Authors: Sheila Roberts
The herd of people shifted, and I caught sight of someone sitting on a wrought iron bench in front of the bakery. I knew that face by now. It looked like the businessman at the airport, who looked suspiciously like the homeless man from the emergency room. This time he was in jeans and a suede coat, his face muffled by a thick, white scarf, his hair covered by a matching knitted cap. But he couldn’t hide those eyes. Of course, I gawked.
He gave me a thumbs up sign right before two couples joined the crowd, hiding him from view. I took a step and craned my neck, bringing the bench back into view.
Now he was gone, and there was nothing on the bench but a folded blanket. A very colorful, neatly folded blanket that looked familiar. Gram’s quilt!
I ran through the crowd, Gabe chasing me and calling, “Andie, where are you going? The countdown’s about to start.”
I picked up the quilt. It smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and pine. Christmas. When I brought it to Mom, she decided that whoever had taken it from the emergency room had suffered an attack of guilty conscience and left it on the bench for a more deserving soul. Maybe by coming back I’d proved myself deserving.
The celebrants started the countdown to midnight, and Dad and Mr. Winkler both moved closer to Mom. They looked like the human equivalent of an Oreo cookie, with both of them pressing against her, lips ready for action. It was anyone’s guess who she’d end up with in the new year.
As for me, my coming year was full of questions too. One thing I knew for sure, I was going to be leaving my judgmental attitude and my grudges in the past.
And then it was midnight and people went into action, blowing noise makers and kissing each other, and yelling, “Happy New Year.”
I went into action too. I grabbed Gabe by the coat lapels and kissed him. And what a lip-lock it was!
“Whoa. Does that mean what I hope it does?” he asked.
“It is a new year,” I said, and he smiled and kissed me.
As we watched the last firework pinwheel sprinkle itself into a shower of golden dust, I envisioned myself moving home and starting an ad agency of my own right here in Carol.
Yeah, it was a big step for me, risky even, but it was the right one. Anyway, I knew I’d have at least one steady customer: Man Haters, Inc.