by Susan Rohrer
Merry lifted the frame for a closer look, and the surrounding photos dominoed, clattering onto the tabletop. Merry did her best to quickly regroup as Daniel’s mother, Joan, entered from the kitchen, drying her hands with a tea towel.
“Oops. Sorry,” Merry said, her face reddening.
Joan smiled warmly. “No worries. I always do the same thing myself. I think it’s rigged that way.” Joan stepped in to help Merry with the photos, not an ounce of pretense in her voice.
“That’s his wife?” Merry inquired. “I mean, it was?”
Joan gazed at the photo fondly. “Amanda, yes. Lovely, wasn’t she?”
Merry nodded as Joan set the photo back into its place.
“I’m Joan. Mother, slash grandmother, slash chief cook and bottle-washer.” Joan offered her hand, which Merry readily shook.
“I’m Merry. M-E-R-R-Y.”
“Yes, Daniel told me.”
“Oh, Daniel,” Merry repeated. “Right. I heard that was his first name.”
Joan chuckled. “What, does he have you calling him Mr. Bell?”
“I just did,” Merry demurred. “Out of respect and all.”
“Well, out of respect for my age-sensitivity issues, do you think you could call me Joan?”
Merry smiled broadly, liking Joan immediately. She followed her on an impromptu tour of the downstairs, taking in the layout. Down the hall, Joan led Merry into a nicely furnished study.
“So, this will be your work area. By day.”
Merry took in the masculinely decorated space. “Wow...very, uh, manly.”
“Yes, it’s Daniel’s,” Joan added. “Not that he’s ever home to use it. Works too hard if you ask me.” Joan pulled a small key ring out of a bowl on the desk. “Here’s your key—door and deadbolt.” She handed it to Merry. “Use line three on the phone. The phone book is in the lower left drawer. Upper right is yours for stowing Christmas secrets. The children know it’s off limits, but check it mornings in case Daniel leaves a communiqué.”
Merry opened the Christmas drawer. It was empty, but for a single envelope with “Miss Merry Hopper” penned on it.
Joan stepped back toward the door. “Well, I hate to abandon you, but I’d better scoot. I teach pottery at a little shop around the corner. Number two on speed dial, anytime you need me.”
“Two. Got it,” Merry assured. She looked around happily. “Is it way too soon to start loving this job?”
Joan smiled warmly. “I’d say you’re just in time. And who knows? This could turn into quite the little sleigh ride after all.”
As Joan left, an idea suddenly popped into Merry’s head. She sat down in Daniel’s swivel desk chair and jotted down a note: Sleigh Ride. Happily, Merry spun around in Daniel’s chair. This, she convinced herself, was going to be good.
four
Merry sank into an overstuffed chair, across from Daniel’s desk at Strong Bank & Trust, unabashedly amazed. How different it felt to be there than it had on her original visit just two days prior. She was actually getting to know someone there now, and that someone had hired her for the job of her dreams. It wasn’t that she felt entitled to be there. In fact, she knew this job was far from what she’d ever deserved. What it felt like was that a brightly wrapped gift had dropped into her lap—straight out of heaven—and she was just starting to untie the ribbon.
Daniel drew up an expense account notebook as Merry watched, still pinching herself. Gone was the desperation of having to apply for a loan. Gone was the abject terror of not being able to pay her December rent or to put food in Rudy’s belly. She was beginning to live out a Christmas miracle, and everything in her knew it.
Daniel passed a spreadsheet to Merry. She accepted it readily, doing her best not to betray the fact that it was the first one she’d ever been called upon to use. As lean as things had been, Merry knew that she could make a little go a long way, so she tried not to let all the numbers intimidate her as much as those things normally did.
“So, within this budget, you’re pre-approved to sign for incremental withdrawals,” Daniel explained. “Whenever you need another advance, you’ll turn in the receipts from the previous one to access the next. We can arrange a deposit for anything you need to outsource.”
“Outsource?” Merry asked.
“Like a caterer for Christmas dinner, or if you could throw a little party on Christmas Eve—maybe some extended family, a few friends. Mainly, it would be for the kids.”
Merry nodded, jotting it all down on a notepad. “Do you know what they want?”
Daniel paused. For the first time, she saw a break in Daniel’s otherwise completely professional demeanor.
“Actually, Christmas, it... Well, it was more Amanda’s department,” Daniel confessed. “So, hopefully you can burrow into those mysterious adolescent minds of theirs and figure it all out. Don’t skimp, but don’t go crazy. No cars or computers or personal TVs. The last thing I want to do is to spoil them. Just a simple, nice, old-fashioned family Christmas. Sound do-able to you?”
As Daniel handed Merry the account book, Catherine approached, impeccably dressed. Her heel clicks echoed as she crossed the marble-tiled floor. Daniel rose immediately. Merry followed suit.
Catherine looked Merry over, and then turned to Daniel. “Almost ready?”
Ever the gentleman, Daniel made introductions. “Merry, I’d like you to meet Catherine Strong.”
Reflexively, Merry gawked at Catherine’s last name. “Strong—you mean, as in the name of this whole bank?”
“My father,” Catherine replied smoothly.
“She’s on the board,” Daniel interjected. “And we have a meeting across town, so—”
Merry extended her hand. “Catherine. Nice to meet you. I’m Merry. As in Christmas.”
“Oh. How very...apropos,” Catherine replied, exchanging a mystified glance with Daniel.
Sensing the slight, Merry took their cue. “I should go. Get started.”
With a cheerful wave, Merry backed toward the door. Before she turned, she saw Catherine discreetly move a few raised fingers in return. Her brow arched with a hint of superiority that stuck in Merry’s throat. Then, just as Merry reached the exit, she distinctly heard Catherine’s assessment.
“She’s delightful, Daniel,” Catherine remarked. “Almost—I don’t know—like a Dickens character, don’t you think?”
Her face reddening, Merry pushed through the revolving door. It wasn’t Catherine’s tone that had bothered her, or even the first part of what she had said. It was that dismissive sort of put-down at the end.
As Merry spun outside and hurried away, something about those final words of Catherine’s rang in her ears. They taunted her all the way down the block till she disappeared around the corner. They mocked her about her clothes and her hair and her childlike effervescence.
Safely out of sight, Merry stopped. She did her best to pluck out the barb and nurse her wounded pride. It was ironic, she told herself. She had long identified with the orphans of Dickens; she’d read his books cover to cover.
Chin up, she thought. She was who she was, and that was that. Nothing was going to steal the joy of her day. Though no one was there to see or hear it, Merry willed herself to throw her shoulders back and smile. She nodded, and then said what she needed to say. “Thank you, Catherine. I’ll consider that a compliment.”
Back at the Bell’s townhouse, Merry spread out craft supplies on the kitchen table. Happily, she organized an eclectic assortment of colorfully patterned dinnerware, ribbons, beads, wire, bells, doodads, and odd recyclables over a protective covering of newsprint. Merry had always loved creating things. She enjoyed the adventure that making something out of what seemed like nothing could be. Her eyes shining, she scanned the diverse array. Never before had she had such nice materials, nor so many shimmering possibilities.
Ollie loped in through the back door. He ditched his backpack on the counter and made a beeline straight for the cookie jar. “Hi, ag
ain, whoever you are,” he chirped.
Merry looked up from her work. Something in Ollie’s easy acceptance of her presence made her begin to feel at home. “Hi, again.”
Ollie looked at her quizzically. “Are you that Merry Christmas person?”
“Yup,” Merry nodded. “Just getting going here.”
Ollie eyed the table. “What’s all that stuff?”
“For ornaments. For the tree.”
“Why don’t you just buy some at the store?” Ollie asked, stuffing a chocolate chip cookie into his mouth.
“More fun to make them,” Merry countered. “That way, it’s a memory you’ll be hanging. Wanna help?”
Ollie crinkled his nose at the prospect. “Looks like it’s for girls.”
Merry sighed cheerily. “Well, your sisters, they said they had homework. So, the opportunity is wide open.”
Ollie shook his head warily as he retrieved his backpack. “I think I might have homework, too.”
“Okay,” Merry accepted, going on with her work. Then, with a nonchalant nod to the pile of dinnerware, she added, “But you’d get to break stuff.”
Not long later, a colorful plate smashed into an outdoor fireplace in the Bell’s backyard. Merry turned to Ollie, admiring his toss. “Oooh, good one. Why don’t you try a couple of these teacups?”
Wearing an oddly protective snorkeling mask and oven mitts, Ollie grabbed the cups and sent them sailing into the barbeque where they shattered into pieces. “Smithereens!” he shouted gleefully.
Merry climbed the stairs and approached the bedroom the Bell girls shared. The twins hadn’t come to her, so she would try going to them. As she reached the doorway, Merry saw Tara first. She was rifling impatiently through her closet. Hayden was across the room, sitting on her bed with her laptop and books, apparently trying to make a dent in her homework.
“This is hopeless,” Tara moped. “He’s seen every single permutation of every last piece I’ve got.”
“You’re welcome to my wardrobe,” Hayden offered flatly.
“Funny,” Tara groaned.
It felt kind of odd to Merry that the girls weren’t acknowledging her presence. She reminded herself that it would be more challenging to break the ice with them than it had been with Ollie. She gave the doorjamb a light rap. “Got a sec?”
Tara nodded acceptingly. She waved at Merry to come in, a conniving glint in her eyes. “So...since you’re the one doing the whole Christmas thing—”
Merry shrugged congenially, “Well, I kind of thought we’d all do it.”
Tara marched straight to her desk and grabbed a piece of paper. “Well, anyway, you’ll be happy to know I’ve already done my part.”
Hayden barely looked up to add, “Yeah, she’s been making her list and checking it twice ever since Dad said we could have Christmas.”
“That’s great,” Merry said. “I was going to ask you to make lists.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Hayden replied, her tone dripping with cynicism.
Undaunted, Tara handed Merry a lengthy list. Impressed, Merry scanned it.
“My favorite boutiques, my color palette and sizes,” Tara explained. “Daddy may resist the Beemer, but still try. Not like he can’t afford it.”
Merry’s eyes widened. Though taken aback by the list’s contents, she knew she wanted to get off on the right foot with Tara. “This is some list. Very...complete.”
Hayden chortled. “Yeah, she’s actually glad to be Christmassing again. Amazing we have the same DNA.”
Tara whirled toward her twin. “I’m just trying to be supportive. Not everyone has to be all grinch-o-rama like you.”
Undaunted, Hayden ripped off a blank piece of notebook paper and held it up. “Yeah. Here’s my list. I don’t want anything.”
Desperate to diffuse the situation, Merry stepped closer. “Oh, you know what? I’m sorry. See, I was hoping you’d each make a list of what you want to get for everybody else. Not even stuff to buy necessarily. Just things you really want for each other.”
“Don’t even get me started on that,” Hayden replied.
Tara studied Merry, puzzled. “Wait. These lists, they’re...she’s... That’s what we’re going to get?”
“The lists would be of what you’re going to give,” Merry clarified.
Tara wrinkled her brow. Hayden stifled a giggle. Finally, Tara snatched the lists from Merry. Then, ceremoniously, Tara gave her own laundry list of desired gifts to Hayden and grabbed Hayden’s blank list for herself. “Done!” Tara pronounced as she strode out victoriously.
Left alone with Hayden, Merry wasn’t sure what to do. Though she’d never had a family of her own, she knew what sibling rivalry could be like from her youth spent with other kids in orphanages and foster care. At a loss for what to say, Merry sent up a silent plea for help.
Hayden perused Tara’s list. She rolled her eyes, crumpled it up and tossed it into her wastebasket. She plopped back down on her bed and resumed her studies as if Merry wasn’t even there.
Merry was used to feeling invisible. She’d felt that way most of her life. But this wasn’t about how Merry felt and she knew it. It was about Hayden. Merry took a deep breath, realizing that they were nothing alike. She searched her mind for common ground, any way into Hayden’s locked up heart.
Merry tentatively ambled into the room. “I almost had a sister once. I always wanted one,” she ventured.
“Want mine?” Hayden shot back, never even looking up from her work.
“I wish it were that easy.”
Hayden finally looked at Merry. “Who says it’s easy having one? Especially if I’m supposed to want to give her something that she doesn’t already have. She’s more popular. She’s got a boyfriend. She’s prettier.”
Seeing a crack in Hayden’s armor, Merry risked perching on the end of her bed. “Hayden, why do you... I mean, you’re both beautiful. You’re twins.”
Hayden shook her head. “And in every set there’s an Alpha. You’re looking at the uncontested Beta, here.”
Merry sat quietly for a moment, understanding what it was like to be passed over all too well. “Not so big on Christmas, huh?”
At the mention of the season, Hayden looked sadly peeved. “Look. Even if I wanted to rally around the Christmas tree—which I so completely don’t—I’ve still got nothing for Tara. Nothing she’d want.”
Hayden broke eye contact with Merry. She picked up a pencil and seemed only to pretend to resume her homework.
Merry read Hayden’s signal. Not wanting to press too far too soon, she rose from the bed. “You seem really smart, Hayden. Smarter than I ever was. As far as what Tara might like you to give her this Christmas goes, well...you’ll think of something.”
Merry wandered away, down the upstairs hallway. She gazed at the family photos along the wall. Indeed, it was easy to tell Tara from Hayden in the pictures. They’d been dressed alike as babies, and similarly in childhood shots, as many young twins are. But clearly, as the girls had grown into their teens, their differences had emerged. From the first of the photos where their mother was absent, Tara was completely put together in every picture, while Hayden looked deliberately disheveled.
Reaching the hall bathroom, Merry noticed Tara inside, working on her hair. It had already been well coifed, but Tara still busied herself, styling it to look even better. Merry stopped in the doorway. “You have a date?”
Tara twisted a strand and secured it into an interesting clip. “After dinner. To study.”
Merry ventured closer. “That’s cute. Wish I could get my hair to do stuff like that.”
“I got Mom’s hair,” Tara responded. “Good thing. Dad’s is kind of gnarly.”
Merry thought about her own gene pool. It was like diving into one of those murky green swimming holes where you had no idea what was beneath the surface, let alone who had taken a dip in it, or what they might have left in the water. It wasn’t anything Merry talked about much, but some
thing inside told her that she should. “I don’t know whose hair I got. Never saw either one of my parents.”
Tara stopped what she was doing and turned to Merry. “No way.”
Merry confirmed it with a nod. “Way. Never even knew their names.”
“That must be kind of weird,” Tara said. “So, who named you?”
“Social Services,” Merry answered. “Somebody found me, brand spanking newborn on the church steps Christmas morning. That’s why they called me Merry. My last name, Hopper—they said that was because I was left there in this coal hopper thing and...I guess it fit.”
Something in Tara seemed to soften, at least momentarily. “Yeah, it fits. It does.”
Noticing the blank list Tara had taken from Hayden on the counter, Merry picked it up. “You were just torturing Hayden with this, right? You don’t really want to give her a big old nothing for Christmas, do you?”
Tara’s face fell a bit. “Not like she wants anything from me.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Merry encouraged. “She might.”
Tara looked skeptical. “Like what? Did she say something?”
Merry shook her head. “No, no. And I can’t really put my finger on it yet, but...maybe you will. Maybe you’ll surprise her.”
It took a moment or two, but Merry could tell that Tara’s wheels had begun to turn. “Maybe,” she echoed. Tara took the blank paper, left the bathroom and headed down the stairs toward the kitchen.
It was just a baby step, but Merry knew it was progress, good progress for a first day. Merry leaned against the doorjamb, savoring the small victory. She mouthed a happy thanks and breathed a satisfied sigh.
♥ ♥ ♥
Downstairs, Joan unloaded groceries as Tara passed through. “Honey, could you set the table?”
“Sure,” Tara agreed. “Gramma, what do you think of Merry?”
Joan piled fresh-washed cherries in a bowl on the counter. It wasn’t often that her grandchildren asked her opinion, so she enjoyed the fact that Tara had as she mulled over her first impressions. “I like her. Just something about her.”