by Nancy Naigle
He enjoyed the music at Santa’s Village, too, but this music had a way of making him feel at peace. The rise and fall of the melody told a story without any words at all.
Tonight several of the houses on his route home had Christmas lights turned on. He and Seth would work on theirs that weekend.
Usually when Mac got home, Seth’s bedroom light would be on. Not the case tonight. He hoped Seth hadn’t gotten sick right before Christmas break.
He parked in front of the house and went in through the garage. The house was eerily quiet.
“Hey. Anyone around?”
“In here, Dad.”
Mac followed his son’s voice to the kitchen, where he and Haley sat on opposite ends of the table with a pile of markers between them.
“What are y’all up to?”
“Christmas cards,” Seth said.
“School project?”
“No.” Seth dipped his head, leaning closer to the glossy cardstock in front of him. “For our military people away from their families.”
That caught Mac’s attention. “That’s really nice.”
“Yeah, Haley and I were talking about it. She said that lots of people where she lives make cards and they send them overseas so everyone gets something from home. I told her I could draw pretty good.”
“Yeah. Sandbagger. This kid is one heckuva an artist,” Haley said.
“He is. Always had a knack for drawing. You should’ve seen the—”
“Dad. Don’t tell that story.”
“What?” Mac leaned on the kitchen counter next to the table. “You mean the one—”
“Where I painted a mural on the shed.” He glared at his dad. “He always tells that story.”
“Wasn’t just any shed. Tell the rest of the story, Seth.”
Seth laughed. “Yeah. So it was apparently the new neighbor’s super expensive shed.” Seth’s nervous laugh bubbled. He had the best laugh. “Hey, I was expressing myself.”
Haley joined in the laughter. “What did you draw?”
Seth cracked up. “A pterodactyl eating Barney.”
“Barney the purple dinosaur?”
Mac said, “Yep. Seth never was a fan of that show.”
“Clearly,” she said. “Well, he’s doing a good job here. Not one dinosaur in the bunch.”
“Oh, he did a great job on the shed. Unfortunately, our new neighbors didn’t turn out to be art lovers. I had to replace the T1-11 on that side of the building.”
“Consider it an investment in my future as a Christmas card artist.” Seth held up the card he’d just finished drawing.
“He’s drawing. I’m coloring,” Haley said. “Want to help?”
“Sure.” Mac pulled out a chair and picked out a marker. “I’ve been known to color inside the lines a time or two.”
Seth handed him the card. “Here. You can color this one.”
He held the folded piece of cardstock in his hand. Santa saluting a whimsical snowman wearing dog tags in front of a Christmas tree with a flag on the top held just the right balance of message and meaning. “This is really good, son.”
“Thanks. Haley and I came up with the idea together.”
“I think they’ll really like it.”
“Figured it was a good way to help,” Seth said.
“It is.” They sat at the table coloring in the cards until Haley finally got up. “I’m beat. I’ll take some home with me to work on.”
“Okay. And maybe I can make some more before it’s time to mail them,” Seth said.
“That would be great.” Haley gathered her things. “I need to send them out by Wednesday or they won’t make it on time.”
“I’ll make a bunch,” Seth said. “I like doing this.”
Mac got up and followed her to the door, paying her for her help. “Thanks so much. You’ve been a really good influence on Seth.”
“He’s a good kid. Seth overheard me talking to my husband on the phone tonight. Greg was talking about this project. Seth overheard us talking about it and had a million questions. He offered to help. It hadn’t been my plan, just turned out to be a happy accident.”
“It’s great. I’m thrilled. Christmas has been tough on him since his mom left. I’m thankful he’s found something to connect with for the holiday that is positive.”
“He sure seems into it. I’m glad to have his help. Makes me feel better, too. I’ll see you Tuesday night,” she said as she walked out the door.
Mac shut the door behind her and went back into the kitchen. “Think it’s time to call it a night?”
“No school tomorrow. Can I work on this just a little longer?”
“Sure.” Mac got a soda out of the refrigerator. “We’ll decorate the outside of the house tomorrow. Looks like the wet weather is going to move out of here tonight.”
“Sounds good.”
Seth had drawn a Santa on the card. He had to have a little Christmas magic in that twelve-year-old heart.
“Dad, do you think we could go to the bookstore tomorrow? I have an idea, but I’m not sure how to draw it. Thought I could find a book with some pictures in it.”
Mac felt a little like he’d been swept into someone else’s house by mistake. “Sure. We can definitely do that.”
“Cool.”
“I’m going to jump in the shower.” Mac started to walk out of the kitchen, then stopped. “Son, I’m proud of you. For this project. That’s really mature of you to understand that, and to help like this.”
“Yeah. I get it. It’s hard when you want to be with someone and they aren’t around.”
Ouch. That hit the target. Didn’t matter how hard he tried to be everything, the truth was Seth would always feel that gap that Genna had left.
“Besides. I really like drawing,” Seth said. “I’m better at it than I remembered.”
At least the kid knew what he was good at. More than Mac could say for most kids that age. Mac had never thought much about encouraging Seth in his artwork. They spent almost all their time outdoors or involved in sports. Seth was good at sports but never as into them as Mac had been at that age. This was where having two parents brought balance to a kid’s world. He’d try to do better.
Chapter Seven
Sunday morning Sydney and RayAnne went to the early service at church so that Sydney could make it to the bookstore before it opened.
The old church was filled to capacity, and there was comfort in being able to pick up the worn hymnal and sing familiar songs.
With the last amen, everyone filed out slowly and orderly from the back to the front.
Sydney waited on RayAnne, who’d decided to try the youth group today instead, smiling as people walked by.
“Mom!” RayAnne ran up to her with a slender freckle-faced girl. “Can I go to Jenny’s today?”
“Sydney?” Diane followed Jenny down the aisle. “We just keep bumping in to each other.”
“Is Jenny your daughter?”
“Yes. What a small world. I guess we were going to connect one way or another with you being back in town. This is great. We’d love to have RayAnne over. Jenny’s been talking about the new girl at school all week.”
“Please, Mom!” RayAnne bounced with excitement.
“You sure it’s no trouble?”
Diane hitched her handbag up on her shoulder. “She can stay for supper.”
RayAnne folded her hands and pressed them beneath her chin. “Please. Please. Ple-ease?”
“Oh, Miss Dramatic here. How can I say no to that?”
The two girls squealed and bounced off to the side in a fit of giggles.
“Thank you, Diane.”
“No problem. My house is girl central these days. I’ll just drop her off at your place when we’re done. Around six-thirty or seven?”
“We’re staying at my grandparents’ old place over on Green Needles Lane.”
“I know exactly where that is. Let me know if there’s anything I can do while y’all are g
etting settled in. My husband is pretty handy, too.”
“I will. Thank you for inviting her over. Making some friends will surely help make the adjustment easier.”
“Anytime. Trust me, she’s going to love it here. Plus, if she can burn some energy out of Jenny it’ll be a blessing for me, too.” A small boy in a Carolina Panthers sweatshirt broke free from her hold. “Zach, come back here. Do you think we actually had that much energy at some point in our lives?” Zach ran over to the girls and then back to Diane and wrapped himself around her leg.
“I’m pretty sure we did.”
Diane handed her a business card. “Our home number is on there too in case you haven’t gotten it from Bea yet.”
Sydney glanced at the card. Diane’s husband owned the local gas station. “You sure you don’t mind dropping her off? I can pick her up if that’s easier.”
“Not at all. Happy to do it. Tony’s working late. It’ll give me something to do, and get us out of the house.” Diane glanced over at the girls. “They seem to really be hitting it off.”
“Yeah, they do.” Sydney dug into her purse and wrote her number on the back of an old appointment card. “Here’s my number. Since your husband is working late, why don’t you, Jenny and Zach have dinner at our house? I’d love the company, and it would give us a chance to catch up. It’ll make me feel better about you taking RayAnne for the day.”
Diane took the card. “I would love that. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.”
“I’ll see you then.”
She watched as Diane herded the group of kids together and then through the parking lot to her minivan.
Cars were lined up at the traffic light on Main Street. The huge congregation made for a slow exit from the parking lot, so Sydney veered off of her path toward her car and headed toward The Book Bea. It was just a couple blocks away. She’d walk down, and come back and get her car later. The exercise wouldn’t hurt her anyway.
Bea was already in the store when Sydney got there. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, and customers were already browsing.
“Am I late?” Sydney asked as she tucked her purse beneath the counter.
“No,” Bea said. “Folks know I sometimes come in early. We’re pretty relaxed about the hours these days.”
“How are you today?” Sydney said to a woman who looked like she’d just come from church, too. “I can help you with that.” Sydney punched the codes and prices into the register for each book. “Did you see there’s a coloring book that goes with this one?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Would you care to see it?”
“That would be a wonderful addition. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Sydney whisked around the counter and picked up a coloring book and a pack of colored pencils. She waved them both in the air as she headed back to the register. “I tried these pencils out the other day. They’re almost like crayons. Really neat. Don’t know if you need them.”
“Thank you. Yes, I’ll take them both.”
Bea looked pleased with the upsell.
A steady stream of customers filled the afternoon. Bea stayed busy at the checkout counter wrapping gifts, and Sydney waited on customers and rang them up.
“Can I help you?” Sydney asked a gentleman wearing a heavy wool coat and carrying a cardboard box.
“Why haven’t we met?” He jostled the package to the crook of his left arm and extended his hand. “Mayor Blevins.”
“The mayor?” Should she curtsy or something? “Hi there. I’m helping Bea out over the holidays. I just moved here.” She motioned over her shoulder. “Well, not here here. Into my grandparents’ old farmhouse on the other side of town.”
“You’re the Rockfords’ granddaughter? I knew you’d come back and take care of that place eventually.”
The words stung a little. It wasn’t like she’d meant to shirk the responsibility that the inheritance had carried with it. She just never really thought much about it once Jon put the kibosh on using it as a vacation retreat.
The mayor looked her up and down. “You favor her. Carmen, that is. I can see it in those laughing blue eyes of yours.”
“Thank you.” Although she’d never seen the resemblance herself. It was hard to think of yourself as looking like an old woman. But her grandmother had been a kind and wonderful lady, so being compared to her was nice.
The mayor’s head swiveled. “This place is really bustling today. I guess I can just give these to you. It’s the song sheets for the town’s caroling night coming up soon. You know about that, right?”
“Oh, great. Yes, we’ve been talking about that.” She took the box. “I can take care of these.”
“The window looks lovely by the way. I guess you had a little hand in that.”
“My daughter and I worked on it together. It was fun, especially once we knew about the song so we could tie the display to the theme.”
“Yes, perfectly!” The mayor edged his way back to the door. “I have several other deliveries to make. Tell Bea we’ll see her at the chamber of commerce meeting next week.” He headed for the door and then spun around. “Oh, and one more thing. Let her know that we have had a resounding number of early ticket purchases this year. Ask her to please double the number of those amazing treats she makes, will you? And ask her to put one aside for me. It’s my favorite stop.”
“Will do.” Sydney said. A line of five people had accrued while she was talking with the mayor. Bea was ringing up customers, but the way she chit-chatted with every single person sure did slow down the progress at checkout.
Sydney walked over and started ringing up customers, letting Bea play hostess and talk folks into letting her wrap the presents for a cash tip in the big, foil-wrapped Folgers’s can on the counter.
Finally, around five-thirty things quieted down. Sydney stepped away from the counter and made two cups of tea.
“Here.” She handed one of them to Bea. “Drink up.”
“Oh, thank you, Sydney.” Bea blew across the rim of her cup and took a sip, one finger still pressed in the center of the bow she’d been finishing up. She quickly swung the ribbon around and up and through and then tightened it. “There you go.”
The wiry boy in front of her grinned. “Thank you, ma’am.”
A dark-haired man with the deepest brown eyes Sydney had ever seen watched the boy from next in line.
“He yours?” Sydney asked.
The man nodded. “Yes. He is.” He laid a stack of books on the counter.
“You must be proud.”
“Oh yeah. Understatement.”
Sydney quickly rang up the books. Two historical fiction novels, the latest bestselling crime fiction, and a coffee table book of military equipment. “You a veteran?”
He looked puzzled. “Oh, the book. No.”
“Gift?”
“No. Seth, my son, he draws. He’s making homemade cards for the troops. He was looking for inspiration.”
“That’s great. We used to do that where I lived. Well, with store-bought cards, but we got a big group of folks together to sign and address them. It’s an awesome tradition.”
“Yeah. Seth’s really been into it.”
“That’s great. Balancing a little creative outlet and the Christmas spirit.”
“Exactly.”
“You know,” Sydney said. “If you wanted to get a group of folks to help you with those, I’m sure we could set up some tables here for one night after work.” Sydney regretted opening her mouth so quickly. The thought had just tumbled right out. It wasn’t her place to offer, but surely Bea wouldn’t mind. “I mean I could talk to Bea for you.”
“Great. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Sydney Ragsdale.”
“Nice to meet you, Sydney. I’m Kevin MacAlee, but everyone calls me Mac. Are you related to Bea? Visiting?”
“Oh, no. Just helping out over the holidays. I’m new to town.”
“Welcome to Hopewel
l. Good to have some new folks coming into town. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
And his brown eyes seemed to dance when he talked. How’d he do that? “Yeah. Probably.” She hoped so, and that was completely unexpected. So were the flurries in her stomach right now. “Small town and all.”
“Yeah. Small town.” He signed the credit card slip and then stepped back, bumping into the woman behind him. “Sorry, ma’am. See you, Sydney. Nice meeting you.”
Bea elbowed Sydney. “I see you met Mac. He’s our most eligible bachelor, you know.”
“Oh stop it. Get back to wrapping presents.”
“Hopewell local boy. Went away to college then came right back here to teach.”
“Not interested,” Sydney said, hardly able to hold back the laugh at the ridiculous thought. Exhausted, she walked the last customer to the door herself. If she was this tired, she could only imagine how Bea felt. She flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED. “Wow,” she said. “How do you handle this alone, Bea?”
Bea’s laugh was as soothing as those chimes that hung above the counter. “It’s not this busy all the time. The holiday rush. And quite honestly, I just work at my own pace. If anyone is in a big hurry, they know they can just leave me a list of what they’ve got and come back and settle up later.”
“That seems risky. Do you always get your money?”
“Of course. No one would ever take advantage of me. It’s like family around here, and like you, most of them have been coming here since they were just kids themselves.”
Bea pulled the tray from the register and started separating tickets and money. “Help me tally these up. I think this may have been my best day all year.”
“Sure.” Sydney stacked the tickets and started a tally on the old calculator. The tape unfurled from the top with a chugga-chug-chug every time she hit the plus key.
“I like to close out the register every night if I can. Just helps me stay on top of things. I’m afraid if I get behind I’ll never catch up.”
“Nothing wrong with routine. Especially if it works for you.”
Bea counted coins. “It’s worked for over forty years.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty good track record.”
Sydney finished tallying the tickets, then counted out the money in stacks by denomination, matching her totals to the ones Bea had written on a tablet.