Wishes for Christmas

by Fern Michaels

  Fifteen minutes later, Ted made a turn based on the robotic voice’s instructions and said, “We’re here. Street parking. Small shop. Looks like it’s been here forever. We just might get lucky, Maggie,” Ted said, trying his best to sound cheerful as he pulled into a parking space.

  They bailed out of the car the moment Ted turned off the engine. Maggie was the first one through the door of the shop. The overpowering smell of new leather and shoe polish washed over them. Some kind of buzzer under the floor mat sounded. A man who looked to be in his midthirties, wearing a rubber apron, appeared from a back room. His hands were rough and callused. Maggie got right to the point.

  “Well, now, miss, that was a long time ago. My dad ran the shop back then with his brother. They’re both retired now. The records here at the shop only go back, I want to say, fifteen years. When I took it over, I hired some whiz kid from the military base to input all the files into the computer. My dad took a lot of the old ones home and put them in the basement because I needed the room for a new leather machine, and the file cabinets took up too much room. Then a pipe broke in his house, and the basement flooded. He chucked it all. Just a big, soggy mess.”

  “Can you call your father and ask him if he remembers Alma Roland?”

  “Of course. He has a memory like a steel trap.” He held out his hand to Ted and said, “Josh Appleton.” Everyone held out a hand to shake his. “The phone’s in the back. Have a seat while I make the call.”

  Maggie paced the small shop and for the first time noticed a decorated Christmas tree on a stand in the corner. It was a live tree, which surprised her even more. And it was decorated with toy cars. Obviously, Josh Appleton had a son or possibly a nephew who liked toy cars. So at least she wasn’t the only one who was getting a jump on the holidays. The thought left her even sadder than she was before she walked into the shoe shop.

  The others watched their friend, wishing there was something they could do or say, but they knew that Maggie would rebel and lash out at them if they stepped over her invisible line.

  “Miss Spritzer, my dad said he doesn’t recall the name, and he really doesn’t recall the young woman. What he did say was he only had two female customers back during the time in question. You might not know this, but more males are born with clubfeet than females. What he did remember was that both those females were referrals from the Bootery. That was our competition back then, but before my time here in the shop.

  “Dad said they closed down because a shoe they made for a customer did the customer so much damage, the person had to have his foot amputated. The firm couldn’t come back from that kind of bad publicity. So while my dad used the word referral, I don’t think he meant it in the true sense of the word. Like I said, my dad is pretty sharp, and if that’s all he can remember, then that’s all there is. I’m sorry.”

  “Where do you think she might have gone?” Maggie asked.

  Josh Appleton shrugged. “This is a dying business. By the time my son is ready to hit the job market, there will be no need for a shop like this. I can’t even begin to guess where she might have gone. Orthopedic doctors these days have their own shops—they call them clinics—where they do the special shoes themselves.”

  Maggie nodded and tried to smile. “Is that the same son whose little cars are on the Christmas tree over there?”

  Appleton laughed. “My wife is a Christmas fanatic. November first, we are up and decorated. Our house is all done. Teddy loves the holidays, so she wants to get the most out of them. Two full months. What she never tells anyone is that by the end of November, she has to take down the trees and put up new ones because the old ones dry out no matter how much you water them.” Maggie did smile then, a genuine smile.

  “Plus, my wife gets to take Teddy back out to the Christmas tree farm to pick out a second tree and watch the men cut it down. I really am sorry I can’t help you. I hope you find your friend. What I can do this week is ask around at our monthly chamber of commerce meeting to see if any of the owners or businesspeople remember your Miss Roland.”

  Ted nodded and handed over his business card. “Call anytime. Thanks for your help.”

  Back at the rental car, the foursome climbed in and sat looking at one another.

  “What is our next move, people?” Dennis asked.

  “I don’t think we have a next move,” Espinosa grumbled. “There’s no point in going to the local hospital, since they won’t tell us anything, because of the privacy laws. Abner will have better luck hacking into the system. No sense going to the police station. Jack already obtained the police report. They’d just stonewall us, anyway. We might as well head for the airport and go home, unless you guys have a better idea.”

  The guys looked at Maggie, who simply nodded.

  Chapter 6

  Nikki looked across the breakfast table at her husband, Jack, and smiled. Cyrus and his pups romped through the farmhouse, yipping and yapping at their new surroundings, which they were just getting used to. Jack laughed out loud as one of the pups skidded across the tile floor, a look of stunned surprise on its face.

  “I love it out here, Jack. Tell me the truth. Do you love it as much as I do, or did you agree to move out here just to please me? I know you’re a city boy, and for the most part, I am a city girl. But you can’t beat the beauty and the peace and quiet out here. We can ride every day, we can watch the grass grow, and the dogs have acres to run, even though they stay close to home.”

  “I do. I will tell you what bothers me the most about our lives. Technically, we’ve retired from our lives as lawyers. I still want to practice law but not right now. I like what we’re doing, which is breaking the law, if we’re being honest.”

  Nikki reached for Jack’s hand and squeezed it. “Weigh the good we do against the bad out there. That’s how we have to look at it. We’re all okay with it. We all know and recognize that one day it will somehow all come crashing down on us. We signed on for whatever happens. I’m not about to switch up now. I think both of us will know when our time is up and will act accordingly. Now that we’ve put that to rest, I think we should follow in Maggie’s footsteps and get an early start on our Christmas decorating. This old farmhouse has so many possibilities. I want to gussy it up from top to bottom, and then I want us to have a big Christmas party. Let’s go cut down a Christmas tree! Today is the perfect day—it’s flurrying out, and it’s cold. The dogs can help.”

  Jack grinned. Like he would say no to anything his wife suggested. “Sounds like a plan. Guess we need to dig out our long underwear.”

  Nikki giggled. “I got it out last night. Just let me get our dinner started in the Crock-Pot, and I’m your girl. How does that West African peanut soup I made last month sound? I’ll load it with shrimp, and when we get back, I’ll bake the bread. I mixed it up before you came downstairs, and it will be good to go once we get back with our tree.”

  “What’s for dessert?”

  “Twinkies. Your absolute favorite.” Nikki laughed.

  “Nik, I just had a thought. Won’t Yoko be upset if we cut down our own tree? We always get everything from her nursery.”

  “Jack! Did you forget Yoko and Harry are in China?”

  “You know what? I did forget there for a minute.”

  “I’m so far ahead of you, Jack, you are never going to catch up,” Nikki teased. “I called Yoko’s nursery manager, and today they are going to deliver the balsam wreaths. I ordered twenty, complete with red satin ribbons. It’s your job to hang them on all the doors and windows. Oh, this is going to be such a great Christmas.”

  “Maggie . . .”

  “We’re going to make that happen, too.”

  Jack wasn’t so sure, but he nodded. If his wife said it was so, then it was so. It was that simple.

  While he stood a few minutes later under the steaming water in the shower, Jack relived all the phone calls of the night before with Abner, Ted, and Myra. He wondered how Nikki could be so sure that they would find
Maggie’s old teacher after so many years. While Maggie and the boys had made a little headway, all things considered, they still had nothing to go by in their search to locate the elusive Alma Roland.

  As he toweled himself dry, Jack recalled Abner’s frustration last night, when he said there was no bank account in Alma Roland’s name to be found anywhere. And there was no record that she had filed an income tax form in twenty-six years. She had filed one for the last year that she worked at the military school and not another one since. Even though they had her Social Security number, nothing was showing up in any database. How had she survived? Maybe the question they all should be asking was, did she survive? He made a mental note to ask Abner if he’d checked the obituaries. Knowing Abner, he was certain he would have already done that. Where was Alma Roland?

  Jack pulled on his long underwear and a pair of corduroy trousers, thermal socks guaranteed to keep his feet warm even in subzero temperatures, stout Timberland boots, and two sweaters. He felt like a lumberjack as he made his way downstairs. Nikki was waiting at the bottom.

  “I made fresh coffee. See you in a bit.”

  Instead of heading for the kitchen and coffee, Jack wandered through the rooms of his new home, Nellie and Elias’s beloved homestead. He loved the old farmhouse; loved the carved moldings; loved the worn, shiny pine floors, the floor-to-ceiling paned windows, and the fieldstone fireplaces, of which there were six, all of them big enough to roast an ox. He knew that he and Nikki would be happy here. Not that they hadn’t been happy at their house in Georgetown. They had been, but this was different. This house had character. People had been born here, had died here, had raised families and lived and loved. And now he and Nikki had been given the chance to do the same thing, and today was the start of it.

  Getting ready for Christmas. The thought excited him. Cyrus appeared out of nowhere and nudged his leg. “We’re putting down our roots, boy. This is home now.”

  Cyrus yipped happily as he sprinted out of the room to corral one of his unruly offspring. Jack laughed. Yep, this was home.

  In the kitchen, Jack checked the fireplace. He laid a pile of maple logs on the grate. When they returned, all he would have to do was strike a match. Then he realized that he and Nikki would also be in the family room, putting up the tree, so he trotted off, laid a fire, and stood back to admire his handiwork. Not bad for a city boy. Not bad at all.

  Abner Tookus knuckled his eyes. He was bone tired. And he was frustrated. Not to mention downright angry. He was supposed to be the go-to guy with all things computerized, and here he was, with zip to report. He looked down at what the others called his magic fingers and winced. “Magic, my ass,” he mumbled. Nothing in his makeup allowed for failure. Nothing. No one—he didn’t care who it was—could drop off the face of the earth and not leave some kind of footprint. Not in this digital age.

  Abner swiveled around when he heard a loud plopping sound. “What are you doing, Isabelle?”

  “I’m getting a head start on Christmas, like Maggie did. Nikki called earlier and said she and Jack were doing the same thing, but they’re going out on their very own property to cut down a real, live tree. I’m going to put up this ratty artificial tree you have, and I’m going to decorate this place. You want to help?”

  Did he? No, not really. Abner grappled for an excuse. “It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet. The Christmas season doesn’t start till the day after Thanksgiving.”

  “I know that. I’m hoping that doing it early, like Maggie and Nikki are doing, will give me some insight somehow so we can help Maggie.” Intuitive as she was, Isabelle looked at her husband and said, “You can’t find her, can you?”

  Abner rubbed at his eyes again. He needed some Visine. And he needed some sleep, not to mention a shower and some clean clothes. “No, I can’t find her—as much as I hate to admit it. Isabelle, knowing what you know about Alma Roland, and if you were in her shoes, what would you have done at that time? Think about it. Where would you have gone? What would you have done?”

  “That’s not really a fair question, Abner. That was a different time. People were different back then. They had prejudices, hang-ups, and they worried about things we don’t give a second thought to today. For instance, couples living together who aren’t married. Prenuptial agreements, having babies out of wedlock. Today no one cares about things like that.

  “Now if you absolutely, positively need me to give you an answer, I think I would have looked for a safe harbor. Someplace I could go to where, hopefully, no one would know what happened to me. Or, at the very least, they wouldn’t judge me. At that point in time, I would imagine Alma Roland would have wanted to hide from the world. And don’t forget, she was carrying that baggage of her clubfoot. You said she was an orphan. Maybe she went back there to that orphanage, to the only home she knew. Maybe she went to a convent and became a nun. If they took her in and let her live there for room and board, and she helped out, then there would be no reason for a bank account or filing her income tax returns. I just don’t know. I think that’s what I would have done. Now, are you going to help me set up this Christmas tree or not?”

  Abner bounded off his chair, crossed the room in three long strides, picked up Isabelle, and swung her around. “Isabelle, my darling, you are beyond a doubt the smartest woman I know, and I love you! That’s it! That’s it! Hey, honey, you’ll figure out how to get that tree up, because you’re really smart. I have work to do right now.” His dirty clothes, his smelly body, and his tired eyes were forgotten in an instant when Abner sat back down at the computer and started to tap the keys.

  Charles Martin watched his wife doodle on a pad at the scarred old oak table in the kitchen. She looked to be a million miles away in her thoughts. He hated it when she was like this. He’d tried tempting her with a BLT, but she’d said she wasn’t hungry. He’d then suggested a trip to town to browse the stores, pointing out that the town was already decorated for the holidays and Christmas merchandise was already in the stores. She’d said she wasn’t in the mood. He’d offered to drive her over to Nikki and Jack’s, but she’d said they were busy settling in and didn’t need visitors. As a last resort, he’d offered to call Annie to invite her and Fergus for lunch. She had said that wasn’t a good idea but hadn’t explained further. All she’d done was turn the paper over and doodle on the blank side.

  So, here they sat, staring at one another.

  “Want to talk about it, Myra?”

  “No. Yes. There really isn’t anything to talk about, Charles. Unless you count the fact that we’re all stymied. This is not a good thing. We’re surrounded by all these fine minds, and I’m including yours and mine among those fine minds, and we cannot find one little lady. We can’t even find a clue. What does that say for us, Charles? Are we slipping? Are we losing our edge? What? Are we going to have to admit to failure? I don’t like that word, Charles. And don’t you dare tell me that there is a first for everything.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, old girl. Nor is that word in my vocabulary. We have a lot of irons in the fire, Myra. We just have to wait for them to get red hot. We will find Alma Roland. Trust me on that. This is just taking us longer than it normally would.

  “I know you’re worried about Maggie. Don’t be. She’s a tough little cookie. Speaking of Maggie, I have an idea. Why don’t we do what she did and get an early start on Christmas? Let’s bundle up and go out to the field and cut down a tree. I can put it up. Then we can call Annie and Fergus and invite them to come over and help us decorate it. I’ll make us a nice dinner and . . .”

  “Okay, Charles, let’s do it. Maybe we should ask Annie and Fergus to go with us to cut down the tree. I’m thinking it will take all of us to do it. We aren’t twenty years old anymore.”

  Charles pretended to be relieved. “I thought you’d never get around to mentioning that. Superb idea. Call Annie while I warm up the pickup and sharpen the ax.”

  The phone was in Myra’s hand before Charles could stop spe
aking. Annie picked up on the first ring. Annie started to babble immediately.

  “Whatever it is you’re calling for, the answer is yes. I am going out of my mind here. What are you calling for, by the way?”

  Myra told her.

  “We’ll be there as soon as we can put on our long johns.”

  Myra was up and off her chair like there was a spring attached to her rear end. She literally ran up the stairs, pulled on her long johns, and added an extra sweater. As Charles said, she was good to go. She barreled down the stairs, whistled for the dogs, then waited by the kitchen door for Annie and Fergus. The dogs were going to love riding in the back of the pickup, a treat Charles had initiated on his return from Spyder Island.

  Until now, Myra hadn’t realized that it was flurrying. Perfect weather for tromping the fields to cut down a Christmas tree. Absolutely perfect.

  The dogs barked shrilly, something they always did when Annie blasted through the gates at ninety miles an hour. She laughed at the fear showing on Fergus’s face. You’d think he’d be used to the way Annie drove by now. Obviously not.

  Myra opened the door, and the dogs ran to Fergus, who handed out treats from his mackinaw.

  Annie wrapped her arms around Myra. “Thank God you called me. I think I was beginning to get a brain freeze. I’m ready. What are you waiting for, Myra?”

  Myra laughed. “For you to let go of me, so I can put on my jacket. This is going to be so much fun, Annie, and it’s just what we need. Charles said he would cook us a fine dinner while we, I assume, as in you and I, decorate the tree.”