by Lizz Lund
Magenta grunted. “Are you kidding? The only reason we get Christmas off is because the stock market’s closed.”
I made my way back to the parking lot just as the sky opened up and another fine, powdery snow fell on the streets, like a giant salt cellar. You know what they say about the weather in Pee-Ay, if you don’t like it just wait five minutes and it will change. I brushed myself off and hopped in the van. I had a moment of panic when I couldn’t find the card pass (oh good Lord, please don’t make me go back to the bric-a-brac shop!) but finally found it and let myself out of the lot.
I came to the corner of Orange and Queen, and was about to turn right, when the traffic light turned red, of course. I sat and waited, staring at the long line of people wrapped around the corner drugstore. Then I read the sign in the window, “WE HAVE TAPE!”
A tired, disheveled store manager appeared next to the sign, and whipped it off. The crowd emitted a loud groan, and dispersed. The light turned green, and off I went.
I finished up the rest of the deliveries and pulled into the back of the lot, near the smoker. I hurried through the cold and into the kitchen and found Hilda sitting at her desk, grumbling at her calculator. She looked up. “I was wondering if we’d ever see you again.”
“I’m really glad you had spare tape.”
“For a five hundred percent markup, I’d have a spare leg.”
I handed Hilda the parking pass. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “Better check with Chef.”
I looked around the kitchen, and saw him leaning over a steel counter, staring at a clipboard. I cleared my throat. He looked up.
“Hilda wanted me to check with you, to see if you need any more help.”
Chef checked another clipboard, then looked at the clock. “We’re good for today. But I was wondering what kept you. You hit a lot of traffic?”
“I got kidnapped.”
“What?”
“Really.”
Chef looked at me oddly. Then, he turned back toward his lists. “By the way, what are you doing about Christmas?”
“I’m using red and green duct tape.”
He stared at me again. “No, not what are you doing for wrapping. I mean, what are your plans for Christmas?”
I shrugged. “I guess I’ll be a Sidekick up until the eleventh hour.”
He stared at me. “Mina - are you spending Christmas with anyone?”
Part of me began to blush, while the other part of me told me to quit it. Was he asking me out? For Christmas? I virtually pinched myself. Chef? Naw. He probably has a breakfast to deliver, and no one with family would be too keen on working Christmas morning.
“I’ve got Vinnie. And I’ll probably wind up with Vito and Miriam, too.”
Chef shook his head and smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
I nodded mutely. Was he going to ask me to deliver something, or what?
“How about we go over next week’s schedule?”
My next shift got scheduled. By now, I completely understood the concept of living paycheck to paycheck. Luckily, I have several of them.
I headed off, and pulled up to my garage with an abrupt stop. That was because I didn’t want to run over Vito and his new buddy, having a shoving contest in the middle of our driveways.
Vito, and a guy who looked a lot like someone Vito might have gone to school with, took turns pushing each other. I parked at the bottom, hoping the van wouldn’t slide backward. I stared up the hill toward them.
“I know you underbid them!” Vito’s pal screamed at him.
“No, I didn’t!” Vito poked back.
“Did too!”
“Did NOT!”
“You did! And it was my idea in the first place! You’re not beating me to the punch!”
Vito threw his hands up in the air and sighed, exhaling a Yiddish expletive. The other guy got bug-eyed and purple. Then he grabbed Vito by the neck and tried to bite him.
“Hey, cut that out!”
“I’m gonna suck your blood!”
“You put your lips on me again, you’ll be sucking teeth.”
“Shut up! I’m a vampire and I’m gonna feed on you!”
“You ain’t no vampire! You’re out in broad daylight!”
“I’m in transition!”
The weird guy grabbed Vito by the neck again. Vito shoved him down on the lawn. They rolled down the hill together and landed at my feet.
“Hey, you can’t do that!’ I screamed.
“Why not?”
“This is my driveway!”
The guy nodded, then helped Vito up. They shook hands.
Then he socked poor Vito in the bread basket. Vito fell over like a deflated lawn ornament.
The senior perp held up both hands and backed away, slipping a bit. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, kid. This is family business. Nothing personal.”
“Who are you?”
“Umm… Buddy. Buddy Burgers.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope.”
“You own Buddy Burgers? The fast food chain?”
He shook his head. “It’s an unfortunate coincidence.”
Vito stood up and waved him off. “See you around, Bernie,” Vito said knowingly.
“Sorry. Hey, no hard feelings, huh?”
“Next time, pal.” Then Buddy – Bernie? took off.
“What was all that about?”
“Bernie is an old-time buddy of mine. Which umm… is why he calls hisself Buddy. But sometimes he gets wrong ideas in his head.”
“Great. I hope he’s just visiting from out of town.”
“Actually, he relocated.”
I stared firmly at Vito. “Not like you, right?”
Vito shrugged. “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
I gave myself a virtual spatula slap to my noggin. I wanted to flip my brains over and start again.
“Are you okay?” I asked. It looked like Vito really got the wind knocked out of him. It would have been hard on anyone, but especially for someone old enough to be my uncle.
“I could use a little sit down, actually.”
I got us inside my townhouse, and Vito comfy on the sofa. I handed him a glass of water, and the doorbell rang. It was Miriam.
“My sweetie isn’t at his home. I waited forever out in the cold, waiting for him to answer his bell. Of course, I could have found out easier if I’d have my own key…” Miriam chastised Vito from the foyer, inspecting my living room while glaring at him, hands on hips.
Vito shrugged. “Sorry, Sweetie. Keep meaning to get around to it.”
I looked at Vito. Vito stared at his shoes. Miriam kept her hands on her hips.
“Do you mean to tell me you forgot?”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry. Had a few more events than usual today.” He rubbed his tummy.
“Not about the key! About the…”
Vito looked up.
“About the… WATER! With all this precipitation, I was worried WATER might be in your basement!” Miriam nodded brightly at Vito.
I shrugged and hung up my coat, glad to move out of bickering range.
“No, there’s no more WATER in my basement. But I think there might be some WATER in Mina’s basement,” Vito answered.
I spun around from the closet. “Water in MY basement? What the?” I hurried toward the basement steps.
“NO! NO! You just wait here! I’ll check it for you!” Miriam screamed, chucking me out of the way and running down the steps.
Well. The idea of water in my basement got me more than a tad upset. I needed to calm down. I mentally recited the necessary ingredients for a turkey dinner with all the trimmings.
After some scuffling and sounds of boxes falling, Miriam came up from the basement, preceded by Vinnie, who was chattering away and looking severely disgruntled. Apparently, she’d woken him in his kitty kingdom. But Miriam was beaming as she clutched a large, dented box. It looked like the box Vito had fallen into this morning. Huh.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said. I scaled back the turkey dinner and thought about whipping up a soufflé.
Miriam lugged her box into the living room. “Thanks, Honey Pie. Would you mind helping me to my car with this?” Miriam tossed the box on Vito’s lap.
He responded with a wince as the box plunked against his middle. “Sure, Sweetie.” He got up and toddled out the door, with Miriam giving me bye-bye finger waves.
The phone rang. “You’re mother’s here. When are you going to drop off your presents?” It was Auntie. I had yet to make my way to Aunties’ with my Christmas presents for her, Ma, Ethel, Ike and the unborn. I sighed. Was it too early for a glass of wine? Wasn’t it five o’clock somewhere?
“I don’t have them wrapped yet, exactly.”
“Don’t worry. Just label them and we’ll take care of it at your sister’s. Your mother’s brought scads of tape.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Now! We wanted to leave an hour ago. We’ve tried to reach you, but you weren’t at home. Can your mother get you a smartphone for Christmas?”
I groaned inwardly and made arrangements to bring the unwrapped presents ASAP.
I finally got the presents stashed inside garbage bags, which took a bit longer because Vinnie kept insisting on getting stashed inside the bags, too. I sped toward Auntie’s.
As I pulled up the long driveway, Ma and Aunt Muriel met me outside. We made a chain gang to repack the goods inside Auntie’s Lexus.
“You’re not taking Ma’s car?” I asked.
“Both,” Ma huffed as she threw another garbage bag full of goodies to Auntie.
“We’re packed to the gunnels!” Auntie chimed in.
I was going to miss a really good time. Rats.
We hugged quickly, just before they handed me presents for me and Vinnie. Their presents were wrapped beautifully. They certainly looked a lot more festive than my black trash bags.
Auntie pulled out, followed by Ma. I waved at Ma as she got a new-fangled looking GPS up to speed. Once again, I wondered about my mother skating on the bleeding edge of technology, while I clung fervently to LPs.
I got back to the house just as the snow turned to drizzly frozen rain. But my neighborhood looked pretty - everyone had their Christmas lights up. And a few houses sported inflatable lawn ornaments, too, which were luckily puffed up and not lying like inert puddles on the ground. After I gave the tree a spin, I got the presents and placed them underneath. Vinnie made sure to sit on top of the boxes to guard them. I hoped my new clothes wouldn’t get too wrinkled as he sprawled his girth across, smashing each box.
I’d had enough stress for one day. So I rummaged around the freezer and found a thick chuck steak to double as a pot roast. I set it in the microwave to defrost, then checked around for the rest of the fixings and lucked out: yes, we have carrots, onions, potatoes and more importantly, ginger snaps for the gravy. I even had a jar of pickled red cabbage. Woot!
The microwave binged just as I was hauling out a large pot from beneath the cupboard. The phone rang.
“I’m bored and hungry. Let’s go out.” It was K. K.’s been in my best-bud club since I moved to Lancaster. And yes, K. is his legal name – after he paid an exorbitant sum to make it official. At the time he shrugged it off as a business expense; part of the trappings for his interior design firm. Since he’s the sole proprietor, there wasn’t much argument.
“I’m making pot roast.”
“Good grief. Was your day that bad?”
I clattered around the utensil drawer, digging with one hand. “It got a little better after I got ransomed.”
“Ransomed? Why, were you kidnapped?”
“Yes.”
He took a breath. “You’re kidding right?”
“Nope.”
“All right, when can I come over for pot roast and this story?”
“Anytime.”
K. soon arrived with a large, wrapped gift basket.
I frowned. “I haven’t wrapped your Christmas present yet. I didn’t know you wanted to exchange this early.”
“Heavens, no. One of my clients gave me this. I brought it over to divvy up. Do you think Bauser would actually drink good beer for a change?”
“Nope. He’s a Krumpthfs die-hard.”
“That’s too bad. There’s a bottle of a very good artisanal ale in here.”
K. set the basket on the counter and began divvying, while I fiddled with the pot roast creation and filled him in.
“Really, dearie, you don’t need a cell phone. You need a panic button. The idea!”
“Holidays can be very stressful.”
“Especially with no tape! By the way, were you successful?”
“Sort of. Here.” I held out the bag full of red and green duct tape.
“My.” K. looked at it like I’d handed him the contents of Vinnie’s litter box.
“Look, it will hold paper together, right? And they’re red and green. That’s Christmas-y, right?”
K. tried not to make a face. “Actually, my theme this year is ‘Sugar Plum,’ so all my presents are hues of silver and eggplant.”
“Theme?”
“Of course, dear. I vary my wrapping theme each year. Clients expect it.” K.’s design clients ranged the gamut, from top notch developers to local celebrities.
I looked at him and thought about the red and green duct tape sticking bits of grey and purple paper together. Maybe he could alter his theme a little. How would they feel about ‘recession’?
K. patted my hand. “It was very nice of you. Actually, I do have a stash of double-sided tape. I’ll make do with that.”
I put the bag aside and stirred my pot roast. I was a little ticked. I didn’t think K. should look gift duct tape in the mouth. I flipped the roast, and thunked the lid on the pot.
“Here, look – peace!” K. said. He held up a nice Syrah, and two bonafide wine glasses. “Where’s your wine opener?”
I hadn’t used a wine opener since Ma visited last summer, since my budget allows for only mugs o’Merlot, varied by the occasional box o’Burgundy. After some confused inspections, we dug out the wine opener from inside a crock pot.
“I don’t understand what the big deal is about stores being out of tape. I mean, why don’t people just order online?”
K. swallowed. “Oh, I tried that. Of course, you can get everything under the sun. But only with a steep delivery fee.”
“You mean there’s a huge profit margin for tape?”
“No, the costs are reasonable. The delivery fees, not so much. Especially with just a couple weeks before Christmas.”
“Huh?”
K. shook his head. “Lancaster. Frugal. Remember?”
I nodded. “Got it. Want to catch the early news?”
“Of course,” K. answered nicely, pouring the wine.
We sat and sipped. A male anchor sat grinning wildly, direct from TV Land. “And now, some good news for our anxious giftwrapping viewers! A new giftwrapping service opens tonight in Countryside Mall, just in time for the holidays.” The camera cut to live coverage inside the mall.
A long-haired blonde woman stood by a mall kiosk, holding a microphone. “That’s right, Glenn. The ‘Mail-It-2’ kiosk opened today here at Countryside Mall. And not a moment too soon, given the tape shortage in Lancaster County. Any shortage of tape here, Mr. Bergers?”
“Heck no! We’ve got plenty of tape here! We’ve got all your giftwrapping and holiday needs! We even got stamps!”
I stared at the screen and tried not to blow wine through my nose. Buddy – Bernie? - Burgers stood smiling and waving his arms in front of the kiosk.
“Well, you’re timing couldn’t be better this holiday season, right, Mr. Burgers?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “I had a hunch last winter. So I built my business model around it. Bought boat loads of tape! And postage! Bring your presents �
�� any size, any amount – we’ll wrap ‘em! And mail ‘em!”
I choked a bit.
“Problem?” K. asked, patting me on the back.
“That’s Vito’s friend.”
“Oh, that’s nice. When did you meet him?”
“Right after he punched Vito in the stomach.”
CHAPTER 3
Late Thursday into Friday
Long after I explained to K. about the driveway drama, I hit the hay. Later, I awoke to claps of thunder. A brilliant flash of lightning lit up my bedroom. Vinnie put his paws over both ears, and mumbled in his sleep. Another clap of thunder got me up and in my slippers. That, and the phone was ringing.
It was Bauser. Known only to his mom as Ralph Bausman, he was my ex coworker buddy from our EEJIT days, and remains on my roster of friends. Especially while we compared our unemployment stipends. He’s destined for a creative technology job soon. Seriously, he’s genius wherever IT is concerned. Just not so much regarding a clock and the telling of time.
“Seriously, Mina, look outside! You’ll never see this again!”
I yawned. “You woke me up for a thunderstorm?”
“A snow thunderstorm!”
I reached over Vinnie and pulled the curtain aside. Snow was swirling in the backyard at a dizzying pace. Another flash of lightning lit up the spirals of flakes. More thunder growled in the distance.
“What the—”
“I’ve heard about these! But never believed it! This is so cool, right?”
I considered it. “Is this another oddball Lancaster thing?”
“Nope. More like oddball Central PA. Because when the lower troposphere becomes unstable, along with a net flow of air, it increases lift.”
“Huh?”
Bauser sighed. “The weather here is conducive to small thunderstorms.”
“Got it. Thanks.” I yawned.
“Don’t mention it!”
“Do you and Norman want tape?”
“You got tape?”
I explained.
“Actually, Norman headed off to the mall to that new gift wrap place right after the news.”
I hung my head.
“But I could use some. I mean, not a lot. Most of my presents are 6-packs. I’m mostly going with bows.”
I hung up and sighed, fervently hoping my Christmas present from Bauser wasn’t a 6-pack of Krumpfths.