Christmas memory, p.3
Christmas Memory, page 3
After a few rings, she said, “Marjorie? Can I speak to Michael, please? Yes, I know this is the busy season, but it’s an emergency. Yes, I’ll hold.” Through the handset, Helen could hear a Muzak version of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” and thought it most appropriate.
It took a long time for Michael to pick up. When he did, he sounded angry. “Yes, sir, I know,” Stella said. “It was an accident. No, I know this is your busy time of year. No, I’m not trying to mess everything up. Yes, sir. I know. I realize you have no Fixers available. Yes, I know this one is one that really needs fixing. What if... what if Helen goes?”
She was quiet for a moment, and Helen couldn’t hear Michael either until he distinctly asked, “Who’s that? I don’t have a Fixer named Helen.”
“No, sir, you don’t. She’s... she’s the woman’s grandmother. She’s in my office now.” More yelling. “No, no she wasn’t trying to watch. She just... startled me, that’s all. Yes, I know a blast of wind can cause havoc with anything, sir.” She rolled her eyes, and Helen wondered how it had been the wind that had stirred up trouble this time. “No, she’s never done anything like this before, but she knows Memory better than anyone.” More chatter from Michael, then Stella said, “Memory is the woman’s name. Yes, I know it’s an unusual name. No, I don’t know why her parents named her that. Yes, I think her grandmother can handle it. She seems... competent.” Stella looked at Helen for a moment, so she stood taller, trying to project confidence. “Yes, I will explain it to her. I understand. Yes, sir. Let me see.” She pulled out a drawer. “I have a copy of the handbook. Yes, all right. I understand. Thank you.” Stella hung up the phone, hanging her head as well. She pressed a few fingers to her forehead and inhaled deeply.
Helen waited, holding her breath, trying to be patient as she anticipated Stella’s acknowledgement. After what seemed like five minutes had passed, she finally said, “Well?”
Stella looked up as if she’d forgotten Helen was there. “Michael has agreed to let you go.”
Helen couldn’t help but clap her hands in excitement. She loved the idea of seeing Memory again—as well as her two little great-grandchildren, Lorelei and Anson, and their parents—her granddaughter Kirsten and her husband Maison. Her son-in-law, Bryce, had always taken such good care of her. There were her friends from church....
“Mrs. Graham, I hope you understand, it is vitally important that you be successful in this endeavor. Michael has threatened to fire me from my position if you do not come through. I’ve been doing this job for hundreds of years, and I enjoy it, so please pay careful attention as I go over the rules with you.”
“Yes, of course,” Helen said, focusing on Stella. She sat in the chair she’d previously vacated but kept her bottom on the edge, ready to leap up.
Stella pulled out a drawer in her desk and brought out a book titled Angel’s Handbook. It wasn’t very thick and would easily fit in the palm of Helen’s hand. “Now, this book contains information for every job an angel might be assigned. You’re going to want to carefully read Chapter Six, ‘Fixing Things Up.’ It will explain everything to you.” Stella handed the book over, knocking over the paperweight in the process. She righted it as Helen opened the volume.
The print on the page was minuscule, but somehow, Helen was able to read it. She now understood how the book could be so small. It might take her ages to read through all of this. “I will certainly read it,” Helen promised, “but might you be able to go over the highlights?”
Frustration seemed to bubble out of Stella’s head. “Essentially, the rules are quite simple. You may not reveal your true identity under any circumstances. You may use magic when it suits you, but not for things like bringing yourself or others back from the dead or for manipulating people’s feelings—use it strictly for travel and for handling inanimate objects when none of the living are looking. I will be able to speak to you directly through prayer--which is two-way communication, contrary to popular belief.” Helen nodded, but she still had several questions. Stella didn’t pause. “You will have until Christmas Eve to complete your task. If you cannot do it by then, when you will return here, I’ll lose my job, and Michael will have to find some other way to fix the problem—if it’s even fixable. Also, you cannot reveal anything about Heaven that isn’t specifically mentioned in the Bible. You will be given a new identity, money, all of those types of things that you need, but nothing more. At night, when everyone on earth you’re interacting with is sleeping, you may check in with your family here if you wish since you will not require rest. What are your questions?”
“How will they not recognize me?”
“You will look like a different woman—however you want to look,” Stella said with a shrug. “We haven’t had time to plan out what sort of a person might be able to fix this problem, so I suggest you don’t stray too far from your own personality. What else?”
Thoughts of what she might look like flooded Helen’s mind as she tried to remember her other questions. “When can I leave?”
“As soon as you like.”
“Can I say goodbye to my husband and daughter?”
“Yes, but don’t go into too much detail about what you’re up to. I have a feeling no good can come of it.”
Helen thought things through again. It seemed like she should have a million questions. “Can you tell me what was supposed to happen?”
Stella let out a loud sigh, aggravation building as she thought about how everything had been ruined. “Memory was sitting on a bench outside of the coffee shop, reminiscing, I suppose. She had a book on the bench next to her. When she stood to leave, she was supposed to forget the book. Dakota came along a moment later. He was meant to see the book, pick it up, and hand it to her—meet-cute in full swing.”
Helen nodded. Memory was always forgetting things, leaving them behind. It sounded like her granddaughter. “What happened instead?”
Her face turning slightly red, Stella folded her arms. “Not that. Let’s just say, when I waved my arms, I created a blustery wind.... It doesn’t matter. Now, you have to fix it. So, have you decided who you want to be?”
“Not exactly,” Helen admitted. Thinking back to the receptionist, she said, “But I know I’d like to have red hair. And a slender figure.”
Stella looked down her nose sharply at Helen as if she were saying looks weren’t everything. “Anything else?”
“I’d like to be in my late-fifties. My bones felt better then, not as many aches and pains as when I was older. Oh, and if I could be taller....”
“This is not a beauty contest, Mrs. Graham. All right. I’ll see what I can put together. You go on home and say goodbye to your husband and daughter for a little while. You’ll be able to check in with them but otherwise you’ll be gone for a few weeks. Oh, I hope this works. If not....” Stella ran her hand across her desk lovingly and gazed around the room.
“It’ll work,” Helen assured her. “I know my Memory. I’ll find a way.”
Stella nodded, but her frown stayed put. Excitement bubbling inside of her, Helen spun around and headed for the door, grateful she’d have a chance to see Memory again, even if her granddaughter wouldn’t recognize her. Watching her fall in love would be the greatest Christmas gift Helen could think of.
Chapter 4
Memory walked out of the corner coffee shop, sipping her latte, her grandmother’s journal tucked under her arm. The snow beneath her feet crunched, which was better than the slush it would become once the sun was overhead. Her phone dinged, so rather than heading straight for the shop a few doors down, she took a seat on a bench and pulled the device out of her pocket, hopeful it was confirmation that the store she’d been talking to in Indianapolis had decided to place that order for the candy cane ornaments they’d been chatting about for the last few weeks.
The bench was snow free, so she set the book down next to her and pulled her glove off with her teeth, shoving it into her pocket so she could open the email. Scanning over it quickly, she saw that it was good news. “Thank goodness,” she muttered, looking up at the heavens. Normally, she’d say something to Grandma Helen in this situation, promising her she wasn’t running the shop into the ground, but there were people going in and out of the coffee shop, so she kept her thoughts to herself. Still, the extra income would be much appreciated. She knew she’d found a winner when she stumbled upon that particular ornament at a local craft fair back in October.
Seeing as though it was almost 9:00 and she’d need to be opening shop soon, she set her latte down and pulled her glove out of her pocket, pushing her hand into the fuzzy red warmth. Her phone safely in her coat, she picked up her cup and headed out.
A gust of wind seemed to come out of nowhere, picking up the end of her red scarf and blowing it into her face. Caught off guard, Memory stammered for a second, swiping the scarf away, and then turned so the wind was to her back. It was then that she saw the journal sitting on the bench. “Oh, darn it,” she muttered, picking it up. She glanced to her right, and saw other people struggling with the sudden breeze as well—a little girl chasing her hat, a man chasing a flyer, a woman on a bicycle stopping to adjust her hood. “Weird,” Memory muttered, hoping the weather would stay predictable for the rest of the day. She headed off to the shop, the book tucked safely under her arm.
The Memory Box was the second to last store on the east side of the square. Christmas Falls was a tiny town with a population of less than ten thousand, but this time of year, there were lots of visitors from out-of-town. For decades, Hoosiers had flocked to the area to see the Victorian homes all dressed up for the holidays. While things had changed with the historic homes recently, when the economy took a turn a few years back, people still came to the parade and the other fun events Christmas Falls was known for. Memory unlocked the shop door, glad to be in out of the wind, and tried not to think about how many of the Victorian homes were empty these days.
She went ahead and flipped the sign to “open” as she turned on all the lights and headed to the back to start the Christmas music. She had a few other errands to do before she’d be ready to help any customers, but most weekdays were usually slow until 10:00 or so, then, she’d have a steady flow of shoppers until she closed shop at 5:00. It had been that way since mid-November and would last until Christmas Eve. After that... she’d take most of the Christmas items down and replace them with other seasonal décor, but this time of year, The Memory Box was essentially a Christmas shop, carrying everything from special one-of-a-kind and handcrafted ornaments, to lights and wreaths, to special gifts. Of course, she still had the trinkets and collectibles that made The Memory Box what it was all year round—"the perfect place to find a treasure”--as Grandma Helen would say. But this was the time of year when the store really came to life.
Memory walked past the empty chair in the corner she kept to remind everyone of Grandma Helen. She’d tended the cash register from that seat behind the counter nearly every day for as long as Memory could remember. When Memory had been away at college, Grandma had gotten help from a few part-time workers, but as soon as Memory graduated, she’d come back to work at the shop. Spending her days here with her grandmother, while Helen chatted with customers and Memory stocked shelves, filled online orders, worked on the website, and managed the accounting, had been a dream come true. She’d never wanted to use her business degree at some large firm that wouldn’t appreciate her skills. Corporate greed was so much of what was wrong with the world. Instead, she’d hoped to grow her own small business and enrich the lives of the people in her community. She thought she’d done that.
But money was tight these days. After Grandma Helen suddenly passed away, Memory had closed the shop for a few weeks. And then, she’d had to find a way to balance everything. It wasn’t easy waiting on customers and doing everything else. Her father suggested she find some part-time help, and Memory would’ve liked to have done so, but she wasn’t sure if payroll could cover anyone else.
Grandma Helen had a few debts when she died, obligations Memory hadn’t known about. Her grandparents taken out a second mortgage on the house to pay for the shop when she’d first opened it. Memory had had to use everything in Grandma’s bank account to pay for her funeral and that mortgage, intending to continue to live there herself. But that hadn’t worked out. Storm damage from an ice storm in February had caused some roof damage, and Memory still didn’t know how she’d manage to pay for that. Tarps were doing the job as best they could for now. That wasn’t a solution, though. She hated to think of her grandparents’ house slipping into disrepair the way that so many of the other historic homes in town had with the recent recession. Moving back in with her dad hadn’t been an easy decision, but she couldn’t even afford to properly heat such a large house now—especially not with missing shingles and roof leaks. Now, it was paid off but sitting empty.
Putting the unpleasantness out of her mind, Memory switched on the Christmas music and hummed along to “Silent Night” as she checked the stock room to make sure she had the candy cane ornaments ready to ship. She loved music but never sang and only hummed if no one else was around to hear her chronically off-tune voice.
She’d been optimistic about this order, so the ornaments were already boxed up. She’d just have to figure out a way to get them to the post office before it closed, which was tricky without anyone to watch the shop. Most of the time, she just did her mailing on Saturday when her dad could cover the store for an hour or two, but these needed to go out today, so she’d have to find another way.
The bell at the front of the store announced she had a customer. “I’ll be right there!” she shouted, hoping her voice sounded pleasant and not irritated at being interrupted. Slipping the red apron she always wore over her festive red and green sweater and jeans, she pulled her blonde hair out from the neck strap and checked the mirror to make sure it wasn’t sticking up. Satisfied that she looked all right, she tied the apron around her waist and headed out of the stock room, making sure the door clicked locked behind her, and then on through the swinging door to the shop.
“Can’t a guy get any service around here?” her dad, Bryce, joked, standing at the front counter.
“Dad... what are you doing here? I just left home twenty minutes ago. Did you miss me already?” Memory teased, stopping in front of him.
“No, you forgot your lunch.” He handed her the purple lunch bag she normally carried with her.
“Darn it. I knew I was forgetting something. Thanks.” She took it and set it on the counter, thinking she could put it away later. It was just a sandwich and a few other things she could eat between customers, so it didn’t need refrigerating. “What would I do without you?”
“I don’t know. Grandma always joked that you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body.”
“So do you and everyone else,” Memory reminded him.
Bryce chuckled, running a hand through his graying brown hair. “I wonder if your mother would’ve changed her mind and named you something else if she would’ve known your name didn’t quite match your personality.”
“It’s not my personality,” Memory corrected. “I just get... distracted. I can remember important things. Like people’s birthdays. And favorite colors. And recipes for snickerdoodle cookies—even if I don’t remember to take them out before they burn.”
“Now that I’m glad you can remember,” Bryce agreed. “Well, I should get to work.”
“What’s that?” Memory asked, noticing a flyer in his hand. The red and green trim looked similar to the one she’d seen blowing down the street earlier.
“Oh, this?” Bryce asked, his tone changing slightly as if he didn’t want to tell her. “It’s nothing. Just something I saw at the diner.”
“Can I see?”
Reluctantly, her dad handed her the paper. Memory took it and immediately wished she hadn’t. “Seriously? Another one? That makes, what... three?”
“Memory, honey, I know you don’t like these bed and breakfasts springing up all over town, but... maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe having these homes restored is better than leaving them empty.”
“If there was a family moving into them, sure, Dad. But look—this is another one of those big companies swooping in and buying up real estate, turning it into more of a hotel than an actual family run bed and breakfast. I remember when the Candy Cane Lane Inn was the only B and B in Christmas Falls. Now, with this one, there are three more. And none of the other ones are family operated. They may as well be Motel 8s.” She shook her head and handed the flyer back to her dad. “Gingerbread House Inn--grand opening this weekend. I bet they’re already booked through Christmas.”
“Booked with customers who will come here and buy your ornaments and other trinkets,” Bryce reminded her, looking around the shop.
“And take a home that could’ve been filled with a family and turn it into another impersonal hotel disguised as a B and B.” She shook her head, folding her arms. She knew her dad didn’t see things the same way she did.
He leaned down and kissed her temple. “I gotta get to the office. I hope that gust of wind we had a little while ago didn’t cause any damage to any of our clients.”
“Have fun adjusting claims, Dad,” she said, watching him head to the door, her mood still off.
Bryce waved at her from the door and headed to his red truck, which she could see parked in one of the spots in front of the shop. If only the insurance agency was on the square, instead of across town, so he could cover for her for a few minutes during lunch. She knew he’d come over and help her out if she asked, but her dad liked to eat lunch with his coworkers, so she hated to ask him to give that up. She’d figure out how to get the boxes to the post office in the next day or two. Maybe if she waited until Wednesday, a few more sales would come through and she could mail them all at the same time....
