Just South of Christmas

by Grace Palmer

  She swallowed hard and closed her eyes as she watched as Gwen raised her hands to conduct the singers.

  “Three, two, one…”

  As her voice joined in with those of the others, her mind went in another direction entirely—traveling back to that last time she’d found herself singing this tune…

  Five Years Ago—Hollywood, California

  Tasha sat in the waiting room and tapped her fingers nervously on her thighs. She had hoped that the more auditions she went, on the less nervous she would be, but that was turning out not to be the case at all. Or maybe it was the fact that she wanted this role more than she’d wanted the others.

  It seemed as though it was written specifically with her in mind. It wasn’t, of course. So far, all the roles she’d managed to snag were as uncredited extra. Perhaps one day such roles would be written for her, but today was not that day. Tomorrow probably wasn’t, either.

  This show, however, was the closest she’d come so far to a perfect fit. Tentatively titled “Emily Connor Comes Home for Christmas,” it would be shown on one of the cable networks during the holiday season.

  The story was about a young girl who returns home after a failed run on Broadway and finds herself working in her parents’ diner to help out over the busy season. She meets a man and, after the usual shenanigans, they fall in love, she gets her big break, and finds her happily ever after. The movie was peppered with Christmas carols, many of them sung by the main character.

  Tasha smiled. Yes, the fictional Emily Conner was indeed a lot like her. Both of them talented actors and singers, and both of them just waiting for the big break. Maybe their similarities meant that this role was her destiny, the one that would open doors. Tasha smiled to herself just as another girl entered the waiting room.

  The girl was tall with long, wavy black hair that flowed down over her sleek short-sleeved white crop top. Combined with a black skirt that did not even reach halfway down her thighs and knee-high boots, she looked striking, to say the least.

  Tasha swallowed and looked down at herself. She decided to dress the part, since Emily was supposed to be featured in the diner for much of the movie. She had chosen a modest, waitress- like outfit of a button-down white shirt over a pair of black slacks and sensible shoes. Her long ginger hair was tied up in a bun behind her head. She’d taken inspiration in the girls she’d seen in the cafes back home in Willow Beach, rather than the ones around Los Angles. It felt more appropriate to go with the small-town feel.

  It had seemed like a good idea when she left her tiny studio apartment that morning. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure. “Are you auditioning for Emily as well?” the other girl asked her.

  “Yes, I am,” Tasha said, but then looked away and busied herself with her phone. She found it not particularly helpful to make friends with people who were trying out for the same part as her. This town was rife with manipulation and gaslighting, and she’d fallen prey to such tactics once already, taking advice that seemed sensible but turned out disastrous. She refused to let that happen again.

  The door opened. A short, blonde woman stuck her heavily made up face out and looked into the waiting room.

  “Natasha Baldwin?”

  Her heart racing, Tasha stood. “Yes, that’s me.” She stuck her hand out as she approached the woman. “It should be just ‘Tasha,’ though.”

  The woman gave her a limp handshake and then looked her up and down with something that looked like disapproval on her face. She nodded her head to indicate for Tasha to go inside and then slipped into a seat right by the door.

  The casting director, a middle-aged man with balding hair, glanced up at her and indicated with a lazy index finger where she should stand.

  “Alright then, let’s get this over with.” He looked up at her once more and frowned as he took in her outfit.

  Before he could say anything, she cleared her throat. “I thought I would dress the part,” she said sheepishly. It sounded even dumber out loud than it had in the waiting room. Tasha felt her insides churning with anxiety.

  His eyebrows shot up. “You realize Emily Connor is a waitress. Not a librarian.”

  Tasha swallowed. This was not what she had expected at all. No, in her naivete, she thought she would perhaps even be commended for her choice, as the movie was going to be aired on a family network.

  Pushing the disappointment away, she proceeded to read her part: a scene between Emily Connor and her mother, with the part of Emily’s mother read by the woman who had let her into the room. It went by in the blink of an eye, and when she was done, a nervous silence took over the room.

  The casting director took a sip from his almost-empty can of Coke and slammed it down on the table. “Alright then, we’ll let you know. Thanks.”

  He took out his phone while Tasha stood there, not sure what to do. This wasn’t supposed to be it. Had she messed up this badly?

  To her relief, the woman spoke up before she had to. “Mr. Dorfman, she is to sing as well.”

  The man rolled his eyes at this and looked back at Tasha with a heavy sigh. “Very well then, go ahead and serenade me. But make it quick. I have to get my lunch order in; otherwise, I’m gonna be waiting for an hour again for a simple sandwich.” He leaned back and waved his hand in the air as if swatting away a fly.

  Tasha swallowed and cleared her throat. “I am going to sing ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful.’”

  Silence.

  “Okay, I’ll, uh, go ahead and start then, I guess.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to sing.

  As the first note rang out, one thought crossed her mind: this was it. This was her element.

  She was a born performer, a singer, an entertainer. This was why Mom had bought her that karaoke machine, why Dad had ferried her to all those drama camps and acting classes. This audition may have started off a little rocky, and she may have messed up with the outfit, but once they heard her sing, Mr. Coke Can was going to have his world rocked.

  The second note built on the first, and then the third and fourth soared even higher. Her future was opening up before her—red carpets, flashing paparazzi cameras, stardom, everything she’d always wanted—

  “Stop.”

  Tasha froze, the next lyric caught in her throat. She’d barely made it through the first verse. Why was he stopping her?

  “I have heard quite enough. As I said, you’ll be hearing from us.” He rose and rushed towards the door, leaving it open as he went, and leaving Tasha alone in the front of the room like a deer in the headlights.

  When he was gone, Tasha’s eyes fell to the woman who’d let her in the room. “I didn’t get it, did I?” Tasha asked in a soft, pitiful voice. She hated how she sounded. Her mother would tell her to project confidence. But she couldn’t seem to find any.

  The woman shook her head as if she were embarrassed on Tasha’s behalf. “Sorry, hon,” she said sympathetically. “Better luck next time.” Then she, too, stood and followed the casting director outside, leaving Tasha alone in the big office for a moment.

  Tasha took a deep breath and leaned forward, hands on her knees. When she had gathered herself, she stepped out into the hallway once more where the dark-haired girl still sat on her chair.

  She looked at Tasha and grimaced. “Rough?”

  Tasha just nodded, mute with shame.

  The girl turned and opened her imitation Prada purse, pulling out a business card. As she handed it to Tasha, she smiled brightly. “We can’t all make it in acting. But I know what it’s like to be struggling here. Call these people; they’ll find you something to tide you over till you make it. Or just quit and go home again.” She shrugged and turned back to the gossip magazine that was lying on the chair beside her.

  Tasha glanced at the card. “Elite Assistance” was embossed in gold lettering on a silver background. There was a phone number and a website and nothing else.

  On her way to the elevator, she googled the company. Evidently, they provided
assistance to the celebrities of Southern California. Nannies, housekeepers, personal assistance, and the like.

  Tasha sighed. If she couldn’t yet be one of the stars, she might as well work for them. Who knows? Maybe it would open new doors. At the very least, it would pay the bills.

  She left the bland office building and wandered idly. She didn’t know where to go or what to do with all these bad feelings still bubbling around in her chest.

  As she walked, she called the number on the business card that the beautiful girl had given her. A brisk, efficient woman on the other end took down her information and set up an appointment for the following day.

  The woman hadn’t said too much, but she didn’t seem to think it would be hard for Tasha to land a decent gig. Sure, she’d be a personal assistant or gopher—fetching coffee and dry cleaning, taking dogs for walks—which wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured her life in Tinseltown. But it was a start. More to the point, it was her only option.

  When her stomach rumbled, she realized how hungry she was. She also realized that she badly wanted a drink. So she went into the health food store not far from her tiny apartment, making her way towards the section containing the cheap wines.

  Right now, all she wanted was wine, ice cream, and trash TV.

  She lifted a bottle of wine from the shelf, stuck it into her basket, and was making her way to the ice-cream section when a man caught her eye. He was standing at the salad bar, loading a carton up with beets. A whole lot of beets.

  Tasha frowned and shook her head. This town was strange indeed.

  The guy, shaggy-haired and gorgeous, stopped in her tracks and looked at her. She felt a wave of pleasant heat in her stomach but shook her head. She wasn’t here to meet anyone. She was here to make it as an actress.

  So Tasha pressed on. Having placed two pints of ice cream in her basket, she swung by the produce section to get something healthy. A banana, perhaps, or an apple. She stopped as her eyes fell on a display of caramelized apples.

  That would work just fine, right? It was a fruit after all, no matter the extra sweet. Tasha was about to put the apple in her basket when someone in front of her cleared their throat.

  She looked up. It was him. The shaggy-haired guy. He was standing in front of her, smiling like he was well-aware of just how handsome he was.

  “Hi, there.” Glancing into her basket, he grimaced. “That kind of a day, huh?”

  She nodded sadly. “Yup, that kind of a day.”

  “I’m Chuck,” the man said, offering a hand to shake.

  Tasha took it, smiling back. “Tasha.”

  As they stood across from each other, Tasha had the uncanny feeling right then and there that her life was about to change.

  She was right about that—it did change.

  But not necessarily for the better.

  “Tasha?” Eddie’s voice pulled her back into reality.

  “Yes? I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.”

  “Yes, I could tell. You’re making it quite the habit, aren’t you? The rest of the choir is already at the next door.”

  She looked up to see that everybody had indeed departed from the Francis family’s front stoop and crossed the street. Gwen was getting ready to knock on the door, so Tasha and Eddie rushed across the street, joining the crowd just as they broke into a rendition of Jingle Bells.

  Tasha suddenly did not feel any of the cheer she’d had before they’d started the caroling tour. She didn’t spend much time these days thinking about her failed career in Hollywood, but whenever those memories did rear their ugly head, they had a way of sucking all the wind out of her sails.

  Actually, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she hadn’t had much wind in her sails at all lately. Truth be told, she hadn’t felt the drive and the joy of acting in a few months now. It was almost a habit at this point, not a passion. She still enjoyed teaching, but being on the stage didn’t give her the thrill it once did.

  She was so deeply in thought that she didn’t even notice when Eddie slipped away midway through the carol.

  “Tasha, honey?” Gwen said when she appeared beside her. “Why don’t you do the honors this time?”

  Tasha frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean go ahead and knock on people’s door and ask them if they would like to hear us caroling. We should all be taking turns.”

  Those within earshot nodded their heads. Tasha shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  She made her way up the long and winding walkway towards the house of the Shine family and knocked. To her surprise, it was not the elderly Mrs. Shine who open the door, but Eddie. She took a step back and found a queasy feeling spreading in her stomach.

  He grinned at her and dropped down on one knee.

  Behind her, she heard gasps from the group. If she weren’t so used to this already, she would have been excited—it would have been the most romantic proposal.

  But she knew it wasn’t going to be.

  “Eddie, no. Please not twice in one day,” she whispered at him but he was too busy retrieving a large box from beside him to even notice. He looked up at her, his eyes shining.

  She sighed. There was nothing she could do about it now.

  “Tasha, my darling,” he began.

  “Eddie…”

  Still not picking up on her foul mood, he proceeded with the prank. “My dearest Tasha. Words cannot tell you what you mean to me. But perhaps this will.” He held the box with his left hand, the right hand on the lid. He pushed it closer towards her face and then ripped the lid open.

  Tasha jumped and let out a small yelp when the Jack-in-the-Box jumped out at her face. She stepped back and slipped on patch of ice, falling backward into the snow.

  Eddie was by her side at once, reaching his hand out to her. “Oh, Tash! I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it was going to be so loud and scare you so much.”

  Tasha shook her head. She was absolutely furious. She smacked his hand away, pushed herself up out of the snow, and glared at him.

  “I thought I told you that we should cut out these pranks for a while!”

  He looked at her sheepishly. “Oh, yeah. I know you said that, but you say that all the time. So I keep doing it and you keep thinking it’s funny.”

  Her scowl deepened. “Let’s get this straight: I do not think it’s funny. I haven’t thought it was funny for the longest time. I was just playing along for your benefit because you love it so much and because everyone loves it so much. But I’m over it. In fact, I’m over this whole day. I’m going home.”

  She turned around without waiting for a reply and stormed through the crowd, who quickly made room for her, murmuring under their breaths in shock at the uncharacteristic display.

  “Tasha? Tasha!” Eddie’s voice sounded behind her, but he didn’t follow her and she didn’t stop.

  There was nothing left to discuss. She’d meant every word. She was over this day, truly over it. The only place she wanted to go right now was home.

  Alone.

  11

  Melanie

  Melanie sat at her office desk, Bandit at her feet, as she flipped through the charts. She updated everything that had fallen by the wayside, renewed prescriptions for patients that needed ongoing medications, and checked the appointment book for the following week.

  There was really nothing much else to do other than look in on the animals every now and again. However, it was late now, already after midnight. She ought to be going home but the thought of being confronted with an angry Colin stopped her.

  I wish I could go upstairs and just lay down. It was so convenient to live right above the practice.

  She shook her head. Of course, that was not an option. While she still owned the apartment above the practice, she had rented it out, first to Stella, then Liza—both new arrivals in town who were now settled in permanent places of their own.

  So, as of late, a nice middle aged couple from the West Coast were using it f
or the winter. She was stuck with either returning home or sleeping at her desk.

  The events of the past day would not leave her mind. Perhaps she’d been too demanding of Colin?

  She shook her head, chasing the guilt away. It wasn’t as if she asked much of him. Matter of fact, she’d hardly asked anything—a smile wasn’t exactly a huge favor for him to give. And the one time she requested his support he only gave it begrudgingly and then made the evening miserable for her and everybody else there.

  Then again, that was a little harsh. While others had noticed his grumpy mood, it was mostly Melanie who found it unbearable.

  She got up and walked back to the room, where the mother cat and her four kittens slept in their crate. She had been feeling a little off lately even before this fight, and she knew what it was.

  Her thirty-second birthday had come and gone and everyone around her had children. She desperately wanted a child and she knew Colin was not averse to it even though they were not yet married.

  But so far, her body had let her down.

  What drove home the reality of her wanting a child more than anything was that she’d had a scare of sort the previous year, right around Christmas. She was overcome by what she thought was morning sickness one day on her way to work—only to find out it was merely food poisoning from some bad chicken.

  The disappointment upon the discovery was what really made her realize that she was ready to have a child. Time was ticking away for her.

  The ring of her cell phone tore her out of her thoughts. She glanced at it.

  Colin.

  Her heart sank. So, he had decided to be the first one to call after all. She’d worried about that, worried she’d have to be the one to break through their wall of silence.

  “Hello?” She answered. There was no reply, just the sound off rock music blaring out of the car stereo.

  “Colin? Colin, are you there?” she asked again.

  Nothing.

  She hung up and frowned. Maybe a bad connection. She decided to give him a call back hoping that she would be able to hear him this time.