Christmas in Snow Valley

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  He chug laughed. “It’s not that kind of ring.”

  I exhaled and reluctantly took the box.

  It wasn’t wrapped. I hesitated.

  Sean licked his lips. “I know we’re not...” His eyes averted to Luis and Christina, then back to me. “I just thought that you might need a reminder.”

  My heart sped up. “What?”

  Gingerly, he pulled the top off the box to reveal a small silver ring. “I figured since you work in a ring shop, you must like jewelry. It reminded me of the star that guided the wise men.”

  My hand hovered over it. “It’s…”

  He picked it up and held it out. “It’s a Christmas star.” He rolled his eyes and blushed. “Christina told me you hate Christmas and I noticed you seem...” He trailed. “I just thought you might need something to help you find your way.” He slipped it onto my left pinky finger.

  I was speechless, my throat tightened and I thought about the star that my father used to help me put right on top of the tree. I pushed the thought away and tried not to think about that.

  A nervous breath huffed out of Sean. “Whenever I see the star, it makes me feel like I know where I’m going. I hope it can guide you to whatever you need right now in your life. Even if that’s not me.” The side of his lip went up. “Merry Christmas, Molly.”

  Sincerity. I would give him that, but I wouldn’t say those words … Merry Christmas. Even though it felt awkward not to say them back. “Thanks.”

  Chapter Two

  AFTER A BRUTAL THIRTEEN HOURS OF managing sales attendants, customer returns, and manic gift buying, I stood in front of the computer at Hollingsworth Jewelry and got ready to shut down for the night. At least doing retail for a boutique chain had its perks—we closed at seven.

  My phone buzzed and I picked it up, expecting it to be Christina.

  My mother’s number.

  I hesitated and then pushed ignore, guilt pressing down on me. I would call her after I got off work. She’d been bugging me to come home for Christmas this year, even offered to pay for my flight, which I knew they couldn’t afford, not with everything on the ranch this year. But, I couldn’t. It’d been hard not to go back to Snow Valley when I’d first left, but now it wasn’t hard at all. The letter flashed into my mind. The one I’d found in my parents' attic. The letter that had finalized my decision to leave.

  The shop door dinged. Even though my cheeks ached from fake smiling all day, I pasted my smile into place without looking up. “Happy holidays, how can I help you?”

  “Molly O’Hare!”

  The voice was loud, boisterous, and completely in command, Bob Hollingsworth. President of Hollingsworth Jewelry.

  All thoughts of guilt fled. I pushed my shoulders back and hurriedly slipped back into my ‘too tall’ heels. “Hello, Mr. Hollingsworth.”

  Usually this ‘Mr. Hollingsworth’ didn’t come down to the store. Stan, his son, was the store manager. Nervous jitters went through me as he sauntered over to the counter next to the computer, lovingly running his hand over the glass that encased the diamond rings. “No need to put the shoes back on.” He grinned. “Tell me we’re up in sales. Tell it to me, Molly!”

  I pushed away the jitters and tapped on the sales screen and compared it to the day before. “Up by two-thousand dollars, sir.”

  Mr. Hollingsworth grinned, fiddling with his string tie with Texas horns that held it into place. The horns were important to him, as he’d told me on more than one occasion. He grinned, his yellow, tobacco-stained teeth hammering a warning of death through hard living, into my gut.

  “I’ll be.” He clicked his tongue. “You’ve done it, again, Molly. Your ad campaign has given us the edge on the competition.”

  I relaxed and gave a quick nod. “Yes, sir.” Bob Hollingsworth didn’t want a lot of talk out of me. He would do the talking.

  He leaned across the counter and peeked at the spreadsheet on the computer. “I told my son that you could do this job. I think women have a softer touch.” He paused. “A touch that, in today’s market, we need. Especially since women can reach other women.” He winked and did a fake gun trigger at me. “They can get men to open up their checkbooks.”

  I really loved the Hollingsworth family. Even if Bob was very old school when it came to men and women’s roles in life. They’d been good to me, immediately taking me in when I’d come to Colorado looking for a new life. Hardly any money to my name, with no set plan on how I would ‘make it big’, Stan had hired me on the spot. It helped that the Hollingsworth Empire was growing and they wanted people to buy the franchise and expand. I almost had enough for the buy in.

  “It’s like my wife always tells me, ‘You may have the money, but I’m the reason you spend the money.’” He roared into a laugh. “Are you still good to cover everything when we leave on Christmas Eve?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Hollingsworth. I’m on it.”

  He frowned. “Molly, why don’t you ever go home for Christmas?”

  I could feel my cheeks flush. “Well, it’s…”

  He waved his hand into the air and shook his head. “I know, I know my wife always tells me it’s none of my business when I get too personal with people.”

  “It’s fine, sir.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, listen, young lady, whenever you need time to visit your family, you take it. Family’s important, you hear? It’s the only thing that matters in this life.”

  Amicably, I nodded, grateful I didn’t have to try to make up some lie about why I wasn’t going home for Christmas. The truth was something I’d much rather forget. “Yes, sir.”

  He paused and then a wide grin swept across his face. “Pretty girl like you, I bet you have quite a bit of men knocking on your door.” He gave me a quizzical look.

  I kept my smile in place, not answering his question.

  The end of his finger tossed back and forth in front of my face. “Young women these days don’t know how to use their feminine wiles to get what they want. They just…” He pinched his lips distastefully. “They just want to fight with men.” He waved a hand in the air and shook his head. “I sure hope you’re not like that.”

  I mimicked his head shaking. “No, no I don’t think I am.” I pointed to the computer. “I was almost done putting in the sales.” Hint. Hint.

  Both of his hands lifted into the air like he was about to surrender. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  For emphasis, I picked up a receipt to check it against our system. “Have fun on your trip.”

  “We will. The whole family is going.” He beamed. “Nine grandchildren in all. It will be a Hollingsworth event.”

  The grin I gave back matched his enthusiasm.

  “We’re set on the radio spot later this week?”

  “Check.”

  “And you’ve got all the giveaways?”

  “Done.”

  He grinned. “You have a gift for this business, I’ll give you that.”

  Pride filled me. I’d always had good business sense. My mother used to tease that I would sell her cookies for the PTA bake sale before she could bake them. “Thank you.”

  “Just one thing, Molly.”

  Even though I didn’t want to endure another lecture, I swerved my attention back to him. “Yes, sir.”

  The side of his face lifted into a smile and he winked at me. “Stan wanted me to wait until after Christmas to tell you. He wanted to make sure that sales stayed up and all that. But, you got the store. And…we’re lowering the buy in by ten grand for you.” He winked, again. “You’re like family to us now.”

  I stood there. Stunned.

  A loud, barking laugh jerked out of him. He slapped his leg. “I should have gotten that on one of those candid camera shows.” He slapped his leg, again. “You should see your face.”

  I got the store. I got the store. I got the store! Doing the first thing that came to my mind, I leaned across the counter to give Bob Hollingsworth a red kiss on the cheek, leavi
ng lip prints as proof.

  All laughter stopped and his eyes widened. “Now that’s feminine wiles—good job, Molly!”

  At this, I let out a laugh. The first one I’d let out in a long, long time. I did a hop and clapped my hands together. “Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Hollingsworth!”

  He recovered. “Merry Christmas, Molly O’Hare.”

  At that point, I knew this would be the Christmas I finally celebrated.

  Mr. Hollingsworth walked to the door, turning back and leaving me with a grin. “Just take care of my Christmas Eve shoppers and we’ll call it even.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  This is what I’d been working for, for the past two and a half years. My own store. I did a twirl and let out a sigh. My salary would more than double. I could take my own trip to the Bahamas and, I glanced at the silly star ring on my pinky, I could get my own kind of diamond. Might as well have one—even if I didn’t have a man to go with it.

  I picked up my phone and noticed I had a new voicemail. I never had a new voicemail, except from my mother.

  “Molly. Molly.” Her voice was unsteady. “You have to come home, your father’s had a heart attack.”

  Chapter Three

  UNLIKE GETTING BAD NEWS ON A movie screen, getting bad news in real life didn’t let you just fall apart.

  After I got off the phone, I finished closing the store. I succinctly balanced everything on the computer, turned on the alarm, made sure the doors were properly shut. I drove home. I walked into the Christmas filled apartment and remembered Christina worked late on Thursdays. I packed my bag. I calmly got on the computer and booked a flight to Billings, Montana. The earliest I could get was ten o’clock the next morning.

  I ignored the nausea in my gut. I ignored the way my hand shook so hard I could barely navigate the mouse. I ignored the unceasing images of my father that kept popping into my brain; the slightly messy hair he had every morning before milking the cows, the way he always smelled of old spice and earth, how he used to twirl me in my tutu anytime I wanted him to, the way his reading glasses rested halfway down his nose as he read Irish poetry.

  I thought of that letter. The one that I still had tucked into the side pocket of my purse. I wanted to throw it away, at times, but then I would pull it out and remind myself of why I couldn’t go back.

  Maybe I should have told my parents I found it. But, it was right after Kevin had broken up with me and it only cemented the fact I had to leave Snow Valley. Leave and never look back.

  Christina’s hand gently touched my shoulder. “Molly?”

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t heard Christina come into the apartment and call for me. I had, somewhere back in the hazy part of my brain that was still on semi-function. The part that had closed up the store, driven home, and packed my suitcase. The part that knew I still had to get on a plane and then drive to Snow Valley, Montana.

  “What happened, chica?”

  I opened my eyes and her familiar thick make-up and the strong scents of shampoo comforted me. “Hey.”

  Concern wrinkled the corners of her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s…” I gulped in a breath. “It’s my dad, he had a heart attack.” I clung to the numb part of me.

  Christina pulled me into a hug. “Madre Mia! I’m sorry. Shh, it’ll be okay.”

  All I knew at that moment was that it was not okay. And I would not deal with that letter.

  ***

  Snow Valley, Montana was a typical Montana small town.

  As typical as you could get, if you wanted every kind of horrible Christmas television special times ten wrapped into a town.

  Benjamin Snow settled in the valley back in the early eighteen hundreds. They were the premiere pioneering family for the town and Mr. Snow cleverly named it Snow Valley.

  At that point, he, his five sons, and four daughters were the only ones here, so I guess they had the vote on names.

  Snow Valley was only an hour from Billings and the drive had been fine. Well, truthfully, the drive had been icy with patches of skidding, but, as all Montana drivers know—that means fine.

  I had been numb last night. According to Christina, I should have had a break down. ‘You are always too dry,’ she’d commented as she’d fed me some homemade bean soup.

  I’d called the two sales associates, Sally and Joe, and asked them both to cover for me. Both of them had agreed. Stan Hollingsworth reassured me that I was fine to go see my dad. But, his voice had gone business-like when he said, “If you could be back for Christmas Eve, that would be great.”

  Of course, I would be back. My father would be fine and I would be back sooner than that.

  I’d spoken to my mom a couple times on the phone. Being an only child was hard at times like this. But my father was okay. They still didn’t know what caused it, but he was awake and hooked up to ‘everything under the sun’ my mother had said. That comforted me. She sounded nervous and fluttery. That was a good thing. That was her.

  I crested the valley peak and started down into town. It was cushioned in windswept snowfall and the fences only appeared where the wind had blown the snow pack down far enough. Unwillingly, I couldn’t stop the smile on my face, even though I did not want to be here. It was beautiful.

  The same amount of harsh weather and landscape was equal to the amount of beauty around me. The mountains peaked high, almost like a cardboard cutout you could reach out and touch.

  I passed the Wilson’s place, the furthest ranch on the outskirts of town. I looked over and saw Porter Wilson coming down his lane with a plow on the front of the truck. I tried to get a better look at him. The Wilson brothers had always been worth an extra look. Next, the Henley place, and then the Jensen’s. The golf course was on my left, of course that was a very limited attraction in Snow Valley. And then a Snow place. And another Snow place. And another Snow place. I shook my head.

  The Snows. Wasn’t it bad enough the whole town had to be named after them? Then, they’d all stayed. Like they wanted to rub it in the face of the rest of us if you weren’t one of them.

  Well, except one. His face flashed into my mind. ‘The heartbreaker’ Christina had called him. I let out a nervous laugh and wondered if he would be home for Christmas. It was just my luck that he would.

  A gas station marked the beginning of town, two old men—Mr. Henry and Mr. Jensen, sat in the old, wicker chairs, bundled in their Carhartt gear. The only kind of gear that was worth its salt. I paused and both of them lifted a hand. They probably couldn’t see me, but that didn’t matter in Snow Valley. Everyone waved.

  My heart raced as I turned down the Main Street, going past Dove Grocery store, Big CC’s drive up and Style it Up, the only salon in town. I waited at the stoplight.

  The only stoplight.

  The other gas station was on the corner, IFA on the opposite corner. Even though it was quiet, the decorations were not.

  Every light post had a giant plastic candy cane or snowflake on it. Strands of Christmas lights were draped between every post. I rolled down my window, the sound of Christmas music blared through speakers that were hung under the Christmas lights. This had been the improvement that the committee made to Snow Valley my senior year in high school.

  I passed the church. The marquee read, “God is sending you a prayer request—Come in to Respond.”

  I laughed. Pastor John. I’d missed him – and my friends. The friends I’d ignored since leaving, only seeing their lives on Facebook.

  I never posted. Granted, I didn’t have anything to post. Well, until now. Maybe I would post about the store at some point. But right now, I wished I would have kept up a ruse of a glorious ‘internet life’ in case I ran into them.

  I thought of that summer in seventh grade, when we’d gone to bible camp together and burnt down the outhouse. Pastor John hadn’t told our parents. That’s partly why I still had a soft spot for that man. But he had made us pay in other ways over the years, always pulling one of us aside a
nd asking us to do this or that for him. I grinned and the light turned green. I passed the city park on the right and a dollar store on the next corner.

  I turned right next to the Dollar Store and drove past the cemetery and further out until I finally got to the ‘new’ hospital. The hospital wasn’t new. It was about ten years old, but—before the new hospital, the old hospital had been across the street from the park and down one street.

  So, this was the new one.

  As I drove into the parking lot, my insides felt queasy. I hadn’t eaten much before getting on the plane. I wasn’t hungry. Now, I parked and tugged at my purse. Christina had put a couple of granola bars into it, telling me to eat one to keep my blood sugar up.

  I got out of the car and tore off a bite of granola bar. I needed my blood sugar up. The closer I got to the door, the faster I walked. Even though I knew he was okay. I knew that from my mother, but I didn’t know that from seeing him.

  My father.

  Had a heart attack.

  I rushed through the blue and silver decorated double doors that opened effortlessly. Susan Hinks was at the admittance desk, a ridiculous reindeer and Santa in a large display next to her. I knew her. This was Snow Valley. I knew everyone. I looked around and realized I didn’t know anyone at the attending desk, except her. Well, I used to know everyone.

  Susan flew to her feet, her eighties-style perm bouncing, and wrapped me in a hug. “Your mama’s been waiting for you, sweetie.” She pushed open the door that led to the main part of the hospital. “They moved your father out of the E.R. today and got him all admitted to the hospital.”

  We got to the end of a hallway and there was a nurse’s station. I had a flash back from eighth grade when I’d sprained my ankle and gotten a concussion from some hefty girl pushing me down on the other basketball team. “Okay.”

  Susan stopped walking, pointing to a room. “He’s in there.”

  I went for the door. “Thanks.”

  “Wait.”

  I turned back, Susan had her hands on her hips, her primed bangs and eighties perm matched her out-of-character anger. She pointed her finger at me. “It’s been hard on them having you gone for so long, be nice to them.”