The Christmas Shoppe Read online

  Tears were running down her cheeks now, and Susanna reached for the shelf unit to steady herself as she stared at the heart-shaped locket. Where had Matilda gotten this? How had she known? Furthermore, what did it mean? What was the point of experiencing such pain again?

  “I see you found what you were looking for,” Matilda said softly as she handed Susanna some tissues.

  “What . . . ? How . . . ?” Susanna took the tissues and wiped her face, continuing to sob. She wondered if she’d ever be able to stop. Meanwhile Matilda just stood there, gently stroking Susanna’s back, waiting for her to finish.

  “Sometimes,” Matilda began quietly, “hearts get broken, and being human, we try to fix them ourselves.”

  Susanna nodded. “That’s true.”

  “Sometimes we think we protect our hearts . . . but we pile stone upon stone all the way around until we’ve built a sturdy wall.”

  With wide eyes, Susanna nodded again.

  “We don’t realize that a wall like that only separates us from what we need. It keeps us trapped inside . . . others trapped outside.”

  “Yes.” Susanna took in a quick breath. “That’s exactly right.”

  “Your daughter painted those words up there,” Matilda said, pointing up to the wall over the front door. Susanna read the sentence, then tried to understand it.

  * * *

  New life, new hope, new joy will start when this is given from the heart.

  * * *

  “When what is given from the heart?” Susanna asked.

  “I think you know that answer.”

  “Love?”

  Matilda just smiled.

  Susanna looked down at the locket and sighed. Yes, it did make sense. She thought about Tommy and how she had put up her wall, pushing him away.

  “Now the question is what are you going to do about it?” Matilda asked.

  “Take down the wall?” Susanna said quietly.

  Matilda nodded, then turned away and went back to the counter where the paperwork was still sitting. Susanna had no idea whether or not Matilda had read a single word of it. Part of her didn’t care. She had no idea how she would explain this to anyone, but somehow the city needed to help keep this Christmas shop open.

  Susanna went up to the counter and opened her purse, taking out her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  Matilda laughed, waving her hand as if she didn’t want Susanna’s money. “Only putting that heart to good use.”

  “But I need to pay—”

  Just then someone else entered the shop. “Thank you for shopping here today,” Matilda told Susanna. “I’ll be sure to look over those papers for you . . . when I have time. Now I need to see my customers.”

  Susanna didn’t know what to do. As Matilda began to talk to a teen girl, Susanna felt like she should leave, give them some privacy. With the silver locket clutched in her hand, Susanna hurried out of the shop. Although she knew there was no reason to be embarrassed, she didn’t want to be seen. Whatever had just happened—and she was certain that something had happened—she wanted to be alone to figure it all out. At least for the time being.

  Helen knew that Tommy was troubled. Seriously troubled. She also knew there was nothing she could do about it. Whether he sold the newspaper and left town or stuck it out for one more Christmas season was up to him. Perhaps more than anyone in town, Helen understood Tommy. She knew how broken up he’d been to lose his father shortly after graduating college. Partly because it placed the family business on his reluctant shoulders. Partly because Tommy Sr. had passed on without resolving some issues with his sensitive son. And partly because it had all taken place during the holiday season.

  Less than five years later, shortly after Tommy had fallen for Victoria, his mother was diagnosed with cancer. Tommy had been torn between his mother’s illness, keeping the paper running, and making Victoria happy. He’d been planning to propose to Victoria on Christmas Eve, but then his mother had passed on just days before Christmas.

  All along, Helen suspected that Victoria wasn’t really in love with Tommy and would never marry him. She could see it in the pretty girl’s eyes every time she came into the paper. Helen figured Victoria had been sticking around only out of pity, but it seemed heartless and cruel when she turned Tommy down on Christmas Eve, then left town just days later. It was no wonder Tommy hated the holidays.

  Seeing him like this cut Helen to the core. Tommy was like a son to her. Even when she tried to be aloof—since he’d accused her of being too clingy one time—she always felt tuned in to his moods. If Tommy was sad, Helen was sad. She just wished there was some way to help him.

  The more she’d thought about him during her visit in Florida, the more she’d wondered if being stuck with this newspaper was hurting him. Despite her loyalty to his parents, Helen hated to think that the family business had become Tommy’s prison. Perhaps what he really needed was a fresh start. For that reason she was doing her best to appear impartial toward his decision, whichever way he went. However, unless she was wrong, her neutrality seemed to irk him even more.

  She pondered these things as she watered the Boston fern by the front window, and just as she was pinching off a withered branch, she observed George Snider across the street. With his head down, he ducked into Matilda’s shop. Knowing Councilman Snider and the way this debate over the Christmas Shoppe had heated up the past couple of weeks, she just knew that man was up to no good. Furthermore, she knew that Matilda did not deserve his wrath any more than she deserved the trash this town had been throwing her way lately.

  Setting down the watering can with a clunk, Helen decided it was high time to do something about it. She intended to put a stop to the hostility right now! Without even getting her coat, Helen marched outside and looked both ways before she dashed across the street and into the shop. Just as she was getting ready to give that big oaf a piece of her mind, she saw a sight that nearly floored her. George was standing near the counter with both of Matilda’s hands in his—and he was apologizing to her! His tone sounded genuine too. Helen could not believe her ears.

  “I’m so sorry,” he was telling Matilda. “I’ll admit it took me awhile to figure things out. I know I’ve positioned myself as your worst enemy, but last night something happened. Something that changed me.”

  “Yes?” Matilda asked softly.

  Helen desperately wanted to leave, but she felt trapped. Standing in the shadows of an aisle, she knew she would only draw attention to herself if she moved toward the door. And this seemed such a tender moment. Plus, she reminded herself, this was a public place. She would simply pretend to be doing some shopping.

  “I was looking at that dad-burned piggy bank you made me take home,” George continued. “Suddenly it all came rushing at me like a freight train. It just bowled me over, Matilda. Remember when you were talking about the truth the other day? I didn’t get it then, but last night it was like a light went on inside my head. Suddenly I realized I’d been lying for years. My whole life has been nothing but a big fat lie.” His voice choked slightly. “It all started back when I was just a kid. That time when I snuck money out of my piggy bank to buy candy and my father laid into me . . .”

  Helen wanted to slip out as George continued to pour out his heart, spilling a sad story of how his father would punish him and how that made George want to lie and steal all the more. How that made him feel guilty. How all his problems were related to money.

  “Even though I don’t actually steal anymore,” he told Matilda, “I’m not an honest man. It’s ruined a lot of good things, a lot of relationships. I think I’d like to change my ways, Matilda. I’d like to sleep well at night. I can’t even remember the last time I slept all night.”

  Matilda pointed to a saying on the wall above the counter behind her. Helen, still standing in the shadows, looked up to read it too.

  * * *

  Sometimes so bright it’s hard to see, this dear gift will set you free.

&n
bsp; * * *

  “The truth is like that,” Matilda gently told him. “Embrace the truth, George, and before long you will be sleeping like a baby.”

  They continued to talk as Helen inched her way toward the door, but just as she was reaching for the handle, someone else came rushing into the shop. Jed Thorpe, the owner of a cut-rate gas station on a backstreet—one of those sleazy places that people were always complaining about—came into the shop. With his head hanging nearly as low as his trousers, as if embarrassed to be seen in here, Jed shuffled toward the counter. Meanwhile, even as she stayed out of his way, Helen felt like her feet were glued to the floor.

  She could tell George and Matilda were wrapping things up. As Matilda greeted Jed like a dear old friend, Helen made her escape. Rushing out the door, she realized that George was right on her heels. To her discomfort, he followed her to the edge of the sidewalk, where the wind was whipping right through her cashmere cardigan and silk blouse.

  “Helen Fremont,” he exclaimed. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m just fine, George. Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth as she waited for the traffic to clear.

  “What were you doing in the Christmas Shoppe just now?” George asked in a tone that suggested he’d known she was there all along.

  “I, uh, I was just doing some—”

  “Did you hear what I told Matilda?”

  Embarrassed, she just nodded as a delivery truck passed by.

  To her surprise, George removed his overcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Too cold to be out here without a wrap,” he said. Acting like this was completely normal, he walked her across the street and into the newspaper building.

  “Thank you.” She smiled as she handed him back his coat, which was a nice London Fog with fleece lining. “That was very cavalier of you, George.”

  “You look surprised.”

  “Well . . . I . . .” Helen pretended to busy herself by flipping through a pile of junk mail that she’d left on her desk and planned to take to the shredder.

  “I’m thinking of turning over a new leaf,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure how much you heard me say to Matilda just now.”

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, George, but I couldn’t—”

  “It’s okay.” He sat in the chair next to her desk, like he planned to stay awhile. “It was the oddest thing.” He proceeded to tell her about a mysterious piggy bank Matilda had insisted on giving to him last week. “I know it sounds a bit strange,” he said finally. “Even to me. Do you think I’m crazy?”

  “No crazier than I am.” Helen told him a bit about her own experience with the Tupperware measuring cups.

  George blinked. “It’s not just me?”

  “Apparently not.” Helen glanced back into the dimly lit building to see if anyone was around to overhear them—not that she cared too much—but as usual for a Friday afternoon, the place was deserted.

  “I’ve decided that I’ll do what I can to turn this thing around for Matilda and her Christmas shop,” he said as he stood. “Time to do some damage control . . . see if I can undo some of the mess I’ve helped to make. I’m guessing my biggest challenge will be to convince the downtown merchants that she’s no threat.” He shook his head. “I’m sure they’ll think I’m just as batty as she is.”

  “If you’re batty, you’re not the only one,” she told him.

  “Say, Helen . . .” He smiled warmly, revealing even white teeth. “Would you ever be interested in going to dinner with me?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “You know, George, if you had asked me that same question yesterday, I would’ve politely declined.”

  He looked somewhat disappointed, then brightened. “But today?”

  “Today I would say yes. I think I am interested.”

  “Can I call you this weekend?”

  She nodded just as Tommy came in the front door. Probably returning from the diner where he usually ate his lunch. George winked at Helen, then greeted Tommy.

  “I read this week’s editorial about Matilda Honeycutt’s business,” George informed Tommy in a semiserious tone.

  “And?” Tommy peeled off his jacket and waited.

  “If you’d asked me yesterday, I would’ve said, ‘Good job, boy.’” George exchanged a knowing glance with Helen.

  Tommy frowned. “And today?”

  “Today I’d say you were pretty dang hard on the old girl. And I’d say it was mean-spirited on your part. Not a bit neighborly.”

  Tommy looked like he was about to topple over. “What?”

  “Lighten up, boy,” George said as he headed for the door. “Remember the kindliness of your parents back when they ran this paper, and don’t forget it’s Christmastime. Time for goodwill and peace on earth and all that warm fuzzy stuff.” He tipped his head and made his exit.

  Tommy turned and looked at Helen with a completely flummoxed expression. “I swear, Helen, this whole town is losing its mind!” He stormed off toward his office.

  Helen considered following him and attempting to explain some things to him, but then she decided it might be wise to just let him cool off a bit first. Besides, it probably wouldn’t hurt for him to think about these things. She’d already told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t agree with his editorial. She didn’t like seeing Tommy turning into an old curmudgeon. Not at his age. It didn’t look good on him.

  Tommy was seriously questioning the general sanity of Parrish Springs right now. Maybe it was something in the water, or the air. Or maybe aliens had invaded, or else the entire town was possessed by some weird force. Oh, sure, he knew that was extreme, not to mention completely ridiculous. But people were acting very strange!

  “I’m going home now,” Helen announced as she poked her head into his office.

  “I thought you’d already left.” He peered up at her. “It is Friday, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I still had some catching up to do from last week. Any law against me working a whole day if I want to?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Besides,” she reminded him, “if you sell this place, it might be smart to have things in order before you leave the country.”

  He just sighed and shook his head.

  “Tommy,” she began slowly, like she was weighing her words, “I know I already told you this, but I’m going to tell you again.”

  “What?”

  “You should go and talk to Matilda Honeycutt.”

  “I tried,” he said with some irritation. “I already told you that.”

  “I don’t mean to interview or question her, Tommy. Just go over there and spend some time in her shop. Look around and—”

  “And let her work her magic on me?” he teased.

  “Call it what you will, but—”

  “Come on, Helen, you don’t believe in all that voodoo hoodoo, do you?” He chuckled at his cleverness. “Hey, that rhymes.”

  “I’m just asking you, Tommy, as your longtime friend.” She gave him that look—that “I helped change your diapers” look. “As your good friend, I’m saying just go to her shop. But don’t go with any judgment or agenda. Go with an open mind. Please. Just do it for me, Tommy. Consider it my Christmas present.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, Helen.”

  “Don’t ‘oh, Helen’ me, young man. Listen, you need—”

  “Fine, fine.” He waved his hand to stop her. “If it’ll shut you up, I’ll go. Okay?”

  She brightened and stepped back. “Okay.”

  “By the way, what exactly was going on with you and our fine councilman when I walked in earlier? Looked like you two were having a nice little chat.”

  “If you really must know, George was asking me out.”

  Tommy laughed. “Hmm, let me guess, what did you tell the old goat?”

  “I told the old goat yes.”

  Tommy almost fell out of his chair.

  “People can change, Tommy.” She put on
her gloves.

  “I guess.”

  She jingled her car keys like she was finished with this conversation. “Keep your promise to me, Tommy. Go to Matilda’s and do some Christmas shopping!” She firmly closed his door.

  “This town has gone mad!” He slammed his laptop closed. “Stark, raving mad.” He looked at the clock. It was already past five. Matilda had probably closed her shop by now. But to appease Helen, he grabbed his jacket and things, turned off the lights in the building, and locked the door. He sauntered over to the Christmas Shoppe, hoping that despite the Open sign, it would actually be closed. Since the door was unlocked, he went inside.

  Sounds of West Coast jazz music floated through the air, the very thing his parents used to listen to when he was a kid, and for some reason it was comforting to hear it today. It reminded him of better days.

  He had no idea what he was doing here, except that he’d promised Helen. He browsed the strangely filled shelves, wondering who on earth could want any of this junk. Seriously, there was a lot better stuff in his parents’ attic—which reminded him he’d have to deal with all that if he sold their house and left Parrish Springs to journey around the world.

  He gazed blankly at a broken leather dog collar, a pair of old golf shoes, and a child-sized tea set that was chipped and missing pieces. Then he stopped. He picked up a snow globe and just stared at it in wonder. Something about it was so familiar. There was no water inside and the glass globe was cloudy from time, but when he peered closely, putting his eye right next to the clearest spot, he spied the nativity scene inside. The same tiny donkey and cow and sheep that he remembered, and the holy family of three inside the little brown stable. Still safe and sound. Well, except for the missing water and snow.

  Tommy felt a lump in his throat as he stared at the object in his hands. A bittersweet feeling washed over him as he remembered two very specific incidents related to that exact same snow globe. The first one was sweet . . .