Colors of Christmas

by Olivia Newport

  He pointed, and she turned in the direction of his finger. In a distant part of her mind, memories tumbled into place. She’d been to the elder Bergstroms’ home a time or two. Millie used to sing in the choir, and she’d hosted the salad course of a progressive dinner for the singers. That was before Brian was born. Or maybe he’d just arrived. Twenty-five years in a town of ten thousand blurred events.

  She parked in the Bergstrom driveway and followed Brian up the sidewalk and through the front door.

  “Grandma?” he called.

  “In the kitchen,” came the reply.

  Allen sat in a blue vinyl kitchen chair with one hand bracing his lower back. Millie hovered with an ice pack, unsure where to apply it. Angela had little experience with these things. This was a two-story home. How in the world had Millie, with her slight build, gotten her husband off the attic landing, down the main stairs, and into the kitchen when clearly the best he could offer was a painful shuffle?

  Allen braced himself and leaned forward, wincing.

  “I’m happy to help,” Angela said, “but I wonder if we shouldn’t call an ambulance, after all. A back injury can be serious.”

  “I’ve already done the hardest part,” Millie said. “I got him down here, didn’t I? And Brian got you. No telling how long we’d be waiting for them to come all the way from the hospital.”

  Allen exhaled heavily before groaning. “Do I get a vote?”

  “Of course.” Angela forced herself to look at him.

  “We’re only ten feet from the back door,” Allen said. “There are no steps down to the driveway.”

  “Our car is in the garage,” Millie said. “You can come right up to the door with yours.”

  “Okay, okay,” Angela said. “I will go out and pull up as close as I can get, if you’re sure an ambulance wouldn’t be a better way to travel.”

  “We’ve already been to that rodeo,” Allen said. “They charge an arm and a leg. I’m not dying. It’s just my back.”

  Visions of paralysis floated through Angela’s mind.

  “He knows he has disc issues,” Millie said. “He tries to do too much.”

  “He’s had this before?” Angela said.

  “Yes. He needs the hospital to get the pain under control—and to make sure it’s not a different disc. Or that nothing’s broken.”

  “Nothing’s broken.” Allen exhaled through gritted teeth.

  “If you’re sure,” Angela said.

  “Brian,” Millie said, “get your grandpa’s jacket off the hook.”

  “Don’t fuss,” Allen said. “I can’t put a jacket on right now.”

  “A quilt, then. Quickly, Brian.”

  Angela hustled out the back door and down the driveway to where she’d left her car. She popped the trunk, scooped her clutter out of the backseat, and dumped it into the trunk. No matter how many times she resolved to stop treating her vehicle like a high school locker, she never shook the habit of leaving things in the car.

  By the time Angela got her car pulled up to the kitchen door, Allen had his long arms slung over the shoulders of his wife and grandson. Angela jumped out to open the rear doors. Allen leaned against the car, waved off further assistance, and lowered himself in. Millie and Brian ran around to the other side.

  Angela backed out of the driveway.

  “Watch the bump at the end of the block,” Allen muttered.

  Angela was glad for the warning.

  The hospital was eight-and-a-half tedious miles away. Spruce Valley had a few doctors, but it couldn’t support even an urgent care center that was open on the weekends. No one spoke. Allen groaned intermittently. Angela could not interpret whether that meant he wished she’d drive faster or slow down for the potholes.

  Finally, she pulled up under the overhang at the emergency department entrance.

  “I’ll get help.” The automatic doors opened, and Millie darted into the building. She was back with a wheelchair and an orderly who looked like he knew how to handle a man of Allen’s stature.

  “I’ll park and meet you inside,” Angela said once Allen was in the chair.

  The doors whooshed open again and swallowed the patient and his entourage. Angela breathed in and out three times with deliberation before putting the car in gear and navigating into the parking lot.

  An MRI to confirm the suspect disc.

  Hopefully some painkillers—and hopefully Allen would agree to take them.

  Follow-up with an orthopedist and perhaps a neurologist because of trapped nerves. Since this was a reoccurrence of a known problem, it might be time to discuss surgery.

  Then they’d have to get him home. Angela hadn’t seen much of the house and couldn’t remember if there was a place Allen might sleep on the main floor.

  There was a lot to figure out.

  But clearly Allen would not be climbing any ladders to hang lights up and down Main Street.

  CHAPTER 9

  Candles. And paper lanterns. These were the subjects on Angela’s mind when she woke on Monday morning because they were two items she was sure would not have been among the ruined boxes in the church basement.

  The evening had been long. Every step at the hospital involved a separate wait, and once they were back at the Bergstroms’, she couldn’t just drop them off. Allen was medicated, which was in his best interest for the next few days. He’d have to see an orthopedist about the surgery question. In any event, he was in no condition to climb stairs, so sleeping arrangements had to be sorted out. At least there was a main-floor bathroom. Obviously Allen couldn’t be left on his own. Angela and Brian took sheets and blankets from an upstairs closet and made up two deep leather couches in the main-floor family room for his grandparents to sleep on.

  By the time Angela got home, Blitzen was desperate to go outside. It was silly not to have a doggy door. As soon as this Christmas business was over, she’d find somebody who could make her existence more dog-friendly. For now, she stood outside watching Blitzen for a few minutes so she could let him back in.

  In the meantime, she had six days.

  Six days.

  It didn’t seem reasonable to ask Millie about the lights that were probably still strewn on the attic stairs, although Brian might yet round them up. All she was certain she had to work with were Simon’s two horses. This was not exactly forward progress.

  For years she and Carole had debated the advisability of distributing candles during A Christmas to Remember. The number of things that could catch fire, and the concentration of people, argued against it. Yet people had come to expect them. Some would only light them while the sleigh took its route. Others carried them home to incorporate into their family’s traditions. Angela had thought candles would be one detail she’d conveniently overlook, but she had to produce something more than horses. Besides, she was fairly certain that the annual order was automatic and that if she went into the candle shop on Main Street and inquired, she would discover seven hundred and fifty white Christmas candles awaiting her. They would be Elinor’s annual contribution to A Christmas to Remember.

  So she ate a quick breakfast, gulped the coffee that she had nearly let get too cool, walked Blitzen, and headed to Main Street.

  The mixed fragrances of the candle shop always confused her senses. What was she supposed to be smelling? Clove? Evergreen? Cinnamon? She moved through the shop toward the counter, reading signs to help her distinguish fragrances. Balsam and fir. Chestnut. Juniper. Mistletoe.

  Behind her the shop’s bell jangled. She didn’t remember it ringing when she came in, though of course it had been there for as long as Elinor had been running the shop, which was at least fifteen years. Angela glanced back over her shoulder. No one had followed her in. Someone must have just left. She angled toward the counter once again.

  “Did you see him?” Elinor said.

  “Who?”

  “That young man? He walked right past you.”

  “I guess I didn’t notice.” Angela had be
en too busy mentally sorting fragrances. They still jumbled together.

  “You had to have seen him.” Kim, an alto in the church choir raised an insistent tone.

  Angela shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention. I have candles on the brain this morning.”

  “I suppose he might have slipped down the other aisle.” Kim twisted her lips to one side. “I’ve never seen him before, and I thought I knew everyone in this town.”

  “We get a lot of visitors at this time of year,” Angela offered.

  “That’s right,” Elinor said. “And it’s good for business. That man spent seventy dollars in here.”

  “I bet if I wander down the street I’ll see him again,” Kim said.

  “Maybe.” Elinor straightened a stack of discount flyers on the counter.

  Kim wandered away.

  “Are you sure you didn’t see him?” Elinor whispered.

  “No,” Angela whispered back. “Why is he so important?”

  “There’s something about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “Kim seems to feel the same way.”

  “Mmm.”

  “I came for candles,” Angela said.

  Elinor raised her eyebrows. “It’s a candle shop.”

  “For A Christmas to Remember,” Angela said. “I’ve been asked to organize things. I know you usually had some for Carole.”

  “Of course. I’ve had them for weeks, actually. I kept getting a different answer about what to do with them, so I set them aside.”

  “I’ll be happy to take them off your hands, then.”

  Elinor surveyed the shop, which was now empty except for the two of them.

  “Come on back in the office and we’ll get them.”

  Elinor’s office looked about as organized as Angela’s trunk, but she seemed to zero in on one particular corner of the desk and lifted folders and catalogs.

  “They were right here a few days ago,” Elinor said. “Three boxes of two hundred and fifty each. One of the girls must have moved them.”

  “Can I help you look?”

  “Just give me a moment.” Elinor’s eyes darted from the top of the filing cabinet to an overloaded bookcase to a side chair. She moved a few more things, revealing only more clutter. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, no what?” Angela stepped closer to Elinor as she turned to the area behind her desk.

  “The radiator.” Elinor moved a stack of magazines from the metal covering fitted over the radiator.

  Three boxes were laid side by side.

  Elinor slapped her forehead. “The girls come in here on their breaks. I am forever telling them not to touch anything.”

  Angela’s stomach hardened. Seven hundred and fifty candles on top of an ancient radiator.

  Elinor picked up one box and moaned. “I can tell already.”

  “Tell what?” Angela wanted to hear the words. She was not in the mood for assumptions and ambiguity.

  “I’m afraid they’re ruined. Melted together into three great globs.” Elinor dropped a box into the metal trash can. It thudded with a heaviness of confirmation.

  Six days, and now no candles.

  “I feel awful,” Elinor said. “I should have insisted someone tell me what to do with them before now.”

  Or you might have put them someplace safe in the meantime. Angela swallowed the words that came so close to passing her lips. Who would keep candles on a working radiator in the middle of winter?

  “Give me a moment.” Elinor reached for the phone on her desk. “I can make a call. It’s my mistake, so I’ll make it right. If I expedite the shipping, we can still have candles on time.”

  Angela eased out breath while listening to one side of the phone conversation.

  “Barbara, Elinor here. I need a favor … seven hundred and fifty of the traditional white, as fast as you can get them to us … Of course it’s a popular item … mmm … I see … Just a minute.”

  Elinor raised her eyes at Angela. “They’re sold out of the white. I should have expected that. But we can get a nice variety of shades of blue if we don’t mind a bit of irregularity in the wicks.”

  “Blue?” Angela rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know.”

  “Could be fun,” Elinor said. “Shake things up a bit.”

  “No red? Or even green?”

  “’Fraid not. We could mix in a little purple.”

  “No,” Angela said quickly. Purple mixed with blue? It would look like a confused Advent. “Just the blue.”

  “Barb? We’ll take the blue … day after tomorrow, then.” Elinor hung up the phone. “You’d have a hard time finding a better option.”

  Angela didn’t doubt it. “Thanks for your help. I’ll stop in again day after tomorrow.”

  She kept herself from racing out of the shop, but she took a direct path out to the sidewalk. The paper goods store was two blocks down, which gave her some time to regain her composure. Carole always spoke of the paper lanterns as a standing contribution as well, but what if someone had assumed that her passing meant an end to the contribution to the community event?

  Inside the paper goods store, which was more cramped than the candle shop, Angela’s eyes sought the owner’s gaze but instead were met with the inquiring expression of Kim once again.

  “Did you see him?” Kim asked.

  “Sorry, no.”

  “He was just here,” Kim said. “He seems to be visiting all the shops.”

  “Christmas shopping,” Angela said.

  “You’ve probably seen him and didn’t realize it.”

  “Possibly.” What difference did it make if she’d seen a strange man visiting town for the holidays?

  “He’s mid-twenties, sandy-haired, a bit scruffy looking.”

  Angela shrugged.

  “He’s staying at the B&B. I’ve heard that from three different people.”

  “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  “Alone? At Christmas?”

  “He could be visiting relatives but not staying with them.”

  “I doubt it. Someone would know.”

  “Well,” Angela said, “I hope you solve your mystery.”

  The young man behind the counter, Travis, had once been one of Angela’s first students. He always looked slightly sheepish when he saw her, as if she had caught him not practicing all these years later, though he must be pushing forty and had taken over the shop from his parents.

  “Rowena told me you might be by,” he said. “I tried to give her the lanterns a couple of weeks ago, but she said you were in charge this year.”

  Why did every other conversation seem to confirm that she’d been the last person in town to find out she was in charge of A Christmas to Remember?

  Travis was more organized than Elinor had been. He reached beneath the cash register and pulled out two large bags to hand to Angela.

  “You remember how to open them?” he said.

  “I’m sure I will.” Over the years, she’d opened hundreds of these with Carole, though at the moment she couldn’t recall how long the task took. They always did it together, and time never seemed to matter. A lot of years, others helped as well. Angela could make a few calls and rustle up a few volunteers. Opening the lanterns would be the easy part. Hanging them above the shop doors would be more time consuming.

  At her car, Angela peeked into one bag to make sure she was transporting the right items home. A snowy white color reassured her.

  As soon as she turned her key in the back door she heard Blitzen’s movement. He skittered across the floor to greet her with his usual enthusiasm, and she felt heartened enough to make a turkey sandwich and chomp into it with some enthusiasm of her own. She took the half-eaten sandwich into the living room, where she spilled the contents of one bag from the paper goods store onto the sofa. Chewing an ambitious mouthful, she slit open the packaging around a dozen paper lanterns hoping to pop one open into shape. Instead it leaned to one side and sagged. Blitzen approached to inspect, and An
gela gently pushed his head away before picking up the lantern with both hands and turning it in multiple directions. It was sliced clean through in at least two directions where there ought not to have been any scores, much less cuts.

  This was not the sort of thing that could happen to only one item on a manufacturing line.

  She took the next one out of the package.

  And the next.

  And the next.

  She opened the next dozen.

  And the next.

  And the next.

  By this time she could tell just by looking if the cuts were wrong.

  And they all were. Every package in that bag was wrong.

  She opened the other bag from the shop and dumped out the dozens of lanterns. Wrong. All wrong.

  She tossed an unopened dozen across the room. Blitzen cheerfully fetched it and brought it back to her, dripping with drool.

  The lanterns had been sitting in those bags under the cash register for weeks, and no one had inspected them when there was still time to replace them. Now she had nothing.

  No sleigh. None of Carole’s decorations. No Nativity scene. No carolers for the corners. No lanterns. No candles—well, blue ones. Who knew what those would be like? Maybe there were lights, and maybe there weren’t. Who knew how many? And who would put them up?

  She hadn’t wanted to do this at all. Now she couldn’t even do it the simple way. And she had six days.

  Kenneling Blitzen wasn’t her favorite idea, but she was tempted, if it would mean she could throw in the towel, drive to the nearest airport, and buy a ticket to whatever flight would get to a beach where she could wait out Christmas in peace.

  CHAPTER 10

  Blitzen, I need a phone.” Angela abandoned her sandwich and headed for the kitchen. “And phone numbers.”

  Her call list for the afternoon instantly changed from soliciting hands-on help for lights and garlands and lanterns to the four members of the event committee who had shackled her to serial frustrations. It took some digging, but she finally found an old e-mail from Rowena Pickwell that contained contact information for Ellen, Nan, and Jasmine as well.