The Christmas Lamp (5 page)

Nodding, he settled back in the chair.

She purchased two loaves of rye and a fruitcake for Ed Carlson. There hadn’t been a Christmas in the past several years that she hadn’t brought the ninety-year-old this treat.

Tradition, she conceded with a smile, and turned to see Jake Brisco watching her. She frowned. Something he’d know nothing about.

Thank goodness the bakery didn’t have a thing to do with city finances.

Ed Carlson had been married sixty-seven years when his wife, Thelma, had a stroke and died. After that, Roni and her mother had looked after the old gentleman. Roni tried to talk him into moving into an assisted-care facility, but Ed would have none of it. He still got around, albeit in a limited capacity. Tonight it took him almost five minutes to open the front door. He was in his robe and slippers, and Roni guessed that he hadn’t dressed all day. A thatch of white hair stood up on the back of his balding head from where he’d rested his neck on the back of his recliner. He squinted through the screen door glass to identify the visitor.

“It’s Roni, Ed!”

His hearing was gone as well.

“Who?”

“Roni!”

“Roni?”

“I brought you some rye and a fruitcake!”

“Is it Christmas already?”

Grasping the aluminum handle, she opened the door and eased inside. The house smelled of old man and neglect. A 32-inch TV screen blared in the background.

“What month is it?” Ed asked as he shuffled behind her to the kitchen. “I thought I just ate turkey a day or two ago.”

“You did. I’m getting an early start on my Christmas shopping this year.” She set the fruitcake and bread on his table, which was littered with dirty chili bowls, open cans of Hormel Beef Stew, and pork and beans. “Where are all the leftovers I brought you?”

He cupped a hand to his ear. “What say?”

“Leftovers! Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes?”

Casseroles, veggies
. She cooked enough for two days at a time, and brought them regularly.

He shrugged. “Haven’t seen them.”

She opened the refrigerator and caught a bottle of ketchup before it hit the floor. The shelves were stacked with foil-covered dishes dating back several days. “You haven’t touched your meals.”

With a puzzled expression, he peered over her shoulder. “Why I’ll be — I didn’t know any of that was in there.”

She started to empty the bowls that had been there too long to still be edible, in case he might remember them tomorrow. “Did you keep your doctor’s appointment this morning?

“Eh?”

“Doctor’s appointment? Did you see the doctor today?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t seen him in weeks.”

She had offered to drive him to his appointments, but he insisted on keeping his 1985 Cadillac and driving himself. He had a limited driver’s license and could not drive more than fifteen miles from home. Most days the car sat in the garage.

Roni dumped leftovers into the trash since Ed didn’t have a food disposal. Last Christmas she had finally persuaded him that a microwave was safe and it would not give him a lethal dose of radiation. After a few months he started to use it, saying he didn’t figure he had that much time left anyway.

“Did you go to the Community Center for lunch?”

Nodding, he shuffled to the table and examined the fruitcake. “They gave us this little piece of meat that wouldn’t fill a hollow tooth, plus a little bit of corn or something and some dry mashed potatoes. I miss Thelma’s cooking.”

Patting his shoulder, Roni sympathized. “I know it’s hard to live alone.”

“Yes — you would know that,” he said. “Your mom was a good person.”

“She was, and I miss her too.” Straightening, Roni returned to cleaning the refrigerator shelves. “The new consultant came yesterday.”

“Oh? Mary Parson’s grandson?”

“Yes. Seems the first casualty is the town tree. You’ll read about it in Saturday’s paper.”

“The Christmas spruce?”

“It’s been knocked down twice already, and Brisco thinks it costs too much to keep putting it back up.”

“Hang the cost. That tree’s tradition. My Thelma loved that spruce.”

And she had hit it more than her fair share of times, Roni silently mused. “Apparently Mr. Brisco doesn’t agree with us. He feels that if the town is to become financially sound we’ll have to make sacrifices. The tree is the first thing to go.”

“That’s a shame. It won’t seem like Christmas without that tree.”

“It sure won’t.” She dumped the last of the leftovers and wiped the refrigerator clean. “Have you had dinner?”

“Nope.”

Roni opened the cabinet and scanned the near empty shelves. “You like macaroni and cheese, don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe I do.”

“Then tonight we feast on macaroni and cheese, rye bread, and for dessert, fruitcake!”

Just let Brisco try and snatch that tradition away.

5

The festive holly that adorned the break room couldn’t overcome the uneasy silence the following morning. Members of the ice rink committee fidgeted with foam cups, their jaws set like tenacious pit bulls. It was ten o’clock in the morning, and the thermometer outside the window read sixty-three degrees. Jake stood before the grim faces with anything but zest for what he was about to do.

“As you have probably guessed, we are here to discuss the ice rink.”

Logan Stokes erupted first. “The weather will turn. Just give it another day or two.”

A woman Jake would not have chosen to tangle with on this or any other issue was next. “The rink should have been up and operating by now — certainly by parade night.”

Jake sat back and let the comments fly. So-and-so wasn’t on top of the situation. They couldn’t start the season with so-and-so sitting on his thumbs. At that point Mr. So-and-so took objection and pointed out that he was not God and he didn’t control the weather.

Jake excused himself during a verbal fray and stepped outside his office to the water cooler. Downing three Advil, he tipped his head and swallowed a cup of water.

A rosy-cheeked Roni came out, fanning her face. She grabbed a cup and filled it with water. “You too?”

“They’re an opinionated bunch, aren’t they?”

She nodded to the bottle of pain reliever. “Do you have any extra?”

Uncapping the bottle, he dumped two in her hand.

“One more.”

One more landed.

Downing the tablets, she shook her head, turned on her heel, and walked back into the ruckus. Jake trailed behind.

Arms folded over chests as the two reentered the room. “It’s a little late to be deciding against the rink,” Logan declared.

“Late, yes,” Jake picked up. “And there will be a stiff cancellation fee, but it will be a drop in the bucket compared to actually installing and using the ice. Consider a gazebo talent contest. The facility is large and can accommodate fifty or more. Give local talent a chance to shine. Discover new voices.”

The woman shook her head. “That wouldn’t be Christmas. We’ve never done it that way.”

Jake looked at Roni. “Any suggestions?”

She mutely shook her head.

Jake dropped a folder on the table. “We’re looking for cuts, not expenditures. We need alternatives.”

His audience sat stiff as ramrods, judgment fixed. Roni stared at her hands, and he knew he had disappointed her once again, but artificial ice? They had to be kidding.

Roni carried a sack lunch to the gazebo, her gaze fixed on the nearby activity. A dump truck backed up to the town tree, the beep, beep, beep driving a stake through her heart.

Removing a tissue from her purse, she wiped clean the concrete bench and sat down. She could have picked a more heartening place to eat, but she wanted to remember the tree, once resplendent in its glory, now disgraced.

The bucket of a front-end loader lowered, and workmen shoved the spruce into the container and yelled. The lift rose and with one resounding burp dumped a town custom.

“Mind if I join you?”

Brisco
. And yes, she did mind. She wasn’t feeling the friendliest toward the interloper today, but she moved aside and made a place on the bench for him.

He opened a sack, and took out a cellophane-wrapped sandwich with a tuna sticker.

He’s eating tuna from a convenience store vending machine.

Removing the sandwich from his hand, she broke off part of her roast beef and handed it to him.

He flashed a remorseful grin. “Thanks. The selection was between this and egg salad.”

Nodding, she poured coffee from a thermos. They ate in silence, in the unseasonably warm noon hour. Both looked the other direction as the dump truck drove off with the holiday tree.

He bit into roast beef, pausing to examine the bread. “Is this brown mustard?”

“Yellow.”

“I love yellow mustard. It’s hard to get on a sandwich anymore.”

Roni hadn’t thought about it because she didn’t eat out that often, but she wondered if yellow mustard would soon go the way of the town holiday tree. Dumped.

Frustrated and disappointed, she wasn’t inclined to make idle conversation. She was starting to think her initial assessment of Brisco was right. Sure he had a job, but what about a conscience? Did he even have one?

Jake broke the silence. “The mayor seems to think that the first cold snap will up the Christmas spirit. He was on the phone with the Springfield weather service when I left the office, to get an updated forecast.”

“It’ll turn cold,” she predicted, more hopeful than confident. She refused to consider otherwise. Then, aware that she was not being very good company, she opened a snack baggie and offered him a corn chip. He eyed the contents. “I gather you’re a small eater.”

She shrugged. “Now that you’ve had time to look over the ledgers, do you think you can get the town back on its feet?”

Downing the last bite of roast beef, he smiled. “With the right cooperation.” He eyed her cup.

Easing the thermos closer to him, she invited. “Be my guest.” Drinking from a thermos wasn’t exactly hospitable fare, but she only had one cup. And she wasn’t out to impress him with social skills.

“Thanks, but I’ll just get something back at the office.” Stretching out his legs, his gaze skimmed the park surrounding the gazebo. “It really is a nice town. And you have to admit, the gazebo lights look great.”

She didn’t have to admit it, but they did. The newly added miniature flashing lights, all in blues and greens, were charming. Workmen were busy lining the outside of the gazebo with the same theme. He must have gotten on the phone early this morning and set the work in motion.

“Who came up with the idea to go with green and blue?”

“Tess. We were kicking around some different ideas and she thought that blue and green might be a nice change from the usual multicolored lights.” Jake paused, and sat up straighter. “What would you say if I suggested that we skip the ice rink this year and have the children do something special? Last winter I was overseas during most of the holiday and I saw some kids making small tree decorations. Paper shaped like horned cornucopias, tree ornaments — that kind of junk.”