Christmas On Nutcracker Court (9 page)

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Authors: Judy Duarte

BOOK: Christmas On Nutcracker Court
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“‘What's the matter?' the old man asked. ‘Lost your way?' Adam couldn't bring himself to ask for a handout, so he slowly shook his head. The man, his hair wispy and gray, his face craggy and weathered, tossed Adam a smile, then continued down the road.
“But Adam was unable to just sit and watch the old-timer labor under his load, so he caught up with him and offered to carry his sack for a spell.
“Together they walked another mile or two, and when they reached a fork in the road, the old man said, ‘This is the end of the line for me.'
“Adam tried to hand over the sack, but the old man refused to take it. ‘It's your burden now,' he said. ‘I have no more use for it. My journey's at an end.'
“Adam watched the man take the path to the right, which was lined with trees, until he disappeared from sight.
“Stunned—and more than a little curious—Adam set the bag on the ground. When he loosened the strings that held it closed and peered inside, he found an old wooden box trimmed with aged leather and tarnished brass.”
“What was in it?” Susan asked. “Was it the miracle he'd been praying for?”
Maggie smiled. “A handful of copper pennies.”
“But pennies wouldn't go very far,” Susan said. “What kind of miracle was that?”
Maggie's lips stretched into an even bigger smile, which brightened her face and put a spark in her eyes. “They were very special pennies.”
“Magic ones?” Susan asked.
“Not in the way you might imagine, but they'd each been blessed.” Maggie took a moment to sip her tea. “Like you, Adam knew the pennies wouldn't be enough to restock his family's pantry or pay the taxes that were due upon the house, but he carried the box home, thinking that the box might be old, but it was sturdy. He hoped someone might find it of value and buy it from him.”
“Was the box an antique?” Lynette asked, making a guess and assuming that a moral to Maggie's story would be forthcoming.
But Helen's cousin didn't answer her question. Instead, she continued with the tale. “A few minutes later, Adam came across a young mother with a sick baby. The woman was crying because she had no money to buy medicine. Knowing that his pennies might help the woman, Adam was unable to walk away. So he opened the box. ‘I don't have much money,' he said, but what I have is yours.'
“The young mother took the pennies he offered with tears in her eyes, thanked him repeatedly, and continued down the road. Adam, too, went on his way, but after traveling another mile or so, he ran into an elderly couple. They had a tale of woe, as well. They'd been turned out of the house in which they'd been living and had been forced to sleep in a field.
“Adam, who loved his mother and was grateful that he'd been able to provide shelter for her, sadly told the pair that he'd already given away all his money. When he opened the lid of the chest to show them that it was empty, there were a handful of nickels inside. He was more than a little surprised, to say the least, but he gave them to the couple.
“Several more times on his way home, Adam met someone who needed the coins more than he did. And each time he opened what should have been an empty chest, he found that they'd multiplied. Nickels were replaced by dimes, and dimes by quarters. By the time he got home, he had a handful of silver and could scarcely carry the load.”
“That's a nice story,” Susan said. “I guess your point is that we should share with others, and that we'll be blessed if we do.”
“Not necessarily with money,” Maggie said, “but you'll be blessed in ways you might never expect.”
“We'll have to talk it over with Helen and Rosa,” Susan said, “but maybe it would be in our best interest to make a few donations before we leave on that trip. We could certainly use a blessing before we go to Laughlin. It would be nice to have some heavenly luck during our poker tournament.”
Lynette had a feeling that Susan had missed the point of the story. So she turned her gaze to Maggie, to check out her expression, only to see the woman was looking out the window again. But this time, she rolled her eyes and gave a little shrug, as if sharing her exasperation with someone outside.
Yet when Lynette looked through the window and into Helen's backyard, she didn't see anyone there.
Maggie was an odd one, that was for sure. But she was Helen's cousin, and the Lils had been asked to keep her company. So it was the least they could do.
Lynette picked up her fork and finished off the rest of her cake.
But as she did, she couldn't help thinking about good deeds being rewarded with magic pennies.
Chapter 5
It was just after four when Carly picked up her sons from school and drove them home. And other than Mikey's comments about how much fun he had in the after-school program, the ride was quiet.
But that didn't mean Carly wasn't rehearsing the chat she planned to have with Josh as soon as she could get him alone.
After pulling into the drive, she shut off the ignition, but didn't get out of the car.
When both boys opened their doors, she told Josh to wait. “Mikey, you go ahead into the house. I want to talk to your brother before we go inside.” Then she removed the keys from the ignition and handed them to her youngest son so he could let himself in.
Josh hung his head, but slid back into his seat.
When they were alone, Carly said, “I'm not buying the story that you fell down and hurt your lip.”
Josh glanced at her, then looked away.
“I have a feeling you were involved in some kind of fight. And for some reason, you don't want me to know who else was involved or why.”
Silence filled the car, and she watched an inner struggle cross his face, contorting his expression.
“Am I at least right about that?” she asked. “You fought with someone and don't want anyone to know who it was?”
Finally, he nodded. “If I tell on the kid, he'll get mad.”
“Who is he?” she asked. “What's his name?”
Josh pursed his lips for a moment, then said, “He's just a kid.”
“He sounds like a bully.”
“I guess he is. And that's why I can't tell on him. If he finds out that I'm a snitch and a crybaby, he'll get even madder at me. And then things will be a whole lot worse.”
“But Josh, if he's picking on you, he's probably doing it to others, too. We need to stop him from doing that.”
“Yeah, well, some other kid and his mom can stop him. I don't want us to be dead heroes.”
Carly gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles ached, then she let out an exasperated sigh. “I can't sit back and let someone bully you.”
Josh opened his mouth to speak, then clamped his lips together.
“What am I going to do with you?” she asked.
“I don't know, Mom. But whatever you decide to do, at least I'll still be alive.”
“Did that boy threaten to hurt you?” Carly asked.
“With him, it's not a threat. It's more like a promise. Besides, he already kicked my butt once. If it wasn't for that guy on Nutcracker Court chasing him off, I'd probably be dead already.”
“Please,” she said. “I can talk to Mrs. Evans and ask her to be discreet.”
“You're both girls, Mom. You don't know what it's like to be a boy.”
Carly wanted to scream, to cry, to shake her fist at someone, but if her son wasn't talking, she didn't know who to be angry with.
Where was a father—or an ex-husband—when you needed one?
But being envious of women who were married wasn't going to get her anywhere. She was on her own and would have to come up with some way to handle the problem.
Finally, she leveled with him. “Listen, honey. I'm pedaling as fast as I can to hold this family together, and while I understand that you're still a child, you've got to help me.”
Josh looked up at her as if she'd struck him across the face. “I
do
help you, Mom. A
lot
. I babysit Mikey every day, even when I'd rather go out and ride my bike or mess around with my friends. And I clean my room and put my clothes away. I do everything you ever ask me to do. I'm just not going to do this.”
“Are you kidding?” she asked, knowing that he was dead serious. “You're not going to tell me that boy's name?”
Josh just shook his head. “Not if you poke me with a hundred needles or pour honey on me and tie me to an anthill.”
Clearly, her usual form of discipline—time out and no dessert for supper—wasn't going to cause him to bend.
“Can I go now?” Josh asked.
“Yes, but I want you to go straight to your room and think about things.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Josh let himself out of the car and headed for the front door.
But Carly remained in the driver's seat, hanging on to the steering wheel as if it might help her control the mounting problems in her life.
 
 
On Wednesday morning, with the sidewalk still wet from last night's rain, Lynette entered Shear Magic, a small salon located across the street from Mulberry Park. She was running several minutes late for her ten o'clock appointment, so after wiping her feet on the mat at the door, she made her way to Carly's station, where the hairdresser was adding the finishing touches to the coiffure of a woman in her late seventies.
The soles of her new shoes clicked as she strode across the blue tile flooring, her left foot making a slightly more pronounced sound than the right.
She wore a lift in her shoes these days to make her gait more even. Most people didn't notice, but it was something Lynette had lived with since she'd broken her leg as a child.
At the time she'd fallen down the stairs, she'd known that the injury to her leg had been serious. The pain had been excruciating, but her parents hadn't taken her to the doctor. Back then, she'd assumed they couldn't afford the medical bill. But as an adult, she realized it was probably because her father hadn't wanted anyone to ask for details about how she'd come to lose her balance since Child Protective Services had visited their house several times already.
Upon hearing Lynette's approach, Carly looked up from her work and smiled. “Hey there. How's it going?”
“Good. Do you want me to wait in the front?”
“No, I'm almost finished here.” Carly pointed to one of the brown swivel chairs next to hers. “You can sit there. I'll be with you in just a minute.”
Lynette glanced around the salon, which was empty today. “Where is everyone?”
“One's out sick, and the other took the afternoon off so she could go to the dentist.” After shooting several blasts of hair spray to hold the older woman's gray curls in place, Carly said, “There you go, Joan.”
“Thank you, honey.” The older woman returned the mirror to Carly, then gripped the armrests with liver-spotted hands and began to rise. “I'll see you again next Wednesday at nine.”
Carly helped Joan get to her feet. “Do you want me to call the van for you?”
“No, I'm going to meet a friend at the coffee shop next door.” Then the elderly woman shuffled off without leaving a tip—or paying for the service.
Assuming she was a relative who'd received a freebie, Lynette asked, “Is that your grandma?”
“No, she's just a friend. She used to be my neighbor, but after her husband passed away, she moved into a local retirement home. On Wednesdays, the home provides a shuttle service for the residents so they can go to the market, the pharmacy, and the doctor or other appointments in town. It works out really well for her, but her funds are stretched pretty thin, so I don't charge her.”
“That's nice of you.”
Carly shrugged. “She used to bake sugar cookies for my boys each Christmas, so it's kind of my way of repaying her for the kindness.”
Lynette thought about Maggie's story of the magic treasure box, but she didn't stew on it. Instead, she took a seat in the vacated swivel chair and watched in the mirror as Carly draped a blue striped cape around her and secured it at the back of her neck.
“Thanks again for rescheduling my appointment,” Lynette said.
“No problem.” As Carly gazed into the mirror and caught Lynette's eyes, she asked, “So what are we going to do today? Did you want highlights and a cut?”
“I'm ready for something new. What do you think about that?”
Carly lifted a light brown strand and studied its length and texture. “To be honest?”
Lynette nodded.
“I think the natural color is beautiful. It's a honey shade with a healthy shine. But I'd be happy to add highlights if you want me to.”
Lynette studied her reflection, trying to see the beauty Carly had found.
Sure, whenever she looked into the mirror, she saw the same attractive image, but she was always a little taken aback by the stranger who peered back at her.
It had cost Peter a small fortune when he'd covered the cost of braces, contact lenses, a nose job, and breast implants, but his gifts had transformed a geeky twenty-year-old into the kind of wife he deserved—at least, outwardly. And while Lynette no longer bore much resemblance to the young woman she'd been before meeting Peter, she'd never really left her old self behind. So for that reason, whenever she looked into the mirror, it usually took a few moments for her to reconcile the two.
One of these days, she would probably begin to feel comfortable in her own skin, but in the meantime, she was up for a change. So she said, “Sure, let's add the highlights.”
Nearly twenty minutes later, when Lynette's head was covered with pieces of folded foil and the bleaching solution had begun to process, Carly's telephone rang.
“Hold on,” she told Lynette. “I'm going to put you under the hair dryer for a little while. But let me take this call, okay?”
“Sure.” Lynette reached for a magazine that another customer had left near Carly's station. She had no intention of listening to her hairdresser's conversation, but she couldn't help tuning in when she picked up words like “I'm sorry” and “I can make a partial payment.”
“Please,” Carly told the caller, her voice hushed—but not enough for complete privacy. “I have kids, Jerry. Don't ask me to move before Christmas.”
Lynette's stomach clenched as she realized what was happening. She'd overheard this kind of conversation in the past. But when she was a kid, her dad would usually pack up the family in the middle of the night and make them move before they were evicted. And unlike Carly, he hadn't seemed to care whether it was during a holiday or the night before a test at school.
She tried her best to study the glossy magazine pages and to appear to be deep in thought. She didn't want Carly to know she'd overheard anything or that she'd come to realize the hairdresser was having financial trouble.
Carly turned her back, stepped away, and lowered her voice even further, yet Lynette could still make out some of her words.
“It's . . . my busiest . . . working . . . two salons.”
She was implying that she was trying to raise the money. But she'd also just done an elderly woman's hair without charging her, clearly taking a financial hit out of the goodness of her heart.
“I'll . . . caught up . . . every penny.”
Penny?
Lynette was again reminded of Maggie's tale, although Carly's reality shot the moral of the story to smithereens.
So much for the magic treasure box. If the do-unto-others theme really worked, Carly wouldn't be struggling like this—especially at Christmas.
Just pondering Carly's plight sent Lynette's mind reeling back to the old days, when she'd worn shoes a size too small, when her birthday had come and gone without notice, let alone fanfare. And when she'd gone to bed with an empty stomach many a night.
Thank goodness those days were long behind her and she was able to provide for all her needs because of the trust fund Peter had set up for her.
She was, of course, tempted to loan Carly some money to see her through the holidays. But if she was struggling to pay her basic necessities now, how would she manage to do all of that in January and still be able to repay the debt?
A loan would become a gift, and even though Lynette's financial situation was solid these days, she couldn't very well give away what she had.
What if she lost it all and was forced to live in poverty again?
Of course, there were worse things than growing up poor—like waking to the sound of drunken parents yelling at each other until the neighbors called the police and trying to stay out of arm's reach on nights like that.
Still, she wanted to help Carly in some way....
What the woman really needed was to meet and marry a nice, successful man who could support her, a man who would be kind to her children.
A man who would love her, just as Peter had loved Lynette. As the memory warmed her heart, a game plan began to unfold.
What if Lynette found a rich, older man who could provide for Carly and her sons? If she did, she could play matchmaker and set them up.
Carly was young and attractive, so that would make things easier—even if she did have children to add to the mix.

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