Making christmas again, p.5
Making Christmas Again, page 5
When she walked in, a woman with a feather duster came up to her, “May I help you?”
“I’m Celeste Greenfield—”
The words were barely out of her mouth when the woman hugged her.
“I’m so sorry.” The woman gave her another hug. “Your mother was such a gracious, elegant lady. Oh, and my name is Rochelle.” She smiled.
“Thank you.” Celeste extricated herself from the hug. “It’s hard for me to understand how she could die so suddenly—”
“We were surprised, too. Me and Josephina, that is. She’s in the back going through a box with more Christmas things we can put on display.”
“I am quite impressed with the window display.” Celeste smiled. “Did you put that together?”
Rochelle laughed. “No, Josephina did. She’s talented with that sort of thing. I’m more into customer service.”
“I wondered if you noticed whether my mom was not quite herself before she died. You know, a bit disoriented.” Celeste bit her lip.
“Your mom?” Rochelle’s eyes opened wide. “She was always sharp as a tack, but kind and understanding. In fact, I was sick several days before she died. She told me to take off as long as I needed, and she filled in for me.”
“Was that too much for her to handle?”
“I doubt it.” Rochelle shrugged. “I only took off three days and she seemed to be enjoying herself a great deal with the customers when I returned. She was quite pleased with the number of large sales she’d made.”
“Do you know where she went on the day she died?”
“Yes, she was at an auction,” Rochelle said. “She had something to buy, not for this store, but for a gift. In fact, I think it was for you.”
That small, sharp pain of grief pierced Celeste. “Do you know what it was?”
“No,” Rochelle admitted. “But I know it was something special she thought would be perfect for you.”
Celeste didn’t need antiques. But then she glanced back at the window display. “Did my mom intend to sell that slate?”
Rochelle shook her head. “That’s for display only. Your mom said it belonged to her mother. She said you and your sister used to play with it.”
Celeste nodded as her throat grew tight.
“Would you like to keep it?” Rochelle asked.
Celeste drew in a ragged breath. “But if you take it out of the display—”
“No need to worry,” Rochelle went to the window. “We have plenty of other things that could take its place.” Rochelle handed her the slate.
Celeste stared at it. “It looks better than it ever did.”
“I refinished the wood on the edge,” Rochelle explained. “Makes it look like new.”
Celeste held the slate close to her heart. “Yes, it does.”
“Are you our boss now?” Rochelle asked.
“I’m not sure, but maybe. Mom left a will. Do you know anything about Sawyer Nova who has been renting the basement from her?”
“He’s such a nice man and his son is adorable,” Rochelle said. “Your mother asked him to auction off some of the things that didn’t sell in the store.”
“But why did she let him rent the basement?”
“Well, it was empty, of course, and he needed the space.” Rochelle shrugged. “Your mom knew it would take some time for him to get over his wife’s death. ‘A young man like that shouldn’t be living alone and Glenn needs a mom,’ she said. ‘But I’ll be praying for him.’”
“She never stopped praying.” Celeste wished prayer could end the emptiness in her heart. But it didn’t. She was always on the verge of tears.
“She was a wonderful woman, an understanding boss, and we will miss her. We’re closing the shop for her funeral,” Rochelle said. “Josephina and I will be there.”
“Thank you,” Celeste said. “And thanks for the slate.”
“Your mother would be happy for you to have it,” Rochelle smiled.
When Celeste got back into her car, she called the phone number for the auction her mother had attended the day she died.
A man answered. “May I help you?”
“I’m Celeste Greenfield,” she said.
“I am so, so sorry,” the man said. “She was such a remarkable woman. I always enjoyed seeing her. She was very knowledgeable about antiques and great to do business with.”
“I was hoping you could tell me if she was upset the day she collapsed at your auction,” Celeste asked.
“I saw her briefly before the auction,” he said. “We exchanged pleasantries. She smiled and told me her business was doing well and she went to find a seat. She appeared to be fine at that point.”
“Do you know what she wanted to bid on?”
“Yes, she looked over a number of items ahead of time. She was interested in the Depression glass, as always, quite a nice set in that Bubble pattern. A set of toys for boys—the old wooden kind and an antique abacus, on a stand, quite a unique piece.”
Celeste closed her eyes remembering what her mom said when she’d visited Celeste’s condo.
You need something old in this condo. Everything is too modern, too cold. Aha! I know just the thing.
Maybe mom wanted to get the abacus for her. It would be a nice piece for an accountant.
“Did she win anything?” Celeste asked.
“No. She became ill before the bidding started.” The man sighed. “I am so sorry for you.”
Celeste swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Thank you again. It’s hard to accept her loss. At least, I know she was happy that day before she died.”
“Yes, she was. She had a smile for everyone.”
“She always did. Goodbye.”
Celeste sat in the car and collected herself by hugging the slate as if it could bring back all the good times.
After a while, she went to the grocery store. She didn’t feel much like cooking or eating so she bought simple things she could put together without much effort. However, the abundant displays of Christmas items tempted her. Then she saw a box of pfeffernusse cookies. She stared at them, recalling all the times she helped Mom make those cookies for Christmas. Celeste thought of them as delicious little snowballs.
She knew exactly what she needed to make them, but she hoped she could find Mom’s recipe in the house since she wasn’t sure of the exact proportions. A little thrill went through her at the thought of making Mom’s cookies. This was a practical way of remembering the good times, a way of being close to Mom. Even if she wasn’t with her.
Besides, Christmas was synonymous with pfeffernusse for Celeste.
She stopped in the middle of the grocery aisle as her eyes filled with tears. Mom would always be in her heart.
Tina and Dad were in her heart, too. She would never forget them. But she could share their memories with others in simple ways, like handing out homemade pfeffernusse cookies. Sawyer and Glenn could have some. Glenn’s face always lit up with joy at the offer of cookies.
Celeste wiped her eyes and continued shopping. She would make the cookies as soon as she got home.
7
Sawyer packed a vintage Wyandotte pop gun into a box while Glenn rolled around on his plastic firetruck in the basement. The meaning of Christmas got lost in the gift giving but it provided a living for Sawyer, and he wouldn’t complain about it. Most likely, some grandfather wanted his grandson to have the same toy he had as a youngster.
Celeste’s footsteps pattered above him in the kitchen. Was she making a feast? He and Glenn ate takeout hamburgers for supper. While they should be eating healthier fare, getting Glenn to try vegetables remained an issue. Glenn favored any and all carbs.
The orders needed to be packed and ready to ship this evening. The snowstorm put him way behind schedule.
“Cookies?” Glenn got off the firetruck and walked up the stairs.
“No cookies,” Sawyer hurried after him, but Glenn got to the top of the stairs before he reached him.
“Cookies!” Glenn knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Celeste called back.
Glenn fumbled with the doorknob but the door was locked. As Sawyer reached Glenn, the deadbolt clicked open.
“Hi,” Celeste said. “I made cookies. You can have some.”
“Yummy!” Glenn scrambled away from Sawyer and hurried toward the kitchen.
“Smells good,” Sawyer noted. “Did you make Christmas cookies?”
“Pfeffernusse cookies.” Celeste’s face glowed. Her smile was alive. A small thrill went through Sawyer. “My mom made them every year. They look like little snowballs, and they are delightfully spicy.”
Sawyer glanced downstairs. “I still have some work to do.”
“Have a couple of cookies and then get back to work. I’ll keep an eye on Glenn for you.”
Sawyer blinked in surprise. “I’d appreciate that very much.” He walked into the kitchen.
Glenn pushed a chair toward the counter where a stack of white, round cookies sat on a huge platter.
“Glenn, we eat at the table.” Sawyer stopped the chair’s progress.
Glenn frowned but obediently went back to the table.
Celeste put three cookies on each plate and served them with glasses of milk. “I’ll give you some to take home with you, too.”
“Thank you,” Sawyer said. “This is quite a treat.”
“It makes me feel closer to Mom.” Celeste shrugged. “I don’t know why God took her so young. Why did He take Tina or my father?” The joy in her face faded and her mouth became a grim line.
Sawyer took a deep breath. “God doesn’t take children or anybody for that matter.” Sawyer explained. “God gives life. It’s a gift. But we live in a sinful world and our souls reside in fragile bodies. Everyone will die, but God loves us and sent his Son so that those who believe in Him may have eternal life.”
“Aren’t prayers supposed to get answers? I prayed for Tina, but God didn’t listen to me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s why I gave up on God.”
Madelyn had told Sawyer that Celeste harbored some deep-seated issues against faith so he wasn’t surprised.
“God still answers prayers, but sometimes the answer is no, or not yet, or wait. Sometimes, sincere prayer brings with it a sense of peace. Sometimes, things seem to fall in place. But we must persist in prayer. We cannot know God’s will, but we can trust He will welcome us into eternity.” Sawyer closed his eyes for a moment. “My wife died because she was sitting at a red light and a drunk driver hit her car. The drunk driver had no assets, and he went to jail. Even if he had money, it could never heal the loss. But I believe Lila was welcomed into eternity. Yes, my heart broke, but your mother and other friends helped us. They were the answer to my prayers. Now your mother has been welcomed into eternity. Count on prayer. God has promised never to forsake us.” He opened his eyes. “I forgave the driver, too. That seemed impossible at first, but it was the key to healing.”
“You forgave him?”
“Yes. I want to join Lila someday and everyone else dear to me.”
Celeste grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the dampness on her cheeks. “What’s the point in praying if you get a no for an answer?”
“Prayer is not a magic wand. We must hold onto faith. We can ask God to help us with that. Glenn trusts me. He knows I will do what I can for him.” Sawyer put two of his cookies on Glenn’s plate. Glenn’s face broke out in a wide grin. “You see, Glenn has faith in me, even though I am a mere human father. God loves us more than we can ever imagine. Believe in that.”
Silence reigned for a while as Sawyer savored his cookie. Maybe he’d said too much or didn’t use the right words. He found peace but that didn’t mean he could help Celeste find it. The pain of loss took time to heal. It didn’t happen immediately, but faith could close the wound.
Glenn went to a cabinet and got out the colored bowls and spoons and played with them. Sawyer smiled. Glenn learned some things quickly.
Celeste put cookies into a plastic container. “These are for you.”
“Thanks. Your mom gave this recipe to Lila.” He drank the milk. “She made them once.”
“Mom handed these out to everyone. She was famous for them at the PTA meetings. Making them tonight made it feel like Christmas for me. When I learned Mom died, I forgot all about the holiday.”
“Cookies and gifts are nice, but Christmas is far more than that. In fact, I understood more about God and His love for us when Glenn was born. Love came down from heaven with Jesus. He will forgive us, if we ask, even though we all sin and none of us are perfect—”
“You just gave a dissertation on faith, so you seem rather perfect to me.” Celeste interrupted and handed the container to him.
Startled, by her remark he shook his head. Why did she say that? “I have my faults. Anyhow, I’ve got to get the rest of those orders packaged or I’ll have a bunch of angry customers.”
“How long do you think it will take?” she asked.
“Maybe an hour.” He stood. “I hate to get Glenn home late, but he had a long nap today so I’m counting on him being awake for a while longer.”
“He’s easy to entertain,” Celeste said. “And he makes me laugh.”
He nodded. “I appreciate your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
He went downstairs and carefully wrapped an antique French bronze jewelry box. It wasn’t big but it was heavy and ornate in a Rococo way. He wondered if the man buying it was giving it to his wife or girlfriend.
Celeste startled him when she’d called him perfect. Did she like him? She wasn’t warm and friendly when they’d first met. But she’d changed. Now she was being super nice.
That was scary. He didn’t need any complications in his life. But he sure could use help with Glenn. A platonic friendship would be fine.
She was going back to Kentucky anyway. He shouldn’t worry.
He got another box and packed a 1917 folding Corona typewriter with a case. The typewriter did not work properly but the buyer still wanted it. Maybe he had a collection. Maybe he was a writer. Maybe he didn’t like computers.
Madelyn had said her daughter didn’t like antiques, but Sawyer noticed an old slate on the counter in the kitchen that hadn’t been there previously. Where did that come from? It was old, though refurbished.
He finally finished all the boxes and loaded them into his car. By that time, Glenn was sitting on Celeste’s lap in the rocker, already dressed in his coat, while Celeste drew circles with chalk on the small slate. Glenn’s head nodded.
“I think he’s all tuckered out,” Celeste said. She put the slate aside.
“Nice slate,” Sawyer remarked.
“My grandmother taught me how to count on it. It was in the antique store, but they said it was just for display and I could keep it.”
“Will you teach Glenn to count?” Sawyer asked.
“That would be fun.” She smiled.
He lifted Glenn from Celeste’s arms. She smelled like pfeffernusse, sweet and spicy. Again, that little tingle went through him as her hand brushed his in the transfer of his sleepy son. It took him a moment to get his bearings and shake off that odd sensation. “Thanks for your help and the cookies. I’ll try to get to the wake tomorrow. Probably late though.”
Celeste sighed. “I hope at least a few other people show up.”
“Your mother was well-known in the community,” he reminded. “There are many who will miss her and wish to pay their respects.”
8
Early the next morning, Celeste listlessly stirred a spoon in a bowl of oatmeal. She didn’t want to go to her mother’s wake. She didn’t want to go to the funeral. She wanted to stay here and apply for jobs. The joy she found in baking the pfeffernusse left the minute Sawyer and Glenn left. Her thoughts went round and round. She wasn’t sure what to do next.
After a few more minutes, she put the oatmeal in the garbage disposal. If she must go to the wake, she intended to look her best. But first, she grabbed the small voice recorder from her handbag and left a few reminders for herself concerning all she needed to do in taking leave of her former job and applying for unemployment.
The phone rang. Her boss’s phone number appeared on her cell.
She stared for a few seconds before she decided to answer. She put the call on speaker phone and steeled her nerves. She would be brave. She would not cower. After all, he was seven hundred miles away. She was safe. “Hello, Desmond.” She forced her voice to remain cool and steady.
“Why haven’t you responded to any of the emails?” He used his gruff tone, the one he favored for bullying his employees.
“My flight was delayed due to the weather, but I made it home in time to make all the funeral arrangements.” She spoke slowly. “The snow piled up, the power went out—”
“Enough!” he bellowed. “You know you’ve been fired.”
With a trembling finger she hit the button on her voice recorder. Desmond’s tone frightened her. “Yes, I saw that email. You know there was a valid reason for my absence—”
“Do you think I care about your reason?” From that point onward, the verbal abuse he spewed at her magnified. He threatened to blow up her condo and when she returned, he promised to make sure she had an accident.
After two minutes of hostile threats, he finally ended the call.
Her body trembled from head to toe. She didn’t know what to do. Should she call the police? Her head swam and she thought she might pass out. She put her head on the table.
“Celeste?” Sawyer called through the basement door and knocked.
The deadbolt clicked. He came into the kitchen. “Who was screaming at you?”
“Desmond, my former boss—”
“I heard every word. He threatened you.” Sawyer pulled her into his arms. “You’re shaking.” His warmth and presence helped.
