Read Online The Christmas Note by Donna VanLiere - Free Book Online
Authors: Donna VanLiere
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quick.”
I shrug. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I’m sure there will be enough part-time help to cover you.”
He reaches for more mail and is painstakingly slow finding the department name on each package. The buzzer rings in the mail room, and I sigh in relief. A shipment is at the loading dock, and that means I won’t be alone with this kid anymore. “Come on. There’s a truck that needs to be unloaded. Grab your coat.”
Unloading the shipment and getting it on the floor or in the stockroom takes up the rest of my time before I leave for the law office. “Will you be working tomorrow?” Josh asks as I put on my coat.
“I’m here everyday with bells on,” I say, leaving.
I usually walk through the city square to get to the office but today I’m especially hungry and realize I didn’t stop for lunch and left it in the fridge at Wilson’s. I walk the few extra blocks to get to Betty’s Bakery, thinking of my aunt Kay and the girl she said could be my sister. The place is decorated with those big, papery snowflakes that hang from the ceiling, and a tinsel swag with ornaments hanging from it is draped over the bakery case. I choose the empty booth in the corner and wait for a waitress. A couple of older women are sitting at the table next to my booth and chattering like magpies.
“I just want some soup and water,” I say to the waitress when she hands me a menu.
“Vegetable beef or clam chowder?”
I hand the menu back to her. “I’ll try the clam.”
“Do the vegetable beef, babe,” one of the older women says. “That clam chowder isn’t fit for consumption.”
The waitress turns to look at her. “Thanks for the rousing endorsement, Gloria. You’re great for business.”
“Sorry, Heather. I love Betty’s stuff, but that chowder has got to go!”
“Vegetable beef,” I say.
“Thatta girl,” the older woman says.
I look at her, wondering, and then just come out with it. “Are you the Gloria who’s friends with Gretchen?”
She smacks the table in front of her. “One and the same, and this old broad here is Gretchen’s mother.”
Her friend rolls her eyes and speaks through her teeth. “You have absolutely no tact when introducing people, Gloria!” She looks at me. “I’m Miriam, Gretchen’s mother.”
“I live next door to her. She gave me some chicken and dumplings you made,” I say, looking at Gloria. “They were great.”
Gloria jumps out of her seat and plops down on the bench across from me. “You’re Melissa!” She reaches for my hand and puts her warm, soft palm on top of it, squeezing. “I am so sorry about your mother, babe.” Something in her touch or in the way she said “babe” makes my throat quiver and I look down at the table, pulling my hand out from underneath hers. “Come on up here, Miriam, and let’s eat with Melissa today.” I don’t have time to say no or tell them I’m in a rush. Miriam reaches for Gloria’s coat and purse and hands them to her, taking her seat next to Gloria. “So, how are you, babe?”
It’s the second time Gloria has called me babe, and I push a lump in my throat as far down as I can, trying to find my voice. “I’m fine.”
She pats my hand again and smiles like she knows me. “Life is short. It’s so, so short. Makes your head spin when you think about it.” She squeezes her warm hand around mine and I don’t pull away. “Were you close to your mother?”
I look at both their faces and wish to God that either one of them could have been my mother. I don’t even know them but sense they are good and kind, decent, and soft. They were there when their kids wanted to play a game. They wiped runny noses and bundled up little bodies for playtime in the snow. They cooked meals and baked cookies, even if the meal was Hamburger Helper and refrigerated slice and bake cookies. “No,” I say.
Gloria’s eyes mist over, and I can’t imagine why she’s crying. “She never knew what she was missing. Isn’t
I shrug. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I’m sure there will be enough part-time help to cover you.”
He reaches for more mail and is painstakingly slow finding the department name on each package. The buzzer rings in the mail room, and I sigh in relief. A shipment is at the loading dock, and that means I won’t be alone with this kid anymore. “Come on. There’s a truck that needs to be unloaded. Grab your coat.”
Unloading the shipment and getting it on the floor or in the stockroom takes up the rest of my time before I leave for the law office. “Will you be working tomorrow?” Josh asks as I put on my coat.
“I’m here everyday with bells on,” I say, leaving.
I usually walk through the city square to get to the office but today I’m especially hungry and realize I didn’t stop for lunch and left it in the fridge at Wilson’s. I walk the few extra blocks to get to Betty’s Bakery, thinking of my aunt Kay and the girl she said could be my sister. The place is decorated with those big, papery snowflakes that hang from the ceiling, and a tinsel swag with ornaments hanging from it is draped over the bakery case. I choose the empty booth in the corner and wait for a waitress. A couple of older women are sitting at the table next to my booth and chattering like magpies.
“I just want some soup and water,” I say to the waitress when she hands me a menu.
“Vegetable beef or clam chowder?”
I hand the menu back to her. “I’ll try the clam.”
“Do the vegetable beef, babe,” one of the older women says. “That clam chowder isn’t fit for consumption.”
The waitress turns to look at her. “Thanks for the rousing endorsement, Gloria. You’re great for business.”
“Sorry, Heather. I love Betty’s stuff, but that chowder has got to go!”
“Vegetable beef,” I say.
“Thatta girl,” the older woman says.
I look at her, wondering, and then just come out with it. “Are you the Gloria who’s friends with Gretchen?”
She smacks the table in front of her. “One and the same, and this old broad here is Gretchen’s mother.”
Her friend rolls her eyes and speaks through her teeth. “You have absolutely no tact when introducing people, Gloria!” She looks at me. “I’m Miriam, Gretchen’s mother.”
“I live next door to her. She gave me some chicken and dumplings you made,” I say, looking at Gloria. “They were great.”
Gloria jumps out of her seat and plops down on the bench across from me. “You’re Melissa!” She reaches for my hand and puts her warm, soft palm on top of it, squeezing. “I am so sorry about your mother, babe.” Something in her touch or in the way she said “babe” makes my throat quiver and I look down at the table, pulling my hand out from underneath hers. “Come on up here, Miriam, and let’s eat with Melissa today.” I don’t have time to say no or tell them I’m in a rush. Miriam reaches for Gloria’s coat and purse and hands them to her, taking her seat next to Gloria. “So, how are you, babe?”
It’s the second time Gloria has called me babe, and I push a lump in my throat as far down as I can, trying to find my voice. “I’m fine.”
She pats my hand again and smiles like she knows me. “Life is short. It’s so, so short. Makes your head spin when you think about it.” She squeezes her warm hand around mine and I don’t pull away. “Were you close to your mother?”
I look at both their faces and wish to God that either one of them could have been my mother. I don’t even know them but sense they are good and kind, decent, and soft. They were there when their kids wanted to play a game. They wiped runny noses and bundled up little bodies for playtime in the snow. They cooked meals and baked cookies, even if the meal was Hamburger Helper and refrigerated slice and bake cookies. “No,” I say.
Gloria’s eyes mist over, and I can’t imagine why she’s crying. “She never knew what she was missing. Isn’t
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