Chistmas Ever After (4 page)

“I hate the song, and I despise the style of this box!” Mrs. Stanton snapped, thrusting the box back at Jennifer, as if it were a smelly piece of old garbage. “Your choice of products leaves much to be desired, young woman! And while I’m at it, please don’t let your garbage cans spill over in the alleyway on garbage pickup day! They are an unhealthy eyesore and their presence shows that you have careless and indiscriminate habits.”

With a climactic flourish, Mrs. Stanton whirled and shoved her way through the crowd and out the front door.

Jennifer struggled to contain her anger, as she stepped up to replace the box.

Mrs. Wintergreen slowly worked her way through the narrow aisle until she was only a few feet from Jennifer. She lifted a gentle hand, trying to get Jennifer’s attention. Jennifer noticed.

“I’ll be right with you,” Jennifer said, stepping down.

Just then, a hulking man with a mild panic in his eyes seized Jennifer’s shoulder. “I need to get a gift for my wife. Somebody down the street said you’d be able to help.”

Jennifer gave Mrs. Wintergreen an apologetic glance. Mrs. Wintergreen nodded understandingly, and browsed the shelves and displays as Jennifer made suggestions to the nervous man.

A few moments later, Jennifer approached, looking at Mrs. Wintergreen curiously. “Have we met?”

“Not directly, my dear.”

“You look very familiar to me.”

“I hear that a lot. I suppose I have a familiar face,” Mrs. Wintergreen said.

Jennifer studied it. “Have you ever been to Tennessee?”

“Oh yes, Jennifer, I have. A delightful state, filled with wonderful people.”

“Oneida, Tennessee?”

“I’ve been through it, yes, although it’s been many years.”

“Maybe that’s where I saw you,” Jennifer said, satisfied for the moment. “What can I help you with?”

Mrs. Wintergreen looked around the busy shop. “I’m afraid I caught you at a bad time, my dear. I apologize.”

“It’s okay. That’s why I’m here, to help you,” Jennifer said, with a steely, efficient manner.

“I want to talk to you about something. By the way, I love those Santa Claus dolls.”

Jennifer frowned. “Those things?” Then she caught herself and forced a smile in a mock spirited tone. “Oh, yes! A lot of people seem to like them. They’re selling well. You were saying that you needed to talk to me about something?”

Both women were jostled and bumped as they stood in the crowded thoroughfare. Mrs. Wintergreen pointed to the back of the store where it was more secluded.

“Perhaps we could speak back there.”

Jennifer hesitated, seeing Angela feverishly at work behind the cash register, and a line of people waiting. “You’ll have to make this quick, ma’am.”

“Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Wintergreen said.

They managed to edge their way to the rear of the store, near the Christmas tree, where the CD player was. Natalie Cole was singing
O Tannenbaum
. Mrs. Wintergreen paused to softly sing along and conduct with her right hand.

“Du grunst nich nur zur Sommerzeit.”
[You are green in summertime.]
“Nein auch im winter, wenn es schneit.”
[Also in winter, when it snows.]

She looked at Jennifer, beaming. “Pardon me. I love that song and she sings it so beautifully, don’t you think?”

Jennifer controlled her mounting impatience. “Oh yes,” she said, without sincerity.

Mrs. Wintergreen gathered herself, folding her hands and lifting her warm eyes toward Jennifer. “Jennifer… I have a gift for you.”

Jennifer slanted her a suspicious look. “A gift… for me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…” Jennifer said, waiting, her alert eyes darting about the shop.

“It is Christmas after all, the time for gift-giving, for granting wishes,” Mrs. Wintergreen continued.

“…What did you say your name is?”

“Mrs. Wintergreen.”

“Mrs. Wintergreen, I appreciate the offer, but you don’t really have to give me anything.”

“Oh, but I want to, my dear.”

“Okay. Can you give it to me now or do I have to go somewhere and pick it up?”

“You do indeed have to travel somewhere.”

“Okay, and, where will I have to travel?” Jennifer asked, folding her arms tightly, obviously not interested.

Mrs. Wintergreen’s voice rose in excitement. “Well, let’s just say that it involves an adventure.”

Jennifer dropped her head, then slowly lifted it again. Her arms fell to her sides. “I’m going to have to cut this short. I really do have to get back to work. Thank you for coming in. If you need anything at all, please let me know. Excuse me.”

Jennifer rushed away toward the cash register to help Angela. Mrs. Wintergreen turned, lifted a disappointed eyebrow, and moved through the crowds toward the front door. As she passed through it, Jennifer craned her neck, watching her. To get a better look, she moved toward the front window and stared as inconspicuously as possible, as Mrs. Wintergreen climbed into her car and drove away.

At 6:30 that evening, Jennifer still hadn’t decided what she was going to wear to the Hartmans’ Christmas party. She’d tried on dress after dress and paraded before the mirror so many times that she couldn’t tell any more what looked good and what didn’t. Her hips looked too broad in the red dress; the white and royal blue was out of style; the gold strapless was too provocative; the cream and tan made her look pale and washed out; the light green with slender straps looked like she was trying too hard. The black designer dress that she’d paid a fortune for over a year ago brought the pain of memory. It was the last dress Lance had seen her in.

What did that leave her with? The pale blue, with puffy shoulders and a plunging neckline. It showed cleavage. All wrong. And then there was a question of jewelry. She’d never felt comfortable wearing jewelry.

She was about to reach for the telephone to call the Hartmans, to tell them she wouldn’t be able to make it, when the telephone rang. She answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Jennifer. It’s Mrs. Wintergreen. How are you?”

Jennifer closed her eyes, massaging the bridge of her nose. “I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling to see if you’re going to the Hartmans’ Christmas party.”

“Actually, something has come…”

Mrs. Wintergreen interrupted. “… Excuse me for interrupting, my dear, I just want to say that, well…they’re such delightful people and I know they would appreciate your being at their party. They think very highly of you.”

Jennifer’s eyes opened and she eased down into the closest chair. “I suppose you’ll be there?”

Her voice was filled with a contagious enthusiasm. “Oh, yes, Jennifer! I wouldn’t miss it for anything. And, by the way, I would still like to offer you that Christmas present. So I do hope we’ll see you there, my dear.”

Jennifer breathed out a sigh. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

After Jennifer hung up, she went into the bathroom and quickly brushed out her hair, applied mousse then screwed up her lips, discouraged. What she needed was a Christmas beauty angel. She quickly applied makeup, glancing nervously at her digital clock and realizing that she was going to be late.

In the bedroom, she ignored the rejected dresses lying in a rumpled pile on the bed, and hurried to her walk-in closet. She reached for her favorite pair of dark pants. Next she grabbed a red silk blouse and white ski sweater on the shelf above. The outfit would have to do.

From her red velvet jewelry box, she lifted the lid and closed her eyes. It played
Winter Wonderland
. Her mother had given it to her for Christmas many years ago. She reached in and made a random selection. When she opened her eyes she gasped. They were her least favorite earrings. Silver dangling icicles with a little diamond drip. She shrugged and fastened them on. An old gift from somebody—she couldn’t remember. She resisted the temptation to pass by the mirror before snatching her coat and leaving the condo.

Driving through the snow-cleared streets, past houses sprinkled with Christmas lights, electric candles in the windows and plastic glowing snowmen waving and grinning, Jennifer felt a mild panic. She’d never been particularly comfortable in large groups. She was always afraid that she would disappoint somehow—say the wrong thing at the wrong time—do something so outrageous that she would wind up on the front page of the morning papers and be run out of town, humiliated and ostracized. It’s why she was comfortable with numbers and spreadsheets. They were a constant. Numbers never lie. They give you back exactly what you put out and you can always count on 2 + 2 equaling 4.

She turned her light blue Mazda onto Shepherd Lane and stopped.
 
It was a quiet, narrow street, embroidered by tall bare trees and inky shadows. It was also where the Hartmans lived. She nudged the car forward and ventured a look down the road, where only one home was visible, and it was lit up for Christmas. It was a massive Tudor-style home, with a brick wall separating its broad snow-covered lawn from the street. White lights were strung on every eave and bush and along the top of the wall. The perimeter hedges and bare oaks and pines were wrapped in colored lights. Blue floodlights illuminated a manger scene and a 50s-style plastic Santa, complete with sleigh and reindeer.

Across the street from the house was an empty lot filled with cars, obviously being used as the parking lot for guests.

Jennifer shook her head and drove toward the house. She turned into the circular drive and stopped the car near the front door of the Hartman home. A high school kid dressed in a bright yellow parka, with stiff hair and active eyes, handed Jennifer a ticket as she climbed out, feeling the sharp chill of the wind. He slid behind the wheel, closed the door and shot away from the driveway across the road to the parking lot.

She turned toward the house, hearing lively music coming from inside, recognizing the song as
Jingle Bell Rock
. Mustering courage, she approached the front door, noticing the large Christmas wreath with a bright red bow above the knocker. She found a doorbell and pressed it.

A moment later, the door opened and a silver-haired man dressed in a tuxedo, with a red silk scarf artfully arranged and blooming from his jacket pocket, welcomed her with a pleasant smile. The smells of pine and turkey filled her nose.

She presented him with her invitation and he led her into the roomy foyer framed in white lights, garlands and holly. He took her coat, passing it to a young beauty dressed in red velvet, and then escorted Jennifer to the party.

They entered a spacious and grandly decorated two-level room, where Christmas seemed to leap out at her from every corner. The four-piece band burst into song,
Rocking around the Christmas Tree
, and the room sprang to life with dancing and clapping.

People were gathered in groups, conversing, laughing, drinking or standing near the band, rocking to the music. Waiters and waitresses, dressed in black and white with red bow ties, carefully meandered through the crowds, offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

The women wore magnificently stylish dresses of green, red, black and gold, with bows, gold jewelry and artful hairdos. The men wore white shirts with Christmas ties, red and green cashmere sweaters or dark suits and open-collared red or green shirts. Jennifer swallowed away nerves as she looked around.

Poinsettias were everywhere, surrounding the band and on the mantel, windowsills and side tables. A towering spruce, decorated with red ornaments and white lights, stood 10 feet from the glowing masonry fireplace, where five-foot Nutcrackers stood at attention on either side. Children hopped and played, dazzled by the spectacle and cheerful energy.

Jennifer noticed baskets of presents, lavishly wrapped, placed around the room and near the red and green skirted table, where food was being arranged for the buffet. The table itself was embellished with a swag of greenery, Victorian-style ornaments, pinecones and candy canes.

The atmosphere was charged with celebration, expectation and possibility, but Jennifer found it all overwhelming. She was thankful that no one had noticed her. She tucked her head, spun around and walked briskly to the front door. The coat check girl looked confused when Jennifer dropped a dollar in the tip jar and asked for her coat. The butler, too, examined her quizzically as he opened the door for her.

“I’m sorry, I have the wrong house,” Jennifer said, exiting.

She descended the stairs and waved for the parking attendant.

Mrs. Wintergreen had been watching her. She saw Jennifer leave. She followed.

CHAPTER 4

Jennifer stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting anxiously for the car attendant to fetch her car, regretting her decision to come. She felt exposed and vulnerable. She didn’t belong with those people—with any people. She wanted to be alone.

A brand-new dark SUV rolled into the circular driveway and stopped at the edge of the walkway, where she was standing.

Richard Steady, her insurance agent, sprang out. Jennifer cringed. She’d almost escaped without seeing anyone. Richard was a talker.

“Hi there, Jennifer,” he said, all bubbly and smiles.