“I thought you might have car trouble in this cold spell. When I saw your dad at church yesterday, he said you still needed a new battery.”
“Daddy’s taking care of it this morning. He worries about me too much.”
Sherrie stepped out from behind a display of ribbons and wrapping paper. “We received a new shipment of Christmas supplies late yesterday. I thought I should get these into stock right away.”
“Great work, Chief.” Jamey offered his usual salute. Dorie’s face twitched, like Pop’s when Jamey rehearsed his lines aloud. “Don’t worry, Dorie. An inside joke. Sherrie was in the army before she came to work for Pop. Probably why she’s so efficient.”
Sherrie emptied a bag of artificial wreaths into a bin. “Don’t pay any attention, Dorie. He has a nickname for Elton too: ‘Frat Boy’.”
Jamey’s cheeks reached new levels of hot. He pointed to the stairwell. “Okay, Blondie, follow me.”
Dorie stopped in her tracks. “Robbie Dumont called me Blondie in the fourth grade—only once. I gave him a black eye.”
“Sorry. Poor choice.”
She offered a big smile.
Whew.
She hesitated at the bottom of the stairwell. “Tigger.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just now. You bounced like Tigger.”
“I don’t normally. I’m a little rushed today.”
“If you’re going to call me Blondie, I get to call you Tigger.”
“No need to insult me.”
“Not an insult at all. It’s kind of cute.”
“How about we just stick to Jamey and Dorie?”
“Fair enough.”
Jamey nodded toward the welcome banner. Dorie’s glance veered toward the vase of flowers he’d put on her desk. “Thank you. My! You and Sherrie went to a lot of trouble to make me feel at home. A chair, a sign, flowers …”
She shivered. He’d have to keep it warmer for her. “Sorry it’s so cold in here. These North Country winters take a little getting used to.” He turned up the thermostat. “The flowers came from the store. Feel free to grab a fresh supply anytime—and that goes for anything else you need. There’s a special code we use at the register.”
Jamey pulled an armful of ledgers from a bookshelf and put them on her desk. Every tax season our accountant hollers at us to upgrade. I told him you were coming to work for us, and he whooped for joy.”
“I’ll try not to let you down.”
As if that’s possible. “Tech’ support will be here next week for training and implementation. In the meantime, you can read through these to get a handle on our company history. Coffee?”
“Yes, I barely managed a few sips this morning.”
“Black, right?”
“You remembered?”
“Useless talents, I suppose, but I have a heightened ability to memorize numbers, the kind of car a person drives, and the way people like their coffee.”
Especially beautiful blondes.
***
Dorie opened the volumes of dusty ledgers, including the company’s earliest journals. She found an entry dated February 1973, the day James Sullivan, Sr. purchased the century-old Midville General Market: I pray that the Good Lord will keep me humble and true. May this enterprise He’s given me today be a light in this community.
Next she opened Sherrie’s ledgers dating back two decades—as meticulous in detail as they were in penmanship. Though the pages were frayed and yellowed, her numbers stood bold and certain, accounting every dime in and out. Dorie opened a file drawer to examine how the hard copies were stored. Equally as organized, these files were arranged alphabetically by vendor, each tab neatly labeled.
“Here’s your coffee.”
Startled, she tipped over the vase, making a split-second save before water and flowers could spew across the ledgers.
“Great catch. I should call you Johnny Bench instead of Blondie.” He set a filled coffee cup on her desk.
The front of the cup featured an orange-yellow sun breaking through a gray cloud above the inscription: I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love (Psalm 59:16).
“Thank you. I like the verse.”
“Most of the employees are believers. That’s another reason Pop wanted me to hire you.”
How could she describe her shaken and reforming faith? Jamey gave her more credit in the religious department than she deserved. Shaken and transforming? Undefined? “I’m impressed with Sherrie’s bookwork. She should have my job.”
“But the only thing I know about computers is how to turn them on.”
Dorie turned toward the voice. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Sherrie smiled. “You couldn’t hear a lead-footed gorilla come up these stairs. Don’t worry. This is Midville. Nobody bothers anybody in this town. You’ll find the office very quiet, except when Mr. Sullivan’s here.”
“The Chief doesn’t like my taste in music.”
Sherrie leaned and whispered. “He plays Christian rock. I like the old hymns.”
An ear-splitting silence followed for a few uncomfortable seconds, as if they waited for Dorie’s response. “I like both. Having kids helps me funnel out irritating noises.”
Bad wording, Dorie.
Sherrie drummed the desk. “Well, we’ll try to keep the music down while you’re here.”
“No need. I like music when I work. Seriously, I like all kinds of music.” Dorie took a big gulp of coffee. No wonder silence is golden. If you never say anything, you never have to explain yourself.
Jamey took a long sip before continuing. “Later this morning, we’ll take a quick spin to the other stores so I can introduce you.” He went into his cubicle. Soon choral praise music filled the air. Dorie returned to Sherrie’s ledgers and lost herself in a tale of remittances and receipts.
“Ready to go?”
She jumped at Jamey’s voice. He stood in front of her desk as silently as if he’d beamed in and out of her cubicle. She glanced at her watch. Was it ten already? “Yeah, sure.”
Each store visit went like a play script, with Jamey introducing Dorie to the manager and spieling what her position would do for the company.
When her stomach growled, she checked the time on her cell. Noon already? How nice to be so absorbed in her work that she lost track of time. Daddy was right: a career should be like golf, pleasant and focused.
Thank you, God, for this job.
Dorie and Jamey returned to Bargains Galore as Mom pulled into the parking lot. The noon sun beamed a promise of warmer temperatures.
Jamey walked her toward Mom’s car. “See you tomorrow. No rehearsal tonight. Danny has to go to his kid’s piano recital. I’m on the Advisory Board for the Little Red Hen Preschool, and I already put in a good word for Emma.”
She hadn’t searched for gems, but she’d found gold. A friend and a job.
***
Mom smiled like a new mother. “Good first day?” She got out the car and walked to the passenger side. “Might as well drive.”
Emma squealed when Dorie got in. “Grandpa took me to a car hospital.”
“A what?”
“That’s a garage, Emma,” Mom said. “That’s how your father explained it to the kids. The car needed a new starter too. Dad paid for everything and said to tell you ‘Merry Christmas.’”
Daddy shouldn’t have to support a grown daughter. “I insist on paying him back.”
“It’s his Christmas present to you. He wants to do it, so don’t hurt his feelings and ruin his gift.”
“We’ll see.”
Dorie turned to Emma. “Do you know where we’re going now?”
“To my school.” Her glow would have burst through the most stubborn cloud. A new phase of her young life was beginning. Something to celebrate. Right?
***
“You must be Emma.” A woman wearing a yellow smiley name tag led them to the lunch area. “I’m Jessica Brighton. The students call me
Miss Jessica.” She motioned to a table where fidgety children feasted on chicken nuggets, carrot sticks, orange gelatin, and milk. “I like our candidates to sample lunch. You’d be surprised at what a teacher can learn about a child by watching her with the other children.”
With Dorie’s approval, Miss Jessica set Emma up with a lunch tray. At least Emma didn’t do the chicken dance, her favorite antic at home. When she had devoured the last of her lunch, Miss Jessica handed Emma a napkin. “Ready for a walkabout?”
“’Kay.” Emma swished the napkin over her fingers and followed Miss Jessica around the room. When they came to the books, Emma picked up Where the Wild Things Are. “This one is Mommy’s fa … vor … ite.” She carried the book with her as Miss Jessica led her into an adjoining room, out of Dorie’s sight. When they returned, Emma skipped while Miss Jessica held her hand. “Can I stay here today?”
Dorie helped Emma put on her coat. “You’ll be back tomorrow morning, sweetie.”
“’Kay.” Her face shifted into a pout. “Can I bring Mr. Bear?”
Miss Jessica nodded. “Of course. Bears are welcome to visit anytime.”
Dorie nudged Emma toward her grandmother. “Why don’t you show Grandma all the things you like here while Mommy signs the papers?”
“’Kay. Come on, Grandma.”
Flashing a sympathetic smile, Miss Jessica handed Dorie a folder of forms. “Emma will do fine. She’s bright and friendly—”
My Emma? Friendly? Since when? “Well, she’s often a little shy. I’ve never seen her warm up to a stranger so quickly.”
“I already know Emma. Your mother and I have lunch on Saturdays, and sometimes she brings Emma with her. I adore her chicken dance.”
Reality dawned. Dorie was not in control of every aspect of her children’s lives and was about to lose more of the control she did have. Lord, will you be there when I can’t?
Of course.
Dorie choked back the tears and signed the papers.
***
Details were falling into place, and she pulled into her mother’s driveway with more confidence than she’d had when she woke up this morning.
“Want to come in for tea?” Mom asked.
Dorie’s muscles ached as if she’d been put through Grandma Perkins’s old wringer washing machine. But Mom seemed to want to talk. “Sure. I’ve got an hour before I have to pick up Josh.”
Before Mom put the water on, her cell played Eloise. She glanced at the ID panel. “That’s funny, I don’t recognize this phone number. The caller ID says it’s somebody named Natasha somebody, whoever that is.” She answered with a hesitant edge, but still friendly. She listened to whoever had called, then plopped into the kitchen chair, her face as white as the stuffing coming out of Mr. Bear’s leg.
“Oh, no! I don’t believe it. Is he okay?”
“Is who okay? Is it Dad?”
Mom covered the mouthpiece. “It’s about your brother.”
“What trouble has JJ gotten into now? Leave it to him to get into a bind and ask you to bail him out.”
“Shush, Dorie. Don’t speak ill of your brother. Especially not now.” She returned her attention to the caller. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.” Then she grabbed a notepad from the kitchen drawer and scribbled a phone number and address.
“Mom! What’s going on?”
She clicked off the phone, set it on the counter and buried her face in her hands. “JJ’s been in a car accident.”
Dorie could barely breathe. Her renegade brother whom she loved in spite of his careless living. “How badly is he hurt?”
“He’s not critical, but he has multiple fractures in both legs. I have to go to him, Dorie. He’s my child.”
“Who called?”
“His girlfriend, Natasha something or other. Sounds Russian.”
“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”
“Well, apparently he does.” She grabbed the phone again. “I’m calling your father’s cell. We need to leave as soon as we can arrange a flight to San Diego. I’m sorry to desert you like this.”
“I understand.”
“Even if I’m not here, God is.”
If God were in her corner, why had the world caved in just as the pieces finally fit together?
Chapter Twenty
Dorie bit her lip as she pulled into the airport passenger drop off.
Unlike yesterday’s bitter wind, a gentle snow fell with warming temperatures. Daddy lifted the suitcases from the trunk to the airport curbside checkin as Mom, Dorie, and the kids got out of the car. “This kind of snow is great for making snowballs,” Daddy said.
“Can we, Mom?”
“We’ll see when we get home.” Dorie waved goodbye to her parents and turned around for the trip back home, the motor like a lullaby. She missed her parents already. The children soon fell asleep, leaving her free to listen to music and re-examine her next steps.
Hours later, when she pulled into her driveway, the kids roused. She sent them upstairs to play in their rooms while she called Jamey. He’d been understanding about why she hadn’t come in today, but with preschool only three days a week, she had no one to care for Emma the other days. How could she ever keep this job?
His confident tones crushed her ready-made excuses to dust. “Be patient. You’ll figure it all out. Don’t give up yet.”
But if I quit now, I can’t fail. “The children need me at home.” Almost the truth. JJ’s accident had to be a sign from God. Maybe she should home-school Josh so she could keep better tabs on him during the day.
Jamey blasted through her resistance. “The Little Red Hen Preschool has an after-school program as well as a five-day preschool program.”
Sending Emma to preschool only three days a week had been a difficult enough decision. Dorie finally accepted that the experience would be beneficial for Emma’s education, something a good mother should be concerned about. An after-school program seemed something else entirely. Why couldn’t Jamey admit hiring her had been a mistake?
“All you need to do is send a note to Josh’s school, then the bus will drop him off at the Little Red Hen. If it helps, we’ll arrange flexible hours for you. Don’t give up. Our company needs you.”
So do my children. “Well, I’ll think about it and call you later tonight, after I hear from my mother.”
“I’ll wait.”
She punched end and set the phone on the table. An unspoken emotion seemed piggy-backed on Jamey’s last two words, unrelated to employment. He wouldn’t be interested in a relationship outside of work, would he? Not likely, since he and Susan were involved. Whatever his motivation, his concern warmed her heart like a piping-hot slice of pizza.
She suddenly craved pizza and dialed Pizza Barn, requesting delivery of a large meat lovers with extra cheese. She had at least thirty minutes to fill while she waited. “Good packing weather,” Daddy had said.
“Who wants to make a snowman?”
Josh and Emma raced to the closet with Boomer in hot pursuit. He dragged everything not on a hanger to the middle of the living room. Racing around Boomer’s heap, the children dug out their boots, mittens, and scarves. Boomer ran back and forth, yipping his enthusiasm.
Before he could make a shambles of the house, Dorie let him outside. She came back into the living room to find Josh’s face buried underneath his new black scarf. “Mom, I can’t see to put my mittens on.”
“Let me help.”
Emma sat on the floor. She’d put her snow pants over her coat and struggled to snap the straps.
Dorie swallowed the urge to laugh. “Try again and this time put your snow pants on first, then your coat.”
“’Kay.”
Josh danced around the living room chanting a refrain of “Em—ma’s a ba—by.”
“Josh, why don’t you go outside and play with Boomer until Emma and I are ready?”
“Yeppers.”
“Josh, the word is—”
“Yes, Mom.
”
While Josh looked a lot like Devon, even mimicked him in some ways, her son’s antics reminded her of JJ, whom she named Josh after. Like most big brothers, Joshua John Perkins never missed an opportunity to tease. But when Iggy Nason had pulled Dorie’s hair at school, JJ pushed him down and made him eat dirt. Iggy never bothered her again after that. Sometimes JJ could be the best brother ever. What if he never walked again?
Lord, please make him okay.
On her second attempt, Emma mastered her snow pants and coat and clapped her self-adulation. Barely able to walk in so much warmth, she clomped her way outdoors.
Dorie hurriedly put on her own snow clothes, anticipating fun with the kids, glad she had a supply of thermal underwear.
Once outside, Josh struggled with a snowball half his size, soon becoming too big for him to manage. He huffed, dug his feet deep into the snow, and heaved with his backside. How much she wanted to help him. Instinct told her he needed to decide for himself if the task was more than he could handle. Finally, Josh surrendered to the impossible. “You take this for his bottom, Mom, and I’ll start another one for his middle.”
Emma’s interest leaned more toward throwing Boomer’s ball around than shaping the snowman.
“Emma, do you want to make the head?” Dorie asked.
“’Kay.” She set to her task and soon turned out a head more flat than round. Then she dropped to the ground and decorated the backyard with a series of snow angels. Boomer interrupted now and again to lick her face.
Within fifteen minutes, the snowman resembled a segmented human. Dorie surveyed their creation. “How should we dress him up?”
Josh stepped back and studied him. “I think he should be a soldier.”
“Yeah,” Emma squealed. “A soldier snowman.”
They went back into the house with Boomer trailing behind. Dorie grabbed Devon’s hat, the one Josh had worn for Halloween, while Boomer pulled a drab-green scarf from the pile in the living room. Dorie assumed his selection a lucky guess, but one couldn’t be quite sure about his psychic ability.
“He needs two arms. See?” Emma held out her own.
“I have old curtain rods in the kitchen closet.”
Emma dug out the rods while Dorie rummaged through the refrigerator for facial features. No carrots. Ah, the cucumber in the crisper drawer. A cucumber nose would distinguish their snowman from all the others on the block. She snatched a handful of buttons from her sewing box then searched for duct tape.
It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long Page 11