Sleigh Belles

by Beth Albright

  “Dallas, I’m sorry, but it’s station policy for staff to volunteer for charity during Christmas,” Mike Maddox, the news director, told her. “You know the way it works, and this is the perfect opportunity.”

  “I certainly do, and that’s exactly what I was doing by going to the occasional rehearsal—my required community appearances. Appearances! I just cannot direct the whole play, Mike. C’mon.”

  “The president of the board called me and asked if we would support this, and I told him absolutely. It’s our duty to the city of Tuscaloosa during Christmas. Imagine the press we’ll get over this. Imagine the press you’ll get over this. I know how bad you want that anchor chair, Dallas, and this ingrains you into the city of Tuscaloosa a little deeper. It’s a win-win, you know?”

  While the responsibility of directing a play didn’t appeal to her at all—and the thought of working with kids appealed to her even less—she couldn’t deny that any publicity right now would be good publicity. Dallas rolled her eyes. “Ugh! Fine! I’ll just reschedule my standing mani-pedis. I should tell you, though—I’m not an actress, and I don’t know the first thing about theater and, oh, by the way, I’m not so great with children either. But, sure, if this is what they want...great.”

  “Good, I knew you’d see it my way,” Mike said as he headed off toward the studio—either oblivious to the sarcasm in Dallas’s voice or else just ignoring it.

  She looked at her Gucci watch. It was early afternoon in mid-December in Tuscaloosa. The crisp fall air had given way to winter, and Christmastime was twinkling from every corner of this college town. She thought about the Christmas parade next week and her spot atop the WTAL-TV News float right behind the mayor’s float. She loved the idea that the entire town would be watching and cheering as she rode on by, but now that she had the Christmas play to direct, her schedule was growing tighter by the minute.

  Though she already had another story to cover today, the next rehearsal was in just a couple of hours, Mike had told her, and Dallas knew she had to introduce herself to the kids and try to make this transition as easy as possible. Just get through it, she told herself, as if going to rehearsal was like scheduling surgery.

  She grabbed her coat as she ran out the door to visit Miss Peaches Shelby who’d had part of her holiday manger scene stolen from her yard. Peaches was so upset ’cause it was the second year in a row that her plastic Baby Jesus was snatched right outta her plastic stable. “They always leave the shepherds, but they take that Baby Jesus every single time,” she’d complained on the phone to Dallas. It wasn’t exactly big news, but Dallas would never turn down the possibility of camera time.

  Climbing into the van where Daniel was already waiting, she buckled in with a loud huff. “Hey, Daniel, let’s get this over with as quick as possible, okay? I have a thing at the Bama Theatre this afternoon,” Dallas barked as they drove out of the parking lot heading to Miss Peaches’s house. “Lucky me, I get all these lead stories. This one should surely get me that anchor chair,” she muttered sarcastically.

  “I remember we interviewed her last year about this very same thing,” he said.

  “I know, and now she says pictures are being sent to her from everywhere on campus showing her Baby Jesus statue first one place and then another.”

  “Kinda like those little gnomes people take on vacation for pictures everywhere, huh?”

  They pulled into the driveway of Peaches Shelby’s home, her little plastic manger scene filled to capacity, except for Baby Jesus. Peaches met them outside, and Daniel began setting up the shot with his camera. Dallas trotted across the cold ground in her usual five-inch heels to greet Miss Peaches.

  “Hey, Ms. Dubois,” she said, smiling as Dallas showed her where to stand. “I’m so happy to see you again, but of course not under these circumstances.” She quickly switched to a sulky frown, visibly upset as she related the story of the stolen plastic statue to Dallas and the cameraman.

  “And the very next morning, he was pure ole dee gone, I tell ya. Just like into thin air. And that ain’t no miracle! I do believe it’s those same boys from that frat house that did this last year.”

  “Have you called the police?” Dallas asked with her microphone now under Ms. Peaches’s nose.

  “Yes, I most certainly did. They said they’d be lookin’ all over campus.”

  “Where have these pictures been taken, can you tell?” Dallas asked her.

  “Well, there was one with Baby Jesus at Denny Chimes sittin’ on Joe Namath’s handprints. Then they sent one from the steps of the library. They’s crazy, whoever took it. That’s just pure awful, don’t y’all think?”

  “Yes, Miss Peaches. We will do what we can to get the word out.” Dallas thanked her and repositioned herself near the empty manger to do her stand-up.

  “As you can see, Miss Peaches’s stable is empty. There have been sightings of the statue all over the University of Alabama’s campus. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Baby Jesus, please call the Tuscaloosa Police department or WTAL TV. I’m Dallas Dubois, WTAL. Okay, Daniel that’s a wrap.”

  She told Miss Peaches goodbye and turned toward the van to wait for Daniel with the heater on high. It was nearly four o’clock, and the kids were going to be waiting at the theater. She was dreading this. It was true that she was not really a fan of kids—anyone’s kids—but mostly Dallas just didn’t want to be bothered by other people. Call it selfish or self-preservation, she did whatever she had to do to take care of herself, of her career, and that didn’t leave much room in her life for anyone else. Especially not for little children in a Christmas play.

  “Come on, Daniel! Let’s get me to the Bama Theatre. I’ve gotta pretend I care about this Christmas play,” she said as Daniel put the camera equipment in the van and backed out.

  When they reached the theater, he pulled up out front to let Dallas out. The Bama Theatre was grand, built in 1937, and was now on the National Register of Historic Places. It was a magnificent old place, one of the last old movie palaces in the Deep South. Dallas and her archrival ex-stepsister, Blake, had been in many a beauty pageant there over the years. But today the beautiful old place would be home to the Christmas play Sleigh Bells. The holiday play was a town tradition. Local theater kids would make up the cast, as well as children from the Tuscaloosa Children’s Home, a group home for children who, for various reasons, couldn’t live at home with their families. Dallas certainly felt sympathy for those kids, but she definitely didn’t consider herself qualified to take care of them. She was not looking forward to what she had to do.

  She entered the auditorium and stopped in her tracks. The ghosts of Christmas past were all around, hovering over her, haunting her. She stood motionless, looking up at the tiny, lighted stars that filled the painted night sky on the ceiling.

  She hadn’t seen the stage since they had decorated it and added the sets.

  She swallowed hard at the memories that invaded her. The playhouse was covered in Christmas lights, the entire room looking like a winter-white forest, dressed up in its Victorian finest for the holidays. On the stage, a set made to look like a Christmas village sat to the right, with a Christmas wreath hanging on a pretend toy-store door lit by the cutest old-fashioned streetlight.

  Dallas was reminded of her first play at this theater, back when she was only eight years old. Her mother almost hadn’t made it to the show because of a freak snowstorm—it never snowed in Alabama. Well, almost never.

  She took the whole scene in, remembering all the times she’d walked that stage throughout her life. The countless beauty pageants she’d been in, though she’d never really placed better than runner-up. She had stood by while Blake captured most of the titles, while Blake’s mother, Kitty, had cheered loudly from the audience. She tried to envision her own mother clapping and calling her name, but since she’d hardly ever shown up to Dallas’s e
vents, the memory didn’t exist. She began to feel a break in the firewall, so she quickly plugged the dike.

  The kids were there already, of course, running around the stage, the choir director trying anxiously, but to no avail, to calm them down. Dallas puffed her chest out, lifted her chin and headed down the aisle toward the stage to say hello and get the worst part over with.

  “Children, may I have your attention?” the chubby little lady called out. Ms. Betty Ann had been the choir director at the Bama Theatre since Dallas had been a child in the Christmas plays herself. “Children, have a seat and let Miss Dallas talk to y’all just a minute,” Betty Ann said. The children, distracted for a moment by their visitor, obediently sat down on the stage in the middle of the little pretend village. Dallas approached them, coming up from the side stairs. Betty Ann leaned over and whispered to Dallas, “Good luck. They’re wound up tighter’n Dick’s hatband today. I’m worn slap out already.”

  “Hey, kids,” she started, her heart beating out of her chest. She didn’t like to do things she didn’t want to do, and she knew she really didn’t wanna do this. “I’m Miss Dubois and I’m gonna be your new director.”

  Some of the kids started talking. One little girl even started crying.

  “Why? What happened to Miss Fairbanks?” asked one little boy. They were all mumbling now, most of them between the ages of six and ten years old.

  “Well, Miss Fairbanks wasn’t feeling too well, and she wants to make sure we keep practicing,” Betty Ann broke in.

  “Exactly, and now I will be the director.” Dallas smiled at them, hoping to look enthusiastic.

  The kids all looked sad, some more started to cry, and one boy actually folded his arms and went to the corner of the stage, stomping his feet.

  Offended, she tried to reason with them. “Look, it’s hard for me, too, but here we are now, and Christmas is just around the corner, so let’s make the best of this, okay?” Dallas tried to warm them up, but she wasn’t very good at it. She was starting to lose her cool façade.

  “I don’t want you, I want Miss Fairbanks back,” announced Sara Grace Griffin, who was nine years old.

  “Well, look, I’m not so sure I’ll like doing this either, but this is the way it is.” Dallas turned and began to walk away, hearing the sound of crying children get louder with each step. She stormed off into the stage wings, arms folded, head down, when she slammed right into—

  Cal.

  3

  Cal jumped back, obviously surprised to see Dallas right there in front of him in the theater wings.

  “Cal! Sorry, what are you doing here?” Dallas asked, shocked at bumping into him here.

  “I’m running the sound system for the Christmas play. What are you doing here?”

  “Well...guess who’s the new director?” She smiled awkwardly, feeling completely out of her element.

  “What happened to Ms. Fairbanks?”

  “Flu.”

  “So...you? You’re the director?”

  “Yep. It’s my lucky day.”

  “Yeah. Well, good luck, I guess. See ya.”

  Cal walked away, and Dallas turned to watch him leave. It was obvious that he was unfazed by seeing her. She, however, was having another flare-up.

  Dallas stepped over to the staircase in the wings and sat down in the dim amber glow of the footlights. Unbelievable, she thought. How was it possible that not only was she stuck directing this ridiculous play, but now she’d also have to do it alongside the one man who never failed at making her lose her cool?

  She inhaled a deep breath, trying to get a grip on everything that was happening, but it didn’t ease the tension that was beginning to consume her. She felt the pressure building, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure how to take control of the situation. She felt trapped. There was nothing she wanted more than that anchor spot. The announcement, they’d been told, would come just after Christmas. Great timing, she thought, for the person who got the job. They’d be able to start the New Year with an exciting new job. If she didn’t get it, she could be one of the two reporters to lose her job to station cutbacks. For now, she knew she just had to stay focused. Worrying about the worst-case scenario wasn’t going to make her performance any better. The only thing she could do was to keep her eye on the prize. She had to direct this play and somehow find a way to work with Cal.

  Dallas pulled her purse closer, as if it were her only friend in this place. She wore a long winter-white Calvin Klein cashmere coat that she’d bought in Atlanta at a secondhand shop. She drove the three hours over there to shop all the time. She didn’t come from much, but she had done quite a job of making it look as though she did. Her dad, businessman Sweeney Sugarman, had divorced Kitty, his second wife and Blake’s mother, about ten years ago. Financially, he’d done little more than help pay Dallas’s way through college at the University of Alabama. He’d died several years ago and had never even seen her first report for WTAL.

  Dallas’s mother, on the other hand, had sent her to live with her father when Dallas had only been fourteen years old. The day she’d left was the last time she had seen her mother. They had become estranged ever since. No one in town even saw LouAnn Watkins Sugarman anymore. Last anyone heard, she had tried to become a singing star out in Hollywood, and when that didn’t pan out, she’d come back home to some small town in Alabama but had never tried to get in touch. It had been twenty years since Dallas had spoken to her. None of Dallas’s family had even come to her college graduation. She was used to being alone. And in control.

  With Cal working the sound for the play, Dallas would be running into him almost daily over the next couple of weeks. She huffed out a breath and shook her head. Okay, she admitted to herself, he’s still hot. Fine. But I am not going to throw myself at a man who clearly shows no interest in me. I can’t let his gorgeous good looks get the best of me at a time like this. Besides, he has nothing I need right now. All I need is to get this play over with, secure my promotion and get on with my life.

  This was typical Dallas. Always thinking of the goal. Always forgetting to actually live along the way. All that armor, the tough-woman mask she donned each day with carefully applied makeup and hairspray, helped shield the real Dallas from everyone. Especially from herself.

  “Okay, Ms. Dubois, we’ve got the children settled down, and they’re waitin’ for you,” Betty Ann said, approaching Dallas in the stairway.

  “Fine, please tell that production assistant person I need some Diet Dr. Pepper. I’m already exhausted after that scene out there. I mean, really, what is with all that attitude?”

  “Certainly, Ms. Dubois, but you understand they’re just nervous. They’re only children, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Yeah, well, they aren’t the only nervous ones, I’ll tell you. Do I look like a theater director to you? I belong on TV, with a camera in front of me, not behind the curtain trying to get a bunch of wild animals to stand in their spots and remember their lines. Let’s just be honest—I don’t wanna be here any more than they want me here.”

  “Oh, please don’t feel that way. It will all work out just fine,” Betty Ann said, though Dallas could see the doubt written all over her face. “Now, I’ll get Corey to get your drink and we should get started.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Dallas smiled weakly and exhaled a deep breath. Her stomach was in knots, but she was careful not to let anyone see that. She was totally on edge with her job on the line and that made it tough for her to be sweet to anyone.

  * * *

  Cal sat up in the sound booth, adjusting the speaker levels and fiddling with live mic feeds, and trying to figure out how’d he’d managed to find himself working side by side with none other than Dallas Dubois.

  He’d always found Dallas attractive—how could you not? With that gorgeous hair, bright b
lue eyes and curves that should be illegal in most states, Dallas was basically a fantasy on legs.

  Not that he was all that that bad himself. He’d been told he was gorgeous by plenty of people all his life, but it never really seemed to sink in. He wasn’t a loud braggart like a lot of athletes he’d known in college. He was more reserved. And he was often single.

  What no one knew, except maybe Lewis, who had been Cal’s best friend in both high school and college, was that he was an over-the-top perfectionist. It wasn’t that he was judgmental about the people he dated—it was more that he was tough on himself. He had always been afraid of failing at a relationship, so he’d never got too serious with any one girlfriend.

  His grades, however, had been spectacular. He’d pushed himself so hard that it had cut down on his participation in the wild social life that his other friends had enjoyed. Cal was an academic. He took everything super seriously and had gotten his doctorate in computer science by the time he was twenty-six. He had been the star quarterback for the Crimson Tide, leading them to a National Championship in his senior year. He was tough on himself.

  That’s why he had never married. Not that all the gorgeous beauty queens and coeds couldn’t measure up. No. Cal was terrified of failing. His two older brothers had great marriages. His parents had been married for well over forty years. He looked at their success, and he realized he wasn’t sure he could ever be that great at it. He’d never met anyone who’d made him feel the things his brothers claimed to feel about their own wives. And he’d always been so focused on school and sports that he couldn’t even imagine having enough time left over to properly devote to another person. The last thing he wanted was to let anyone see that he wasn’t good enough. For Cal, failure at anything was not an option. Growing up, the minute he thought a relationship might not work forever, he ran. Now, at thirty-four, he still found himself more invested in work than in women.