they’d gone nuts every holiday and now their town was in trouble. Granted, the new highway hadn’t helped, but their holiday expenditures could put even the best of towns into the red. He detested Christmas and all its phony sentiments. Couldn’t a man believe in the Almighty without all the gimmicks?

Roni’s voice drew him back to his purpose. Clearing his throat, he said, “Believe me, I’d rather be Bob Cratchit standing before you this morning than Ebenezer Scrooge.”

His gaze met the grim expressions in the room, and he realized the office staff failed to appreciate the humor.

Judy’s face was a combination of fatigue, horror, and confusion. Roni looked like a child who’d had a prized Christmas toy snatched from her hand.

Tess just looked confused.

Jake didn’t relish his role as bad guy; these were honest, hardworking small-town folks who valued tradition.

But if he was to help Grandma save her town, he had no other choice.

“Not all the tree decorations broke this time.”

Jake glanced over. Her mind was still fixated on that tree.

Roni fidgeted with a paperclip. “Actually, it would take very little to replace them.”

“This time?” Jake shook his head. “I’ve been in Nativity for two days and the tree’s gone down twice.”

Roni’s muffled, “You hit it first,” surprised everyone, including Jake.

“Pardon?”

“Agreed,” she acknowledged. “But the town can’t help it if a motorist can’t see an object the size of a barn.” She met his steady gaze and her thoughts were clear. She’d lived in this town all of her life and
she’d
never hit the tree.

Judy ran a hand through her messy hair, which Jake noted looked as though she’d thrown it up into the air and jumped under it that morning. “Man, Duke and I work our fannies off. We don’t eat expensive dinners out. We don’t go to the movies or buy our clothes anywhere but Kmart — our biggest treat is taking the kids to Walmart on Friday nights, having a fast-food hamburger, and doing the grocery shopping. Christmas is the only time of year we get to forget that we’re poor and just enjoy the season.

Christmas won’t be the same without the big tree.”

“I’m sorry, Judy. I hear you, but we have to start somewhere,” Jake focused on Roni. “You’ll inform the media of the change?”

She nodded, tight-lipped. It didn’t take a clairvoyant to know her heart wasn’t in the agreement.

Off to a great start, Jake.
Alienate the staff, especially this one. Roni was intelligent and sensible; nobody liked the cuts, but she would see the wisdom in his decision. So why was it so hard to witness the childlike disillusionment in her eyes? She loved her town.

When he was a kid he’d found every excuse to avoid holidays in Nativity, a tiny burg in the middle of nowhere. During his teen years he’d been obnoxious about the holidays, and his conscience still hurt when he thought of all the times he’d argued with his aunt about the subject. He’d didn’t want to leave his friends and spend the holiday with Grandma — a woman he barely knew.

Judy blew her nose.

“Okay, moving on to purchasing expenditures.” He glanced up. “Does this office really use five boxes of paper clips a month?”

After work, Roni stopped at the bakery for a loaf of Limpa Rye. During the holidays Jolsen’s Bakery featured a different type of bread every day. Limpa Rye was a favorite of Roni’s elderly neighbor, and she liked it okay.

Stepping into the fragrant establishment, she wasn’t surprised to see that this one business was thriving. This time of year brought a tremendous increase in bakery revenue, so much so that Eugenia, the owner, was talking about getting rid of her old gas-guzzler and purchasing one of those subcompact models.

“I’ll be right with you!” Eugenia called over the heads of a sea of customers waiting to buy. Some were taking their time about their selections. Roni located an empty table and sat down. The pleasant aromas of cinnamon and nutmeg surrounded her.

The bakery didn’t smell this festive any other time of the year. Eugenia’s fruitcakes, which owed their unique flavor to an ancestral recipe, lined the counters and folks were buying. The Branson Christmas Tour buses were starting their annual pilgrimage to The Strip, and occasionally one still turned off the main highway so the passengers could purchase a Jolsen’s goodie.

Roni smiled to a neighbor and eased off her shoes. She had written the notice regarding the new position on the town’s annual tree. The article would come out in the weekly paper. Folks would be upset. They would miss the spruce as much as she would. Even the thought dampened her spirit, but she wasn’t going to let Brisco’s cuts upset her. She’d be around long after he was gone. Her gaze shifted to the window, where the light ice coating had dissipated overnight. Today’s weather was downright balmy, and she had to admit the fifty degrees didn’t add much to her holiday mood. Others seemed unaffected as they hurried by the window.

Roni, you’re a sentimental fool. Shake it off. You can’t let Brisco ruin your holiday.

Speak of the Devil. Jake Brisco walked by and turned to enter the bakery.

“Be with you in a minute!” Eugenia parroted over a sea of customers.

He lifted a hand in response, his eyes perusing the showcase. Shrinking back in her chair, Roni fumbled for her shoes with her toes. The last thing she wanted was more fiscal cut talk.

When Jake lifted his eyes, recognition flickered.

She smiled.

He smiled back. After a moment, he walked toward her table as the small room filled to capacity.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she responded. “Busy place.”

Taking a chair, he sat down. “I heard they’re making rye bread today.”

“You like rye?”

“Love it. How about you?”

“I enjoy it. They make Limpa Rye during the holidays. Ed, my next-door neighbor, likes it, so I always purchase several loaves for him during the season.”

“What’s limpa?”

He was a rye man. Didn’t matter what sort, she decided.

“Swedish rye made with molasses and brown sugar. Better buy two loaves and freeze one if you like it. This is the only time of the year you can depend on Eugenia to have a lot.”

“I don’t have anywhere to keep an extra loaf. My hotel room only has a tiny refrigerator.”

“Oh … right. Well, I have a large freezer. You’re welcome to store an extra loaf there.” She could have bitten her tongue off.
Why
had she offered her freezer? Wouldn’t she see enough of him in the coming weeks?

“Thanks. Coffee? Soda?”

“No, I’m just waiting my turn. The bakery is almost never this busy this early in the season. Maybe taking down the tree won’t spoil everyone’s holiday after all.” She caught her tongue. “Also, Mimsy will be wondering where I am.”

“Mimsy?”

“Mom’s cat. I kept her.”

He nodded. “Part of the family.”

The noise level in the close room increased. Folks vied for fruitcakes and Limpa Rye, chatting happily among themselves. Roni felt she should try to carry on a conversation but decided against the effort.

After a bit, Jake scribbled a note on a napkin and passed it across the table. She glanced at the message. “Are you angry about the tree?”

Reaching for the pen, she scrawled. “I’ll miss it.” She pushed the paper back to him.

His eyes scanned the note. The paper slid back. “Are you angry?”

“Very.” Back.

“What choice did I have?” Back.

This one took a while. What choice did he have? Permit the tree to be knocked down at least once or twice more? According to his estimates, and they were probably accurate, that would lead to a pretty sizeable replacement cost. Should she support tradition or sound judgment? She picked up the pen. “None. You were right. Do I have to like it?” She slid the napkin across the Formica.

He wrote, “You can hate it, but don’t blame the messenger.”

Eugenia yelled. “Roni! You’re up!”

Roni shoved her feet into her shoes and reached for her purse. “My turn.”