Christmas and Cleats

by Solly, Clare

  “And we chased him around the museum, and he got locked in a closet trying to hide from us!’

  “Oh yeah, that creepy closet! He said that he thought there was a ghost in there because someone touched him.” Hetty started to cry she was laughing so hard. “When it was just your dad’s jacket arm that landed on his shoulder.”

  They both were cackling and laughing so hard that they started crying.

  This was how life was supposed to be: two best friends spending time together. Laughing over shared memories while baking cookies, not caring that it rained outside. Dottie was glad that her best friend had made her get out of bed early today. Even though it was her day off. She wouldn’t have wanted to miss this for the world.

  As their laughter died down, Dottie wryly added, “Did you get cheese on my Hun Beret?” They both cackled again with laughter as they drank their coffee and continued to make cookies.

  A few hours later, they had baked three dozen cookies. Two auxiliary batches of dough were in the refrigerator ready for the oven. Cookies were cooling on the counter waiting to be iced while they ate the lunch Don delivered.

  Hetty kept sliding Joe in conversation trying to get an understanding for how Dottie felt about him. She knew there had to be something there, even after all these years. Dottie wouldn’t have felt that they almost kissed, let alone bring it up to Hetty in the diner if she didn’t feel something. Much to Hetty’s chagrin, Dottie kept changing the subject. She wasn’t sure if Dottie was avoiding the conversation on purpose. She was getting to the point where she was running out of ways to bring Joe up.

  “I don’t think these are cool enough yet to ice,” Dottie said as she checked a couple of the cookies. “The icing will just melt if we try them now. Instead, let me show you what I’ve done in the library.”

  “You know, they say that Joe still reads a lot.” Hetty took the opportunity and once again dropped Joe stealthily into their conversation. “They say he gets on the treadmill and while he is doing cardio, he is working his way through the classics. He read Anna Karenina this year, a magazine said,” Hetty reported as they walked up stairs.

  Nonplussed, Dottie said, “Well, it’s about time he got around to actually reading it. He faked his way through a paper about it. I should know. I let him cheat off of me.”

  “Dottie!” Hetty chided. Then in a singsong way Hetty said, “Well, maybe someone is trying to get into the interests you have, so you can share them!”

  Whipping around mid-staircase, Dottie leaned down over Hetty. Being a step above was the only way Dottie was taller. “Listen to me, Hetty. There is nothing going on between Joe and me. It was just one of those weird moments. He’s probably feeling lonely and missing his fiancée and I was just in proximity,” Dottie sputtered with explanation. “I read about those kinds of things all the time.” She turned and started up the stairs again, “And that’s probably more accurate than those gossip magazines.”

  “Well, you can’t blame a romantic for hoping, can you?”

  “No, but you can tell the romantic to stop meddling in a life that isn’t hers. Besides what would your buddy Harold think if he knew you were trying to set me up with another man,” Dottie teased. It wasn’t a big secret that her best friend and her boyfriend weren’t close. Why, Dottie didn’t know. Neither of them ever had a distinct answer when asked.

  “Fine,” Hetty relented.

  “Fine.” Dottie replied and shook off her anger and entered the room to the left off the stairway.

  The library, one of the larger rooms on the second floor, had two eight-foot-long and three-foot-wide glass cases sat parallel in the middle of the room. Dottie moved between the four-foot space between them. The bookshelf lined walls were packed from floor to ceiling and stretched from floorboard to crown molding and covered all wall space, only leaving room for a big bay window that looked over the side yard. Dottie walked over to the large oak desk near the window. Although this was one of the active museum rooms, it was barely used, except when historians or curious public wanted to stop in and find a book.

  “I’m not as much of a reader as you are,” Hetty’s voice was reverent. “But it never stops me from being amazed to walk in this room.”

  Hundreds of books filled the room that had been donated or curated by those who worked for the museum. It was Dottie’s favorite room even as a child. She loved to take down a book and sit on the massive multicolored braided rug that covered the original wooden floor. Moments after opening the book she would get lost in its pages.

  “I know,” said Dottie. “I love this room, because it was a true community effort to build it to such a great library,” she said opening the drawer of the desk with a key and pulling out a laptop. “It’s hard to believe that every book in here has something to do with this town, Connecticut or was written or published by a Nutmegger.”

  Hetty had been in this room at least a hundred times, but she still did a loop running her fingers along some of the spines. Amazement filled her and then she turned back to Dottie. “So, what did you want to show me.”

  “Well,” Dottie said with a large sigh as she plopped herself down on the bay window seat. “I had an idea for a new installation in the Baker room,” she motioned to the room across the hallway. The open door revealed a large open room that was two flat walls and then a circular wall of windows. Currently it held nothing but an assembly of about fifty chairs. It was a very open space, almost as large as the ballroom that was directly below it. It was used for larger meetings or lectures and was even outfitted with a flatscreen tv.

  “What is it?” said Hetty sitting next to her friend.

  “Well, I’d need your help, and your permission of course,” she said holding tightly to the computer and then turning it around to face the screen toward Hetty, “But I wanted to make an exhibit about you.”

  “What?!?” Hetty exclaimed as she looked at Dottie instead of the screen. “Me? Why?”

  “Well, just look at the screen,” Dottie held up the laptop. “Use the touchpad and scroll down.”

  “This is just pictures of me in all of my pageants.”

  “Yes, and there is a rich history in that,” Dottie said handing the lap to Hetty and walking into the center of the room. “Just picture it: a visitor walks into the room and at the windows are your dresses on forms lined up like contestants on a stage. Over on the wall to the left are the photos and pictures of you. I’ll get some of the news article clippings too. On the wall to the right is a case of all of your crowns. On the television, we will run a loop video of all of your different talent moments and your big winning moments,” Dottie paused for a moment to look at her friend whose mouth was gaping open like a fish. She hurried on before Hetty could say no, “Don told me that Murray has a lot of footage, since he was at almost every pageant you ever did, and I’m sure we can find someone to cut all of those together. It wouldn’t take much time to set up, just a week or so. And it wouldn’t cost much. I would just need to borrow your crowns, and dresses, and probably dress forms.” Hetty still said nothing. “It would just be for a few weeks. But I think the town would get a kick out of seeing The Path of a Pageant Queen—that’s what I want to call it. I’m hoping it will stir up business. Bring visitors in.” Dottie clasped her hands together and stepped closer to Hetty. “So… what do you think?”

  Hetty remained unmoving and blinked a few moments later. “What do I think? What do I think?” She jumped up and set the computer down on the bay window, “I think this is the greatest present you could ever give me!!” Hetty raced over and hugged Dottie. “You’ve really worked hard on this. I’m very impressed, I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were this good!” Hetty paced a few steps back and forth. “I’ll only do it on one condition: you hold a ball here on Christmas Eve to celebrate the exhibit. I’ve always wanted to have a ball here, and this would be the perfect reason for there to be one: me!”

  “Really?” Dottie asked.

  “Really? Of cou
rse! I can’t believe you were even nervous to ask.” Hetty held her friend out at arm's length. “You know I would do anything for you!”

  They hugged again and then started jumping up and down and squealing with happiness. “Hey if you charge for the ball, I’m sure that would help keep the museum open, at least for a few more months, anyway!”

  “That is a great idea,” Dottie replied, “I can’t

  wait—”

  Her thought was interrupted by a large crash that came from the direction of the Baker room. They looked at each other in terror.

  Dottie ran toward the room, Hetty right behind her almost knocking her friend down, because she had stopped in the doorway.

  “Oh no,” Dottie said in almost a whisper with her hand over her mouth.

  “We will fix this,” Hetty said in her calmest voice as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up the number for help and hit connect. “Frank, come quick. The roof just fell in over at the museum.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Murray, the roof at the museum just fell in,” Frank said hustling over to his oldest friend, and distant cousin, as he was ringing up a customer at the register.

  Murray stopped what he was doing and looked up.

  “What happened? Was anyone hurt?” Joe, was at the counter being rung up, took the words out of Murray’s mouth.

  “Hetty called from the museum,” Frank said as Murray moved from around the counter and started to grab his coat.

  “Is she okay?” Murray asked.

  “Fine. She’s fine.” Frank said putting both hands in the air and motioning to Murray to sit back down in hopes of calming his friend. Frank turned toward Joe said, “They’re both fine. Apparently, the roof in the Baker Room is leaking,” he said to relieve Joe’s confusion. “It’s the front one with the rounded front window. There wasn’t anything in the room except for that new fancy television, but they say that the leak is not near it. I’m going to grab some tarping and head over there,” he said starting back toward aisle three. “Unless, Murray, you want to climb up on that roof?”

  Rubbing his knee, Murray shook his head. His knees weren’t what they used to be, and to be honest he needed help putting up the Christmas decorations on his house these days. Being up on a ladder wasn’t the easiest anymore. Frank his oldest friend, knew all of this, of course. He said it in his question without revealing it to anyone else. “Naw, you’re right. Need one of us to stay here and watch the shop,” he said shirking off his coat. “But if that gal of mine needs help, I’ll close the store and be on my way in a flash.”

  Frank hollered from down the aisle as Murray slid out of his coat and resumed ringing Joe up. “Hetty is stronger than the both of us put together. I’m sure she’s fine,” Frank came around the corner putting his rain slicker on while carrying his toolbox. “Shoot, Marilyn has the car today. I rode in with you and I’m not sure how long you’ll be,” he muttered to himself.

  “Joe, you headed home?” Murray asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” Joe nodded. “Need a ride, Frank? I’d be happy to drop you.”

  “That’d be great. Let’s get going, though. The rain isn’t slowing, and that house is getting wetter by the minute,” Frank grabbed one of Joe’s bags and headed toward the door.

  “I’ll put it on your account,” Murray said handing Joe his bag. “Better get going, or he’ll likely drive your car off without you.”

  “Right. Thanks, Murray.”

  “Can you believe a major league baseball player is my chauffeur!” Frank hollered as he followed Joe out the door.

  “Frank’s plan might just work yet,” Murray muttered to himself. “That gal and that boy are meant to be together. And with Joe back in town, we just need to keep those two meeting and they’ll take care of the rest themselves. Probably,” he said as he sat down and picked up the folded newspaper beside the register with the half-finished crossword. Suddenly he looked up and out the front door. “He wouldn’t have poked a hole in the roof.” Murray shook the idea out of his head. “Nah, he’s crafty, but not that crafty. Although…” Murray chuckled to himself and looked down at his crossword. “Ah ha! Six letter word for ‘clever at achieving one's aims by indirect or deceitful methods’ C-R-A-F-T-Y.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later Joe pulled up to the museum. A small hole, the size of an apple could be seen in the roof from the driveway. It looked like it had been stuffed with something, because a black shiny wad was sticking up out of the hole.

  Letting out a long slow whistle, Frank leaned forward and craned his neck to get a better look out the windshield. The wiper blades squeaking back and forth clearing the unrelenting rain. “This is a job for more than one person.” He looked at Joe. “Don’t suppose you could spare a few minutes to help me climb up there and temporarily patch that?”

  Joe leaned forward and cocked his head, mimicking Frank. He sighed deeply. Like his parents’ house, the museum had many memories he wasn’t quite ready to face. Many of which involved alone time with Dottie. Joe never realized how far back he had actually been in love with her. He realized as they arrived at the museum that he probably had feelings for Dottie from the day they met. Coach’s voice echoed in his mind, “Get your head right…”

  “Sure,” Joe sighed. “I don’t know that I’ll get much work done on my place in this weather anyway.”

  Grabbing the tarps and the toolbox, Frank made a swift retreat to the porch. Joe turned off the engine and took the key out of the ignition and followed. Joe smiled to himself when he saw the wreaths hanging on the door. They walked through the first door and hung their jackets on the hooks just inside. Frank knocked as a courtesy, but then walked right in through the second door. A wall of laughter hit the men as soon as the second door opened.

  “We’re here,” Frank walked to the stairway and hollered up from the bottom step.

  “In the kitchen!” both ladies called back in unison. Then laughing continued.

  Frank’s head swung from up the stairs toward the kitchen. He marched into the kitchen to find Hetty and Dottie apron clad, and amess with icing all over their faces and clothes. Hetty had a streak of green and white on each cheek. Dottie had green frosting dripping from the back of her hand and a red slash of frosting that went from above her right eye to her left cheek.

  “What are you two doing?” Frank asked in a stern voice.

  “Icing cookies?” Dottie stifled a laugh and questioned why he was asking what seemed obvious.

  “Looks like you're finger-painting your faces,” Frank said disapprovingly and trying not to smile. “Now let’s—” he turned to talk to Joe behind him, to find he had disappeared. “Let's get this roof patched.” And he walked out of the room.

  “We shoved some trash bags up in it to keep the rain out,” Hetty yelled after Frank.

  Dottie put down her icing bag and while wiping her hands on a dishtowel, followed Frank who was already ascending the stairs.

  “I’ve brought some tarps that we’ll tack to the roof, for a temporary fix,” Frank shouted as he went up the stairs, “but we’ll—”

  With her head down, she did a hairpin turn to follow up the stairs, and she ran straight into a tall, strong man also trying to get up the stairs.

  “You.” Dottie realized it was Joe.

  “Yeah.” He said staring back at her. “I… um… I was—”

  “What are you—” Dottie spoke at the same time.

  Nervously, they both laughed.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I was taking a quick look around. It’s been so long since I’ve—”

  “You coming? Or are you visiting?” Frank’s head peered over the banister. “We don’t have all day. Room is getting soggier by the minute!” He said as he walked back into the Baker room.

  Taking the steps two at a time, Joe chased after Frank.

  “You’re welcome anytime,” Dottie yelled after him. “Free of admission.”

  “Don’t say that,
” Hetty’s whisper chided. “We need all the paying customers we can get!”

  “Think we should help?” Dottie looking concerned.

  “Nah,” said Hetty as she chomped on a cookie. “Let them be manly and figure it out themselves,” and she walked back into the kitchen. Dottie looked up for a few moments until she heard groans and an ouch, and she hastily tiptoed away in retreat. Walking back into the kitchen, she hoped that the museum’s insurance policy still had good medical coverage.

  Forty-five minutes later Frank and Joe walked into the kitchen.

  “Well, you have a mighty good hole in your roof,” Frank commented. “No telling how it will affect the ceiling more than it already has, but for now we’ve minimized the possibility of more. I’ll need to come back after the rain is over and it dries out to patch the shingles and check the ceiling.”

  Dottie sighed. “Thank you, Frank. Would either of you like a coffee? Or a cookie?”

  “Sure,” he said taking a mug and the carafe, pouring a cup-full, and a cookie from the plate she motioned to. Joe did the same. “It’s only a short-term solution, however. This place needs a new roof,” Frank said.

  Her face sank. “Cookies aren’t going to be nearly enough then.” She turned to Hetty, “Unless you think you can give up working at the diner for the next few weeks to help me bake?”

  Putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder, Hetty sighed. “I think even if I did, it wouldn’t be enough.” She hugged Dottie. “Listen, we will put on a great last exhibition, and have a ball and go out with a bang.”

  Dottie leaned out of the hug and sighed. “Yeah. It’s not like this wasn’t a possibility,” she said turning and putting her elbows on the counter and resting her chin on her hands. She looked totally downtrodden.

  “What do you mean, ‘a great last exhibition’?” Joe asked.

  Hetty chirped in, “Dottie has a great idea to put me on display. Well not me. But my dresses and crowns. Show what it was like to be a pageant queen.” Then Hetty’s face fell. “But it was going to be in the Baker Room, but now that it’s a mess,” she turned to Dottie, “will we still be able to do it?”