On the morning of the party, Millie awoke long before dawn. By the time the sun came up, she had rolled three dozen ham-and-cheese pinwheels, mixed up the crab salad, prepped the artichoke dip for baking, and created a huge Christmas tree-shaped relish tray. Eight varieties of cookies were thawing on the dining room table, and the heavenly aroma of chocolate cake wafted from the oven. Christmas carols played softly from the radio, and she hummed along as she filled mini pastry shells with the chicken salad she’d made yesterday. Rufus sat at attention at her feet, his nose twitching and his dark eyes begging for her to have pity and toss him a morsel.
When Albert entered the room, she stopped her task long enough to pour his coffee and refill her own.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” He eyed the results of her labor over the rim of his mug. “I could have helped.”
“There’s still plenty to do.” Returning to her chair, she gestured for him to join her at the table. “Drink your coffee, and when you’re awake enough to handle a knife, you can slice the salami.”
When the last pastry shell had been filled, she slid the tray into the fridge and then crossed that task off of her to-do list. Scanning the page, she fought against an unreasonable stab of nerves. A satisfying number of items had been completed, but she still had over half a page to go before the guests arrived.
A glance at the clock helped to restore her calm. The party didn’t start for another eight hours. The house was spotless, and every room tastefully decorated for the holiday. She’d be ready.
She turned from the counter in time to see Albert pop a thick piece of salami into his mouth.
“What?” He attempted to look innocent. “It was uneven. Would have looked bad on the tray.”
“Hmm.” Unable to hold the mock frown for more than a few seconds, she crossed the room and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Suggesting this party.” Straightening, she glanced at the counter, which was covered with tempting appetizers ready to serve her guests. “It was the perfect thing to get me in the Christmas spirit. Not that I won’t still miss Alison,” she hurried to add, “but planning for tonight has been fun.”
The oddest expression came over his face. It took her a moment to identify, and when she did, she cocked her head. Why did Albert look guilty?
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
He didn’t answer at first but continued to slice round slivers of the spicy meat. “Actually, there’s some—” At the ringing of her cell phone, his mouth snapped shut.
She glanced at the screen and snatched up the phone. “It’s Frieda. I hope she’s not calling to tell me she can’t come. Hello?”
“You won’t believe what she’s done now.”
Though there was only one person about whom Frieda would call this early on a Saturday, Millie asked, “What who’s done?”
“Your friend, of course.” She made the word sound like an insult. “The decoration queen of Main Street.”
Millie winced at the biting sarcasm. “Oh, dear. What is it this time?”
“You’ve got to see it to believe it. Come down here.”
“I can’t go anywhere. I’m getting ready for the party.” She realized she spoke to dead air. Frieda had hung up.
Albert had stopped slicing to watch her. “What’s wrong?”
“Apparently Lulu has taken it upon herself to do some more decorating.” Resigned, she unplugged the phone from the charger and slid it into her pocket. “I’ve been summoned downtown.”
He set down the knife. “I’ll go with you.”
Al parked the car in front of the Whistlestop Café. They got out, and Millie came around to his side. The new display had already drawn a crowd. For a moment they stood, taking in the view.
The decorated Douglas fir, lights off at this hour of the morning, stood in its place of honor at the end of Main Street. From this angle, it could barely be seen behind a huge inflated plastic globe with the words Merry Christmas printed inside on the backdrop of a cartoon version of a snowy wonderland. Another globe, slightly smaller, stood to the right of the tree, and yet another to the left. In fact, the entire grassy circle around the tree was full of inflatable globes. A loud hum carried on the chilly morning air above the murmur of voices coming from those assembled, and Al spied fake snow swirling inside the plastic bubbles.
“Oh my.” Millie stood transfixed, her hand covering her mouth.
“I definitely see the Thacker touch,” he offered, which earned him a sharp look.
Someone in the cluster of onlookers caught sight of them and broke away from the crowd to stomp in their direction. Frieda. Judging by her stern expression, she wasn’t about to deliver praise for the town’s new decorations.
“Do you see that?” The woman waved a wild hand behind her as she approached. “Just look what she’s done to our town.”
Millie put on a forced smile. “They’re certainly… big.”
A snort blasted from Frieda’s nose. “To say the least. There’s a snowman on that side.” She pointed toward the far side of the tree. “And a Santa on this one. And in the front is a nativity!” Her chest inflated with an outraged intake of breath. “A nativity in a snow globe!”
Al ventured a question. “Is that all?”
The woman rounded on him, nostrils flaring. “All? All! Reducing our Savior’s birth to a… a… an air-filled debacle!”
Actually, Frieda’s agitation filled Al with the desire to see the nativity globe and judge for himself. He rarely sided with the opinionated woman, even if she was a business owner.
Another car pulled into the parking lot and came to a halt beside theirs. Jerry and Cindie Selbo emerged, their gazes fixed on the town’s new decorations.
“Wow.” The mayor approached with his long-legged gait. “It’s eye-catching, I’ll give her that.”
“How much do you suppose those things cost?” Al asked.
“I saw some at the hardware store last week,” Jerry answered. “They were smaller than these, but still four hundred dollars. I can’t imagine how much they paid.”
“Lulu shops on eBay,” Millie offered. “She’s really good at finding bargains.”
Frieda stepped forward to stand less than a foot in front of Millie, and thrust her face within inches. “I don’t care how much of a bargain she got, they’re gaudy and tacky and we won’t stand for it. You’ve got to do something!”
Anger stirred Al to action. He strode forward and thrust himself between his beloved and her attacker. “Why does Millie have to do anything? She’s not the Main Street Manager. We don’t even own a business in town, not yet. And not on Main Street. If you don’t like it, you do something about it.”
“No!” Placing a hand on his shoulder, Millie stepped around him. “Lulu is only trying to do a good job. She loves serving the town, and honestly, who else would be willing to do her job for free?”
A glance at Mayor Selbo and Frieda, who failed to meet anyone’s eye at the moment, provided the answer. No one.
“Let me talk to her. I’ll get her to see reason.” Millie squared her shoulders, earning even more of Al’s respect. What a woman he’d married! “But not today. I have too much going on. After church tomorrow I’ll sit down with her and have a heart-to-heart.”
Frieda’s eyes narrowed, while Jerry and Cindie exchanged a glance. Then all three nodded.
“But tomorrow night is it,” Frieda warned. “After that, I’ll take a knife to the things.”
She strode off, stomping in the direction of the Freckled Frog like an offended drill sergeant.
When she was out of earshot, Al spoke to no one in particular. “I want to see that nativity.”
He sauntered toward the expanding crowd, aware that Millie and the Selbos fell in step behind him. The four circled the clearing. On one side a happy inflatable snowman, complete with black top hat and corncob pipe, perched amid a flurry of white flakes. A pair of children stood with their faces plastered to the bubble, mesmerized by the snowstorm inside the globe. Their parents stood behind them, snapping pictures. Lucy Cardwell and Tuesday Love had placed themselves in front of the nativity globe.
Tuesday grinned at their approach. “I just love Snoopy. A Charlie Brown Christmas has been one of my favorite holiday shows since I was a kid.”
Sure enough, the globe featured the characters from the beloved comic strip. Above the plastic bubble, Sally in angel garb smiled down at Charlie, Lucy, and Snoopy, all gazing into a manger.
“I think it’s cute,” Cindie commented. At a sharp glance from the owner of Cardwell Drugstore, she amended the comment. “Of course, it doesn’t fit here, but it’s a nice yard decoration for someone who likes this sort of thing.”
More people joined them, and Al nodded at those he recognized. Creekers gathering for their traditional Saturday morning coffee at the drugstore’s soda fountain detoured to get a look at the new decorations.
“Woudja lookit that?” Norman Pilkington’s voice rose above the others. “Hit’s Santy Clause in this ’un.”
Little Norm called from the other side. “Frosty’s over here, Pa.”
Al and Millie had done the full circuit and halted in front of the biggest bubble, the one with the backdrop.
“What’s this supposed to be?” Al cocked his head and eyed the vacant space in front of the winter scene. “It looks empty.”
Millie opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment some people approached. The man held his cell phone toward Al. “Would you get our picture?”
After instructing Al to “just press that dot,” he ushered his family through a hidden door in the backdrop. The four stood in the empty space, characters in their own snow globe scene. The children shouted, “Cheese!” and Al pressed the button. Then he backed up a few steps. From this angle, the camera lens could capture the entire west side of Main Street, with all the wreaths and storefront decorations. He snapped several more shots.
Millie stood beside him, taking in the view. “At night, when the wreath lights are on, that could be a really nice picture.”
The family trooped out, thanked Al, and then stepped aside to view the pictures he’d snapped. The children giggled, and the parents wore broad smiles as they waved goodbye and continued toward the Whistlestop, apparently for breakfast.
The Selbos approached, and Jerry stood with his hands planted on his hips, head cocked, looking at the display. “You know, it’s not bad. I kind of like it.”
Al’s lips twitched. “Don’t let Frieda hear you say that.”
Cindie nodded agreement. “Decorations are like art. Some people like landscapes, some like nouveau, some like impressionist. There’s a place for everything.”
“That’s true.” Millie glanced down the street toward the Freckled Frog. “But I’m afraid I agree with Frieda. Main Street isn’t the place for this kind of decoration.” Her eyes brightened. “Maybe we could suggest that we move these somewhere. The front of the elementary school, maybe.”
Jerry appeared to consider and then shrugged. “I’m not sure Lulu will go for it, but you can try.” Then he brightened. “We’re looking forward to the party tonight.”
“Can we bring anything?” Cindie asked.
“Don’t you dare.” Millie glanced up at the sky. “But you might say a prayer that the storm holds off.”
The weather forecast notwithstanding, Millie’s house filled with party guests. A tasteful display of glowing garland, twinkling shrubs, and peppermint-wrapped columns on the front porch welcomed everyone. She conducted countless tours of the upstairs bedrooms, revealing each one with pride. A color-draped evergreen twinkled in the Bo Peep room, and what else could she have put in the Little Boy Blue room but a silver tree with blue lights? The crowning glory of the house stood in the entry hall, a ten-foot Colorado blue spruce glowing with all the colors of the rainbow, an ornament dangling from every branch.
The Wainright boys, doing penance with serious expressions and matching red bow ties, accepted people’s coats and hung them on rented coatracks in the hallway. Fern, hired for the occasion to ensure that no tray on the dining room table ever went empty, carried out her duties with a solemn competency that impressed Millie no end.
“Oh my goodness, would you look at that!” Tuesday Love, who arrived decked out in a faux fur jacket which she refused to relinquish, exclaimed over the elaborate display of treats. “Why, it’s like Santa himself came to visit.”
Millie drifted from one cluster of guests to another, chatting and tasting and gracefully accepting accolades for the elaborate display and scrumptious food.
Susan and Justin arrived, he in a suit and she sporting a little black dress that Millie might have worn three decades ago.
“The house looks beautiful,” Susan told her.
“And you look lovely, dear.” Millie turned to Justin. “I made your favorite corn bread, but I suggest you hurry. It’s going fast.”
His eyes lit. “You made broccoli corn bread?”
Dismay overtook Susan’s features. “Corn bread with broccoli in it? Really?”
“Honest, hon, it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.” Justin grabbed her by the hand and tugged her toward the dining room.
Albert, looking extremely handsome in his gray suit and red silk tie, emerged from the parlor. “Have you met Ansel Crowder? Nice guy.”
Millie peeked past him and spied Alice smiling shyly at the man she’d brought as her guest. Lately she had looked tired and careworn, but tonight the deep lines on her face had disappeared. Good. She deserved an evening of fun.
“It’s going well, don’t you think?” Millie whispered to Albert.
“Absolutely.” He slipped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
The front door was thrown open, and the Thackers made their entrance. Really, that was the only way to describe the way they strode into the house, arm in arm, decked out in matching Christmas sweaters. Millie’s jaw went slack, completely at a loss for words to describe the 3D blinking trees plastered across their chests, complete with tinsel and strands of lights that encircled their necks.
Franklin paused on the threshold and shouted, “Merry Honkmas, fellow geese.” He proceeded to flap his elbows and shout, “Honk, honk, honk” to the tune of “Jingle Bells,” while Lulu erupted in peals of laughter that echoed up the staircase and into the far reaches of the house. In the dining room, Violet stopped her conversation with Doris to give an expansive eye roll.
“Merry Christmas.” Millie greeted Lulu with a cautious hug. “I don’t want to knock anything off of your, uh, tree.”
“Don’t worry.” Lulu dismissed the concern with a wave. “I used so much hot glue attaching all these do-dads they’re not going anywhere.”
Albert shook hands with Franklin, and closed the door against a biting wind.
Lulu’s wide lips stretched into a gigantic smile. “Well? Have you been downtown today?”
“Actually, yes. I saw the new decorations this morning.”
“They look great, don’t they? Just wait till you see them all lit up at night.” She hooked an arm through Franklin’s. “We took a lesson from those cute little boys and did the work in the middle of the night so people would wake up to a surprise this morning. Then we had to sleep half the day to catch up.” She gave a wide yawn. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“We drove down Main Street on the way here,” Franklin said, “but nobody much was around. Figured they were probably all here.” He craned his neck to scan the guests. “Looks like we were right.”
Millie gestured graciously toward the dining room. “Go on inside and help yourself to food.”
“First things first. Lookie here.” From a large bag Lulu produced a gift-wrapped box. “I brought you something.”
Millie took the package thrust at her. “But the invitations said no gifts. This party is for fun, not presents.”
“It’s not for the party, honey.” Her teeth appeared in the midst of a wide grin. “It’s ’cause you’re my friend. Go ahead. Open it.”
How could one decline such a sweet gesture? As she slid a fingernail beneath the tape, Millie wracked her brain for something to give Lulu in return. Thank goodness there were still two weeks before Christmas. A small crowd gathered around them as she pulled the last of the paper off the box and handed it to Albert.
Lulu spread her generous smile around the watchers. “I made it with my own hands. It’s as unique as Millie herself.”
With those words, Millie’s nerves began to jitter. Apprehension high, she lifted the top off the box.
A gasp rose from the assembled.
“Oh my.” Her long-deceased mother’s voice whispered in her ear. If you can’t say anything nice… But when receiving a gift, one must reply. “It’s…” She gulped, her mind as empty as a vacuum. Finally, she managed to choke out, “It’s a sweater with a pair of snowmen.”
“Aren’t they adorable?” Lulu snatched the garment from the box and held it up for everyone to see. The snowmen were strategically placed so that their hats climbed up the sweater’s shoulders. “Those eyes are made outta real coal, and their mouths are little black buttons. And see how that gold tinsel at the cuffs matches the decoration on their hats?”
“The feathers were my idea.” Franklin’s chest puffed out. “Adds a nice touch, don’t you think?”
Millie extended a finger to touch the bright green feather boa that encircled the sweater’s hem and also covered the snowmen’s hats. But she could not tear her gaze from the giant orange carrots. They protruded at least six inches. Two of them. One on each side.
“I…” She gulped and forced a smile. “Thank you, Lulu. This is the most unique gift I have ever received.”
An approving titter rose from the watchers, along with a snort from somewhere behind her. Violet, no doubt. Millie ignored her.
“You’re welcome.” Lulu grinned at her husband. “And since we’re all here, I have an announcement.”
Franklin’s eyes went round. He shook his head. “No, Sugar Lips. Now’s not the time.”
“What better time?” Lulu spread her arms wide to indicate the party guests. “So many of our Goose Creek friends are here.”
The look Franklin cast toward Albert contained a panicky tinge that Millie had never seen the normally confident—and somewhat clueless—man wear.
“Well, now you’ve got us curious,” said Justin.
“That’s right,” Cindie added. “You can’t leave us hanging.”
Franklin continued to shake his head, and he even extended a hand toward his wife’s face as if to muzzle her. Lulu assumed a proud stance, her long neck stretched to its fullest length.
“My Frankie’s moving up in the world. He just got a big promotion at work. You’re looking at the new Manager of Software Development.”
“What?” Albert’s shout held an edge of outrage that gave it enough volume to echo up the stairs.
Surprised, Millie turned in time to see him stride across the hardwood floor and come to a stop in front of Franklin. “They fired me and then promoted you?”
The words rang in a sudden silence like Christmas bells on a snowy morning.
Al’s gut burned as if he’d gulped a gallon of battery acid. The stares of his friends and neighbors pressed on him from all sides, but they were nothing to the laser beams coming from Millie’s eyes. One by one the guests slipped away, congregating in the dining room or parlor or anywhere away from the uncomfortable silence of the entry hall.
Lulu watched them go, confusion clear on her face. “What’s wrong? Why isn’t anybody congratulating you, Honey Bun?”
Thacker gave her a look that clearly said not now, and stepped toward Al. “I’m sorry, Bert. It came as a surprise to me too. But what was I gonna do, turn it down because they let my buddy go?”
Al barely heard him. Instead, his entire attention was fixed on his beloved wife, whose face bore an alarming blend of anger and injury. Being one of the most intelligent women he knew, no doubt her brain was sifting through a dozen or so tidbits from the past two weeks. Phone calls from his cell instead of the office. Research trips to the library. An increase in the gasoline budget, because he’d spent far more time driving than usual. Even this party. No doubt the reason behind his suggestion was dawning on her at this moment.
She uttered only one word. “When?”
He considered lying, but only for a second. He was tired of lying. And no matter how he’d convinced himself that he had not actually uttered a lie, deceit was a form of lying. Lies had a way of expanding and multiplying. Utter a lie, and before you knew it, you’d told five others to cover the first.
He hung his head. “The Friday before Thanksgiving.”
Fiery red splotches erupted on her face, but she made no reply. Instead she gave a single nod, turned, and stomped down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen.
Lulu stared after her for a moment, and then she rounded on him. “Do you mean to say you got fired more than three weeks ago and you never told your wife?”
“Now, Sugar Lips.” Thacker took her by the arm and pulled her back. “The man had his reasons. He’s been putting together a plan, applying for jobs and learning new skills and such.”
Her mouth gaped open to its full, not-inconsiderable size. “You knew? All this time you knew and didn’t tell me?”
Thacker took a long-legged step back, his hands raised in a posture of self-defense and cast a desperate glance toward Al. “He swore me to secrecy.”
Shoulders slumped, Al told Lulu, “It’s not his fault. The blame is all mine. I just wanted some time.” He glanced down the hallway to where Millie had disappeared.
Lulu followed his gaze. “I think your time is up.” She placed a hand on his back and shoved him toward the kitchen.
Moving like a condemned man, Al scuffed his shoes all the way down the hall. Heath and Forest, seated on the carpenter’s bench near the coat racks, raised sympathetic glances from their video games as he passed.
He found Millie in the kitchen with Violet. Their whispered conversation fell silent when he entered, and Millie presented her back to him. Violet awarded him a tight-lipped scowl.
“May we have a minute alone?” he asked.
As she slipped by him, she said, “The cat’s out of the bag now. Your name is mud. You’d best come clean and no bones about it.”
A part of his mind admired her ability to use four appropriate clichés at once, but he had no energy to waste on her. The woman in front of him whose spine appeared stiffer than a steel rod commanded all his attention.
Until a few minutes ago, his plan to delay telling Millie he’d lost his job didn’t seem so bad. He’d been so sure something better would come along. For weeks he’d entertained visions of sitting her down and saying, “J&J let me go, but don’t worry. I found a better job here.” In retrospect, his actions looked far more nefarious, even loathsome, than they had at the time.
What could he say to make this right? A mere apology wouldn’t cut it this time. Major groveling was definitely in order.
“Millie—”
She whirled on him, anger sparking from her eyes and a large knife shining in her hand. “Don’t talk to me.”
He gulped. “But I—”
“I mean it, Albert. This is not the time.” Returning to the counter, she tackled a stack of celery with vicious slices.
At times like this, a wise man had only one recourse. Moving as silently as he could, Al backed out of the kitchen and slunk into his private den, where he planned to spend the rest of the evening praying for mercy.
1 box (10 ounces) frozen chopped broccoli
1 large onion, diced
1 stick butter
1 small box corn bread mix, such as Jiffy
3 eggs (may use ¾ cup of egg substitute)
1 cup low-fat or fat-free cottage cheese
Preheat oven to 350°. Grease a 9-inch round cake pan or an 8 × 8-inch square baking dish. Cook broccoli according to directions on package; drain well. Sauté onion in butter until tender and stir into broccoli. In a second bowl, combine eggs and cottage cheese, and then stir in corn bread mix. Add broccoli mixture and stir until combined. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 35 minutes. Cool slightly. Cut into wedges or squares and serve warm with butter.