The Christmas Shoppe Page 13

  Tommy was seven and still believed in Santa Claus when his mother presented him with the snow globe a couple of weeks before Christmas. “I want you to always remember what the real Christmas is about,” she’d told him one evening as he enjoyed shaking the globe to make the snow fall all over the animals and family. Then she told him about how God had sent the best Christmas present ever in the form of a tiny baby.

  “How can a baby be a present?” Tommy asked with little-boy skepticism.

  “Because that particular baby was God’s very own Son, and he grew up into a man who saved the world.”

  “Like Superman?” Tommy said with enthusiasm.

  “Sort of,” she said. “Only better. Jesus came to earth so that we could be friends with God.”

  Tommy tried to imagine that. “We can be friends with God?”

  “That’s right,” she assured him. “Jesus died to show how much God loves us.”

  “Jesus died?” Tommy gasped.

  “Then Jesus came back to life,” she said quickly, “so when we die, we get to live with Jesus and God in their beautiful kingdom forever.”

  “Oh . . .” Tommy thought he sort of got it. Back then anyway. Back then the snow globe held meaning and sweetness and hope.

  But time passed and Christmases came and went. Tommy had packed the snow globe away after his father died . . . shortly before Christmas. Then not too many years later his mother died . . . shortly before Christmas. And then Victoria dumped him . . . on Christmas Eve. That’s when Tommy decided he was sick of Christmas, that he didn’t believe in Christmas. Later when he’d found the snow globe wrapped in tissue paper, packed in a box, he’d carefully removed it and then thrown that blasted thing into the fireplace. He’d watched the glass shatter and heard the water sputter in the flames. And that had been the end of it.

  He stared at the old snow globe in his hands. The glass seemed even cloudier now, but he realized that was only because his eyes were brimming with tears. That surprised him, because he’d been certain that he, like the snow globe, had been emptied long, long ago. But standing there in the Christmas Shoppe, Tommy let his tears flow freely down his face, with the soft strains of jazz music playing in the background.

  He had no idea how long he stood there, or even what was going on inside of him, but finally he realized it was probably getting late. Surely Matilda would like to close up her shop, although he hadn’t seen her about anywhere. He looked around, calling out her name and suddenly feeling very guilty for the way he’d treated her, the way he’d misjudged her, scorned her in his bitter editorial. Of course she would be avoiding him. Why would she want to speak to someone like him?

  “Hello,” he called up the stairs. “Matilda?”

  “I’m over here,” she called as she emerged from the back room.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but I’d like to purchase this.”

  She smiled. “I see you found what you needed.”

  He nodded. “First I’d like to apologize to you. Did you see this week’s newspaper?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, no matter. I’m still sorry about what I wrote. I clearly did not understand you. I hope you can forgive me.”

  She smiled. “Of course. You know that I do.”

  He sighed. Somehow he did know that. Deep inside of him, he knew.

  “So are you all ready for Christmas this year?” she asked, sounding almost like a normal shop owner.

  “Yes . . . I think I am. I’m getting there anyway.” He held up the snow globe. “How much do I owe you for this?”

  She waved her hand. “It’s yours, Tommy.”

  “No, but I want to pay—”

  “Please, don’t insult me. It’s yours. You know it is.”

  He felt the lump in his throat returning as he nodded. “Yes,” he murmured. “I know it is.” He stepped away. “Thank you, Matilda,” he said gruffly. “Thank you so much!” Feeling almost like he was seven years old again, Tommy turned and hurried out onto the street, where snowflakes were starting to fly.

  It wasn’t until the next morning that Tommy felt emotionally ready to have an actual conversation with anyone. He decided to start with Helen. Instead of calling her, he walked over to her house. About an inch of snow had fallen last night, and the sound of it crunching under his boots reminded him of being a boy. So much reminded him of being a boy.

  “What are you doing here?” Helen asked as he came up the walk she had just started shoveling.

  “Merry Christmas, Helen!” He took the shovel from her, then hugged her.

  “What?” she cried as she stepped back and stared at him.

  “I kept my promise to you,” he told her as he began to shovel her walk.

  “You went to the Christmas Shoppe!”

  “I did.” He grinned at her and tossed a shovelful of snow into her yard.

  “And something happened?”

  “I think I get it,” he said as he pushed the shovel. “I understand the real meaning of Christmas now. Just like my mom told me so long ago.”

  “You do?” Helen’s eyes grew wide. “Perhaps you can explain it to me then.”

  He laughed. “Oh, surely you already know.”

  “Maybe.” She tilted her head to one side. “Maybe not.”

  “Well, I’ll be happy to tell you what I know.” He finished up the last shovelful. “But first I need to pay a visit to the city manager.”

  She blinked. “The city manager?”

  “Susanna Elton.”

  Her eyes got a knowing look. “Oh?”

  “I need to apologize to her.”

  “I see . . .” Helen looked extremely curious.

  “Yes, I will tell you the whole story later. Okay?”

  She grinned as he handed her back the shovel. “Okay!”

  “See you around, Helen,” he called as he continued down the street toward Susanna’s house, where the walk had already been shoveled.

  “Hey, Tommy, look out,” Megan called as she threw a snowball at him.

  He laughed, then gathered up some snow, formed a ball, and tossed it back. “What do you think of this snow?”

  “I love it!” she said as she came over. Her cheeks were rosy and her dark eyes shining. “We never got snow like this back where we used to live.”

  “Is your mom home?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but I thought you were mad at her.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “I was never mad at her, Megan. I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “And now you are?” Megan led him to the front porch.

  “I sure am.”

  She opened the door, calling into the house, “Hey, Mom! Someone here to see you!” She turned and grinned at him. “I’d go inside with you, but my friend Shelby is on her way over here. We’re going to make a snow horse.”

  “A snow horse?”

  She shrugged. “Well, we’re going to try.”

  “Hello?” he called as he went inside, taking off his boots so as not to track snow into the house. “Susanna?”

  She came around the corner looking even more beautiful than he remembered. Her long, dark hair hung loose on her shoulders, and she had on a sweater and jeans. She looked curiously at him, and suddenly Tommy felt totally out of place and very self-conscious. Really, what was he thinking dropping in on her like this? Who did he think he was anyway?

  “Uh, sorry to intrude like this,” he said quickly, “but I just wanted to come over and tell you that I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, Susanna.”

  She looked surprised. “Sorry? For what?”

  He began to explain, briefly at first, but as she encouraged him, he poured out more of the story, even telling her about the snow globe and the real meaning of Christmas. “I know,” he said finally, “I probably sound crazy. To be honest, just yesterday I thought everyone in town was losing their minds. Or at least some of them. And now . . . does any of this make any sense?”

  She smiled. �
�Total sense.” She tugged a black ribbon from the neck of her sweater. A heart-shaped silver locket was attached, and she proceeded to tell him about her own experience at the Christmas Shoppe. “I’ve had a wall around my heart for years now, Tommy,” she said. “It’s coming down now.”

  He just looked at her, longing to hold on to this moment.

  “Are you still planning to sell the newspaper?” she asked softly.

  “No,” he assured her. “I’ve decided against that.”

  “Really?” Her eyes lit up. “You’ll be sticking around then?”

  “Oh yes.” He nodded. “I’ll definitely be sticking around.”

  “Thanks to Matilda’s shop?”

  “Yes. And that brings me to something else. I want to do something to help Matilda . . . perhaps make up for that nasty editorial I wrote last week.”

  “That was bad.”

  “I know. I already apologized, but that’s not enough. I already began a new editorial to tell the rest of the story, but it won’t be out until Wednesday. From what I hear, the city might be putting her out of business by then.”

  Susanna frowned. “I just don’t see any other way around it, Tommy. I tried to talk her into letting me get her an exemption. Even the mayor wants to help her. But it’s like she doesn’t want our help.”

  “I know. Yet she’s helping everyone. I was thinking about that this morning, and I got an idea.”

  “An idea?”

  “Yes. I could be wrong, but I have a feeling that no money has been exchanged in her shop.”

  Susanna’s eyes lit up. “She wouldn’t let me pay for my locket!”

  “She wouldn’t take money from me either,” he said. “Helen said the same thing about her experience, and I know George Snider received his gift for free.”

  “So if there’s no money involved—if she’s giving everything away—then there is no need for a business permit . . . of any kind.” Susanna grinned. “You know what that means?”

  “No one can drive a business out of business if it’s not really a business?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Should we go tell Matilda?”

  “Why not.”

  Tommy felt like a kid as he and Susanna walked through the snow toward town. The sun came out and everything looked charmingly sweet, just like an old Christmas card, as they strolled through the downtown district.

  “I’ll let you tell her,” Tommy said as he opened the door for Susanna, “since you’re the city manager.”

  “Thank you!” She smiled at him.

  “And I’ll write the article about it.”

  Together they went to the counter. Matilda had on a long purple velvet dress today—straight out of the sixties. With the feather duster in her hand poised like a scepter, Tommy thought she almost looked like a shabby sort of queen. Queen of the thrift shop.

  “Hello, dears,” she said warmly.

  “Good morning, Matilda,” Tommy said.

  “I’m so happy to see you two together.” Matilda came around from behind the counter.

  “And we’re so happy to see you,” Susanna said. She proceeded to tell Matilda the good news.

  “Oh, that’s nice.” Matilda nodded as she dusted a shelf.

  Susanna exchanged a glance with Tommy.

  “Anyway, we just wanted you to know,” he told her.

  “I appreciate that.” She smiled at both of them just as someone entered the shop. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a customer to see to.”

  They told her goodbye and exited the shop.

  “She didn’t seem too excited about the good news,” Susanna said with a tinge of disappointment in her voice.

  “I think it’s because she’d never been concerned in the first place,” Tommy said as they walked down the sidewalk. “It’s like she’s always been okay about everything.”

  “That’s true. Like she had the confidence that it would all work out.”

  “Seems like she was right too.” Tommy sighed. “It’s all working out.”

  When they came to the crosswalk, Susanna reached for his hand. “Do you mind?” she asked a bit shyly.

  He chuckled. “Not at all. I think it’s a very safe practice to hold hands while crossing the street.” To his relief, she continued to hold his hand all the way back to her house. He had a feeling that this was only the beginning of a whole lot of hand-holding to look forward to in the future.

  No one in Parrish Springs could recall exactly when Matilda Honeycutt left town. Some said it was before Christmas. Some said it was afterward. But most of them agreed on one thing—Parrish Springs was never the same after her visit.

  It wasn’t until January that the town discovered that Councilman Snider had secretly purchased the Barton Building from Matilda shortly before her hasty departure. No one knew the exact price, but no one seemed to care, since instead of allowing a discount store to occupy that space, George and his new girlfriend, Helen Fremont, planned to open a new gift shop. They would keep the old sign that Matilda had put up, and the theme would continue to be Christmas, only now the shop would sell new merchandise, or mostly . . .

  Of course, George and Helen’s relationship wasn’t the only new romance to develop during the holidays. Word spread fast that the new city manager and the old confirmed bachelor and owner of the Spout had gotten engaged on New Year’s Eve. Yes, it was starting out to be a very fine year in Parrish Springs. No telling what might happen by next Christmas!

  Melody Carlson is the prolific author of more than two hundred books, including fiction, nonfiction, and gift books for adults, young adults, and children. She is also the author of Three Days, The Gift of Christmas Present, The Christmas Bus, An Irish Christmas, All I Have to Give, The Christmas Dog, and Christmas at Harrington’s. Her writing has won several awards, including a Gold Medallion for King of the Stable (Crossway, 1998) and a Romance Writers of America Rita Award for Homeward (Multnomah, 1997). She lives with her husband in Sisters, Oregon. Visit her website at www.melodycarlson.com.

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