The Christmas Lamp (8 page)

“I wanted to invite you to choir. We’re practicing for the Christmas cantata. We can always use an extra baritone.”

“Tenor.”

“Really?”

“Would I fib about a thing like that? Thanks, but you really wouldn’t want me there. Even Grandma says I should steer clear of music.”

She shook her head. “You’re a hard one to figure.”

“How so?”

“I know little about you, other than the fact that you’re a card-carrying Scrooge.”

“What’d you want to know?”

“Well — let’s start with your abnormal lack of Christmas enthusiasm.”

“Must we? Can’t a person enjoy the true meaning of Christmas without all the fuss?”

“Sure, but something’s caused you to be the way you are.”

“And how is that?”

“Not a sentimental bone in your body.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“You want my history. Here it goes. After I graduated from high school, I did a stint in the air force, and then opted out to come home for a while. I enrolled in college, got my masters, and then joined the Patton firm.”

“And?”

“And that’s my life’s background.”

“Christmas didn’t exist in your life?”

“It came around every twenty-fifth of December.”

They passed the hardware store, where the leg lamp still glowed brightly.

“That is looking more tempting every day,” he confessed.

She stopped, eyes bright. “You honestly like it?”

Pausing, his gaze scanned the window display. “I think I might.” Then he shook his head. “I have enough sockets.

Can’t even find half the ones I own.”

Roni’s house came into sight. A lamp glowed in the parlor window. Mom always sat a poinsettia in the front window. She left Roni with lots of traditions. She loved having poinsettias throughout the house, and a large tree decorated with ornaments dating back to both Mom’s and her childhoods. Every school year was marked with one of Roni’s handmade crafts. The assortment didn’t necessarily make for a
Good Housekeeping
tree, but it resulted in a sentimental one.

When she released a sigh, he glanced over. “Something wrong?”

“I was just thinking how much I love decorating this house, but maybe that sentiment isn’t so great.”

“How so?”

“This old house.” Her eyes scanned the two-story structure with a concrete wraparound porch. During the summer, Mom’s wicker furniture filled the area. Sometimes folks still sat on the porch on summer evenings and visited. “Sentiment has made me keep the house long after I realized that it’s too big for one person and a cat.”

“Mimsy.”

She nodded. “Maybe that’s why I continue to hold on to the relic. Mimsy’s getting very old and won’t be around much longer. When she goes, I’m thinking I’ll put the house up for sale and get something smaller and more economical.”

He reached for her hand. “You wouldn’t miss it?”

Her heart lunged. A man hadn’t held her hand in… she couldn’t remember the last time. She managed to find her voice. “Miss high utility bills, poor insulation, rattling plumbing, and the lack of dependable hot water pressure during showers? A little,” she admitted. “But they say change is good.”

“So, you stayed because of the cat?”

“Yeah, Mom loved Mimsy. It would have been like getting rid of a family member if I’d found her a new home.” His hand felt warm and assuring in hers. Was it supposed to feel this way? This man was taking away part of her life.

“How old is she?”

“Ageless. I thought she’d pass years ago, but she’s still very healthy.” They shared a moment of silence before she spoke again. “I use Mimsy as an excuse for keeping the house, but deep down I think I hold on to it because someday I’d like to fill it with children. Children and laughter. I’m an only child and I’ve always longed for siblings. I don’t know why Mom and Dad didn’t have more kids — I never asked and they never volunteered the information, but sometimes I’d hear a wistful tone in Mom’s voice when she talked about large families.” She turned to look at Jake. “You said you lived with your aunt?”

“Since I was nine. My folks were killed in a car accident.”

“Siblings?”

“One sister. She was with my parents the night they were killed. It was Christmas Eve, and they were on their way to Grandma Mary’s. I had spent the night before with her, and we’d baked sugar cookies that day, so I wasn’t in the car. Jill, my sister, lived for forty-eight hours, but then family made the decision to pull life support.”

“It must have been a horrible time in your life.”

“It took some time to adjust, and I admit I rebelled for a while. My teen years weren’t exactly ideal. Christmas was never the same.”

“I know. That’s why I cling to tradition.”

Reaching the house, Roni broke hand contact, though she realized the walk home had been the best she’d ever experienced. Still, it just didn’t feel like Christmas yet. There was no back-slapping “Merry Christmas” when people met on the street. No large, merrily twinkling spruce sitting in the intersection.

Saturday’s parade would stimulate the spirit. When the balloon artists, carolers, and concessions offering spiced cider and hot chocolate with a peppermint candy cane showed up, the atmosphere would change. Nativity would come alive with the holiday spirit regardless of Jake’s cuts.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for joining me. The motel room gets pretty monotonous.”

“Couldn’t you stay with your grandmother?”

“Sure I could, but her house is small and I prefer my privacy.” He bent and kissed her, just a touch to her lips, but enough to create a sizeable jolt. She closed her eyes, soaking in the touch.
For heaven’s sake, Roni. It was an innocuous peck, not a passionate kiss. The guy’s just being nice.

“See you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” her fingers absently touched the spot he’d kissed. “I’ll be there.”

7

“Roni, have you seen the parade list?”

“Not recently. Why?”

Judy handed over the file. “Read it and weep. I had been meaning to mention the lack of business interest earlier, but I thought there would be a lot of last minute entries.”

Roni scanned the sheet. Participation was way down.

“Have you called the ones who usually compete?”

“Just finished the list and everyone I spoke to had the same answer: cutting back, business is down, afraid to spend the extra money. It’s too late to do anything now.

The parade’s coming right up.”

“This is bad.” Applicants were half of what they were in past seasons. She reached for the phone and dialed the Food Mart. Phil’s harried voice came on the line.

“Phil …”

“Now don’t start with me, Roni. I’ve already told Judy that I ain’t got the money to put a float in the parade this year. Celery’s gone through the roof, bread and milk are outta sight. I got customers drivin’ up to Branson to shop at Lucky Mart in spite of high gas prices.”

“But Phil, the parade is a wonderful advertisement …”

“Not if you have to shut the door to your business.”

He clicked off.

“See. I told you,” Judy said as Roni hung up. “I’ve noticed the lights at Neilson’s haven’t been burning late like they usually do.”

“I’ll call Steve.” She punched in the garage number.

“Yo! Neilson’s Garage.”

“Steve, put your dad on.”

“Is this about the parade?”

“Yes — ”

“He won’t talk to you, Roni. He’s busy fixing a flat.

Besides, he already told Judy we aren’t putting a float in the parade this year.”

“He needs to consider — ”

“Hey, I like the floats. You don’t need to convince me.”

“Then put your dad on.”

“He won’t talk to you. We don’t have the money to participate. No dough. Business is down.”

She hung up.

Neilson’s Garage was the hub of float assembly. By this time of the year, crews would usually be working late into the night on their entries, their infectious laughter and good-natured banter ringing throughout the town. Nativity was starting to resemble a morgue. If Brisco thought green and blue twinkling lights on an empty gazebo could encourage a spending stampede, he was sadly mistaken. She glanced at his office, where he sat staring at a miniature town. Did he actually think he’d make Nativity solvent by playing a board game? Occasionally he’d move tiny automobiles and tour buses to different locations marked with Santa faces or Mary cradling the baby Jesus. Then he would shift a business to another corner, or remove the used clothing store and set a five-and-dime building in its place. She could not figure out what was going on in his analytical mind as Christmas drew closer and her hometown fought for its dying breath. His boredom was highly evident.

Returning to Judy’s statement, Roni admitted, “You’re right. It’s too late to change the businessmen’s minds.” She picked up the list and perused the entries which included high school marching bands, the Shriners and their funny little cars, a local children’s dance studio, and a convertible carrying Little Miss Merry Christmas. She trusted that this year Santa would arrive on time, riding high atop Nativity’s antiquated fire engine. She hoped the driver would not delay the jolly man’s appearance by flooding the carburetor like he did two years ago.

“We’ve got to do something if we’re going to save Christmas this year.” Judy set a box of paper clips on Roni’s desk.

“Dusty Bitterman and I are working on an alternate plan if Brisco goes too far.” Dusty called almost every day, intent on salvaging Christmas, but Roni still urged caution. Everything was starting to get complicated, between the season and her growing attraction to Jake in spite of his intent.

“Goes too far? He’s already gone too far!” Judy complained.

Tess glanced up from the file cabinet. “Brisco hasn’t said anything more about cutting the part-time help, has he?”

Roni sighed. “Stop worrying about your job. If it gets that bad, we’ll all go.”

The older woman closed the file. “That’s what I worry about.”

Roni was nervous about the same thing, but she wasn’t going to encourage the thought. Change was a fact of life, and as much as she loved this town, she knew from seeing other towns die that the large gobbled up the small. It was life’s food chain.

“I know. Why don’t we move up the date for the home decorating contest?” Judy suggested. “Everybody looks forward to the townwide lighting, and we might as well take advantage of the mild weather. It can’t last forever.”

“It can’t?” Roni had to wonder, but anything was worth a try. Without the tree and the ice rink, it seemed a foregone conclusion that Branson and Springfield would reap the commercial harvest from Nativity this year. The few retail stores still open were not enough to draw folks to the once active downtown.

Perched on the corner of Roni’s desk, Judy turned dreamy. “I know what I’d do with the prize money.”

“What would that be?”

“Pay off my credit card. The kid’s pharmacy bills have been piling up lately. If this croup doesn’t run its course I’m going to pull my hair out.”

“What about you, Tess?” Roni dropped a letter in the outgoing basket.

“Buy groceries. December’s utility bills leave me depleted, and three hundred dollars would go a long way toward stocking up on essentials.”

Judy took a sip from her cup. “Roni, you usually win the contest. What would you do with the money?”

Roni thought of the leg lamp in Steil’s window. One hundred ninety-nine dollars. She’d buy that lamp and create her own tradition, which now seemed pretty shallow in view of how Judy and Tess would spend the award money.

“I might not win,” she pointed out. “The Hakes won last year.”

The front door opened and Dusty Bitterman, the friendly, peppermint-toting insurance man, stepped inside the office, dropping candy treats on every desk he passed. He pitched a round disc onto Roni’s desk. “Isn’t it about time for Santa to come see you ladies this year?”