'Tis the Season Read online

  Ruby and Flora made a dash for the television set and turned on channel 8. Running along the bottom of the screen were the names of the schools that would be closed that day. The list was alphabetical and was up to the G’s. Flora and Ruby had to wait for it to get all the way around to the C’s again. When it did, they clasped hands. A moment later, Ruby let out a whoop. “There it is! There it is! Camden Falls Central Schools — closed!”

  “Wa-hoo!” cried Flora, and she and Ruby danced into the kitchen.

  “Let’s call Nikki,” said Ruby. “She must be up by now. Her bus comes early.”

  “And we don’t have to worry that her father will answer the phone,” said Flora.

  “My land, I’ve never seen such excitement,” said Min a few minutes later when Ruby and Flora finally settled down to breakfast.

  “Hey, Min, I have a new expression for you,” said Ruby. “It’s ‘my sainted aunt.’ I read it in a book.”

  Min smiled. “I like that,” she said. “Now listen, girls. I have something very important to tell you.”

  Ruby looked at her grandmother, startled, but Min wore a smile on her face.

  “In this house,” Min went on, “we have a rule about snow days, especially snow days when you don’t have to go to school and I don’t have to go to Needle and Thread — which I won’t have to do until later today. This is the rule: You get to do whatever you want until the snow stops falling. Then you’ll come outside and help me shovel our walk. Everyone else will be shoveling, too.”

  “Whatever we want,” Ruby repeated dreamily. There were so many possibilities. Indoor things, outdoor things. She gazed out the window, thinking of snowmen and snow forts.

  An unexpected free morning was such a lovely surprise that in the end everyone did more than one thing. Min first read by the fire, then set to work in the sewing room. Flora got out her projects and stitched and glued and cut and stamped until Olivia came over to talk about Mae’s Christmas surprise. Ruby rehearsed (loudly) several scenes from the school play, then put on her coat and snow pants and boots and hat and scarf and mittens and went outside to build a snow family with Robby and Olivia’s brothers and the Morris kids.

  Just after lunchtime, the snow wound down until only a few teeny flakes were falling and Ruby could see patches of blue in the sky.

  “Shoveling time,” announced Min.

  Ruby put all of her outdoor clothes on for the second time, and Min asked her if she would go to the garage and find the snow shovels. “I think they’re leaning against the back wall.”

  By the time Ruby returned with the shovels, most of the Row House neighbors were outside, just as Min had predicted. Olivia and her parents were shoveling their walk, while Henry and Jack, Olivia’s brothers, helped Mr. Pennington with his. Robby was working cheerfully alongside his parents, and Dr. Malone was being helped by Margaret and a sullen-looking Lydia. At the south end of the row, Mrs. Morris worked on the walk while Mr. Morris, aided by Lacey and her twin brother, Mathias, began to unbury his car, which unfortunately hadn’t been parked in their garage. Ruby looked at the other end of the row and saw the Fongs emerge from their front door, a shovel in Mr. Fong’s hand. Only the Willets’ walk remained untouched.

  The grown-ups called up and down the row, and the children ran from house to house. Mrs. Fong, smiling, revealed a piece of news. “We found out yesterday what the baby is going to be.”

  “What is it? What is it?” cried Ruby and Lacey.

  “A girl.”

  “Oh, a girl!” said Ruby.

  Olivia and Flora let out satisfied sighs. “A girl.”

  “What are you going to name her?” asked Flora.

  “We haven’t decided yet.”

  “We may give her a Chinese name,” said Mr. Fong.

  “Well, anyway, it’s a girl.” Ruby had been hoping for a girl. Not that there was anything wrong with boys.

  When Min’s walk was clear, she said to Ruby and Flora, “All right. I have to go to the store now. Gigi will be there in a few minutes, and we want to open up for the rest of the afternoon. You can stay at the Walters’ or the Morrises’ — I checked with them — or come to the store later, if you want, okay?”

  The thought of seeing Main Street after a snowstorm that was nearly a blizzard was tempting, but Ruby and Flora decided to stay at the Row Houses. Flora went to Olivia’s, and Ruby and Lacey were just about to start work on a snow dog when the door to the Willets’ house opened and there came Mr. Willet, shovel in hand. Mrs. Willet hovered behind him on the other side of the storm door. Then she stepped tentatively onto the snowy porch in her slippered feet.

  “No, dear. You stay inside,” said her husband.

  Mrs. Willet took another step forward. “My,” she said, “this almost reminds me of something.”

  Mr. Willet returned to the front door. “I have to shovel the walk now. Stay inside, dear. This won’t take long.”

  Mrs. Willet looked confused. She reached for the door handle, then for her husband, and finally bent down and ran her bare hand through the snow.

  Next door, Dr. Malone, whose walk was now clear, nudged Lydia. “Why don’t you go stay with Mrs. Willet and I’ll help Mr. Willet with the shoveling.”

  Ruby, watching, could tell that Lydia was just dying to make a face or roll her eyes, but she wouldn’t, since the Willets were right there. By the time she reached their front stoop, she had put a smile on her face. She removed her boots, stuffed her gloves in her pockets, and took Mrs. Willet by the hand.

  “Hi, Mrs. Willet,” she said.

  “Why, Nancy, it’s so nice to see you again,” said Mrs. Willet politely. “How lovely of you to drop by.”

  Lydia looked helplessly over her shoulder at her father, who shook his head slightly. “It’s nice to see you, too,” Lydia replied.

  “Won’t you come in for a cup of tea?” asked Mrs. Willet, and she and Lydia disappeared inside.

  Mr. Pennington trudged to the Willets’ with his snow shovel and lent a hand. “Mary Lou looks well,” he said to Mr. Willet.

  Mr. Willet nodded. “She does. She has her good days and her bad days. But the good days come less and less often, and the bad days are worse than ever. She’s always polite to company, though, even when she doesn’t know whom she’s talking to.” Mr. Willet set his shovel down. “Rudy,” he said, “would you come with me one day to visit Three Oaks? I’d like for you to see where Mary Lou will be going.”

  At this, Ruby thought she noticed a change in Mr. Pennington’s face. It was a small change, but a change nevertheless, and when he answered his old friend, Ruby heard just the faintest hardening in his voice. “Certainly,” said Mr. Pennington. And then again, “Certainly.”

  Ruby felt confused but then was distracted by a low humming sound from down the street.

  “Snowplow!” cried Jack Walter.

  And sure enough, there was a snowplow, making its way slowly along Aiken Avenue.

  “That means school tomorrow,” said Lacey.

  “Oh, well,” replied Ruby. “At least we had today.”

  Ruby sat down on Lacey’s front steps and took in the wintry scene — red mittens, striped scarves, snowmen with carrot noses. It all made her think of a Charlie Brown cartoon she had seen on television the year before. And that made her hear Christmas music in her head. And that gave her an idea, an idea for a gift she could give her whole family on Christmas morning. It would involve some rehearsing, and she would need to find a book of carols. Ruby figured Ms. Angelo, who directed the Children’s Chorus, must have one.

  Ruby sighed with pleasure. A day off from school, an exciting idea, a baby girl on the way — her first snow day in Camden Falls had been more wonderful than she could have hoped.

  Once the cold weather arrived, it stayed. And so the snow stayed, too. Camden Falls became a crunchy, icy town. At night the wind whistled, and during the day the sun, if it came out at all, was weak. Often, more snow fell, but not enough for another snow day.

>   One blustery evening, Olivia Walter and her family gathered in their kitchen. They were in the midst of a big project, and Olivia felt especially cozy and Christmasy and holidayish.

  “It feels like Santa’s workshop in here,” said Olivia.

  “Except that we’re not making toys,” replied Jack, who was six.

  “No, but we’re as busy as Santa’s elves,” said Henry, who was eight.

  Olivia looked around the kitchen with a satisfied smile. Her mother was a very creative person, and Olivia was proud of her. Mrs. Walter liked to cook, but she didn’t just cook meals. She baked cookies and brownies and tiny loaves of bread. She made relishes and dips and sauces (butterscotch sauce was Olivia’s favorite). And she made candy. Olivia didn’t know anyone else, apart from professional candy makers, who made candy. But Mrs. Walter made peanut butter cups and mint patties and chocolate-covered coconut candy and something called chocolate bark. She poured chocolate into molds, too, and made chocolate shells and flowers and birds (for anyone to enjoy), nuts and bolts and saws and hammers (guy treats, she said), bones and paw prints (for animal lovers), and, at this time of year, Santas and bells and wreaths and angels (for Christmas) and menorahs and Stars of David (for Hanukkah). Recently, Mrs. Walter had perfected large chocolate lollipops. Jack’s favorites were rubber duckies. Mrs. Walter was so clever that she knew how to mix colors into white chocolate. So the duckies were bright yellow, and Mrs. Walter had shown everyone how to paint the eyes brown or blue and the beaks orange. But for the holidays she was making fir tree lollies and Santa’s hat lollies and dreidel lollies. The dreidels were the most difficult (and the most fun) to make, because Mrs. Walter insisted on painting them in so many different colors of chocolate that they looked almost like real dreidels.

  And what were the Walters doing with all these candies and breads and cookies and sauces and lollies? They were putting together holiday gift baskets for their friends. Ordinarily, Mr. and Mrs. Walter would go shopping and buy presents for their friends — carefully chosen presents. But this year neither Mr. nor Mrs. Walter had a job, so they were saving money and having fun at the same time. Mr. Walter, who was as creative as Mrs. Walter (this was one reason he hadn’t minded so much when he lost his very boring job with a computer company), had searched the stores on Main Street until he had found a number of pleasing bargains — baskets at half price, a sale on tree ornaments at Bubble Gum, and a bagful of teeny holiday books from Time and Again, the used bookstore. The entire family had driven partway to Somerville to a new dollar store, spent just twenty dollars, and had come away with a giant bagful of ribbon and yarn, dishcloths (Olivia hadn’t been sure how these were going to be used), some Christmas fabric, two boxes of candy canes, a bunch of plastic holly, several packages of tiny cellophane baggies, and three rolls of colored cellophane.

  And now, despite their budget, the Walters were turning out one fabulous basket after another. No two were alike. Mrs. Walter, the chief cook and candy maker, would set her handiwork on the kitchen table — jars of relish, chocolate sauce, and butterscotch sauce; pans of candy and lollipops; and trays of cookies and breads. Then the fun began. The rest of the Walters were in charge of packaging the food and arranging it in the one-of-a-kind baskets.

  “Look,” said Henry. “I’m going to put each of the Christmas tree lollipops in a Baggie and tie it with red and white ribbon — the kind you can make into curlicues.”

  Olivia contemplated the jars and the fabric, then ran to the sewing box for a pair of pinking shears. “I have an idea!” she said. “I’ll cut out circles of fabric with the pinking shears, put one on each jar lid, fasten it with yarn, and add a sprig of the holly.”

  “Both wonderful ideas,” said Olivia’s mother.

  Olivia’s father was in charge of assembling the baskets, with help from Jack. And that was when Olivia found out what the dishcloths were for. Her father used them to line the baskets. He shaped each one into a sort of bowl, nestled the jars and the bags of cookies and packages of candy inside, then added a book or an ornament and some candy canes. After that, he and Jack decorated the handle of the basket with ribbons.

  “A work of art!” Olivia pronounced when she saw the first finished basket. She went back to covering the jar lids with fabric.

  This is the perfect evening, Olivia thought. Her homework was finished, snowflakes were falling gently outside the window, Christmas carols were playing on the radio, and inside the warm kitchen everyone was working happily. Plus, the kitchen smelled of chocolate and cinnamon and ginger and cloves.

  And then her father ruined everything, ruined the perfect peaceful evening and all the holiday feelings.

  “Kids,” he said, “there’s something your mother and I want to talk to you about.”

  “What is it?” said Jack. He was concentrating so hard on wrapping a basket handle with ribbon that his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

  Mr. Walter sat down in the nearest chair. “As you know, your mother and I have been out of work for a little longer than we thought we would be.”

  “I thought only you were out of work,” said Henry.

  “Well, your mother has a part-time job now, that’s true. But one of us needs to work full-time. And neither of us has found a full-time job that pays enough to support the family.”

  A funny feeling began to creep around the edges of Olivia’s stomach. She didn’t know what her father was going to say next, but she was fairly certain she wasn’t going to like it.

  “So,” said Mr. Walter, “your mother and I have been investigating business opportunities a little farther afield.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Jack.

  “It means they’ve been looking far away,” replied Olivia, eyeing her father suspiciously.

  “How far away?” said Jack.

  “Well, not too far away. Somerville, Tillington, Rosedale. An hour or two from Camden Falls.”

  “We’d really like to find a business we could run together,” spoke up Olivia’s mother. “Something creative. Like making these gift baskets but on a much larger scale.”

  “That would be cool,” said Jack. “Candy all the time.”

  “And we’ve found two commercial spaces for sale,” continued Mr. Walter. “One in Somerville and one halfway between Rosedale and Tillington. Neither space is exactly what we’re looking for, but both come with professional kitchens and are affordable.”

  “You would work together all day long?” asked Henry.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Walter.

  “Then what would we do?” Henry wanted to know. “I mean, after school. Would we have baby-sitters?”

  Mr. Walter shook his head. “We don’t know. We haven’t planned that far ahead. What we have thought about, though, is the fact that we don’t want to live quite so far from where we work. So we would probably —”

  “Don’t say it!” Olivia cried suddenly. “Really. Don’t say it.”

  “Move,” said her father. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but that’s what we’ve been thinking about. And we want you to be prepared for the possibility.”

  “But I can’t move!” said Olivia. “I can’t leave here. Camden Falls, the Row Houses. I grew up here. You grew up here, Mom. In this house. How could you leave it? How could you leave Camden Falls? I don’t want to live anywhere else.”

  “Me, neither,” said Jack and Henry in one voice, but not nearly as vehemently as Olivia, and then Henry said, “Hey! We’re almost out of red ribbon.”

  “Henry, how on earth can you think of red ribbon at a time like this?” exclaimed Olivia, who really felt a little like she might cry. She didn’t want her brothers to know this, though, so she added, “Stupid idiot.”

  “Olivia,” said Mr. Walter warningly.

  “Well, he is. And anyway, it’s entirely unfair of you to ask us to move. We’re not the ones who lost our jobs.”

  This time it was Mrs. Walter who exclaimed “Olivia!” only she sounded both shocked and ang
ry. She removed a pot of melted chocolate from the stove, set it on a trivet, and turned to face her daughter. “Please apologize to your father,” she said.

  “Sorry,” said Olivia, and she felt tears gather in her eyes. She set down the pinking shears and plopped onto a chair.

  “Honey.” Mr. Walter stood up and put his arm around Olivia.

  Olivia squirmed away from him. “I can’t leave my friends,” she cried, and then the tears slid down her cheeks. “All my friends are here. And my school and Needle and Thread and Gigi and Poppy. How can you ask me to leave everything?”

  “We know it wouldn’t be easy,” said Mrs. Walter. “We know you don’t want to move —”

  “Then don’t make me,” said Olivia.

  “But this is very important,” continued her mother.

  “We can’t be out of work for too much longer,” added her father. “And we very much want a business we can run together. I wasn’t happy at the company, and your mother would like to put her many talents to work.”

  “But — but my room,” said Olivia desperately. “I’ve never had another bedroom. I don’t want another bedroom. And I don’t want new friends or to go to a new school and be the new kid in class.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Walter finally, “it might not happen. We haven’t decided to buy either of the places we found. We’re still looking. We just wanted you to know it was a possibility. We didn’t want to take you by surprise one day and announce that we really are moving.”

  “This is just as bad,” said Olivia. “Now I won’t be able to do anything but worry until you make up your minds.”

  “I’m not worrying,” said Henry.

  “Me, neither,” said Jack. “Moving would be cool. I like moving vans.”

  Olivia refrained from saying that the moving van would only be around for a day or two and then they would be stuck for years and years in some strange town with no friends until they were old enough to move back to Camden Falls where they belonged, and when they did, there probably wouldn’t be a Row House available to move into anyway.