Blessings of the Season

by Annie Jones

  “The Goodlifes will be going through these next few days demonstrating life as we knew it way back when Goodwin’s first opened its doors, fifty years ago.”

  He adjusted his tie, which suddenly felt much tighter around his throat than before, and muttered, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Chapter Seven

  Christmas with Mr. and Mrs. Goodlife

  See how good the Goodwin’s life can be 10 a.m.—7 p.m. Monday-Wednesday 10 a.m.—8 p.m. Thursday-Saturday

  Closed Sundays

  Addie stared at the sign posted front and center in her side of the twin plate-glass windows. Because the whole stunt had morphed into a challenge for charity, she and Nate had agreed to longer than normal hours six days a week. In return they got time off to enjoy hot lunches brought in by local eateries, to take breaks to roam the store and talk with customers, even run errands around town as long as they stayed in character and costume. Though they never got to leave the windows at the same time.

  In accordance with Maimie’s agenda, Addie gave three cooking demos a day, though since the oven wasn’t functional she didn’t actually cook so much as combine ingredients, put them in the oven and then take a break to “wash up,” run to the breakroom and pick up a premade clone of what she had made. Sometimes it worked all right, but for the most part Mrs. Goodlife came off looking like a pretty lame homemaker. The crafts projects went better, to some degree, but because she had to stick with ideas gathered from women’s magazines of the day, they tended to be heavy in the glitter and spray-painted macaroni department.

  She sank into the unforgiving stiffness of the kitchen chair.

  “How’s life on the home front, Mrs. Goodlife?” Nate called out from his side of the dual display.

  “Boring,” she called back, unafraid to speak frankly in the midafternoon lull with no customers around to hear her.

  “What do you expect? It’s 1959. Fun hasn’t been invented yet,” he teased.

  She laughed, then sighed. “I had no idea it would be this tedious.”

  “Tedious? You want to talk tedious? Try sitting at a desk all day pretending to shuffle paperwork when what you’re really doing is monitoring the Web site, posting blog updates and reading through the comments, a third of which wouldn’t make sense even if they were spelled right.”

  “You find that tedious?” She slapped her palms flat on the tabletop then pushed back her chair and stood. She walked toward the side of her window nearest to him, stretching up on tiptoe as if that might help carry her voice as she called out, “Are you kidding? I’d love that. I’m stuck over here in the kitchen all day doing demos every ninety minutes. In a day and a half I’ve done more cooking and crafting here than I did the whole year and a half since I graduated from college.”

  “Year and a half, huh? So that makes you…”

  “Twenty-four. I’m twenty-four years old, still live at home and this was supposed to be my first real grown-up job that has anything to do with my marketing major. Only for this job I’d have done better with a home ec major.” She blurted out the whole frustrating truth.

  “…three years younger than me,” Nate concluded. “I was going to say you’re three years younger than me, but the rest of that was interesting, too. Thanks for sharing.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just a little jumpy, I guess.” She slumped her shoulders forward and laughed at that. “I blame all this glitter and gelatin.”

  She walked to the faux cabinets and picked up a box with the brand name hidden behind a phony label. Since they were live streaming over the Web, the Goodwin’s attorney had felt more comfortable if they kept all references to products not sold in the store obscured and referred to them only by generic terms.

  “At least you have some human contact,” Nate grumbled—if you could call something as loud as that a grumble, she thought.

  She looked up at the large clock above the stairway at the back of the store and realized she needed to get ready for her next demo. As she began gathering things on the countertop, she reminded Nate, “At least at three o’clock you get to put up a sign saying you’re in a business meeting and dash out and pick up Jesse from school every afternoon.”

  Darin Goodwin had been home from his honeymoon for days now, but beyond giving Jesse a place to sleep at night he had done nothing to try to bond with the child. Maimie and Doc fussed and fretted about that, making excuses for their son’s behavior and assuring everyone who asked about the situation that it would all work out, probably after Christmas.

  Addie looked at the cardboard cutout of the happy family complete with the little boy who looked a little like Jesse and then at the makings for a Popsicle-stick manger craft project in her hands. Picking up the cutout of the star she would later cover in macaroni and spray paint gold, she walked slowly past the living-room set, past the front door of the store and leaned one shoulder against the wall of Nate’s set. “What do you think will happen to Jesse when you leave?”

  He looked up at her and gave a sort of sad smile, then shook his head as he said softly, “You’re not supposed to be over here during office hours, Mrs. Goodlife.”

  “Maybe I had to come, Mr. Goodlife. Maybe you forgot something when you hurried out the door for work this morning.”

  “What?” He pushed up from the office chair where he spent so much of his day pretending to do paperwork and came her way. “My goodbye kiss, I hope.”

  “No!” Heat rose from her roll-collar neckline to her cheeks, and she tipped her head down, hoping that he wouldn’t see her blush. “I, uh, I…” She slipped her hand into her apron pocket, found the box of gelatin and pulled it free. “I brought you lunch.”

  He leaned in close.

  Her stomach fluttered. She watched him move closer, thinking she should tell him that some kids from the school would be by any minute on a field trip and the last thing they wanted was to get caught kissing. She pressed her lips together.

  His face came so close to hers she could see his cheek twitch with amusement as he snatched the box from her hand and said, “Yum-yum.”

  He pulled away, and she let her breath out in a long stream. Then she came to her senses, reached out and nabbed the box back again. “Sorry. I need that for a demo later.”

  With that she turned on her high heel to start back to her kitchen set. Outside, the sound of an engine drew her attention as a big yellow school bus pulled to the curb. “Time to get back to work, Mr. Goodlife.”

  “Why do I suddenly have great empathy for zoo animals?” he muttered as he made a quick pass—straightening his tie and jacket and making sure his too-shaggy-for-the-time-period hair was tucked behind his ears.

  “You just have to look good. I have ten minutes to construct a manger, then show them how to make a gelatin fruit salad in a mold.” She held up the star and the box on either side of her head as though doing an advertisement for them both. “I just hope I don’t get my gelatin and my glitter mixed up!”

  She scooted across the way, still a bit breathless over the near-miss chance for a kiss. As she passed the door, it flung open and in came a class of kids that looked a year or so older than Jesse. With teachers and moms keeping them in line, they came inside single file, but as soon as they saw Nate and Addie they scattered. Even though they had all joked about the archaic roles of men and women, Addie couldn’t help noting that the boys rushed over to check out Nate’s area while the girls clustered in the cozy little kitchen setting.

  “Hey, who are you supposed to be, mister?” one of the boys who wriggled his way to the front of the group demanded loudly of Nate.

  “I’m Mr. Goodlife.”

  Silence and befuddled expressions answered that.

  He tried again. “The…dad?”

  “Oh, I get it,” another boy called out. “You and that mom are divorced, so you have to live over here and the mom lives over there.”

  The matter-of-factness with which the boy spouted that conclusion tugged at Addie’s heart.
She held her hand up to ask the gaggle of girls around the table to wait a moment, and she started to go over to Nate’s side to see if she could help out.

  Of course Nate, with his master’s in child development and a matter of weeks as a manny under his belt, didn’t need help.

  “I’m supposed to be at the office,” he confided, trying to look quite businesslike.

  The boys looked at each other.

  “Work,” he clarified.

  “You sure do dress funny for work,” another boy observed, shaking his head in a show of obvious disbelief.

  “This is how they dressed for work back then. This is how they dressed for church and for going out to eat and even, sometimes, for doing everyday things like going to a movie or ball game.”

  “No way!” They stared at him, their mouths gaping. “Every day?”

  “Yep. Every day.” He moved from the office toward the living-room set in the middle ground between the two windows. The boys followed, and seeing the action, the girls moved forward to get a good look. “And when a man came home from work, he would take off his jacket and tie and put on a sweater or a more casual jacket. They tried to look nice even if they were just watching TV.”

  Nate sat on the couch, looking every bit the man of that era as king of his castle.

  “Dads even dressed up when they came home?” One of the girls ventured forward. “What about when they ran the vacuum or helped their kids do stuff? Kids were still messy back then, right?”

  He laughed. “I’m sure they were, but the way I understand it, most dads didn’t do housework back then or help raising the kids.”

  “What did they do?” The first boy who spoke up wanted to know.

  Nate looked at Addie for help.

  She folded her arms to let him know he was on his own.

  “Well, they had some household chores, sure. But after a hard day as family breadwinner they usually came home and read the newspaper, maybe watched TV until their dinner was ready.”

  “Wow. No wonder the mommy makes you live in your office!” a small but feisty girl standing by Addie exclaimed. “You don’t do nothin’!”

  The adults laughed.

  Nate looked a bit sheepish.

  Addie stepped up to chime in, “You know that we’re just playing roles here. In the real world, Nate is actually a professional child-care provider and all-around great husband.” Addie’s cheeks blazed red the second she realized what she had called him.

  “Guy,” she corrected hastily. “All-around great guy.”

  Their eyes met. He smiled but did not have anything to add. Not that she would have heard it with her now-slowing heartbeat thudding in her ears.

  “He still doesn’t look like that guy.” The first boy to raise the issue went to the cardboard cutout and pointed to the perpetually cheerful father figure towering over the family portrait.

  “You know, you’re right!” Maimie Goodwin with her hands folded in front of her strolled elegantly into the fray. She stopped beside the sign and gave it a good looking over before she tipped her nose up and studied Nate. “He doesn’t quite look the part, does he?”

  “Oh, no, Maimie.” Nate put his hand up. A lesser man might have retreated a step or two from the formidable older woman, but Nate held his ground. “Don’t get any ideas in your head.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Goodlife—” she emphasized the name with her imperious tone and threw in an arched eyebrow for good measure just to make sure he and anyone else who might be drawing a paycheck with her signature on it got the message loud and clear “—I always have ideas. Goodwin’s Department Store opened in 1959 and is still here today because I got some ideas in my head.”

  “Let me guess, you’re getting a new idea right now?” He folded his arms and cocked his head in an “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” kind of conspiratory way. “One that involves me and the missus?”

  “Actually, it just involved you, Mr. Goodlife, but now that you mention it…” She turned her smile to Addie. It was a gentle smile, but the set of her cheeks and the narrowing of her eyes made it clear she wasn’t joking when she said, “I seem to recall that some women found being a housewife in 1959 could be quite…What was the word I heard bandied about?”

  She fixed that arched eyebrow on Addie.

  “Tedious?” Addie offered in a whisper, knowing she’d been caught.

  Maimie’s smile warmed considerably, and she looked down at the children staring up at her and the sign showing the perfect Goodwin’s family as she told them, “Tomorrow being Saturday, children, tell your parents to come down to Goodwin’s first thing. There are going to be some exciting changes taking place, and I have an idea you are all going to love them.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next day Addie arrived dressed in black pencil-thin slacks and a pale blue angora sweater to find her way to the front door of Goodwin’s blocked by a media circus—or what passed for a media circus in Star City. There was even a van with Mountain Aspect Productions painted on the side. Addie stood on the sidewalk and stared at the seemingly endless stream of young men and women emerging from that van carrying cameras, cords and sound and computer equipment into the store.

  The little bit of breakfast Addie had managed to choke down this morning practically soured in her stomach at all the excitement, knowing she hadn’t generated any of it. For weeks she had called and sent press releases and done all that Web work, and nobody had shown up. Maimie Goodwin told a few kids to tell their parents, and what happened? Of course she knew that Maimie had done more than make a passing remark to the kids yesterday. In fact, she had been a very busy woman.

  The instant she saw the top of an elegantly styled silver hairdo, Addie knew she had to confront the woman or admit she couldn’t do the job. “Mrs. Goodwin, can I have a word with you about all this…this…”

  “It’s digital, dear. Or hi-def? Oh, I don’t really know what it’s called, exactly.” She waved off her confusion, then pointed toward the stairway to direct a young man with a camera on his shoulder that way. “The upshot is, we’re making a commercial!”

  “A commercial?” Addie followed along a few steps behind the older woman, suddenly feeling as though she would never fully catch up. “When I suggested a commercial early on, you said it wasn’t necessary. I wish you’d have let me know that you changed your mind. I would have—”

  “Don’t worry, dear. You don’t have to do a thing. Doc and I are just going to invite people to see how good the Goodwin’s life can be. It’s only a thirty-second spot.”

  “But as the one in charge of marketing for—”

  “Once again, Addie, not to worry.” Maimie held her hand up. “You will have plenty to do when the Web experts get here.”

  That made her pull up short. “Web experts?”

  “Oh, yes. Your Web site and everything you’ve done on the Internet has opened our eyes to all the opportunities we’ve missed by not having an online presence.” Maimie kept breezing right on through the store, leaving Addie behind.

  “Online presence?” she murmured, trying to figure out how this whole project had gotten so out of her control and how she, who had proposed it in an effort to create a long-term job for herself, had gotten lost in it all. She started walking after Mrs. Goodwin again, raising her voice to ask, “You…you replaced me?”

  “Not so much replaced you as hired someone to do the work you might have done if you weren’t already busy playing Mrs. Goodlife.” She stopped, looked around, spotted Doc and waved to him. Then, when he started in her direction, she hurried off to meet him, calling behind her, “I know we can’t really get much done by Christmas, but we’re thinking of having a few specialty items up for people to order, our commercial, a link to your Web cam and pages.”

  “But I’m the one who is supposed to do all this, to coordinate and come up with marketing plans and…” And no one was listening to her.

  Except Nate, who came up behind her, standing so close th
at his casual collegiate cardigan rasped against the fuzzy knit of her sweater when he folded his arms and said, “Now you know how I felt that day I said I’d postpone my trip back home a few days to take care of Jesse and ended up as—”

  “My holiday husband,” she whispered. “I don’t suppose you have any clue what she has planned for us today?”

  “Big plans! Oh, she has big plans for today,” Doc said as he hustled past. “Big announcement!”

  Addie shut her eyes. “All of this should have come through me. I thought this was my job.”

  “It is your job. Go fight for it.” Nate had leaned in so close, she could feel his breath against her ear.

  She resisted the urge to shiver by concentrating on what the man had said, not how he had said it or where he was standing when he said it. She lifted her chin, trying to convince herself more than him as she said, “Me? Stand up to Maimie Goodwin? You really think that’s going to work?”

  He laughed. “She hired you because you brought her something she believed in.”

  “The publicty stunt.”

  “You,” he corrected. “Addie McCoy. That hasn’t changed. You are still as valuable to her as you were a couple of weeks ago. More so, actually, because you’ve contributed plenty to this business since then and, unless I miss my guess, learned plenty.”

  “You know, I have.”

  “It wouldn’t do any harm to remind her of that. It also wouldn’t hurt your cause if you have a solid concept to offer her.”

  “I do! Webisodes!” She clutched his arm, barely able to keep her excitement in check. “My mom’s Web site is up all night long, but then during the day she runs little ‘How to Deck the Halls’ videos she’s done so she still gets hits. I had this idea that we could do a few short pieces that are actually advertisements for Goodwin’s where Mrs. Goodlife has a dream that she is transported to the future and sees that even fifty years from now a Goodwin’s life is still the good life!”

  “That’s great. Way to use your head, Mrs. Goodlife.” He tapped her black velveteen headband, making her cherished snowflake pin, which she had attached to the band to keep from making a hole in her vintage sweater, bobble. “Did I knock your snowflake loose?”