The Christmas Lamp (9 page)

“If he wears sun screen.” Roni removed the wrapper and popped the sweet into her mouth. “How many bags of these things do you go through in a season?”

Frowning, he turned thoughtful. “The amount doesn’t matter; it’s the kiddies’ joy that concerns me.”

Judy sucked on her treat. “Better get your glasses changed, Dustbo. We’re not kiddies.”

He winked. “You are to me. I gave you girls candy when you were still toddlers.” He focused on Roni. “Now, we’ve got some decisions to make. Seems to me we’re going to have to come up with our own holiday this year. Put our heads together, get something going. I want to save the town as much as the next guy, but we can’t let Brisco destroy our holiday.”

Shoving back from her desk, Roni said, “I agree. We were just discussing the parade and how few entries we have this year. We’re thinking about changing the date of the decorating contest.”

“Can’t be too soon for me. When are you thinking of starting?”

“Right away, and have the lighting and judging a week before Christmas Eve. We need to do something to get this town’s Christmas spirit rolling.”

“Amen!” Dusty said. “I’m going to call Shelia and tell her to have our grandson come over and get the decorations down from the attic.” Dusty rubbed his hands together. “Hot dog. The house decorating contest. Brisco can’t stop this tradition.”

But he could put a severe damper on it, Roni thought.

When the door closed behind a whistling Bitterman, Judy admitted. “I guess age and tradition are subjective.

How old is Dusty now?”

“He must be well into his eighties.”

“And still doesn’t carry a cell phone.”

“Are you kidding? That’d only confuse him.”

Judy sat back. “Eighties, huh. Still working and as vital as ever. Who’ll hand out peppermints when he’s gone?”

Roni shook her head. It was a good question. Who would hand out peppermint treats in a ghost town?

Roni walked over and stood behind Jake’s chair.

He looked up, then set a miniature tour bus down and motioned toward the board. “What do you think of it?”

Uncertain of how to answer, she ignored the question and brought up the subject most on her mind. “Judy suggests that we start the home decorating contest right away, since it looks like the parade is going to be small this year and probably won’t generate a lot of local shopping enthusiasm.” She eased closer to stare at the board. “What is that?”

“Nativity.”

She shook her head. “No it isn’t. We don’t have a five-and-dime, or an old-fashioned — ” She bent closer to read the tiny sign, “ice cream and soda fountain.” The best Nativity could offer was The Dairy Dream.

Tipping back in his chair, Jake focused on her. “Tell me more about the decorating idea. Is it usually held about this time?”

“A little closer to Christmas, but if we move it up even a few days it could spark some holiday cheer.”

Jake reached for a folder, and she held her breath. Had he noticed the three-hundred-dollar prize? Three hundred dollars was insignificant in the big picture, but no doubt important to Nativity’s financial health. His eyes scanned the columns. “The town offers a prize for the contest?”

“Three hundred dollars.”

“Is the money necessary?” He looked up. “Why is it obligatory? Surely not for the Christmas spirit. After all, the best things in life are free.”

“That’s true, and no, the money isn’t necessary, but it’s — ”

“Tradition,” he supplied a theme that was starting to sound redundant, even to Roni.

“That and the thrill of competition.”

“Competition. You know, my grandpa used to say competition was man’s worst enemy.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Grandma Mary said his theory was that when two people compete, there’s a winner and a loser. We all like to win, and the elation we feel at the time is pleasant. But to have a winner is to produce a loser. If a person loses enough times, he starts to think like a loser. Many a ‘loser,’ though competent and bright, wears the mental label for the rest of his life. Grandpa would always end by saying, ‘We are all winners,’ and it serves no purpose to point out the shortcomings of any man, woman, or child.”

“I hardly think that losing a seasonal contest would mar a person for life.”

He smiled. “Maybe not, but according to Grandma, Grandpa was pretty wise. Okay, you can change the dates, but let’s have the only prize be the recognition of being the owner of the best-decorated house in town. We save the town three hundred dollars, and we don’t emphasize losing over the holiday.”

Best decorated house in town
. Roni hardly thought the title would help pay Judy’s credit card bill or buy Tess’s groceries. Still, Jake had a point. As much as she hated to admit it, contests did have a way of inflating or deflating the ego.

Admit it, Roni
.
Brisco’s cuts are starting to wear thin
. Such minute expenditures couldn’t put a dent in the overall deficit, so why not let the town have its holiday? Chances were there wouldn’t even be a Nativity next year.

Or would Jake Brisco still be here to dampen the spirit?

Later, she picked up the phone and called Dusty. When the friendly insurance man answered, she let it pour out. “

Dusty, he’s not going to let us have the decorating contest.”

Who?”

“Scrooge. Brisco.”

“How can he stop us?”

“He won’t allow the prize money.”

“So?”

Her chin shot up. So what? Jake might not allow the prize money, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t decorate. Her pulse thumped. “You’re right.”

The older man chuckled. “It’s not hard when you stop to think about it. No one but you can take away Christmas, and you’re not going to do that, are you?”

“I’m not.” She hung up the phone, jerked her jacket on, and grew a backbone. She
certainly
was not.

8

There would have been more attendees if the town had hosted a pigeon fight.

The near empty streets and the few courageous families, mostly parents and grandparents of parade participants, who’d turned out to watch the Christmas parade were pathetic. All day long, thunderstorms that commonly occurred in the spring dampened the spirits of the few who braved the wet weather. Tornado sirens blared midway through the event and marching bands ran for cover, hauling tubas and drums to safety.

Nativity’s holiday spirit stunk.

Drenched to the bone, Roni slogged home. Would the decorating contest suffer the same fate as the Christmas parade? Now that Brisco had taken away the prize money, would anyone care enough to swathe their homes in colorful lights?

Piece by piece, Nativity was starting to crumble.

She reached her house and paused. It was still early. The tornado sirens had become silent, signalling the all clear. Somehow, tonight of all nights, she needed a reminder that this was the Christmas season, a joyful time of Santa and Rudolph and presents and love.

Perhaps she would take in a holiday show. The Baldknobbers, with Joy Bilyeu Steele, her favorite entertainer.

A few minutes later she backed the Volkswagen out of the garage. Sprinkles covered the windshield and thunder rolled across the hillsides. She covered the short distance from Nativity to Branson, driving straight to the Landing, a fairly new addition to the tourist town. Shops, restaurants, and holiday lights created a sense of goodwill. A monstrous silver tree decorated in blue welcomed shoppers.

Heading for her favorite dress shop, she put all of her gloomy thoughts aside. Brisco couldn’t kill her spirit. Neither could the rain or even the disastrous parade. Christmas wasn’t about things. It was about the birth of Jesus. And somehow seeing happy faces and beautiful decorations helped buoy her spirit.

She walked up and down the strip, peering into windows, browsing the unique clock shop, and assessing original oil paintings. Christmas carols filled the air. Shoppers rushed by with gaily wrapped packages and overflowing shopping bags.

She stopped in The Big Popper and purchased a large bag of caramel corn. On her way back to the car she passed a jewelry store. Pausing to admire a necklace, her gaze lifted and none other than Jake Brisco was standing at the glass counter. Swallowing her recent bite of caramel corn, she backed away, hoping to avoid a meeting. She was starting to enjoy his company, which didn’t make a bit of sense, but tonight being alone seemed desirable. True, he was personable and had remarkable business savvy, but she shouldn’t be drawn to a man who was systematically taking apart her town.

She turned and hurried on, but seconds later Jake’s voice called out. “Roni?”

Whirling, she smiled. “Jake?”

“Wait up.” He strode down the walk carrying a wrapped jewelry box. “Why aren’t you at the parade?”

“It was rained out.”

“No kidding?”

“It didn’t rain here?”

“Not a drop. A lot of thunder and lightning, but no rain.”

It made sense. Nativity was under a storm cloud that refused to lift. She sighed. And why had he skipped the parade? Didn’t he have an ounce of civic pride? “So, what brings you to the Landing?”

“Christmas shopping.”

“How nice.” Of course, Nativity could use the revenue, but admittedly there wasn’t a jeweler in town.

“Grandma likes brooches. I’ve bought her a different piece every year for the past few years, but I wonder if she doesn’t get tired of the same old same old.”

“A woman can never have too much jewelry.” Roni extended the sack of caramel corn. “Want some?”

“Thanks.” He took a sizeable handful. “Have you had dinner?”

She lifted the sack of corn. He smiled. “Have you eaten a decent meal today?”

“Mmm … no. I went to the parade, and when it was rained out I decided to come here.”

His gaze searched the scenic area. “Where’s a good place to eat?”

This was a really bad idea. Soon Jake would be gone, and most likely so would she. He’d come around every so often to see his grandma, but a door would close on their relationship. They would no longer see each other every day, and the relationship would fizzle out. Common sense told her that Nativity couldn’t exist much longer; the dismal holiday season would be the final blow. Tears welled to her eyes, and she blinked back the telling moisture. “I’m really not hungry.”

“Then sit with me while I eat. I haven’t had a thing since breakfast.”

They were approaching Garfield’s, one of her favorite places to eat.
Why not, Roni? Why not take advantage of a pleasant reprieve?

“Here’s one of my favorite restaurants.”

Opening the door, he motioned for her to step inside.

At this late hour, empty tables were available.

“How many?” the hostess asked.

Jake smiled. “Two. And could we have a table outside?”

“Absolutely. Follow me.”

Roni found herself in front of Jake, trailing the waitress outdoors where tables with umbrellas sat along the railing next to Lake Taneycomo. Tonight, gentle temperatures made Jake’s outdoor seating preference ideal. The sky cleared overhead, and a soft breeze blew off the water.

Drawing a deep breath, Roni settled into her chair and allowed the Christmas spirit to saturate her. Carols played softly in the background. Lights shimmered off the placid water. Jake was sitting across from her. What started out as a disappointing evening had suddenly turned very pleasant.