On a gusty Saturday morning one week after accepting Matthew’s offer, Savannah walked the mile from her home to Howardson’s. Cyclones of dried brown leaves swirled about her as she tightened the scarf around her neck, warding off the morning chill. Savannah enjoyed the brisk cold air, a little cooler than most early November days, and the air was tinged with the unmistakable autumn earthy aromas of woodsmoke, pumpkins, and dried apples. She deeply inhaled the invigorating clear air, filling her lungs and blowing up her cheeks like a squirrel’s stocked with nuts, and exhaled a cleansing breath. Feeling even more energized, Savannah picked up her step and walked more vigorously, as the walk gave her time to think about what she had committed herself to for the next several weeks. At the time of Matthew Buck’s offer, it sounded fun and he was willing to pay her $20 an hour, plus a 75% store discount. She needed a new parka for her trip and had been eying a snow-white puffer coat with a faux fur-trimmed hood and cuffs since Labor Day. This winter luxury was well out of her price range, but with this part-time gig and the discount, she could afford the coat and maybe even the matching mittens. Savannah envisioned herself walking on The Blue Spruce Inn’s miles of wooded trails, with a dusting of fresh snow falling from a winter sky, with one of the inn’s golden retrievers by her side. In her mind’s eye, she could see and hear shiny black-capped chickadees and downy gray titmice singing, tweeting, and fluttering like tiny winter angels from pine tree to pine tree, chirping their own avian yuletide carols in the sharp cold December air, all the while tucked into her cozy new coat.
The sudden blare of a loud bus horn jolted Savannah from her daydream, and she realized she was standing at the front door of Howardson’s. Even at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning the revolving doors were spinning faster than a tornado, with shoppers thrusting each other in and out at a dizzying speed. Savannah grasped the brass vertical handle and pushed herself inside the store and stopped in her tracks in utter amazement.
Every trace of autumn and Halloween had been wiped clean from the counters and floors. At each end of the main information desk stood two ten-foot Fraser fir trees. Icy white lights were expertly threaded throughout the trees, creating the illusion that the teeny sparkling diamonds were sifted like confectioner’s sugar onto each dark green branch. In lieu of tinsel and garland was a thick silver and gold sash artistically woven through the branches proclaiming ”Howardson’s Celebrates the Season.” Savannah truly felt she had walked onto a Christmas movie set, and she suspected that this was only a tease. The real extravaganza would be on the third floor, where merchandise had been removed to accommodate The Enchanted Land of Claus. It was not yet open to the public, but Matthew had given her the code to the employee elevator which would take her directly into The Enchanted Land of Claus, where she had a starring role.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened and what she saw before her eyes took her breath away. Savannah was no longer in Howardson’s Emporium. Like Dorothy being whisked over the rainbow, Savannah found herself magically transported to a Christmas wonderland the likes of no other she had ever seen.
Two enormous wooden doors, decorated with winter greenery, stood open to a large area. On each side of the doors were two additional Fraser fir trees festooned with glittery ribbons of red, green, gold and silver and every holiday decoration imaginable. A plush red carpet lay on the floor that would eventually lead customers into The Enchanted Land of Claus. A large hand-painted sign was positioned above the doorway proclaiming The Enchanted Land of Claus, and like Dorothy stepping on to the first yellow brick of the road leading to Oz, Savannah stepped onto the red carpet and made her way down, according to the giant peppermint candy sign, Peppermint Stick Stroll. Walking slowly, she gazed in wonder at this magical transformation. Aisles of computers and electronics had magically morphed into Christmas vignettes—animatronic figures of children skating on frozen ponds, and reindeer and foxes gently bobbing their heads up in holiday greeting. Electric fireplaces festooned with multicolored stockings blazed in hearths. Ambling further down Peppermint Stick Stroll, Savannah found herself in front of two of the most magnificent thrones she had ever seen, reminiscent of a museum exhibition. They were identical except for the color—one was upholstered in a rich, red velveteen and the other in a dark pine tree green. They were adorned with faux-gold trim, with snowflakes and Christmas trees carved into gold. A large cushion sat in the middle of the thrones, with two smaller ones at each side, ensuring plenty of room for children to sit upon to tell Santa and Mrs. Claus their most magical Christmas wishes. Huge chandeliers in the shapes of three-dimensional stars hung from the ceiling, glowing bright white, pale yellow, icy blue, and Christmas red, as the serenades of winter birds could be heard among the decorated life-like trees. Savannah thought this could rival one single New York City department store, and Matthew Buck was nothing short of a creative genius. A feeling of pride surged through Savannah as she recalled what Matthew had said to her about being a part of this cherished tradition and its pure Christmas magic. Savannah then knew she made the right decision in accepting the role of Howardson’s Mrs. Claus.
“I hope I can live up to it,” she said, still gazing in awe at the momentous display.
“Oh, I think you’ll do just fine.”
Savannah quickly turned around toward the voice but saw no one, and then, out of nowhere, a woman tiptoed from behind a giant candy cane. She had a bright yellow tape measure hanging around her neck and one of those old-fashioned pin cushions wrapped around a skeletal wrist like an oversized wristwatch. It looked like a huge ripe tomato with multiple pins and sewing needles stuck into it, poking up from inside. She seemed familiar to Savannah, and then Savannah recalled she was the woman who had been tying the bow on the moose’s neck shortly before Matthew mugged her.
“Matthew described you very well, I might say. I maybe have to take in the waist a bit and hem the dress a tad, but yes, very good job indeed.”
“You must be Fern Rhodes,” Savannah said, extending her hand. ”Matthew emailed and said you’d be ready to meet with me at 9:30. I know I’m a bit early, so I’m happy to wait.” She looked up at the lighted stars and thought she could wait there all day if necessary. It was too beautiful to leave.
“No time like the present,” said Fern, marching toward Savannah. ”My seamstress workshop is back here. I have your costume already made, and I do believe all I have to do is tweak it a bit and you’ll be Mrs. Claus in a jiffy!”
Savannah obediently followed Fern towards the back of The Enchanted Land of Claus. Fern slid open a pocket door and proceeded into a small work area full of fabric swatches, measuring tapes, dress mannequins and a large, old-fashioned sewing machine.
“This way, please, and watch your step. I can get a bit messy when I’m working, and I tend to throw things helter skelter. I don’t want you to trip, but then again, I guess that’s how you ended up here. A fortuitous fall on behalf of Matthew Buck I’d say.”
“You heard?” Savannah asked, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks with embarrassment, as it did cause quite the scene that day.
“Of course I heard, and I think it’s actually charming.” She stepped close to Savannah and got right to work, encircling the tape measure around Savannah’s hips.
“Matthew’s brilliant, but he can be socially awkward,” she said through a mouth full of pins. Savannah worried that Fern may accidentally swallow them, but she adeptly removed them from her mouth and stuck them safely back into her bracelet-like pin cushion.
“Looks like I got your measurements very close to right,” she said, walking over to a rack full of costumes hanging on felt hangers. Fern pulled a hanger from the rack containing a dove gray silk covering and plopped it into Savannah’s arms.
“Dressing room’s right in there,” Fern said, pointing to a blue door. ”Put it on then come on back out and let’s see if it fits properly.”
Savannah got the immediate impression that Fern Rhodes was quite the task master and when she discharged an order, it was to be obeyed. Immediately. Where Fern was small in stature, she seemed the type who received the respect she commanded—intimidating but also encouraging. Savannah remembered a vague sort of warning in one of Matthew’s emails.
“I’ve known Fern Rhodes for years, and there’s no better seamstress, but she can be a little eccentric. Bear with her and once she warms up to you—and she will—she’ll treat you like royalty.”
A shiver of excitement coursed through Savannah’s hands as she gingerly unzipped the silk dress cover. She already felt she had been given such extraordinary treatment just by having someone create a custom-made dress for her, as everything she bought was straight off the rack. There had never been an occasion in all of Savannah’s fifty-three years that she needed something custom made, not even her wedding dress, which was a pretty, white, lace, tea-length dress she purchased in Howardson’s bridal salon thirty years ago. It was Savannah’s decision to keep her wedding simple, as she and Bradley had just enough money saved for a down payment on a small house outside of Boston. Bradley always told her she never looked more beautiful than she did in that dress, and every year on their wedding anniversary, with the exception of the year she was pregnant with Patrick, she wore the dress for their annual dinner date.
“You never change, Savvy,” he’d tell her every year with their champagne toast, she recalled closing the door of Fern’s dressing room.
“To my favorite girl in my favorite dress.”
Savannah cut a tiny swatch of fabric from the dress and had placed it into Bradley’s hands before his casket was closed at his funeral, a piece of their lives together to keep with him for eternity.
“Are you almost done?” Fern’s high-pitched squeak of a voice brought Savannah immediately back to the present.
“Just a sec,” she breathlessly answered in anticipation of what was inside the silk covering. She pulled down the gold zipper to the end of the bag and spread it aside. Savannah let out a gasp of delight as she gently pulled the dress from the bag. It was spectacular.
The dress was reminiscent of a 1950s swing dress, with a long-sleeved fitted top and a skirt that flared from the hips. The top was crushed velvet while the skirt was a gorgeous silk that was soft as a puppy’s fur. The dress was the most beautiful shade of blue Savannah had ever seen, reminding her of a clear winter sky after a snowstorm.
She quickly shed her sweater and jeans and carefully stepped into the dress, sliding her arms into the sleeves and pulling the top over her shoulders. She was just able to reach the zipper in the back and gently pulled it up to her neck. Savannah looked in the mirror, marveling at the reflection before her. The dress hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her hips and bust, but without being too tight or revealing. It hit right at the knee, the skirt billowing and swinging with every move, as snow-white faux fur trimmed the hem and tickled her knees. The collar and cuffs had the same trim as the hem, with tiny glistening white seed pearls sewn under and above the trim giving off sparkles of light, giving the illusion that twinkling stars were sewn into the dress. A rhinestone belt embellished with clear crystals had fallen onto the floor, and Savannah picked it up and fastened it around her waist, making her shimmer like a frozen winter pond. It was a simple design, but the details made it extraordinary.
“I didn’t forget your feet,” Fern called, ”but you’ll have to come out of that dressing room to get them.”
“I’ll be right there,” Savannah replied, unable to take her eyes from the mirror’s reflection. She hadn’t felt this magical since her wedding day.
“Now that’s the ticket,” Fern said, her head nodding in approval at Savannah’s appearance as she walked from the dressing room. ”Almost perfect,” she declared as she grabbed a large shoe box and handed it to Savannah.
Savannah waded through what seemed like a whole package of white tissue paper before she unburied what was in the box.
“An old cobbler friend of mine made them. They won’t be too small, but if they are too big you can wear extra socks. Although something tells me these will fit perfectly.”
Savannah pulled out a pair of shearling boots, white as a fluffy winter cloud on a clear cold day. The lining in the boots was the color of the dress with pretty tassels just a shade darker than the dress hanging from the sides. She heard a very faint jingle, and upon taking a closer look, she discovered minuscule silver bells discreetly embroidered into the tassels. Savannah slid them onto her feet and looked into Fern’s magic mirror. She was no longer looking at Savannah Brady. She was looking at Mrs. Claus.
“I think just a nip here and a tuck there,” Fern said, her hands pulling on the dress and stretching it around Savannah’s waist, tugging on the sleeves and puffing out the shoulders.
“Not quite perfect yet, but it will be tomorrow. Are you able to come back then?” asked Fern as she shooed Savannah back into the dressing room to change.
“I’ll be here,” she told Fern, carefully slipping from the dress.
“Don’t bother putting it back in the bag,” Fern said.”I’ll get to work on it soon. Oh! One more thing. How could I have forgotten?” She ran to her sewing table and grabbed a long rectangular white box which she handed to Savannah.
“Totally optional, but I think it completes the outfit.” Savannah removed the lid and waded through more endless white tissue to find a pair of white silk gloves. She pulled them onto her hands and the softness was incredible, feeling as if she were not wearing anything at all.
“Might not be too practical when decorating cookies, but I think it adds a nice touch when meeting and greeting,” Fern said, watching as Savannah extended her hands in admiration.
“They are just beautiful. I promise to be extra careful,” Savannah said, removing the gloves carefully, finger by finger, and gently replacing them inside of the box.
“See ya tomorrow!” And with that, Fern disappeared deep into the back rooms of The Enchanted Land of Claus.
“Just like a Christmas elf,” Savannah laughed, a feeling of giddiness washing over her. She had something to look forward to now instead of just another weekend of running the same errands and collapsing in front of the TV as the dulcet tones of a home shopping channel anchor droned on about frozen cookie dough and six-foot-long mops until she fell asleep. Soon she would be putting on that most beautiful and magical dress and greeting Howardson’s customers as the official Mrs. Claus of The Enchanted Land of Claus.
Savannah’s phone pinged as she unlocked the door of her apartment. She had stopped at the grocery store and now her arms were full of bags, almost dropping the bag that contained the eggs. She managed to push the door open with her foot and set the bags on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Thinking it was Patrick, she excitedly pulled the phone from her pocket but saw an unrecognized phone number. As she read the text, she couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her face.
“Fern said the dress was perfect. Get some rest, Mrs. Claus. MB.”
“That I will do, MB,” she said, smiling, returning the text. A happy excitement she hadn’t felt in a long time flooded Savannah, and even the mundaneness of putting groceries away seemed a little more thrilling.