* * * * * * * *
The Festival was over. Back at Swensen’s Café, the dessert auction was underway. Mike had changed back into his street clothes. He left the red velvet suit on a hanger in the office; the Widow Missus would pick it up later so none of the children would see him carrying it.
By all accounts, he had done very well. When he’d arrived at the Café, several people had stopped by to congratulate him. The Widow Missus had given him a hug and called him “a fitting successor” to both Al and her husband. Cliff Magnuson said that if Al wanted to leave town next Christmas as well, he would have absolutely no problem with Mike taking over the part again. Even Big Tom Wallace had stopped in to tell him that he’d done a great job.
Janet had been strangely silent. While she thanked him again for filling in before Gene Young had driven him back to the Café, she had seemed a bit distracted. Perhaps it was just that she was going over everything in her mind, making sure that all of the arrangements had been made to have the Workshop dismantled, the chair returned to boarding house, and so on.
Mike stepped out onto the front porch of the Café, quietly closing the door behind him. It was an unseasonably cool night for December in Newtonberg. The colder weather usually didn’t show up until January and even then, it usually only lasted six weeks or so. He took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. It felt good not to be strapped into the red velvet suit anymore; not to have a pillow strapped against his stomach limiting his ability to breathe. Still, it was a small sacrifice to make for the Widow Missus.
He reached into his pocket for his car keys and was startled by a voice to his left, where a bench sat in the shadows up against the porch railing. It was Janet.
“Mike?”
He looked over. “Janet. I’m glad to see you. I was starting to wonder where you were.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “Just a million little loose ends to tie up. You know.”
“Of course. It was a big job. You pulled it off flawlessly.”
“Thanks.” She smiled at him and motioned to the empty spot beside her on the bench. “Have a seat.”
Once he had sat down, she spoke softly. “I heard what you said to Little Philip.”
He blushed. “Oh.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. It was sweet. Is that how you really feel about us? About Newtonberg?”
“Of course. Janet, this is my home now. The people here really are like family. Missus Johnson and Cliff Magnuson might as well be my parents. They’ve both treated me like a son since the day I arrived.” He swallowed.
“And me? How do you feel about me?”
He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “You? Well, it’s…complicated.”
She searched his face. “How complicated can it be? I thought we’d made a lot of progress over the past few weeks. There was a time when you wouldn’t even talk to me. Now it’s different.”
“It’s not that I wouldn’t talk to you. I couldn’t. I was too nervous. Too scared.” He looked away.
“Scared of what?”
“I don’t know. Rejection? That you wouldn’t feel the same way?”
“And how is that? How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. I can’t say. I can’t say I love you. I barely know you. But I’d like to. I’d really like to get to know you better.”
She reached up and touched his face. “Mike, that’s all I’ve wanted.”
He looked into her eyes again. “Really?”
“Really,” she whispered. She pulled his head down and gently kissed his cheek. “Let’s just start with that and see what happens.”
He pulled her into a hug. They stayed that way for several minutes, neither one able to speak, enjoying the silence between them.
The silence was broken when a 1962 Ford Galaxie Sunliner convertible pulled into the parking lot. The car door opened, and Gladys Thompson stepped out of the driver’s seat.
“Miss Gladys?” Mike was more than a little surprised.
“Yes, it’s us. Did we miss the dessert auction?” She made her way around to the other side of the car just as the passenger’s side door opened. Mayor Al swung his legs out, followed by a cane. His right leg was wrapped tight in a bandage from his foot to his knee.
“It’s still going on,” Janet said. “What on earth happened?”
“Just a little skiing accident,” answered Al. “Nothing broken, but I sprained my ankle pretty bad. I couldn’t even drive. How’d the Festival go without me?”
Janet smiled. “You were missed, but Mike did a great job filling in.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“Didn’t you want to stay and finish your vacation? I mean, there were other things you could do even without skiing.”
Gladys smiled at her. “You know what I’ve discovered? Skiing’s overrated. And sometime, a few days away from your hometown is more than enough to remind you of what’s important.”
Mike looked at her. “You know, I think I’m beginning to figure that out, too.”
Al and Gladys made their way up the few stairs onto the porch and went into the Café, leaving Mike and Janet alone again. They sat for a while on the bench, with her head leaning against his shoulder.
Finally, Janet spoke. “So, tell me. What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?”
Mike took her hand in his. “Why don’t we discuss it over coffee at the library?”
* * * * * * * *
Inside the Café, Cliff Magnuson and the Widow Missus sat at a table together, drinking coffee and discussing the year’s Festival. From where they sat, they could see Mike and Janet on the porch.
“Well, Harriet,” Cliff said with a smile, “I’d say this year’s Christmas Festival was a complete success.”
“I think I’d have to agree.” She nodded at the two young people on the porch. “So what do you think? Did we do right by them?”
“I’m sure of it.” He lifted his coffee cup in a toast. “Merry Christmas, Harriet.”
She lifted her cup and touched his. “Merry Christmas, Cliff.”
They sat for a minute, staring out the window as Mike and Janet stood up. They held hands as they walked to the parking lot where Mike held the door for her before getting behind the wheel himself.
“Look at that,” the Widow Missus said. “Isn’t that just the most beautiful thing you every saw?”
Cliff reached over and took her hand. “Yes, it is, Harriet. It’s just about the most beautiful thing in the world.”
# # #
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Emprimo is firstly: a son, a brother (and brother-in-law), an uncle, and a friend. Secondly, he has worked for almost twenty years at the public library in a small East Texas town which may or may not bear some similarities to Newtonberg.
He enjoys music, movies, books, spending time with his family, and speaking about himself in the third person.
There is currently no Janet Carmichael in his life, although certain actresses and singers are welcome to submit applications (although not by e-mail).
FIND ME ONLINE!
Official Website and Blog:
https://newtonberg.wordpress.com
E-mail:
[email protected]
Welcome to Newtonberg Page 13