The Christmas Lamp

by Copeland, Lori

  Easing forward, Roni poised her pen. Undoubtedly, next year he’d want to make the spruce smaller and less — obtrusive.

  Jake’s eyes fixed on the report. “How many times a season is the tree knocked over?”

  The women exchanged glances.

  “Once,” Judy said.

  “Maybe a couple of times,” Roni corrected.

  “At least three,” the mayor amended. “Admittedly it sits in a bad place, but it looks so good in the intersection, so we’ve left it.”

  “Three?” Jake’s brow lifted. “And each time you replace the decorations?”

  “Not all of them, of course,” the mayor said. “But we do go through a bunch of lights and ornaments. I wouldn’t expect a newcomer to understand, but it’s sort of a town tradition.” He leaned back, smiling. “Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without our tree, and Nativity wouldn’t be Nativity if the tree didn’t get knocked down now and then.”

  Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “About the decorations. You continue to use the old bulbs instead of the energy efficient ones?”

  “Why, yes. The energy efficient bulbs cost more, and besides, there’s something special about those old bulbs.

  You know — ”

  “Tradition,” Jake provided. He turned a page. “Have you considered a nativity scene instead? I saw a large church on the corner of Chadwick and Lucas on the way over. It appears to be on the main track, and well suited for a holiday decoration.”

  Tess entered the conversation. “That’s my church. We have a live nativity scene the Sunday before Christmas.

  The congregation supports the endeavor through our offerings. I don’t think folks would take kindly to anyone other than us doing the scene.”

  Jake lowered the paper. “There has to be a more appropriate place for the tree other than in the middle of the street. Drivers turn the corner and they’re on the thing before they realize it.”

  Everyone shifted as the atmosphere took on a strained feel. Roni tensed. Now he was messing with the big things.

  “Shall we move on?” Judy voiced Roni’s thoughts.

  Jake paused. “Not so fast. I agree we’ve spent a lot of time discussing the tree, but sacrifices are needed. I suggest that we start the painful process of getting the town back on budget by doing away with the tree if it’s hit again.”

  Before he could move on, the mayor intervened. “Let’s not be hasty, Brisco. One unfortunate tree incident isn’t cause for panic.”

  Yeah. Let’s not be hasty, Roni silently mimicked.

  The consultant held his ground. “I ran a quick tally on the price of replacing lights, tinsel, and ornaments, and the hourly crew cost of the work. The total will surprise you.”

  “Oh?” The mayor frowned.

  Mentally sighing, Roni thought of all the times she’d put the tree cost on Stance’s desk and he’d shoved it aside. It was costly, but well worth the expenditure.

  “Each time the tree is knocked down, the restoration price tag is over three hundred dollars. If that happens three times every year, the annual cost is almost a thousand dollars.” He glanced at Tess. “That amount equals, say, a month’s pay for a part-time employee.”

  Roni shook her head. “But we’ve always had a tree …”

  His tone remained the same. “We’re on a quest to cut corners. We need to begin with the tree.”

  “But the tree is already up for the season,” Roni argued. “It would be senseless to take it down now.”

  “But if the cost to put it back up is someone’s job …” Tess reminded.

  Roni couldn’t argue. Tess had the most to lose from these fiscal cuts. She glanced at the usually town-loyal part-timer and knew she was worried about her income.

  “The tree’s up now,” Brisco explained, “and if it stays up we don’t have a problem. But next year the town should revisit the idea of decreasing the tree size and setting it in a more suitable place.”

  “You know, this isn’t just about tradition; this is about Christmas — bringing the community together, good will to all men and that stuff,” Roni noted.

  Jake nodded, thoughtful, and then moved on. “So, can I see by a show of hands that we’re in agreement?”

  “Regarding?” the mayor asked as though he’d just shown up.

  “The annual Christmas tree. If it’s hit again it won’t be replaced.”

  Roni’s hand shot up. “Wait a minute. We haven’t fully discussed this matter. You can’t just take away our tree!”

  All eyes shifted to the window where the chore of resurrecting the tree continued, the shiny ornaments and glistening tinsel lending a festive air to the grave conversation.

  Roni knew the tree would go down again before long.

  Should she do her civic duty and go along with Jake’s suggestion, or follow her heart and vote to keep the tree, regardless of the cost.

  Her heart won out. She stuffed her hand under the table, praying that God would send only observant drivers to Nativity during the Christmas season.

  Tess and the mayor each timidly lifted a hand.

  She’d lost. Resentment burned Roni’s cheeks and she refused to look at Brisco. She couldn’t imagine the town without a Christmas tree.

  He turned to face the window, moving on. “I see you have a nice gazebo. Do you utilize it during the holidays?”

  Mayor Stance cleared his throat. “Of course. We’ve built it extra large so we can install an ice rink for the holiday season.”

  Jake frowned. “An ice rink? In Nativity?”

  Roni had anticipated his concern. Missouri’s winter months were fickle; cold one day, and hot the next. The state received its share of bitter wind, snow, and ice, but no one could predict with accuracy when the storms would hit.

  Stance nodded. “We rent a portable rink that produces enough ice for a small skating arena. Granted, it is a considerable expense, but the town wouldn’t think of giving it up.”

  “Exactly how much does this artificial ice rink cost?”

  “Well, the cost depends on the size, the rental period, and the weather. We can’t always count on low temperatures, so the fee includes the cooling units, a buffer tank, and generators. We also pay the insurance and electric expenses. The rental company provides the skates. Volunteers serve as supervisors and security, but we have to rent proper lighting. We’ve done it for years. It’s a real holiday boost to our business district.”

  Roni’s lips firmed. The rink and the concessions boosted Nativity’s economy. Wasn’t that the idea? To fill the town coffer?

  Judy tapped a pencil on her legal pad. “My kids would die without that rink. It wouldn’t be Christmas without it.”

  Jake sobered. “Would you rather give up the ice rink or emergency ser vices for the town?”

  A hush fell over the meeting.

  Jake moved on. “I understand the town has an annual home decorating contest?”

  “Oh yes — we love that.” Roni shifted in her chair. “Everyone in town decorates, and we have a committee that judges the entries.”

  “And there’s a three-hundred-dollar prize to the winning house,” Tess noted.

  Nodding, Jake perused a paper. “It says here there’s a parade?”

  “Every year,” Roni confirmed. “We have it at night, with lighted floats.”

  “Sounds nice,” Jake laid the paper on the desk. “I’m assuming that businesses fund the floats?”

  “Oh definitely,” Roni replied.

  “Well then.” Jake looked up. “This gives me a lot to work with. That’s all for today; thanks everyone.”

  3

  Roni had to hand it to Brisco. The man was focused. Poring over financial, administrative, and public records, he’d spent the entire day in the office. Behind his back, Judy gathered punch and ordered cookies from the bakery for the surprise welcome party planned for after hours.

  “If this town is so darned broke, who’s paying for Brisco’s services?” Judy asked as she applie
d fresh lipstick in the lady’s room.

  Assessing her hair in the mirror, Roni wondered the same thing. Usually she would be consulted about these types of matters, but the mayor hadn’t said a word. “I haven’t a clue.”

  “It has to be Dusty Bitterman.” Judy worked her lips and then bent to smooth the color evenly. “He’s the only one around with that kind of money.”

  “Could be.” Roni ran a brush through her hair. “But Dusty wouldn’t let Brisco change anything. Christmas in Nativity is too special.”

  “You’d bet on that?”

  Nodding, Roni dropped the brush into her purse. “If I were a betting woman.”

  The informal welcoming party took place around five o’clock. Roni noticed that Jake had discretely ignored the hushed conversations around the coffee machine. “All of this in my honor?” Jake asked, following up with a friendly warning. “You may want to retract the gesture before month’s end.”

  “We already regret the gesture,” Roni muttered under her breath. She wondered if Tess and the mayor would find Brisco so charming once cutbacks were instituted.

  Over bites of sweets, Tess familiarized Jake with the office’s daily routine. The mayor didn’t stick around long; he just ate a cookie and then begged off with the explanation that he had to attend his grandson’s basketball tournament.

  While Roni cleaned up, Judy and Tess started to put out the annual office Christmas decorations: holly, Santa faces, a sleigh filled with colorful ornaments. The archaic aluminum tree with blue ornaments needed to be pitched, but Mayor Stance wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Are Tess and Judy on the clock?” Jake whispered to Roni as he slipped into his leather jacket.

  “No.” Great. By the end of the meeting this morning, it was apparent to all that he was going to disturb the usually tranquil waters. While Judy and Tess hung wreaths, Jake counted pennies. Judy still had to fix supper for her hungry family, and Tess mentioned that she needed milk before she went home. They were all tired. And he was complaining. “We don’t work on a clock. We operate on an honor system,” Roni explained.

  “Honor system.” Jake zipped up his jacket. “That’s a little lax, isn’t it?”

  “Not for this office. The employees are honest and give a fair day’s work.” Why did she have a feeling he’d soon have them punching a time clock?

  Sometime during the afternoon, clouds had moved into Nativity, and by the time Roni walked out of the office a light freezing drizzle left a glaze on sidewalks and windowpanes. Missourians had a saying: “If you don’t like the weather, stick around an hour and it’ll change.” Roni could testify to Mother Nature’s fickle moods.

  After locking up, she turned to see Jake scraping ice off his Acura’s windshield and she moved to assist. She’d do it for the mayor, so she supposed she could try to mend fences and help, even though she felt anything but charitable toward Brisco. “Got an extra scraper?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Jake reached in the running car and located a second implement. Passing the scraper to her, he then proceeded to bust a thin ice coating off the door handle. “This rolled in quick.”

  “That’s Missouri for you.” Roni started on the frozen windshield. “You’re from Springfield, right?”

  “Actually, I was born and raised near Ava, but I moved to Springfield when my parents and sister were killed in a car accident.”

  Her scraper paused. “I’m sorry.”

  He glanced over. “It was a long time ago. My dad’s sister took me in. We made it fine.” He yanked the handle and the sound of cracking ice shattered the cold air. “What about you?”

  “Lived in Nativity all my life.” She corrected. “Well, not all my life yet, but I was born in the upstairs bedroom in Mom’s old house.” The same patchwork quilt was still on the bed that had been on Grandma’s mattress. Roni had left the home undisturbed when Mom died. Everything, including the kitchen linoleum, was the same as it was the day Roni was born.

  “Married?” he asked.

  “Nope. Engaged once to a nice guy, but then my dad died and my mom got sick. I put my personal life on hold to take care of her.” She lifted a wiper blade.

  “Yeah?” Moving from the cleared side windows, Jake walked around the car and started on the back glass.

  “What about you?” she called.

  “Me? Single. Boring.”

  “I doubt that.” A man with his looks wouldn’t go unnoticed by the opposite sex. He reminded her of a dark-eyed Patrick Dempsey. Only Dempsey had hazel eyes. She thought. Actually, she didn’t know. But Brisco reminded her of him. The way he looked right at her with those smoldering eyes. A quick flash of a dimple in his right cheek.

  “Don’t doubt it. I’m a workaholic. Ask anyone who knows me.”

  He had to be near her age — maybe a few years older.

  It was comforting to know that she wasn’t the only holdout around. “No marriageable prospect in sight?”

  “There probably would be if I took the time to look, but the truth is I don’t look. I’ve been accused of being too picky, and it’s probably an accurate assessment. I’ve yet to meet a woman that I’d want to share my life with, and one that doesn’t go berserk during the holidays.”

  No wonder he was still single. Roni continued work on the thick layer of ice. Yet she could identify with his pickiness. If the right prospect fell from the sky she’d probably think about marriage, but one hadn’t fallen, and at this point in her life she didn’t have time to do much other than eat, breathe, and work. “How long have you been with Patton Consultants?”

  “Five years. How about you?”

  “I started part-time in the city administrator’s office when I was a junior in high school.”

  Pausing, he grinned.

  She glanced up. “What?”

  “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around.”

  “From what I hear you didn’t visit Nativity that often.”

  Rumor was that he’d rarely visited during his youth, and that only in the past few years had he grown closer to his grandmother.

  He nodded. “Touché.” Jake pulled his gloves off with his teeth. “The mayor seems like an okay guy.”

  “He is. He’s not much of a leader, but he ran for the office uncontested. Still, he’s a nice guy, just not motivated.”

  The defrosters finally started to clear the ice away.

  They paused to catch their breath. Leaning against the hood, Roni rested her back. “I don’t know if I’ve said this, but welcome back.”

  “Thanks. Grandma loves this town.”

  “It’s a town with a lot of money worries.” Her gaze shifted to the gazebo. “Until three years ago we were growing. Branson tour buses came through every day from April to January and stopped so folks could go to the Dairy Dream. Now the place can barely keep its doors open.” Her gaze traced the large graveled parking lot the owners had built to hold the big buses. Today it sat empty, like the dreams the Dairy Dream had once fostered.

  Dot and Frank Henry had worked hard there, trying to eke out a living for their four kids and themselves, but in October Frank admitted he would have to winterize the building or close for the season. Without those buses, local business didn’t bring in enough to pay the utility bill.

  They’d found breast cancer in Dot last summer and she was taking treatments. Frank admitted he had run out of luck.

  The light drizzle saturated Roni’s light jacket, beginning to sink into the fabric.

  Jake glanced around. “Can I help you clean your car?”

  “Thanks, but I walk. I only live a few blocks away.”

  “Then let me give you a lift.”

  “Thanks again, but I need the exercise.” She turned up the collar of her coat. “See you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be here. Eight o’clock.”

  Leaving him standing at his vehicle, she walked off, carefully picking her way across the glazed sidewalk. She’d worn a low heel this morning, never thinking that the weather wo
uld turn bad.

  When she reached Steil’s Hardware she paused to admire the Christmas lamp. Its peaceful warmth lit the gray day. For the first time in years she allowed her mind to consider what her life would have been if she had married Paul. Young and in love, she’d accepted the young county worker’s proposal six years ago. Then Mom got sick and Roni had to make the painful decision to commit either to Paul or to a possibly long, drawn-out parental illness. Paul wanted children immediately, and she knew that if she had Mom’s full care that kids weren’t a possibility.

  In the end, duty won out. She broke the engagement. Paul was now happily married with two young children, and she was still single and working for a failing administrative office. By now she could have had a comfortable home, two children, security, and a family to go home to every night and share her day.

  Her breath formed white vapors as she visualized the leg lamp in Mom’s front parlor window — her window now. She had the whole empty house to herself and Mom’s cat, Mimsy. It was time that she formed her own traditions. Mom would be horrified by the cheesy lamp, but tastes varied, and it was her life now.

  The neighbors would think she’d lost her mind if she stuck that tacky lamp in the window. Yet if she had the money she’d buy the thing in a second. The more she looked at it the more she wanted it.

  Aaron’s face popped up and he pointed to the lamp, grinning.

  Shaking her head, she playfully turned both empty coat pockets inside out and let them hang.

  Frowning, he wagged his finger and directed her eyes to the newly erected poster. Christmas Comes But Once a Year!

  True, but utility and gas bills arrived monthly, and they both wanted their money. They didn’t see the holiday in the same carefree manner as others. As much as she wanted the lamp, it would have to wait until another year.

  Who knew, if Jake Brisco was all about cutting Christmas traditions now, it might not be long before he was into eliminating jobs. She had seniority, and the town couldn’t run without administration, but if times got any worse, Nativity could cease to exist. Jake never cared about the town; he’d never visited his grandma unless forced to.