“Joy, your definition of a little is a lot.”
Now she was in the headache commercial, too. He was hopeless.
They both sat silent, staring at the TV while Ebenezer Scrooge made Bob Cratchet’s life miserable over a piece of coal.
Finally Bob sighed and gave Joy that sorry little-boy look that always melted her heart. “So, do you want to poison me and go find yourself a Mr. Fezziwig?”
She shifted position and cuddled up next to him. “No, I just want you to get in touch with your inner Fezziwig. I know he’s in there somewhere because every once in a while I get glimpses of him. You’re a fun guy. It seems like a waste that so few people know it.” When he was with her or the kids or one of their small circle of close friends, he was a completely different man. Maybe that was what had kept her hanging in there all these years. She knew the real Bob, the one he hid from most people. “You hide your light under a bushel.” Why, oh why couldn’t she get it into his head that he didn’t have to do that?
“I like it under the bushel. It’s safe.”
And that was Bob in a nutshell—shy, afraid to put himself too out there in a group of people for fear of looking stupid. Maybe that was why he was a writer; because he could control every situation, edit his words, avoid missteps. But he missed out on so much holding himself apart from people. Others missed out, too.
“What are you thinking?” he asked warily.
“About how wonderful you can be when you want to. I wish you’d let more people see it. That’s why I started this whole strike thing, you know.”
“Joy,” he murmured. “Can we just, for one evening, forget the strike, knock off negotiations?” He touched his lips to her neck and sent a warm shiver through her. “Can’t we just remember that we love each other?”
Well, even strikers had to take a break once in a while.
Later, after they had rejoined Ebenezer Scrooge on his journey, she realized how very like a rerun their marriage was. Don’t bother to tune in, you’ve seen it all before. Bob and Joy disagree. Bob outmaneuvers Joy. Joy caves.
She watched while Bob Cratchet persuaded his wife to toast the first Grinch in history. Mrs. Cratchet caved. Joy’s jaw set into determined lines. Note to self: No caving this Christmas, no matter what.
Tuesday afternoon Bob came home from a run to the library to find Joy in the kitchen baking.
“Is the strike over?” he asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “No. These cookies aren’t for us. I just got off the phone with Carol. This is the night the Stitch ’N Bitchers are going over to Jerri’s to get her ready for Christmas. These are a morale boost.”
Bob eyed the cut-out Santas cooling on the cookie rack. “It would be a nice morale boost if you left a few of those behind.”
“You know I can’t do that. Anyway, the extras are going to the nursing home for their Christmas party.”
“I’ve had enough. I don’t want to play anymore,” he said, reaching for a cookie.
Joy gave his hand a playful slap. “You’re stuck. Didn’t you read the paper?”
“Only the headlines and the sports page.”
“Well, you might want to look at the letters to the editor. You’re the new guru of Christmas, savior of all those inept, uncooperative, insensitive husbands whose wives are on strike. You’re a hit. If you give in now every man in the city will hate you.”
Bob slipped behind her and put his arms around her. “How will my wife feel if I give in?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you telling me that you are a changed man, that you’ll go to my family’s at Christmas and really participate?”
“I’ll try.”
Joy frowned and went back to rolling out dough. “That’s a cop-out and we both know it. No, I think I like things just like they are. Anyway, it’s for your own protection.”
“Bah, humbug,” he said grumpily.
“That’s Bob Humbug,” Joy corrected him.
“I feel like I’m following a general through some big military campaign,” Carol complained as she trailed Kay out of yet another shop.
“When it comes to shopping, a woman should always have a plan,” Kay said.
Giant candy canes grew up along the street and white twinkle lights clothed trees otherwise stripped for winter. Every other corner hosted a bell-ringing Santa presiding over a donation pot for a good cause. Whether the people they passed on the street were businesspeople or leisurely shoppers, everyone seemed to be wearing a smile for the holidays. The local bank had set up a carousel not far from the ice rink, and it was doing a brisk business this weekday afternoon. Small children in winter coats and stocking hats bobbed up and down on prancing wooden horses, while their mothers stood next to them, making sure no young rider got thrown. A calliope rendition of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” rode the air.
“Isn’t this great?” Kay said as they strolled by a storefront window painted with dancing elves and snowflakes. She took a deep breath of frosty air. “I love this time of year.”
“It is nice,” Carol said, but Kay could tell she was just being polite. What had Carol been like before the hard bumps on life’s road had bruised her? She had laugh lines around her eyes, so she must have been fun.
“So, what will you do?” Kay asked.
Carol shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure yet.”
It was mid-December and Carol wasn’t sure? That was just too depressing. Whether Jack shopped or not, Kay knew that his kids would be with them and the day would have a form and a purpose. What would it be like to get up to a holiday of nothing? There would be life at her house, plenty of it. Maybe even a scene or two, not exactly an ideal situation for inviting a friend. Still…
“How about coming over and spending the day with us?” she suggested.
Carol smiled and shook her head. “You don’t need strangers hanging around your house on Christmas Day.”
“You’re not a stranger. And, anyway, I might need protection in case Jack goes nuts. Or a witness.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“But will you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do. Oh, here’s our store,” she added, and turned into Sweet Home, a popular home decor shop.
Kay took the hint and followed her in, leaving the subject outside where Carol had dropped it.
They picked up a cut-glass Mikasa cookie platter to cheer up Jerri, then proceeded to His and Hers, an upscale clothing boutique Kay knew was running a big Christmas sale.
“Jerri’s going to love that plate. It’s gorgeous,” Carol said as they walked.
Kay stopped in front of the boutique window and pointed to a mannequin all decked out in winter white wool pants and a Christmas red sweater, a silk scarf wrapped around her neck. “Speaking of gorgeous. Look at that. You’d look great in that outfit.”
“You think so?” Carol said politely.
“I know so.”
“Well, let’s get Joe’s present. That’s what we’re here for.”
It didn’t take Kay long to pick out a shirt and tie that would go great with Joe’s dark coloring. “Can you wrap it?” she asked the clerk.
“Sure,” the woman said.
“And while she’s doing that, let’s see what we can find to deck ourselves out,” Kay suggested.
Carol looked at her watch. “Oh, I should get going.”
“Where do you have to be?” Kay pressed. Carol hesitated just long enough for Kay to push home her advantage. “Oh, come on. I’m dying to see you in that red sweater.”
Carol looked dubious. “I haven’t worn red in ages.”
“So I’ve seen,” said Kay, and led the way to a rack of sweaters on sale.
An hour later they emerged from the store, laden with bags. “I shouldn’t have bought so much,” Carol said.
“Oh, no,” Kay said sternly. “No buyer’s remorse. When was the last time you bought new clothes?”
“I can’t remember.”<
br />
“Then you certainly didn’t buy too much. Why don’t you wear your new sweater to Jerri’s tonight?”
“We’ll see,” Carol said, and Kay knew what that meant. She gave a mental sigh. Now she understood the meaning of that old saying about leading a horse to water but not being able to make it drink.
Well, maybe Carol would change her mind. Maybe she’d take out the sweater when she got home and something magical would happen. You never knew. They didn’t call this the season of miracles for nothing.
Eighteen
Carol was actually relieved when she and Kay parted. Kay was like an overload of holiday joy, and she left Carol feeling drained. But not so drained that she was ready to pass up stopping by Ariel’s house and dropping off the plastic tea set she’d gotten for Chloe during the afternoon shopping extravaganza. She’d had it wrapped right at the store, and its wrapping paper, covered with snowmen, was sure to put some holiday promise under Ariel’s tree. After that, she’d back off, before they all became too attached to each other.
Ariel and Chloe had come to Carol’s for hamburgers, then stayed to enjoy an old video of the Peanuts Christmas special that Carol had dug out. She’d watched them go down her front walk toward Ariel’s battered car and felt a surge of joy that countered the bittersweet tug on her heart.
That surge, she realized, was becoming addicting. But not so addicting that she wanted to enter much further into a friendship that would only last until Ariel moved back home. And certainly not so addicting that she was going to go be a third wheel at someone’s holiday gathering or wear a Christmas red sweater she’d been harassed into buying.
It was a little after five when she got to Ariel’s and discovered the girl wasn’t alone. Darren had dropped by to fix a leaky sink that Ariel’s apartment manager had been avoiding for the last week. Of course, she should have recognized his truck parked at the curb. Dumb.
“How’s that for weird? Two visitors in one day,” Ariel said. “It’s cosmic or something.”
Or something, Carol thought. She pushed the present at Ariel. “I really can’t stay. I just came to drop this by.”
“Can’t you just stay for a few minutes?” Ariel pleaded. “Chloe will want to see you.”
Just then Chloe came rushing up, no longer shy, arms outstretched, calling her name.
So, of course, Carol had to pick her up. Was there anything in the world that felt as wonderful as having a child in your arms?
“Come on in,” Ariel said. “Have dinner. I’ve got Hamburger Helper. There’s plenty.”
Ariel had already shut the door behind them and was moving Carol into the small living room, which was furnished with thrift store bargains. The huge tree they had decorated dwarfed the room. Memory rushed Carol and clutched her heart at the sight of her ornaments hanging on it.
“You’re good to go,” Darren said, walking into the room, wiping his hands on a towel. He stopped at the sight of Carol, still holding Chloe. “Well, hi.”
Her heart suffered an assault of a different kind and kicked into high speed. “Hi.”
“I just asked Carol to stay for dinner. Can you stay, too?” Ariel asked him.
He looked at Carol and smiled. “Sure. I’ve got no plans.”
“I can’t stay too long,” Carol said. “I’m going over to a friend’s tonight.”
Darren looked disappointed.
“You’re not going for dinner, are you?” Ariel asked
“No.”
“Then you’ve got to eat somewhere. It may as well be here. Want Carol to stay for dinner?” she asked her daughter.
Chloe’s head bobbed up and down and she hugged Carol’s neck.
“There you go. You have to stay.” Ariel slipped the package under the tree. “Sit down and I’ll make us some tea. You like it plain, with no sugar, Carol. Right?”
Carol nodded. Chloe squirmed to get down, then followed her mother out of the room, leaving Carol to perch on the edge of the worn, plaid couch.
Darren took the other end and smiled at her. “So, were you out shopping today?” he asked, nodding at the package under the tree.
“I got a few things.”
“Getting ready for a big Christmas, then?”
“No, probably a quiet one. Most of the shopping I was doing today was for a friend who’s going through chemo.”
“You’re a good friend,” Darren observed.
“Oh, not just me. Several of us are teaming up to help her get through the holidays.”
“You’re not one of the women who are on strike?”
Carol shook her head. “No, not me.”
“So, what are you doing for Christmas?” he asked.
Why did everyone keep asking her that? “My plans are still up in the air,” she answered. “How about you?”
“My son and his wife will probably come by later Christmas Day.” He shook his head. “They’ve got to hang out with her family, then see my ex and her new husband, then me. I think they’re eating two Christmas dinners.”
“No dinner at your house?” Carol teased.
“I’m not much of a cook. I’ll probably have a TV dinner. Turkey, of course,” he added with a smile.
A TV dinner—how sad was that?
“I never was much of a cook,” he added quickly as if that explained his pathetic dinner plans.
Just then Ariel returned with mugs of tea. “You guys talking about Christmas?”
Carol nodded. “What are you going to do?”
Ariel gave a half shrug. “My mom was going to fly me out for the holidays but I told her to save her money. She can’t really afford to, and I’ll be moving home after I finish school, anyway.” Chloe climbed up in her lap, and Ariel hugged her. “So, it’s just us this Christmas.”
At least you have an “us,” Carol thought. And Darren had his son. Well, she had George the cat.
“I guess I’d better start dinner if you have to be someplace,” Ariel said, and got up.
The last thing Carol wanted was to be left on the couch with Darren. She might as well have been a teenage girl again, awkward and uncomfortable. “I’ll help you,” she offered, and got up, too.
“Me, too,” he said. “I’m not much in the kitchen but I set a mean table.”
So she and Ariel worked companionably in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while Darren set the table. Dinner conversation was light, covering favorite TV shows, books, and movies, but Carol still found herself glad when the table was cleared and the dishes were washed. The way Darren kept looking at her, she was sure he was poised on the edge of some social invitation she wasn’t ready for. Well, part of her was ready. Her body was practically whining for her to get her head together.
“I’m sorry to eat and run,” she told Ariel. “But I’ve got to get going. My friend’s expecting me.”
Ariel nodded and plucked Chloe from her seat.
Ariel and Darren both wound up walking with her to the front door. “Say ‘bye,’” Ariel instructed Chloe, who laid her head on her mother’s shoulder and murmured, “Bye.”
It felt a little like being a family, only without the parting hugs and kisses. Family, Carol thought wistfully as she went to her car. It was such an emotion-packed word, one easily taken for granted until life set a fuse to it.
You are not going there, she told herself firmly. Inside her car she flipped on the heat and turned the radio up full blast to drive away the despondent thoughts.
Several cars were already parked outside Jerri’s house when Carol pulled up, and she realized she was the last to arrive.
The door flew open almost as soon as she rang the doorbell. There stood Kay in her new Christmas finery. “You made it. Here, give me your coat. Are you wearing your sweater?”
“No, sorry.” Carol shed her coat and Kay took it, looking disappointed. The general had failed in her mission. “I didn’t have time to change,” Carol said. “I came here straight from somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?” Kay
teased. “Hey girls,” she called. “We’re not number one on Carol’s social calendar.”
“I don’t even have a social calendar,” Carol said, walking into the living room where Jerri lay on the couch, covered with a blanket.
A candle burned on the coffee table, filling the room with the scent of bayberry, and a fire roared in the gas fireplace. The house felt like an Arizona summer.
“Joe said she gets cold easily,” Kay whispered.
Jerri looked so frail lying on the couch. A plate of Joy’s Christmas cookies sat ignored on the coffee table in front of her. Chemo had already taken away her taste for sweets.
Her husband perched in a chair next to her like he was guarding her. Guard duty was clearly wearing him out. He’d lost weight even since Carol last saw him; his body seemed to hang on his tall skeleton like a suit in a closet. His swarthy face looked drawn and he had circles under his eyes.
“Hi, Joe,” Carol said, and he smiled and nodded a hello.
“Thanks for organizing this,” he said. “You guys are…” He stopped, choked up.
“We’re fabulous, we know,” Sharon said from where she and Joy stood at the mantelpiece, draping it with gold netting, holly, and glittering pears and apples. Joy’s face was flushed. Her sweater lay discarded on a nearby chair and she was holding netting with one hand and fanning herself with another. Poor Joy. This wasn’t the place to be if your hormones were misfiring.
Carol didn’t bother to offer to help with the decorating. The others had everything well in hand. Instead, she went to the couch where Jerri lay and perched at her feet, giving her leg a gentle pat. “How are you doing?”
“Great,” Jerri said, beaming. “Laura’s in the kitchen heating soup. Thanks to you and Kay we’ve got presents under the tree for when the kids come Friday, and the house will be decorated. I’ll even have cookies to serve.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You guys are the best.”
“What are friends for?” Carol said.
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