Colors of Christmas

by Olivia Newport

She used her pleasant inside voice but persisted until she had spoken to all four women and obtained their promises to meet her at three thirty at Main Street Church, in the same room where three days earlier they had stunned her with their expectation.

  “Let’s get ready, Blitzen,” she said, scratching under his jowls. “That’s right. You’re coming.”

  Angela got to the church early and unlocked the side door the others would likely use to come in from the parking lot. With Blitzen on a short leash, she stuck her head in the church office to let the secretary know the group would be in the building for a few minutes and then slipped down the hall to the old library and flipped on the lights. Bringing Blitzen was the right decision. Gripping the leash gave her something to do with one or both hands, and she could be sure someone in the room was on her side. Angela chose to sit at the head of the table. This time the meeting was hers to run, with the evidence recorded on her yellow legal pad in front of her.

  Rowena’s clipped steps were the first to come down the tile in the hallway. Angela sat up straight in her rolling black vinyl chair.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Angela said.

  Rowena let her navy wool coat drop from her form and laid it in a chair against the wall. “You insisted it was urgent.”

  “It is.”

  Rowena chose a seat at the far end of the table. “Ellen is in the lobby. I asked her to make a couple of phone calls while we were waiting.”

  Angela nodded. “We’ll wait for everyone to arrive.”

  Jasmine blew in and sat on the edge of a chair without removing her down jacket or letting her purse strap slide off her shoulder. “I don’t have a lot of time. My son has a skating party in an hour.”

  “I hope this won’t take long,” Angela said.

  “Let’s get down to it, then.”

  “Nan should be here soon. And Ellen’s just in the hall.”

  Jasmine pushed up her jacket sleeve and looked at an expensive watch. Angela shifted in her chair. Blitzen tugged against the leash and poked his head out from under the table.

  Ellen came in and opened a folder. “Will you want the minutes?”

  “Thank you for always being prepared,” Angela said, “but I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “Perhaps unofficial notes,” Rowena said.

  Rowena perched her glasses on the end of her nose and scrolled through several screens on her cell phone. Angela reached down to bury a hand in Blitzen’s coat.

  “I don’t think I can stay much longer,” Jasmine said.

  “Nan promised she was coming.” Angela picked up her blue pen and authoritatively underscored a line on the yellow pad, unsure how much longer she could stall but certain she wanted everyone to hear the realities.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Nan was finally there. “I couldn’t extricate myself from a conversation with Kim about that stranger around town.”

  Angela flipped her eyes up and resisted the temptation to be distracted.

  “I wanted to give you all an update. We have some decisions to make.”

  Jasmine’s eyes darted around the room. “I was under the impression we had given Angela all the authority she needed to carry out the responsibilities.”

  “I appreciate your trust in me,” Angela said, “but I’ve run into extenuating circumstances.”

  Rowena looked up from her phone. Ellen’s pen was poised over her notepad.

  “First of all, we will not have the traditional sleigh,” Angela said, “although Simon Masters generously will make his horses available.”

  “To pull what?” Nan asked.

  “Nothing. The sleigh is in need of replacement. If we want to continue that tradition, I recommend the committee allocate funds for this purpose before next year.”

  “What about this year?” Jasmine said. “My children love the sleigh.”

  “No sleigh. It’s broken and beyond repair, but I’m sure your children will enjoy the horses.” Angela checked off the first item on her list. “Second, yesterday, Allen Bergstrom and I discovered a water leak in the room downstairs where most of the decorations used from year to year were stored. They are ruined. None of them are salvageable.”

  “What do you mean?” Rowena’s cool voice sharpened.

  “Everything is waterlogged and mildewed.”

  “Surely if you went through things more carefully …”

  “I’m afraid not. That leaves us with no lights, no garland, no Nativity, no wreaths, no carved carolers, none of the large boxes for wrapping to decorate, no—”

  “I believe we take your point,” Rowena said.

  Ellen scribbled notes. Angela checked off her second point.

  “Third, Mr. Bergstrom, who usually oversees hanging the lights, has injured his back and will be unavailable to assist with the task. This of course includes any lights normally used on the tree at the end of Main Street.” She checked off another item. “Fourth, the traditional white candles have been melted. It’s likely we will receive blue ones in time, but I wanted to inform you of the change. Fifth, there will be no paper lanterns this year.”

  “We always have paper lanterns,” Nan said. “It surprises visitors. It’s part of the charm.”

  “Not this year. I picked them up today and discovered that every single one is faulty, and I am confident that we won’t be able to replace them. They are a special-order item, and we’d have to have them by day after tomorrow to have any hope of hanging them.”

  Angela checked off her final items and laid down her pen.

  Ellen raised a hand. “So we have the horses and the blue candles. Is that correct?”

  “That’s correct,” Angela said.

  “You can’t be serious,” Jasmine said.

  “Facts are facts,” Angela said.

  “But you can’t expect the town to just skip Christmas. Families depend on it. Their visiting relatives expect it. A Christmas to Remember is one of the biggest commercial draws of the year.”

  “I’m telling you where things stand,” Angela said. “We will not be able to do everything we’re used to doing. We only have six days. I’m afraid we face the decision of calling off the event or scaling it back considerably—and we’d still all have to pitch in. I’m sure I could still arrange some children who would enjoy singing carols. They would just have to walk down Main Street instead of being in the sleigh.”

  “You know,” Nan said, “Kim just wouldn’t let go talking about that strange young man, and now I wonder if she doesn’t have a point.”

  Angela scrunched her eyebrows toward each other. “I’m sorry?”

  “We’ve been putting on A Christmas to Remember, in some form or another, nearly as long as any of us can recall. Why should it all fall apart this year?”

  Because of a broken axle. Because of an unseen water leak. Because of candles buried under magazines on a radiator. Because of paper goods somehow slashed before they ever left the factory. Hadn’t Angela just explained all this?

  “There could be a connection,” Nan said. “A stranger comes to town, and all of these maladies?”

  “We have many strangers in town at this time of year,” Angela said.

  “But no one knows him.”

  That’s why he’s a stranger.

  “I heard about him,” Jasmine said. “He checked into the B&B a few days ago, but he hardly spends any time there. And he’s not visiting anyone.”

  “Why is he staying so long?” Nan asked. “His registration is open-ended. Whoever heard of such a thing in Spruce Valley? We’re a lovely town, but it only takes an afternoon to see the shops and another to walk the countryside.”

  “Precisely,” Jasmine said.

  “I heard he was from New Zealand,” Ellen said.

  “Australia,” Jasmine contributed.

  “No, no, I’m sure it’s New Zealand.” Nan was twiddling a pen, just as she did in every meeting she attended. “Greg. Gabe. Gary. I can’t remember the name I heard, but
it was something like that. If I know Kim, she’ll have sniffed it out by now.”

  “Do I need to put all this in the minutes?” Ellen asked.

  “It’s not necessary,” Rowena said. “Do we know anything else about this man?”

  “I haven’t seen him myself,” Nan said.

  “The event,” Angela said. “We need to make completely new plans.”

  “Someone will have to watch him to be sure he doesn’t do it again,” Jasmine said.

  “Do what again?” Angela asked.

  “Why, foil our plans at every turn.”

  “I don’t think he could have caused a water leak in a locked closet,” Angela said. Blitzen stood on all four legs and put his head in her lap. “Or sabotaged a paper factory three states away.”

  “You never know,” Nan said. “Stranger things have happened. He knows too much about Spruce Valley for someone who has no connections to the town.”

  “Then why would he want to hurt the town?” Angela asked.

  “That’s exactly what we should be thinking about,” Nan said. “His interest goes below the surface of the visitors we get, and that makes it suspect.”

  This was not going as Angela had planned, and she was sorry she’d let herself get sucked into the speculation. “Maybe we can make some concrete plans, just far simpler. It can still be a nice event full of homespun charm.”

  “Ellen, do you have that list?” Rowena asked.

  Ellen passed a sheet of paper to Rowena, who in turn slid it down the table toward Angela.

  “I took the liberty of asking Ellen to assemble some names,” Rowena said, “and make a few preliminary phone calls. Just in case you found yourself in need of assistance.”

  Angela scanned the list. Most of them were men, presumably to help with the ladder work up and down Main Street. She could scratch out Allen Bergstrom’s name. A list of volunteers, however, did nothing to solve the lack of decorative supplies.

  “You could drive over to Marksbury,” Nan said. “They have a couple of big box stores that are probably marking down Christmas decorations left and right.”

  Possibly. Angela had thought of this. But there was no telling what she’d find, or in what quantities.

  “I assume there would be a budget,” she said.

  Jasmine tugged the zipper up on her jacket, an announcement of her impending departure. “I’ll ask Jake. My guess is he’d be willing to cover another three hundred dollars as long as he gets a receipt that he can write off.”

  Three hundred? That hardly seemed sufficient to decorate a town for Christmas with all the charm and taste that its occupants would be expecting.

  “There’s always Buford,” Ellen said.

  “If one becomes desperate, I suppose so,” Rowena said.

  “He only has space for one rack by the cash register, but his sign says he has much more in the back room. Just ask. That’s what it says.”

  Angela had not even flipped through any of the items Buford was selling out of his diner. Nothing he sold was nearly as nice as what Carole would have stocked in her Yule-Tidings Shoppe, but even seeing the way he’d moved in to corner the market made her wince. He hadn’t known Carole the way she had. He saw only the opportunity her absence left. Angela might have to swallow her feelings and at least ask to see Buford’s Christmas stock.

  “I’ll have to scoot,” Jasmine said. “My son gets anxious if he’s late to a party.”

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Nan said. “Angela, I’ll see you for choir practice on Wednesday.”

  Angela nodded.

  Rowena stood and picked up her coat, so Ellen did the same. Blitzen pulled briefly against his leash, curious about the activity in the room, but Angela held him firmly for a couple of minutes until they were once again alone.

  “Gabe,” she said softly. “Gabriel. And New Zealand.”

  Her determination to leave this meeting with a stronger fix on replacement ideas and help had fallen to the side at the first mention of the man’s name.

  Little Gabe. Would she even have recognized him if she’d passed him on the street? There was no reason he would know her by sight. If it was even him. And if it was, Nan and Jasmine asked good questions. Why had he come?

  Angela placed Ellen’s list between the top two pages of her yellow legal pad and decided to drive past the B&B on her way home. It couldn’t hurt to see if she might spot him.

  CHAPTER 11

  Blitzen had been out once that morning already, but he was scratching at the back door, so Angela opened it and granted his release. December was not a time when bunnies would agitate the neighborhood pets with their darting presence, but he might have spotted a squirrel to chase. Angela didn’t see one, but Blitzen might as well enjoy the yard, because he was likely to be inside the house for most of the day again.

  Angela had no better plan than she’d had after yesterday’s meeting or after she once again started with a fresh sheet on her legal pad, though she had jotted down the names of several large stores in Marksbury. She might start the day with some phone calls to determine if driving over there and schlepping through the crowds five days before Christmas would be worthwhile. Losing half the day and perhaps coming home with little to show for the effort would not advance the cause of A Christmas to Remember.

  Her oatmeal was ready. Angela took it off the stove and carried it to the table. Her iPad was within reach, so she began looking up phone numbers. The more she thought about it, the more she was inclined to think that Christmas decorations would be picked over by this date, but at least she’d be able to say she’d inquired if anyone questioned her judgment. Two mouthfuls of warm oatmeal slid down her throat, and her forefinger was ready to start punching numbers in the phone when the commotion at the front door began.

  Nora was the only person who knocked in that manner, and Blitzen’s muffled bark verified Angela’s suspicion. Abandoning the phone on the table, she paced to the front door and yanked it open.

  “I’ve saved your dog,” Nora said. “Again.”

  “Saved him from what?” Angela said.

  “He was loose and in the company of a stranger. You really must have someone look at your fence. The gate was wide open this time.”

  Angela leaned forward and took hold of Blitzen’s collar. “Thank you—again—for bringing him back.”

  “The stranger is still there.” Nora nodded her head over her shoulder. “You could lose your dog, you know.”

  Angela looked across the street and down a few yards. A young man stood with his hands in his jacket pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly against the morning cold.

  Nora wore no jacket.

  “You must be freezing,” Angela said. “Don’t worry. I’ve got Blitzen.”

  “One more thing,” Nora said. “I understand you may be in need of some lights.”

  Angela’s interest perked up. “Yes?”

  “We had to break up my father’s house a few months ago and move him. He always had to have more lights than anyone else in the neighborhood. They’re taking up space in my basement. You’re welcome to them.”

  “Nora! Yes!”

  “There are thousands. I don’t even know how many.”

  “We need them! Yes, please.”

  “All right. I’ll get them out and bring them over.” Rearranging her cardigan, Nora descended the porch steps and crossed the yards.

  Angela had never seen so much of her neighbor as she had since she took in Blitzen. The dog did seem to get out a lot, so she ought to be thankful for a vigilant neighbor—especially one willing to confront a stranger for the sake of the dog.

  Of course, Nora would not know that this was not really a stranger.

  Angela let the dog in the house but remained outside when she closed the door. Tightening her own sweater around her midsection, she looked at the young man. Mid-twenties. Sandy-haired. This must be the man Kim had tracked around town for the sake of her own curiosity. Still on the other side of the stree
t, he moved so that he was directly across from Angela’s front door. Watching the house. Watching her.

  “It’s cold out here,” she called out. “Would you like some hot cocoa?” She wanted to call him by name. What if she was wrong?

  He nodded and came up the walkway.

  Never in her lifetime had she imagined this would be the way. Inside, she took his jacket and hung it from the antique brass coatrack just inside the piano room and tried not to stare. His face was familiar, his features echoing two generations removed. The boyishness she had known was still there. A thousand questions swirled, but she didn’t give them words, lest what she saw in his face was only what she wished was there.

  “I’ll make some cocoa on the stove,” she said, gesturing that he should follow her into the kitchen. Blitzen circled him three times before they got there but offered no objection to Gabe’s presence in the house.

  “I wanted to come sooner,” he said. “I wasn’t sure how.”

  So it was him. Angela’s hands trembled as she took milk from the refrigerator and poured it into a pan to warm. The tins of cocoa and sugar were on the shelf above the stove.

  “Have you found things as you expected?” Angela stirred, allowing herself only a glance at the young man sitting at her kitchen table when she would have liked to study his features further. Would he be uncomfortable if she looked him in the eyes and tried not to blink?

  “I wasn’t sure what to expect.” With two fingers he stroked the bowl of oatmeal she’d abandoned when Nora turned up at the door. “I suspect I’ve cost you your breakfast.”

  “The cocoa will make up for it.” Angela reached for two large mugs, sure that she’d made plenty to fill them both. She stirred awhile longer, making certain her morning offering would be hot without letting it boil.

  “It’s good to meet Blitzen,” he said. “I hadn’t imagined that I would.”

  “You mean when you turned up on my street?”

  He shrugged. “Or ever.”

  His accent was charming. Anytime she saw a film with actors from New Zealand, she’d wondered if he would sound the way they did.

  “I’m hoping for snow,” he said. “Keen for a white Christmas and all that.”