Colors of Christmas

by Olivia Newport

  Carole had put her affairs in order. After a brief respectful period of time, a Realtor contacted Angela about both the house and the storefront. The storefront was to be rented as always, with the exception that now it could be offered at Christmastime as well. The house could be rented as furnished as soon as Carole’s personal effects were removed until such time as her heir could be located and he found it convenient to make more permanent arrangements.

  Angela tugged on the leash. “Come on, buddy. I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re going to do it because we loved her. Not for anyone else, just for her.”

  When she’d helped to clear personal items out of the house, Angela had taken one box of assorted items back to her own home. She had a feeling it was just the kind of collection where Carole would leave odd bits that could come in handy later—perhaps in the next eight days. By the time she got home from the walk, Angela was ready for another cup of coffee. At the kitchen table, Blitzen sat on her feet, and she outlined a just-the-basics approach to making some progress before the day was over.

  CHAPTER 5

  The list wasn’t complicated. Angela was determined to keep it that way, though she’d left space to add obvious elements that had not yet occurred to her. After twenty-five years of traipsing after Carole, readying for Christmas festivals in Spruce Valley, she shouldn’t even need a written list, but she’d feel better if she could check off the items as they were accomplished. The box she’d pulled from the closet, one of Carole’s last boxes, had not given her the head start she’d hoped for. Instead it had made her weep. Only a little. She couldn’t let herself get started doing that or she’d spend the next eight days crying instead of honoring Carole. Honoring. That was Rowena’s word, and Angela wasn’t sure it fit her, but she would at least try it on.

  Her strategy was this: drive into town, which was about three miles, and park near the spot the sleigh usually began and walk the route. She wouldn’t rush. Some of the shops had put up a few of their own decorations, but part of Spruce Valley’s tradition was the anticipation that came from waiting until closer to Christmas and watching the lights and garlands go up, starting from the very place where she would begin her walk today and culminating on the tallest spruce in town at the north end of Main Street. Her task this morning was to see with Christmas eyes the fresh delight, to remember with Christmas eyes the details that made the scene magical, to hear with Christmas ears the sounds of the season and tilt her head in the directions they came from, perhaps even to breathe in the scents of Christmas. Her list would not be on a small pad jammed in a coat pocket. She would place the legal pad in front of her, with a blue roller-point pen in a firm grip. Dan had hooked her on using yellow narrow-ruled legal pads for practically everything, and a quarter of a century later, she maintained the same habit.

  The day had more of a wintry bite to it than she expected. She had forgotten a hat when she went out earlier with Blitzen. This time she layered a scarf under her jacket and made sure she had both hat and gloves. The doggy gate was up, and the doggy had water.

  “I’ll see you later, buddy.” She pulled up the zipper on her jacket. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

  Blitzen padded toward her, sadder with every step, until he could rub his head against her thigh.

  “You had a nice long walk this morning. Wouldn’t you like to have a nice long nap? I know I would.”

  He lifted his eyes.

  “Now that’s not fair. Not fair at all.”

  His tail began to wag. He knew when he broke down her resolve.

  “You’ll have to be on the leash. I mean it. The whole time. And it will be a short leash, because we’ll be on Main Street and I’ll be concentrating on other things.” She blew out her breath. “You know, before I had you, I just talked to whatever appliance was beeping at me. I guess you’re quite the upgrade.”

  Angela took the leash off its hook, double-checked she had her wallet, picked up the legal pad and pen, and said, “Let’s go.”

  Blitzen raced toward the back door. Angela decided she’d better leash him even just for the few yards to the garage to get him loaded into the back of the car.

  If the length of time it took to find a parking spot meant anything, the last full weekend before Christmas was bringing robust retail sales. Angela found a spot on a side street two blocks off of Main Street and three blocks farther down than she was aiming for. Blitzen was agitated, ready for release. Angela calculated her movements carefully, opening the back of the car and getting a firm grip on the leash in one swift motion. Blitzen bounded to the ground.

  She’d already forgotten the legal pad and opened the passenger door to grab it. The horse-drawn sleigh was one of the most memorable images of A Christmas to Remember. The sleigh was hitched to a team of matching horses with long manes—at least it seemed to Angela they were matching. She’d have to check. Perhaps it was only serendipitous some years. It can’t have been the same pair for twenty-five years. While most people remembered the sleigh and the horses, the truth was that most years the sleigh was on wheels because more often than not the town didn’t have enough snow in December for the runners of a sleigh to glide through. In fact, because Angela had seen the sleigh in broad daylight with Carole, she knew it was an old hay wagon with two axles painted a bright red. If there was enough snow, the owner jacked the axles up and put the wheels down on a pair of silver runners for a lovely effect.

  Simon Masters had the sleigh-wagon. Were the horses also his? Who decided whether they would use the wheels or the runners? Angela wrote these questions on her legal pad, supposing that Simon could easily answer them.

  The children came next to mind. She could still do what she originally thought the committee had intended for her and round up some of the children from the church, or perhaps some of her piano students or their older siblings, to sing a few carols from the sleigh. In her mind’s picture, as many children as would like to would chase the sleigh as it progressed up Main Street. If there was snow, they clomped along in boots rather than tennis shoes. As the children ran, many of the shop owners offered goody bags. Angela debated about reminding shop owners. Was it really her responsibility to stir up enthusiasm?

  The sleigh would pass Main Street Church, which was midway along the route. Angela made a note to be sure the Ladies Aid Society was ready with their baked goods fund-raiser and that the trustees would hang the bright red wreaths on the double front doors of the church with the welcome sign announcing the time of the Christmas Eve services.

  Angela didn’t have the slightest idea how to get the lights and garlands hung. She jotted down several names of people who might know how that happened, drawing a box around them to remind herself that she couldn’t let that task go much longer.

  At the north end of Main Street, the pinnacle moment came when the lights on the tall spruce came on and the whole town gasped at the same moment.

  Well, that’s what happened when Carole was in charge. Carole spent weeks planning mathematical arrangements of lights around the tree in a secret design. Only two other people would know the design they would create, and that was only of necessity. Somebody had to climb those ladders and string those lights. For three days, people stood and watched, speculating what might emerge. Angela would have no surprise pattern to offer this year. She would make a few calls, hire the usual crew, whoever that was, and be done with it. Straight lines up and down would have to do. The lines wouldn’t even have to be straight, and if some of the lights didn’t blink with the rest, so be it. She only had eight days. If they wanted creativity, they should have asked someone else. It might not even be realistic to do anything at all with the spruce.

  CHAPTER 6

  Slowly, throughout the day, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped steadily. Even with the extra layer of the scarf under her jacket, Angela started to feel like a human Popsicle. If it were not for Blitzen, she might have broken her resolve and ducked into one of the shops for a few mi
nutes to warm up. It wasn’t that Spruce Valley never had cold days or snow in December. It was just that so often they didn’t. Where was a person to park her expectations? Angela hadn’t even worn her boots for their furry warmth. The church was probably unlocked for the rehearsal of the children’s Christmas play the next morning, but if Angela went inside with the dog she risked distracting the children—for which she would be rewarded with a scowl from the program’s director. She’d also risk getting sucked into final decoration around the building. It was no place for Blitzen. He did all right left on his own at home in the kitchen, but he was too curious and enthusiastic to be off a short leash in an unfamiliar place.

  So Angela waved at the two trustees hanging the red wreaths on the doors—something to check off her list—clapped her hands together seeking warmth, and tugged her hat down farther around her face.

  “How about a hot chocolate?”

  Angela had pulled her hat so far down that now she couldn’t turn her head and lift her eyes. Blitzen’s movement required her to twist her entire torso while she again adjusted her hat.

  “Hello, Buford.”

  He gestured toward his diner across the street and down a little way. “I was just heading back. You look like you could use some warmth.”

  “I could!”

  “It would be against code to have the dog inside, but if you just duck in closer to the door, you’ll at least get out of the wind for a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, I think I will, if you don’t mind.”

  They crossed the street together and walked a couple of blocks. It was nice of Buford to offer hot chocolate. While she waited, she gave Blitzen more length on the leash and reviewed her notes so far. She just hoped he didn’t get waylaid by customers inside. A few people stopped to give Blitzen some attention, which got his tail going at top speed.

  Just as Angela thought of setting an outer limit to how long she would wait for him, Buford returned.

  “I heard you’re taking over A Christmas to Remember.” He handed her a large Styrofoam cup with a lid.

  Steam rising through the small sipping hole was a good sign. “I don’t know if ‘taking over’ is the best way to put it,” Angela said.

  “That’s what the scuttlebutt is.”

  “Oh? Has word gotten around already?” Angela took a test sip.

  Buford folded his arms across his chest. “I only heard three or four days ago. Folks seem to think it’s a good idea.”

  “Three or four days?” How could anyone hear three or four days ago when Angela had heard barely eighteen hours ago?

  Buford nodded. “You’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill. Carole sure had it down to a science.”

  Angela swallowed more hot chocolate, waiting to see if Buford would toss any more clichés at her. Shoes and science aside, she’d stick to her legal pad. She wasn’t sure if she liked or disliked other people mentioning Carole at this time of year. Lots of people liked Carole, or even felt true affection for her. But somehow they managed to be lighthearted at the time of year when Carole’s absence was most pronounced. She was an empty spot for someone to take over. Buford took over selling Christmas wrapping papers. Angela took over A Christmas to Remember—a decision that half the town seemed to know about before it was suggested to her. Maybe she would send that e-mail after all, politely but firmly declining.

  If she did, she’d have to put up with endless questions about why she had said no. Dropping out at the last minute as she did, she’d be the reason Spruce Valley didn’t have A Christmas to Remember. The Christmas they’d remember would be the Christmas she’d ruined.

  None of them knew what Angela was going through. How could they?

  “I’d better get going,” Angela said, tucking her legal pad under her arm and adjusting her hat before tightening Blitzen’s leash. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

  “Anytime,” Buford said. “And if you need Christmas cards or paper, stop by and see me.”

  Blitzen tugged at the leash. Angela tugged him in the opposite direction. On her pad, she was keeping a count of how many streetlamps she saw that would need garlands and lights, as well as making a list of the shops to make sure she didn’t omit any in her planning. Perhaps when she got into Carole’s Christmas things at the church—tomorrow after the service, without Blitzen in tow—she might discover a planning guide. If not, at least she’d have her own notes to go by. Two blocks down she paused and looked in the direction she’d come from to double-check her notes.

  “Well, hello, Angela.”

  She looked up to see her neighbor’s face above an armful of packages. “Nora, hello.”

  “What brings you into town?”

  “Just a bit of planning.”

  “I heard the news. I think it’s fabulous.”

  “Thank you for your confidence.”

  “Did you see that young man who just came out of the quilt shop?”

  Angela raised her eyebrows. “I’m afraid not.”

  “You must have seen him. He was just a second or two ahead of me.”

  “I suppose I wasn’t looking in the right direction at the right time.”

  “I suppose. He’s a curious young man. A peculiar accent, not quite British but something like that.”

  Angela shrugged. “Can’t help you.”

  “Very good looking, too.”

  He could be eligible bachelor of the year in three countries, and it wouldn’t change the fact that Angela hadn’t seen him.

  “Maybe you’ll spot him again another time.” Angela turned to continue toward the pinnacle spruce, wondering who might know how tall it was if the information didn’t turn up in Carole’s notes. Somebody who helped string lights or take them down must know. And they must have used something more than ladders. Scaffolding? Whose, and how much? Despite her determination to keep things simple, every detail that came to her mind made this task more complex. She was starting to appreciate the financial contributions to the event.

  Once she had walked the entire route the sleigh would take, she diverted to a side street and let Blitzen have more leash and more speed. It was still early afternoon. She could drive out to Simon Masters’s farm and see about the sleigh and horses. Once she got to her car and Blitzen was situated, she used her cell phone to track down the Masters’s phone number and called ahead. Simon was standing outside the new barn, painted a classic red, wiping oil off his hands when she arrived.

  She let her door fall shut behind her. “Okay if I let my dog out—on a leash?”

  He turned his hands up and shrugged. “If you’re sure he won’t run off, you don’t have to use the leash on my account.”

  Angela scanned the environs, fairly sure that Blitzen would stay nearby or come when she called. Just in case, she patted her leg, and when he dutifully stood right beside her, she dropped a few of the doggy treats she always kept in the back of the car. She transferred a small supply to her jacket pocket.

  “So I heard you’re in charge of A Christmas to Remember,” Simon said.

  Angela gave a nervous laugh. “I’m trying not to turn it into A Christmas to Forget.” Blitzen sniffed the ground for a few feet and then began trotting in a wide circle.

  Simon waved a hand. “Nah. The thing about Christmas is, it’ll always come around again, and by then nobody much cares about last year.”

  “I hope you’re right, but just in case, I’m trying to get things sort of right,” Angela said. “So you have the sleigh. Do we also use your horses?”

  “I’ve got a pair we’ve been using for a few years, mostly because folks think they look nice together. They’re getting a little old, but they can still do the job.”

  “And the sleigh? Wagon? Not sure what the proper term is.”

  Simon laughed. “She’s a creature all her own, that’s for sure. We keep her in the old barn with some other odds and ends.” He led the way.

  Angela followed, keeping an eye out for Blitzen and suspecting he had cornered a rab
bit. She grimaced slightly at the thought that she might be responsible for his goods.

  Simon opened creaking doors that made Angela jump out of the way lest they leave their hinges.

  “The wagon’s built heavy,” Simon said. “It might take both of us to heave it out of there.”

  “What can I do?” Angela glanced again at the barn doors but moved toward them.

  “I’ll squeeze around to the back and push. Once it starts rolling, just try to steer a little and don’t let it run away.”

  “Okay.” Angela swallowed. If the wagon was “built heavy” as Simon said, she might not be the best defense against a runaway. She braced herself.

  “Just grab the shaft,” Simon said, beginning to push. “You’ll be fine.”

  Angela gripped the wooden protrusion with gloved hands. Blitzen came close to inspect. The old wagon creaked forward.

  “Blitzen! Out of the way!” Angela waved away the dog and quickly resumed steering. By now the wagon was halfway out of the ramshackle barn. It was a simple wooden bed on rubber tires. Angela glanced around for the add-on pieces that would transform it into a sleigh—painted wooden slides cut along a curved template and runners, if there should be snow.