“Casual is good,” Muriel said.
“I kind of like the new me.”
So did Muriel. How much did Dot like the new Arnie?
“I’ll send the rest of those home with you,” she said as he helped himself to a third cookie.
“Great. We can eat them on the plane. We’re leaving tomorrow”
Yes, she knew. She forced her lips to stay curved up.
“What would you like me to bring you back from Germany?”
“I’d love a table runner.”
“Done,” he said with a nod. “What else?”
“Oh, that will be more than enough. And if they’re too expensive, don’t bother.”
“Muriel, I was ready to pay for your trip. I think I can afford a table runner.”
“Thank you. That’s awfully sweet of you.” She should have let him pay for the trip. She should have gone.
“I’m happy to do it.”
Arnie was such a kind and generous man. She couldn’t help thinking about how good he’d been to her over the years. When her first husband had died, he’d helped her sort out the legal and financial matters when she’d been completely overwhelmed by the loss.
“I don’t know how I’ll live without Stephen,” she’d told Arnie at the memorial service. She’d felt so alone, so unequal to the task of raising her girls without their father. Her own father had promised to step back in and run the company, but his health had been poor and she’d worried about him working so hard.
Arnie had hugged her and said, “You’ll manage, Muriel. You’re a strong woman.”
But she wasn’t really. She’d managed to raise her daughters only because Arnie had been there by her side, helping her when she snarled her finances—something she did on a regular basis—stopping by the house with little gifts for the girls, taking them all out to eat at Herman’s Hamburgers after church on Sundays. After her father died, he’d taken a hand in helping her keep the company afloat, advising her every step of the way. Actually, when it had come right down to it, he’d made a lot of her decisions for her, helping her hold the company in trust until Samantha, her oldest, could take over.
Once, he’d tentatively broached the subject of love, asking her if she’d ever be open to having another man in her life.
“I couldn’t,” she’d said. “There was only one man for me and he’s gone.”
And she’d truly felt that way...until Waldo came along.
* * *
Muriel had stopped at Bavarian Brews on her way to the Sweet Dreams office. It was a beautiful spring morning and she’d enjoyed her walk into downtown. A pleasant walk on a nice day, a sweet coffee drink—it was on days like this that she found it very easy to count her blessings. Yes, she still missed her husband after all these years, but in spite of that, life was good.
She ordered her mocha, then realized that she’d forgotten to put her credit card in her sweater pocket.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Sterling. I know you’re good for it,” the barista assured her.
“I’ll be happy to pay for the lady’s drink. Put it on my tab,” a deep voice behind Muriel said.
She turned to see a tall man with broad shoulders and an equally broad smile and she felt the same fluttering in her chest as what she’d felt the first time she’d seen Stephen.
“There’s no need,” she protested.
“But I want to. It’s not every day a man meets such a beautiful woman. Tell me you’re not married.” He took her left hand and examined it. “Ah, lucky me.”
“I’m a widow,” she said, withdrawing her hand. Thinking of Stephen, her one true love, she felt guilty for her reaction to this stranger.
He sobered immediately. “I’m so sorry. I know just how you feel. I lost my wife three years ago. I was like a crazy man. I didn’t want to go on living. But of course, you have to, don’t you? Especially if you’ve got kids. Do you have kids?”
And that was how the conversation began. Of course, she had to tell him about her children and he had to tell her about his daughter. It turned out he was in Seattle with his brother’s family and they’d all decided to come to Icicle Falls to enjoy the hiking and the scenery.
“The prettiest scenery is right here in this coffee shop,” he said.
And there went the flutters again. Next thing she knew, Muriel had a lunch date with Waldo and his brother and sister-in-law. And then she had a dinner date. And then Waldo was extending his stay in the Pacific Northwest.
“What do you know about this man?” Arnie demanded when Muriel told him she’d met someone. “What’s his financial situation?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. I think I love him, Arnie.” Hard to believe it could happen twice in one lifetime and so quickly, but it had.
The news did not sit well. “You shouldn’t rush into anything,” Arnie cautioned.
“Why not, if it’s something wonderful?” she countered. “I’m lonely, Arnie. I’m so lonely it aches.”
“You’re not alone. You have your friends. You have me.”
“I know and I’m grateful. But it’s not the same. You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to have loved someone and lost them.”
“Maybe not. But I know what it’s like to love someone and never have had her.”
The simple statement filled her with guilt, but it didn’t change their situation. “Arnie, I’m sorry. I can’t help the way I feel.” And she couldn’t.
He sighed. “I know. If this is what you want, Muriel, then I’m happy for you.”
* * *
That had always been Arnie’s attitude. His love had been constant and selfless. He’d remained her friend and extended that friendship to Waldo, as well. And when Waldo died, Arnie had, once more, been there for her.
She’d taken his devotion for granted all these years. He’d always been a part of her life, an important part, and yet she’d viewed him more as scenery, two-legged background for the life and loves of Muriel Sterling-Wittman.
Now the background was walking offstage, starting to write his own story, and this new chapter didn’t include her. It felt wrong.
Arnie finished the last of his coffee. “I’d better get going. I’ve got to get home and start packing.”
“Then let me box up the cookies for you,” Muriel said and hurried to the kitchen. Come tomorrow, Arnie and Dot would be off to Germany. Castles and museums and open-air markets, glühwein. Good times. It all could have been hers.
Arnie could have been hers.
You don’t want him, she reminded herself. If she had, she could have done something about it years ago.
She returned with his cookies. “Here you go.”
“Thanks. We’ll enjoy these.”
He made it sound as if he and Dot were some old married couple. “I wish I was going with you.” Fine time to say it, right before he left.
He looked at her in surprise. “You were too busy,” he reminded her.
She couldn’t think of any reply for that. “Yes, well, have fun.”
“We will.”
She watched him make his way down her front walk, his boots crunching on the snow. He was whistling. Arnie Amundsen was a happy man.
Muriel shut the front door and returned to her living room couch and picked up her laptop to distract herself from the regrets that were creeping up. She needed a new book idea. So far nothing had come.
She stared at the blank screen, willing herself to have something profound or encouraging to say. The screen remained blank.
Maybe she should write about friendship. How to be a good friend? How to get past hoping your friend falls overboard?
Her green eyes were green in a whole new way now. But she had no excuse for this bout of jealousy. No one had deliberately
excluded her from that holiday cruise, no one but herself. And just because it looked like Arnie and Dot were becoming good friends, it didn’t mean she was being pushed out of the circle. Honestly, how old was she, twelve?
Muriel scowled at the screen. She didn’t want to write about friendship. Right now, she didn’t want to write about anything. Writer’s block, that was what she had. She’d heard about it but never experienced it before.
Maybe this was more than writer’s block. Maybe she had nothing left to say. Oh, there was a cheery thought.
“You need to take a break,” she told herself and went in search of chocolate. Tomorrow she’d start fresh.
Tomorrow Arnie and Dot were flying off to Germany.
Muriel ate an entire sampler box of Sweet Dreams chocolate truffles.
* * *
As usual, Carlos was late with his child support. Sienna wished she didn’t need it, wished she could shove her ex off the face of the earth and throw his money after him. But she couldn’t. And anyway, it wouldn’t be right to let him off the hook. Leo was his son and she wasn’t about to let him forget that fact and skate off, free of doing what was right. But, oh, how she hated dealing with him when he did this to her. She hated having to go to him as a supplicant when caring for the child he’d fathered was part of his responsibility. She had other friends who were divorced. Their husbands paid child support and were involved in their kids’ lives. A mother shouldn’t have to hound her child’s father to act like a father.
Carlos’s behavior was a disgrace—to his family and to men and fathers everywhere. She was well rid of him. She only wished she didn’t need his money.
Maybe someday, like Muriel, she’d write a book, perhaps one about a woman with a deadbeat husband, a woman who overcame all obstacles and rose to be governor of her state. No, make that president of the United States. Yes, a Latina woman president. It would be a bestseller. She’d become rich, go on talk shows, warn women to get a character reference from a man before marrying him.
After Leo was asleep, she called Carlos’s cell, fully expecting to get voice mail, because Señor Poop was not only selfish but also a coward. Whenever he got behind on his child support payments he became conveniently unavailable.
She was surprised when he answered. “I know I’m late,” he said. “It’s coming.”
“So is Christmas, but I need the money before then.”
“I said it’s coming, Sienna. I had some unexpected bills this month.”
She knew he had a new woman in his life. “If you’re spending my child’s support money on that puta...”
“Hey, watch your mouth.”
“You won’t have to listen to my mouth if you man up and do what you’re supposed to do,” she retorted. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have a bad mouth.” The man brought out the worst in her.
Funny how when they were first together and happy, she’d thought he brought out the best in her.
Unbidden, words from Muriel’s book slipped into her mind. When dealing with those difficult people that you’re able to avoid the rest of the year, try to keep your encounters brief. Stay positive and find one good thing about that person to focus on.
But when it came to Carlos, Sienna couldn’t. There was no good thing. Anyway, she wasn’t in the mood. She’d already had to deal with Cratchett that day and that had been enough.
Remember, diplomacy is the key to a happy holiday.
Okay, okay, diplomacy. They weren’t getting anywhere this way. “I’m sorry.” He should have been the one saying this. She forced the thought aside and continued, “I don’t like having to bug you for money.”
“But you do, don’t you?” he snapped.
“He’s your son, Carlos.”
“I know that,” he said, his voice prickly.
“I’m sorry he’s not going to grow up to be the superstar macho man you always wanted, but he’s a human being. And if you ever made any effort to see him or talk to him, you’d see that he’s a great kid with a big heart. He’s still got your smile,” she added. The same smile that had attracted her to Carlos in the first place.
“All right,” he said. “I’m not trying to screw you, Sienna, even though you think I am. I’ve got overtime coming. I’ll get the money to you as soon as I can.”
“Thanks.”
Always try to find something nice to say.
“I knew you’d do the right thing,” she added, taking Muriel’s advice. Actually, that was tontería to the max.
But it worked. “I’m trying to do my part.”
Oh, yes. That was why there’d been no battle for custody, no father-son afternoons. His son was a failed experiment that he preferred not to see. “I know,” she said and hoped at some point he’d work on making that a true statement. But she wasn’t holding her breath.
They said their goodbyes and she tossed her phone on the couch and sat there, staring at Muriel’s book. A Guide to Happy Holidays. Well, it had guided her to getting Carlos motivated and that was something.
She picked up the book and opened to the page where she’d left off. Attitude is everything, Muriel reminded her, and happiness is a choice. Focus on good thoughts and you’ll find your attitude changing.
Okay, she was going to choose to be happy. There were too many good things in her life to let something as small as an ex-husband ruin her holidays.
And if Carlos didn’t send that money, she was going to choose to sic her cousin Bruno on him. Bruno was a cage fighter.
Muriel was right. There was nothing like a good thought to improve your attitude.
Chapter Seven
One of the nicest presents we can give is to rejoice in others’ good fortunes.
—Muriel Sterling, A Guide to Happy Holidays
Sienna arrived at work to find Pat on the phone with her landlord.
“Harvey, you have got to replace the toilet in the workroom,” she said, gripping the phone as if it were Harvey Wood’s neck. “No, we’re not putting anything down it we shouldn’t. We wouldn’t dare. It would explode.”
Sienna watched as her employer stood at the till in silence, her scowl carving deeper into her face by the minute. Harvey Wood was Pat’s version of Mr. Cratchett. Harvey was a lousy landlord, but at least he wasn’t cranky. Sienna would have swapped him for her neighbor any day.
“You’ve got to do something.” Pat listened a moment and then sighed. “Look, I know what it’s like to run a business. I know you have your expenses, but this is a problem that needs to be solved right away. So can you please send someone from Sound Plumbing over here? I’ll share the cost with you. All right. Thanks.”
“So, the toilet’s getting fixed?” Sienna asked.
Pat nodded. “That’s what Harvey says. He’d better come through.”
“I thought you handled that well.”
“I was on the verge of making more threats,” Pat admitted. “But, really, what would that have accomplished? And, actually, proposing a compromise made all the difference in his attitude.”
“It doesn’t seem fair you should have to help pay for the toilet,” Sienna said.
“No, it doesn’t. But I am trying to put myself in Harvey’s shoes. He owns a couple of buildings here in town and I know he had to put a ton of money into a new roof over on the Icicle Building. So maybe he really is strapped.” Pat smiled. “Anyway, we’re getting the toilet replaced and that’s what matters. Life is about compromise.”
“It stinks that you had to, though.”
“You have to do what you have to do,” Pat said with a shrug.
Sienna thought of her conversation with Carlos. Yes, you did.
“I’m trying to look for the best in old Harv, and I’d like to think that he wants to do what’s right.”
“If h
e did, the toilet would have been fixed by now,” Sienna pointed out.
Pat gave a reluctant smile. “You could be right, but ugly doesn’t become pretty overnight. Speaking of, how are you doing with your neighbor?”
Sienna rolled her eyes. “I think it’s hopeless. He’s always going to be an ugly tree.”
“Oh, no. What’s the old coot done now?”
Sienna related the latest offense. “If only he’d move,” she finished.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Pat said.
“You’re right. It’s just frustrating sometimes, you know, having to deal with him on top of my ex,” Sienna confessed. “But every cloud has a silver lining. I did get flowers out of the deal,” she said, following Muriel’s advice to focus on something good. Flowers were always good.
“Flowers from Cratchett?” Pat asked in disbelief.
“No, from his nephew,” Sienna said and told her about Tim.
“Hmm. Is he single?”
“I’m not in the market,” Sienna said as much to herself as Pat. “Anyway, I’d have to be crazy to want to get serious with anyone related to Cratchett.” She shook her head. “If only the old grinch would move, then my life would be perfect.”
“There’s no such thing, believe me,” Pat said.
“You’re right. Well, then, better, at least. I sure wish I could find the secret formula for turning Mr. Cratchett into a normal human being.”
As if on cue, Muriel walked into the bookstore. She wasn’t wearing her usual serene smile, though. In fact, she looked like she’d been drinking from the same bah-humbug punch bowl as Cratchett.
“Let’s ask the expert,” Pat said, calling her over. “Things are going from bad to worse with Sienna’s neighbor. Have you got any advice?”
“I’m afraid not,” Muriel said shortly. “Where are those books you need me to sign?”
Pat and Sienna exchanged puzzled looks. Sweet Muriel Sterling-Wittman had obviously been taken over by aliens.
“Is everything all right?” Pat asked her friend.
“Of course,” Muriel said. “I’m in a hurry, though.”
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