'Tis the Season Page 5

  Olivia slumped in her chair. “Christmas is ruined,” she said. “Everything is ruined.”

  Henry looked up from his lollipop packages, which he was now tying with green and white ribbon. “You know what you are, Olivia?” he said. “A drama queen.”

  “I am not a drama queen!” cried Olivia. “But you know who is? Ruby. And you know who I will never, ever get to see again after we move? Ruby.”

  “Honey, that’s not true,” said Mrs. Walter. “We’re only talking about moving an hour or so away. You could visit with Ruby and Flora and Nikki and anyone else easily. We’d just have to do a little more driving.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same.”

  “No. That’s true. It wouldn’t be exactly the same. But it wouldn’t mean losing your friends, either.”

  “I don’t care. I want things exactly the same.”

  “I’m afraid, Olivia, that things never stay exactly the same. They change all the time. Children grow up and towns grow bigger and people come and go.”

  “Well, I don’t like any of those things,” declared Olivia. “I didn’t want Mrs. Mandel to move away or Mr. Donaldson to come.”

  “What if,” said Mrs. Walter, “Flora and Ruby hadn’t moved here? Would you like that?”

  “No,” mumbled Olivia. “But I still don’t want to move. And you can’t make me want to move.” Olivia rose and looked around at each member of her family. “I will never want to move,” she added fiercely, and then she fled to her room, her old familiar room, where she patted her guinea pig and stared out her window at the snow.

  “Mmm, it smells divine in here,” said Ruby dramatically. She surveyed Needle and Thread, which was all ready for the first of its gift-making events. Min and Gigi had arrived at the store earlier than usual that morning and made two pots of coffee and a pot of tea. The table at the front of the store, which was usually covered with sewing magazines, had been cleared for the plates of cookies and muffins and sticky buns that Needle and Thread customers would bring by.

  “Everything looks divine, too,” said Flora, eyeing the back of the store where several worktables were now lined up, surrounded by chairs that Min and Gigi had borrowed from Camden Falls Elementary. Piled on one end of each table were all sorts of supplies: fleece and satin and felt, precut patchwork pieces, buttons, beads, laces, embroidery ribbon and thread, and scissors and needles and rulers and pins and fabric markers. Stacked next to the supplies were sheets of instructions for making pillows and eyeglass cases and sachets and tote bags and fleece scarves.

  “Of course,” said Gigi, “people can make anything they want. They don’t have to stick to these projects. We just thought the directions might be helpful.”

  “How many people do you think will come today?” asked Ruby. There was nothing she liked better than a good turnout.

  “We’re not sure,” replied Gigi. “A lot of people said they wanted to help, but we’re having two events, so some people will come next week.”

  Ruby eyed the clock. “It’s still early,” she said.

  Two hours later, the store was bustling.

  Nikki and Olivia had arrived, and Min had put them, along with Ruby and Flora, in charge of walking around the tables, answering questions, summoning Min or Gigi when necessary, and helping kids who were having trouble. Nearly every seat at the tables was filled, and more people were sitting on the couches by the front door as well, all stitching away happily.

  From time to time, Olivia would step away from all the activity, sit quietly, look around the store, and wonder how many more times she would see this particular scene — the familiar store, these people she loved. Olivia felt that she could disappear from it in a flash.

  Ruby, however, smiled as she watched Dr. Malone select a piece of red-and-white fleece and set to work on a scarf. She looked happily at Robby, who had arrived early and had been working all morning on a tote bag. And she watched with amusement as Flora continually eyed the stack of directions for making lavender-scented sachets. Flora had written the directions herself and was very proud of them.

  “Hi, Mr. Pennington!” said Flora cheerfully when he entered the store. “Are you here to make gifts?”

  “I certainly am. Put me to work.”

  “Wouldn’t you like some refreshments first?” asked Ruby.

  “Thank you, but not quite yet. I’ll save the refreshments for later, when I need a break.”

  Ruby ushered Mr. Pennington to the back of the store and pulled out a chair that had just been vacated. “Why don’t you sit here? You can make anything you want —”

  “But the sachets are very nice,” interrupted Flora. “Would you like to make a sachet? It would be the perfect gift for someone. See, you fill it with dried lavender flowers — they have a wonderful scent — and flax seeds to give it a little weight. The sachets look very fancy, but you can make one in just a couple of hours.”

  “Well, I —” said Mr. Pennington.

  “Here, I’ll help you get started,” said Flora. “Now, the idea is to choose some of the more lush fabrics, like these satins. You piece together a square that’s not bigger than about seven inches, and you decorate it with lace and buttons. These buttons are nice; they look like antiques. You put the buttons on before you sew the front to the back because otherwise you have to reach through your opening for turning, and that’s too small. Oh — a lot of people have been putting piping around the edges of the pillow before they attach the backing. I don’t know how much sewing you’ve done —”

  “Flora?” said Min, approaching the tables. “Are you sure Mr. Pennington wants to make a sachet? Did you show him all the other projects and mention that actually he can make anything at all?”

  Mr. Pennington looked at Min with a half smile on his face. Then he turned to Flora. “You know, I’m afraid I’m not quite handy enough to make one of the sachets, although they are lovely. I thought I might try a scarf.”

  “I’ll help you get started,” said Min.

  Flora, disappointed, retreated to the front of the store for a sticky bun.

  At lunchtime, Robby left, handing Ruby a handsome striped tote bag.

  “Thank you,” said Ruby. “Someone will be very happy to get this.”

  Robby smiled. “Here. I made this, too. You can put it with the bag.” He gave Ruby a small card. On it he had written Happy Holidays! Made for you by Robby.

  “Hey! That’s a great idea!” said Ruby. “Everyone should do that. The gifts will be more personal if they come with cards.”

  The store grew quiet at lunchtime, then busy again in the afternoon. Ruby ran around so much that her feet began to hurt.

  She called for Gigi when Margaret Malone needed help with her eyeglass case. “I can’t remember how to make a French knot,” said Margaret, sounding frustrated.

  She tried to be patient with a very fussy man who complained that the directions for the projects weren’t clear enough.

  She ran for Min when a woman seated at a sewing machine broke a needle, causing the machine to stick.

  And she gave Jack Walter a hug when he handed her the paper wreath he had made. “I can’t sew too good yet,” he whispered to her.

  By four o’clock the finished gifts were stacked at the checkout counter in several teetering piles that reminded Ruby of the cover of Caps for Sale, a book she had asked her parents to read over and over to her when she was small.

  “Look at everything!” she exclaimed. And she and Flora and Nikki and Olivia eyed the stacks with as much pride as if they had made all the gifts themselves.

  “Mary embroidered those,” said Flora, pointing to a pair of ivory pillowcases embellished with delicate roses. “All the roses are bullion knots.”

  Nikki was busy counting things. “Six tote bags,” she announced, “four eyeglass cases, nine pillows … Hey, who made that?”

  It was a knitted sweater. “Gigi,” said Olivia. “She’s been working on it for weeks.” Olivia paused. She longed to tell her frien
ds about her parents’ stunning news. She could actually feel a heaviness in her chest. But every time she thought about speaking the words, something held them back, and they remained locked in Olivia’s heart.

  “You know what?” said Nikki. “We should have a present-wrapping day next.”

  “Oh, that’s a good idea,” said Ruby, and then the bell over the door jangled and Ruby looked up to see Mrs. Grindle enter Needle and Thread.

  Olivia narrowed her eyes. “What’s the Grinch doing here?” she whispered. She glanced at Nikki, who was inching her way toward the back of the store.

  Mrs. Grindle heaved herself down onto one of the couches, emitting a great sigh as she did so.

  “Land sakes,” said Min. “Is everything all right, Gina?”

  “I’m just pooped, that’s all. Thank goodness for your mother, Olivia,” Mrs. Grindle added. “She’s across the street closing up the store. A bit early — what a busy day we had.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” asked Ruby, who had vowed never to speak to Mrs. Grindle again if she could possibly help it. But now she forgot the promise, because what Mrs. Grindle had just said didn’t make any sense. “Don’t you want lots of business? We do, at Needle and Thread.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Mrs. Grindle. “But, well, I suppose I’m just getting older. A day like today is too much for me now. I’m not the only one who feels this way, though. Ellen and Carol said Ma Grand-mère seems more like a burden than a pleasure these days.” Mrs. Grindle kicked off her shoes (the sight of her crooked toes causing Ruby, Olivia, and Flora to suppress giggles) and said, “My feet never used to hurt this much.”

  “Have some tea,” said Min.

  “Thank you,” replied Mrs. Grindle. She was silent for a moment, then said, “I opened Stuff ’n’ Nonsense nearly thirty years ago. That’s hard to believe. I used to look forward to the busy times, like the holidays. This year I dreaded it.”

  “Perhaps you need more help in the store,” suggested Gigi.

  “You could hire my mother full-time,” said Olivia, feeling hopeful. Maybe a full-time job would keep her parents in Camden Falls.

  “Or what about shorter hours?” said Min. “You could open at eleven every morning, instead of nine. Or close the store an extra day each week.”

  Mrs. Grindle stared out the window at Stuff ’n’ Nonsense. “I don’t know. I really am very tired, and all your suggestions are good ones. But, well, I dislike change.”

  Huh, thought Olivia. She never dreamed she had anything in common with the Grinch.

  Nikki couldn’t remember if her father had said when he would be in touch with the Shermans. She didn’t think he had given them an actual date. He hadn’t, for instance, said, “I’ll call you on the fifth.” But as December wore on, she was more and more surprised not to have heard from him. For one thing, with cell phones and computers and overnight mail, it was hard not to be in touch in some fashion. True, the Shermans didn’t have a computer or any cell phones. But they had a regular telephone, and there was nothing wrong with their mail delivery.

  Even so, they hadn’t heard a word from Mr. Sherman.

  “Are you surprised?” Tobias asked Nikki when she mentioned this to him one evening.

  “No. I’m not sad, either. But I’m beginning to get a little worried.”

  “About what?”

  Nikki and Tobias were talking quietly in the living room, Paw-Paw at their feet, while their mother put Mae to bed.

  “I don’t know,” replied Nikki. “Worried that something happened to him. Or that he doesn’t really plan to come back.”

  “Would either thing be such a tragedy?” asked Tobias.

  Nikki looked at her brother in confusion. “I don’t want anything to happen to him,” she insisted. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

  “He never loved us,” said Tobias.

  “I know, but I still don’t …” Nikki didn’t finish her thought. Sometimes there was no point in arguing with Tobias. Finally, she said, “Plus … well, we need the money he said he would send us.”

  “Now that’s something to worry about,” Tobias agreed.

  Mrs. Sherman tiptoed into the living room then. “Mae’s finally asleep,” she said. “Honestly, the closer it gets to Christmas, the harder it is for her to fall asleep.”

  Nikki nodded. “Because of Santa,” she said. Then, “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “Dad hasn’t sent you any money yet, has he?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. I mean, I figured you’d tell us if you heard from him.” She paused, scratching Paw-Paw’s ears. “So what are we going to do?”

  “How about celebrate?” suggested Tobias.

  “I’m serious,” said Nikki. “We need money.”

  “There’s the welfare office …” said Mrs. Sherman reluctantly.

  “That’s not going to cover all the stuff on Mae’s Christmas list,” said Nikki. Silence. “She can’t be disappointed again,” she added.

  “I love her, but she asked for too much,” said Tobias. “Still … maybe I could get another after-school job.”

  “No,” their mother said firmly. “One job is enough for you. You need to keep up with your schoolwork. I’m looking for a job myself. A full-time job. It’s going to take some time, though. I have to find something that will pay enough to support the entire family. I mean, if we don’t hear from your father soon.”

  Nikki sighed. So many ifs and uncertainties. She knew that Mrs. DuVane, who had helped out her family for years, could probably lend a hand, but even that might not be enough.

  “No matter what, Christmas will be more peaceful this year,” said Tobias.

  Nikki nodded grimly.

  “Come on,” Tobias continued. “Let’s think of something wonderful to do for Mae, something that doesn’t cost any money. Or much money. Like build her a playhouse. We have plenty of lumber and scraps.”

  “That’s great, but she has her heart set on a visit from Santa.” Nikki was going to remind Tobias and her mother about last year’s disappointment when she saw tears in her mother’s eyes. “Never mind,” she said. “We can get her a lot of inexpensive stuff. We don’t have to get what’s on the list. She probably won’t care. As long as she thinks Santa brought it.”

  Nikki went to bed that night feeling guilty. She hadn’t wanted to upset her mother. And Tobias had had a good idea. There was probably something wonderful that he and Nikki could do for Mae. They just needed to be a little creative.

  In school the next day, Nikki’s mind wandered. She thought of her messy yard, the yard that was littered with lumber and old cars and unfinished projects her father had started. What could she and Tobias make for Mae? A playhouse? A dollhouse? Maybe a chest for her toys? Tobias could build the chest and Nikki could paint it. That was a possibility. And they could put it under the tree as if it were a gift from Santa.

  When the bus — the smelly, jouncing, crowded bus that was the bane of Nikki’s existence — had dropped her and Mae at the end of their lane that afternoon, Nikki discovered that they were the only ones at home. Tobias was still at school, and her mother was at the grocery store (according to the note Nikki found on the kitchen table). Nikki dropped her books in her bedroom, then she and Mae ran outside to the shed where Nikki kept the food for the stray dogs that hung about the edges of their yard. When Mr. Sherman had been around, the dogs had kept their distance and Nikki had been forced to feed them in secret, which meant they weren’t fed regularly. Now Nikki fed them like clockwork (she spent almost all of her pocket money on their food), and the dogs were looking fatter.

  Also, there were more of them.

  “Where are you guys coming from?” Nikki asked. She tried not to sound worried or irritated — after all, the dogs depended on her. But still …

  Nikki had just filled the last bowl when she heard her brother’s car on the drive. Five minutes later, Tobias was at her side.

  “Geez, how man
y are there?” he asked, looking at the nervous dogs clustered around the dishes.

  “More than before,” Nikki answered uncomfortably. “But never mind. You know what, Tobias?” Nikki glanced across the yard at Mae, who was sitting on the porch with Paw-Paw. “I was thinking. I like your idea about building something for Mae. We could make it really special.”

  “Nikki, seriously, you kind of have a problem with the dogs here.”

  “I know.”

  “You have to do something.”

  “You’re as bad as Dad!” Nikki exclaimed.

  Tobias made a face at her. “I am not,” he said mildly, “and you know it.”

  “Yeah. But … I don’t know what to do. I can’t just stop feeding the dogs. That would be cruel.”

  “I think you should talk to the people at the animal shelter.”

  “The animal shelter?! No way. You know what they do to animals there.”

  “They find homes for them.”

  “They try to find homes for them. But if they can’t do it fast enough, they put them to sleep.” She paused. “They kill them.”

  “Not every shelter does that. And the new one, the one that was just built — it’s called Sheltering Arms — is supposed to be a very good place. I think we should go there and talk to someone.”

  This was how, two days later, Nikki found herself sitting next to her brother in the Shermans’ old car, Tobias at the wheel, Flora in the backseat.

  Flora was there for moral support. “Please, please come with me to the shelter this afternoon,” Nikki had begged her at school. She had begged Olivia and Ruby, too, but they couldn’t come.

  Flora was free, though, and got permission from Min to ride to Sheltering Arms with Nikki and Tobias. “Just promise me you won’t come back with any more pets,” Min had said. “Daisy Dear and King Comma are quite enough.”

  Now Tobias was driving slowly along a road Nikki hadn’t been on before. It wound through hills and fields outside of Camden Falls, everything lightly covered with a fresh snowfall. “I think it’s right around here somewhere,” he said. “I’ve passed it a couple of times.”