Candy Cane Calaboose

by Spaeth, Janet

  It’s not the kind of life that most people dream of, she acknowledged to herself the next day as she waited for her car to warm up before leaving her house, but it’s perfect for me. Everything now is building toward a good future in business, and all the stress, all the struggle, is going to pay off, and pay off well.

  Still, a part of her argued back, wouldn’t you like to have someone to be there for you, someone to say, “Poor baby,” when you complain about the shipment that didn’t arrive or the salesclerk who forgets her shift? Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to talk to in the morning while your car warms up. . .instead of having to talk to yourself?

  She was clearly losing her mind. Sitting in her car, having a full-fledged conversation with herself about talking to herself—this was definitely not a sign of strong mental health.

  She sent the wipers across the windshield in one last angry sweep. The glass wasn’t entirely clear of frost, but there was a small window of visibility that she decided to take advantage of, and she backed out of the driveway.

  As she crept along the road to the mall, the radio played Christmas carol after Christmas carol. She wanted to change the station, but she didn’t dare take her hands off the steering wheel; she didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s encounter with the snow bank.

  “Joy to the World” began to play, and she recalled the hymn sing at Golden Meadows.

  Golden Meadows!

  She started to slap her head but remembered just in time not to let go of the steering wheel. In the bustle of the Christmas trade and the emotional chaos Mike had thrown her into, she’d forgotten to get the gift from Claire and get the mess straightened out once and for all.

  For a moment, she considered writing the whole thing off as a loss, and if loopy Aunt Luellen inquired about her present, she could lie and say it had gotten lost in the mail. It was only a teeny white lie, Abbey reasoned, since Aunt Luellen had sent the gifts to the wrong address, and it was only through a momentary lapse on her part that the slippers had gotten to Claire.

  Why, oh why, hadn’t she simply tossed those dreadful slippers in the trash that evening?

  Abbey tried to imagine how her life would have been different had she done just that. She wouldn’t have met Mike’s grandmother, and she probably wouldn’t have gotten to know Mike better. Life would be calmer. More orderly. Peaceful.

  And boring.

  ❧

  Mike smiled as he listened to the voice on the phone. The store was packed with people bearing lists of Christmas wishes, some carefully detailed by organized parents, others crayoned haphazardly by anxious children. Nick, his assistant, was making frantic signs at him that his help was needed with customers.

  Mike waved him away, but Nick was persistent.

  “Not now,” Mike wrote on a piece of paper and shoved it to Nick. “In a minute.”

  “Who are you talking to?” his assistant asked him.

  “No one,” Mike mouthed at him.

  “Whaaaat?”

  Mike put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “It’s my grandmother.”

  “Your grandmother is not ‘no one.’ Honestly, Mike, I thought more of you than that!” Nick told him indignantly.

  Mike grinned. “I meant I wasn’t talking. She talks. I just listen.”

  He returned his attention to the voice on the telephone. “Yes, Grandma,” he said at last. “I’ll be there. And yes, I’ll do my best to do that. Yes, Grandma. I understand. Okay.”

  At last he hung the phone up. “I do love my grandmother,” he told Nick, “but when she’s got something on her mind, heaven and earth must stop until it’s done.”

  “What’s up?” Nick asked.

  “The story I just heard was a long, convoluted saga about a plugged drain and a handyman shortage at Golden Meadows. I didn’t follow it all, but I’ll run over tonight during the supper lull and see what’s up.”

  Any further discussion was stopped by a harried-looking woman bearing five wrinkled lists. “How does Santa do it?” she asked, juggling the packages she already carried while trying not to drop the stack of games and action toys she had picked up. “I’ve only got five kids, and I can’t keep their lists straight.”

  “Volume,” Mike answered. “He buys in volume.”

  She grinned at him. “I think that’s what I’m doing today. At least, that’s what my checkbook is telling me.”

  “Want some help? I could put those smaller packages into some larger ones with handles,” he offered. “That would make them easier to carry.”

  “Oh, bless you. I love Christmas, even though it is a financial crunch.” She heaved the packages and the toys onto the counter. “It reminds me to take another look at my children and see what miracles they are, what a fount of possibilities they are, what a gift they are. God trusted me with them—me! It humbles me every time I think about it.”

  “I like that,” Mike commented. It was a refreshing change from the complaints he heard so often from parents who had overspent their budget to buy toys that their children wanted at the moment but might very well forget about in a week or two.

  She blushed. “I know I should do this every moment of my life, but sometimes life gets in its own way, if you know what I mean. Christmas is a nudge in the side to look at those children. Okay, look at them when they’re asleep, which is about the only time they’re not fighting, but that’s kids for you. Anyway, even with the wildest of the bunch—that’d be my Richie—I know I see the face of an angel in training.”

  She frowned as she looked at the pile of toys. “Could you do me a favor and add these things up? I have the dreadful feeling my Christmas Club account has run dry.”

  Mike totaled the items up. She sighed with relief as he told her the sum. “Just under the wire.” She handed him the money. “Thank you so much for the bags—and for listening to me. Have a Merry Christmas!”

  It was interesting, Mike thought as she left, how someone so unexpected could give you a gift. . .one you couldn’t buy at any mall.

  The thought of a gift reminded him that his grandmother had mentioned that Abbey hadn’t picked up her gift from her aunt Luellen yet. This might be the perfect chance for her to do so. He’d stop by Trends on the way to Golden Meadows. That way Abbey wouldn’t have time to think of reasons why she shouldn’t go.

  For some reason, there was a special lilt in his step that carried him through the rest of the day.

  ❧

  Abbey put away the last of the new shipment of holiday earrings and stretched. The day had gone on endlessly. Maybe she should take a walk down the mall and get a cranberry Italian ice. It was one of the seasonal offerings the mall had that she actually liked.

  “Abbey!” Mike’s voiced hailed her from the front of the store. “You about ready to take a break?”

  “I don’t know when you started mind reading,” she said, her voice only somewhat grumpy, “but I was just getting ready to go down to Italian N’Ice. Want to walk with me?”

  “Sounds good, but I’m headed out to see Grandma. Would you like to join me? We can go through some hamburger joint drive-in on the way back if that’s okay with you. I usually don’t go for fast food, but tonight that’s all I can manage—Nick is leaving early since he has a final exam at seven.”

  She paused, and Mike added, “Grandma isn’t going to leave you alone until you go get your gift, you know. You might as well accept that. When she gets a project—and right now straightening out the confusion with the gifts is her project—she doesn’t stop until it’s resolved. She did mention that she has your present out there, and she suggested, as only my grandmother can suggest, that you could come out there and pick it up.”

  Abbey opened her mouth to object, but then thought better of it. This might be the perfect chance for her. If they weren’t going to stay long out there, she could get the package, wish Claire a Merry Christmas, and be on her way, back on track, within an hour.

  It was the ideal situation.
<
br />   “I’ll go,” she announced. The expression on his face made her add hastily, “But only to put an end to this maniac mix-up.”

  The evening was warmer than it had been during the day, and Mike commented on the mild temperature.

  “It’ll snow soon, then,” Abbey said. “Didn’t you pay attention to Mr. Lloyd’s science class in high school, when he talked about weather?”

  “He talked about weather?” Mike laughed. “Oh, that was the class that Eileen Jamison was in. No wonder I don’t know anything about weather. There was no way I could concentrate on anything when she was in the room. I had such a major crush on her. Then she married some football player, like the day after graduation. My teenaged heart was broken.”

  “I didn’t know you and Eileen were a couple,” Abbey said with some surprise. Eileen had been the class president, a cheerleader, and a soloist in the chorus. Mike had always been in the background of activities.

  “We were a pair in my adolescent dreams only.” Mike sighed dramatically. “I don’t think she even knew I was alive. Well, maybe she did. Remember that showcase that had all those dusty old trophies dating back to the turn of the century—the nineteenth century, that is?”

  Abbey nodded. “I don’t remember seeing it after my junior year. Didn’t they finally get rid of it?”

  “They had some help. I was watching Eileen in the hall one day, being the googly-eyed lovesick teenaged boy that I was, and I wasn’t watching where I was going. A staircase just appeared out of nowhere, and suddenly I was going head over heels down it. As if that weren’t bad enough, as I started down the stairs, I grabbed her arm—why, I don’t know—and she went with me. That showcase broke our fall. Or maybe I should just say that the showcase broke.”

  “What did she do?” Abbey asked, laughing over the image of them tumbling down the stairs together.

  “She was very polite about it. She got up, helped me up since my long gangly legs were tied into a knot, or so it seemed, and asked me if I was okay. Then she grinned and said that she had never taken that particular set of stairs so quickly or so noticeably—and that once was quite enough. So if was all right with me, she’d be taking another set of stairs for awhile—and she was doing so without my help. And that was it.”

  “Didn’t you just about die?”

  “I asked my parents to move so I could go to another school. They said no. I thought maybe I could go live on a mountaintop like those hermits but realized I would have trouble finding a mountain in this part of Minnesota. One of the troubles with being a teenager is that your range of movement is limited. So I stayed on and lived with the utter humiliation.”

  They discussed the trials and tribulations of being a teenager until Mike pulled into the parking lot of Golden Meadows. True to Abbey’s earlier prediction, thick white flakes had begun their lazy drift from the sky. Residents were lined up at the large glass windows watching the snowfall.

  It was pretty, Abbey had to admit that. The air was quiet, free from sound, and the evergreen garlands and wreath were frosted with the new snow. For this one moment, away from the bustle of the holiday mall, she could almost like Christmas.

  ❧

  Mike took a deep breath. He needed to talk to Abbey about the other night and apologize for his clumsiness. Hopefully he could do it without taking a header on the parking lot of Golden Meadows.

  Maybe he should wait until he was inside, he told himself ruefully. He seemed to have better luck staying upright when he was inside. But he knew that once he was inside, the residents wouldn’t let him have a minute alone with Abbey. Toss in the fact that the retirement home was one of Abbey’s least favorite places on earth, and he realized that this wasn’t the place.

  He’d try the parking lot, but he just wouldn’t touch her arm when he talked to her. Maybe that would help him keep his equilibrium.

  It would also help if he didn’t try to kiss her, he re-minded himself. There was nothing wrong with being head over heels in love, but not in an icy parking lot.

  eight

  Mike paused a moment before entering the oversized entrance of Golden Meadows. “I want you to know that—”

  He wasn’t able to finish the sentence. The door was flung open, and a crowd of elderly laughing women yelled, “Surprise!” One of them held a bough of something over his head, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him soundly on the cheek.

  “Marlys, do you have mistletoe?” he teased.

  She blushed and nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “Can I borrow it?” he asked with a wink.

  Abbey’s stomach twisted with anticipation and anxiety. Surely he wouldn’t. . .surely he would.

  Which did she want?

  “Sweet’s going to smooch his sugarplum,” someone in the group crowed.

  “That’s right,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he turned to look at Abbey.

  Her heart and her mind waged war. She wanted him to take advantage of the mistletoe, and yet she didn’t. For a moment, time held its breath.

  Then he announced, his warm brown eyes twinkling, “The first kiss goes to my favorite girl.”

  All heads swiveled with one accord to look at Abbey. She knew she was blushing, but there wasn’t a thing she could do but stand stock-still and wait for her fate.

  Mike raised the mistletoe and turned to the woman who was watching from the corner. “Grandma, pucker up!”

  Disappointment caught Abbey off-guard. Of all the emotions she might have expected, this was not one of them. What had she been thinking? That they’d share their first kiss in front of a group of senior citizens—when they hadn’t even really dated yet?

  And besides, it wasn’t as if she cared about him one way or the other. He was simply a friend, a fellow retailer, and no more.

  Nevertheless, the image in front of her blurred, and the carols that were piped into the great-room faded into the background. She blinked her eyes rapidly and willed her emotions back into line. This was just silly. He didn’t matter to her, not at all.

  Mike was bent over, talking to his grandmother, an attentive expression on his face, and she was reminded that he was a good, caring man. Then he stood up and walked away.

  She realized that Claire was watching her, and she forced a smile. “Claire, it’s good to see you again.”

  Claire reached out a gnarled hand. “How nice of you to come see me! At least, I’m assuming you’ve come to see me.”

  “Of course I’m here to visit you. Shall we go to your room to visit, or is there another place you’d rather go?”

  “Let’s go to the Fireside Lounge and sit beside the fire. There’s a big picture window there, and we can watch the snow falling. Mike will be tied up for awhile finding that reprobate handyman to unplug my drain. Can you stay?”

  “Not for long. This is my dinner break.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Mike and I will stop on the way back.”

  Claire made a face. “Not that dreadful fast food stuff, I hope.”

  “I’m afraid so, but just for tonight. I think we’ll live through it.”

  The Fireside Lounge looked different than it had before. The folding chairs that had been set up for the hymn sing had been taken down, and now small tables and comfortable chairs were scattered in conversational groups throughout the room.

  Abbey helped Claire settle near the fire. It was a cozy setting, with upholstered wingback chairs positioned on either side of the native stone fireplace. A large picture window looked out on the rolling back lawn of the home, and in the starlight the pines that ringed the clearing enclosed the peaceful world.

  “How are you doing, Claire?” Abbey asked, and she was amazed at how much she really did care.

  “Pretty good. Oh, there are days when I’d like to complain, and maybe I do, but for the most part I’m doing well. How are things with you?” Claire’s china blue eyes fixed on Abbey from behind the thick lenses of her eyeglasses.

  “The store is doing wel
l, but of course much of that right now is the Christmas trade. It’ll drop off in January, after the returns are done, of course.”

  “Sweet says the same thing about his store.” Claire leaned back contentedly. “I’d have never thought that a grown man could make a decent living selling toys, of all things, but that boy sure did prove me wrong.”

  “Especially this time of year,” Abbey agreed. “I think everybody buys toys at Christmas.”

  “He’s going to make a fine husband for some lucky woman,” Claire said with studied casualness. “He’ll be a good provider, he’s not bad to look at, and he’s a Christian, which counts for everything in this world.”

  Abbey could feel a flush rising up her neck. Had Claire seen her get flustered when Mike was fooling with the mistletoe? “He’s a nice person,” she said, noncommittally.

  Those bright blue eyes sharpened behind the thick lenses. “He’s the best, and I’m not just saying that because we’re related so I have to. He really is. And it appears to me that he thinks highly of you.”

  Claire was clearly matchmaking. In her mind, she already had Abbey and Mike paired off, probably with 2.5 children in a house surrounded by a white picket fence and morning glories that bloomed in the morning sun. Abbey knew she had to put that idea to rest. And the best approach was the direct one.

  “I’m going back to school to get my business degree,” she said gently. “First my undergraduate degree in business, then my MBA. I can’t do that here. I’ll have to move.”

  Claire’s lips curved a bit in a secret smile. “There are plans, and there are plans,” she said enigmatically.

  “My plans are real,” Abbey said. “I have a ten-year strategy all worked out. I know exactly where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing.”

  Claire’s smiled deepened. “The certainty of youth. Oh, I’m not going to argue with you,” she said as Abbey started to interrupt. “It’s always good to have a plan, but it’s like the good book says: God has His own set of plans for us. Just when you think you’ve got it under control, God comes along and shouts, ‘Surprise!’ right into your heart.”