A Carol for Christmas (3 page)

“Yes, ma’am. It’s our ad.” Jonathan strained to keep his voice even and polite.

“Then the management should have planned to have enough stock for your customers.”

Jonathan looked at Sandra. “Did you check the back room?”

“Yes, Mr. Burke. I sold the last one more than an hour ago.”

He nodded as his gaze returned to the customer. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. We’d be delighted to give you a rain check.”

The woman harrumphed. “As if I would come back to your store.” With a toss of her head, she spun and marched away.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Burke,” Sandra whispered, tears in her voice.

“It’s okay. It’s been a long day. Everybody’s tempers are getting short.” He glanced at his watch. “Only another hour to go.”

She gave him a quivery smile as she brushed her cheeks with her fingertips. “It won’t come soon enough for me.”

“Me either.” He patted her shoulder. “Hang in there.”

She answered with a sigh and a nod before turning to help another customer.

Jonathan headed for the escalator. The number of shop- pers had thinned out over the last two hours, and he hoped to attend to the paperwork on his desk without another interruption. He’d like to get home before ten o’clock.

A few minutes later, he closed the door to his small office on the third floor and sank into his chair. As usual, his gaze moved first to the silver-framed photograph on his desk. Carol smiled back at him, a sparkle in her brown eyes, her curly auburn hair piled high on her head beneath

the white bridal veil. He could almost hear her whisper, “I love you, Johnny.”

He smiled to himself. Carol was the only person who got away with calling him Johnny. He’d never cared for the nickname. But when Carol said it, it sounded right.

Guilt pricked him, stealing the smile from his lips as he remembered his wife’s unhappy, unsparkling eyes when he’d kissed her good-bye this morning. He didn’t want her to be sad. But she ought to understand why he couldn’t be home, today of all days. Still, he should be more under- standing. After all, she was far from her family in Ohio, and the holidays were upon them.

The holidays
.

He rubbed his temples, trying to smooth away the pounding in his head. The holidays meant work for the men in the Burke family. When he was a boy, he rarely saw his grandfather or dad during the month of December. They practically lived at the department store throughout the Christmas season.

And now he’d become one of them, leaving early, com- ing home late, six days out of seven.

Young and stupid. That’s what his dad had called him over a year ago when Jonathan announced he was getting married on New Year’s Day.

“Is she pregnant?” Arlen Burke had demanded. Jonathan had responded slowly, controlling his anger.

“No, Dad. She’s not pregnant. Carol isn’t that kind of girl.” “Then there’s no need to hurry. Wait until you gradu- ate. You’re kids. Son, you’re not yet twenty and she’s only

eighteen. You’ve got your whole lives ahead of you.”

“We don’t want to wait. We love each other.”

“You’ve known her less than four months. You can’t possibly know that you love her.”

“I
do
love her.”

“Son, if you leave college, your chances of getting drafted go up. Do you want to find yourself in Vietnam marching through rice paddies?”

“No, but don’t you remember what it’s like to be in love, Dad?”

“Don’t get smart with me.” “Sorry.”

“You marry that girl now, and I won’t pay another red cent of your college tuition or your rent. You can say good- bye to that business-management degree you were after, and you won’t start out at Burke’s as a partner either. You’ll have to work your way up through the ranks.”

“Maybe I don’t want a partnership at Burke’s. I can get a job right here in Colorado.”

Famous last words.

Finding a job in Boulder, where he and Carol met on the university campus, hadn’t been as easy as Jonathan thought it would be. Eventually, he’d done the only thing he could — he brought his bride to Boise and went to work for his dad.

Jonathan looked at Carol’s photograph again. Would he change things if he had to do it over again? Would he have asked her to wait another two-and-a-half years before they married?

He smiled ruefully. No. No, he wouldn’t. Being her husband made everything else worthwhile.

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C

arol stood on the sidewalk outside the music store, staring at the beautiful acoustic guitar on display in

the window. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear its sweet velvet tone. She would love to touch the mahogany sides, run her fingers over the strings.

Shivering, she drew the fake fur collar of her coat up around her neck and turned from the window. No point wanting what she couldn’t have. The price of that guitar was probably as much as Jonathan made in a month. More, maybe. With their current finances, the best she could hope for would be a used instrument from a pawn shop, and even that would be an extravagance.

Head bent into the icy November wind, Carol made her way through the shopping center’s parking lot toward the old red-and-white Buick. The bag on her arm held a tree stand, two strings of lights, and a box of tinsel, pur- chased for the sad little pine tree whose top was poking out of the Buick’s trunk.

She jabbed the key into the lock and turned it, jiggled it, then turned it again. Finally, she heard the desired
click
and the lock popped up on the other side of the window. After yanking the door open, she tossed the bag into the

car and slid onto the seat, glad to be out of the wind. She was chilled to the bone.

Laughter reached her ears, and she turned to watch as three young couples, walking arm in arm, strolled toward the tree lot. They looked happy, all of them. Whether they were husbands and wives or boyfriends and girlfriends didn’t matter. They were picking out Christmas trees together.

A rising envy made Carol sick. True, she wasn’t the only wife in the world whose husband had to work on Saturdays. It’s just that Jonathan left before nine in the morning, and until the Christmas shopping season was over, she couldn’t count on him getting home before nine thirty at night. Usually it was later.

With a sigh, she started the engine, shifted into reverse, and backed out of the parking space. She arrived at the apartment fifteen minutes later to find her mother-in-law’s Lincoln waiting at the curb. Rather than driving around to her usual parking space in the alley, Carol stopped the Buick behind Ruth’s car.

“I didn’t know you were coming over,” Carol said as she and Ruth both opened their doors.

“I dropped by on a whim.”

Carol grabbed the shopping bag from the seat beside her and got out. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Not long. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Of course not.” She stepped toward the older woman and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m always glad to see you.”

That was true. While Carol’s father-in-law was a brusque sort of man who did not encourage familiarity, Ruth Burke was a woman who exuded joy. Like everyone who knew Ruth, Carol had come to love her.

The two women followed the walk to the back of the house and descended the steps to the apartment. After open- ing the door, Carol flipped on the nearby lamp before setting her purchases on the floor. “How does some hot chocolate sound?”

“Wonderful.” Ruth removed her coat and hung it in the closet. “May I help?”

“No. Just sit and keep me company.”

While her mother-in-law settled onto one of the bar stools at the counter, Carol grabbed a milk jug from the refrigera- tor, poured some into a saucepan on the stove, and turned the burner on low. Then she retrieved the Nestlé cocoa from the cupboard. With relief she saw she had enough for two. It would have embarrassed her no end otherwise.

“This place always makes me think of our first apart- ment. The kitchen was the size of a postage stamp.”

Carol laughed. “This isn’t much bigger. I have to keep Johnny out when I’m cooking or we step on each other.” A sigh escaped her. “Guess I won’t have to worry about him being underfoot for a while.”

“It’s hard when you’re newlyweds. The long store hours, I mean. I know. It was like that for me too.”

Carol glanced over her shoulder.

“Has Jonathan ever told you how Burke’s got started?” “A little.”

Ruth rested her forearms on the counter. “Arlen was in his early twenties when his father opened Burke Cloth- ing Store. That was in the late thirties, toward the end of the Depression. It wasn’t a large store, and at first it wasn’t successful. His father didn’t have the money to hire other employees. It was a family business, and that meant father and son worked side by side. But Arlen didn’t mind because he loved it. Of course, when the war started, he enlisted and was gone more than three years. His father had to carry on alone. But when Arlen got back from Europe, he was burst- ing with new ideas. That’s about the time we met”— Ruth’s smile hinted at happy memories — “and it’s also when the store started to grow. So here we are, thirty years later, and Burke’s has become a statewide chain.”

Carol faced the stove again, stirring the milk to keep it from scorching.

After a period of silence, Ruth continued, “I’ll never forget the look in Arlen’s eyes the day Jonathan was born. He was so excited to have a son to help him make Burke’s bigger and better, someone who would take over for him when the time came.”

I wonder what Johnny would’ve wanted if his father

didn’t have the store. Maybe he would’ve had big dreams of his own.

Carol poured the chocolate, then carried the mugs to the counter and set one in front of Ruth.

“Carol, Arlen isn’t punishing Jonathan for marrying you.”

Her eyes widened, surprised by her mother-in-law’s comment. She’d never thought Arlen was punishing Jona- than. Oh, she’d known he wasn’t happy when they chose to marry so quickly and without finishing college. But she’d never thought . . . Or had she? Is that why she resented Jon- athan’s long days? Because she thought her father-in-law was punishing him — and her?

“Arlen believes everyone must live with the conse- quences of their decisions. Jonathan chose not to get his business degree. That was his right. But the consequence is that he must learn to run Burke’s in a different way. That hasn’t changed the fact that his father wants what is best for him.” She paused, then added, “And he loves you, dear. Very much.”

Outside, the sky grew dark with heavy, low-slung clouds. Snow, the weatherman had predicted. Pondering her mother-in-law’s words, Carol turned on another lamp to dispel the gloom in the apartment.

“My goodness. Carol, I nearly forgot the purpose for my visit. It’s about the benefit. The committee has worked on the arrangements for some time. In other years, it’s been a rather modest affair.” She set the mug on the counter. “But once word of Mr. Thompson’s involvement got out, we real- ized this would be much bigger than anything we’ve done before. We’ve arranged to use the high school’s auditorium so more people can attend. Tickets go on sale Monday.”

“I’ll help however I can. What is it you need from me?” “I was hoping you’ll be one of the singers. Since the performance is a benefit and will be held so close to Christ-

mas, Mr. Thompson isn’t bringing his usual backup group, and he needs us to provide them. He told Margaret that he’d like three female singers.”

Carol’s heart started thumping. “Me, sing backup for Travis Thompson?” Could she do it? She’d hardly sung a note since leaving college. What if she failed, embarrassing everyone? “I don’t know, Ruth.”

“My dear girl, you can’t possibly refuse. I’ve heard you sing. And you’ll need to help find two other girls to join you. You can hold auditions at the church one evening this week. Mr. Thompson is supposed to arrive on the twelfth, and the benefit is on the evening of Friday the nineteenth. It’s not far away now.”

“No, it isn’t.” “So you’ll do it?”

She swallowed hard, excitement replacing fear. “Yes.

Yes, I’ll do it.”

Q

Jonathan could barely see the road four feet in front of his headlights. The falling snow was like a heavy cur- tain obscuring the world. The Ford Fairlane fishtailed as he turned a corner, reminding him that all four tires were worn thin. He’d have to find the money to replace them soon, especially with snow and ice on the roads.

He eased off the gas pedal, bringing the car under con- trol. A few more blocks, and he would be home.

Exhaustion made his eyelids heavy, and the blizzardlike conditions strained his vision. There was something about

headlights on the snow that made him want to close his eyes. Thankfully, he made it home without mishap.

He parked the Fairlane in one half of the detached garage. The owner of the home parked in the other side, which meant Carol’s Buick had to remain out in the ele- ments. By now, it must be covered in three or four inches of snow.

After closing the garage door, Jonathan hurried along the sidewalk to the stairwell. He’d shovel the steps first thing in the morning. It was too late — and he was too tired— to do it tonight.