Holiday Hopes: An Anthology

DuVall

Steffy sighed and stared at the screen of disappointing results from her internet job search. Few listings for flutists appeared, and almost all were out of state. Her part-time slot with the local chamber group would end soon. Her savings weren’t much and diminished day by day. Hopefully, the holidays would offer a few pickup gigs.

Her thoughts turned to Craig, her fiancé. Now, if they got married soon, two could split the bills and save ... A small wedding, not too fancy or expensive, just the immediate family and a few close friends would do. Maybe she’d wear a frilly dress or a tailored suit she could wear later.

The smell of summer roses and—wisteria?—perfumed the air. Buoyed by a melody, she floated down a grassy aisle beneath a baby-blue sky. Somewhere a soft flute played a beloved tune. Greensleeves. The haunting melody carried her toward Craig standing at the end of the aisle. He gazed at her, his face filled with love. He waited, arms outstretched—

A ringing noise sounded.

The vision splintered and faded. Steffy blinked, startled, and stared at the phone. Ally’s name flashed on the caller id.

What’s up, Ally? She vaguely remembered the mention of some job opening. Any news?

Wait till I tell you, Ally gasped. I just heard from Cleveland. Cleveland! I have an audition Tuesday.

Oh, Ally, that’s great. I’m so glad for you. Call me as soon as you finish. Cellists were always in demand, but not flutists.

Will do. I’m so psyched I can hardly talk.

You had better be. I envy you. I haven’t been so lucky. Columbus isn’t hiring, and I don’t want to go too far away. My Gram is so frail these days. She worries me.

Sorry to hear that, Stef, but if you’re not willing to move, you haven’t much job choice. That’s what you get for choosing the flute. Everyone wants to be the next Jean-Pierre Rampal.

Ally paused for a moment. How are things with that hunk of yours? When are you two getting married?

Umm, I’ve sort of been thinking about that. I’m not in any hurry you know. Steffy’s phone beeped. Call Waiting. I’ve got another call. Talk to you later.

Steffy switched to the incoming call. Hi, Craig. How are you?

Fine, honey. Thought we might have dinner tonight somewhere nice. Okay with you? Excitement colored Craig voice.

Yeah, I’m sort of tired of hamburgers. Do we have something to celebrate? Steffy waited, wondering what he had in mind and hoping her vision meant he wanted to set the wedding date.

I’ve some great news to share and ... something to ask you.

What? Yes! He wanted to set the date.

Unh-unh, not now. You’ll just have to wait until tonight. I’ll pick you up about seven. Please wear that blue dress I like so well. Gotta go. Love you. The phone clicked as he disconnected.

Steffy sat for a moment staring at her silent phone. She and Craig had been friends forever. Well, at least since high school, and had dated each other exclusively this last year. He’d asked her to marry him, but they hadn’t yet set a date. They were both trying to establish themselves. In the present economy and that took time and effort. She sighed and turned back to her job search.

* * * *

Craig arrived promptly at seven wearing a sports jacket and tie instead of his usual jeans and polo shirt. He’d shaved and his brown hair was smooth for a change. He looked good enough to please even the most exacting feminine standard. Ally was so right. He was a hunk.

Steffy gave him an approving look. I guess you really meant we’re not just eating, we’re dining out in style.

Yes, ma’am. His pleased smile gratified her. You’re looking especially beautiful this evening. I really love you in that dress.

Thank you, sir. Where are we going?

The Refectory. We deserve a special dinner.

Expensive though. Aren’t we eating burgers and pizzas to save for a house?

Tonight we deserve the best, especially you. Umm, let’s go. I’m hungry. Craig took her arm and led her to his Chevy Spark. He’d wanted a Volt, but couldn’t afford one.

The restaurant, once a church, was located only a short drive away. The parking lot was already almost full. Once inside, Steffy admired the décor. The owners had renovated the building in the style of an old abbey with high, beamed ceilings, cream walls, and dark wood. Chairs and white clad tables in the same wood occupied the center and lined both sides of the large room. Only a few empty tables remained. Sprigs of pine and holly and tasteful holiday decorations added a bit of color.

Good thing I made a reservation, Craig said, eyeing the crowd in the bar area. "Let’s try the food and see if it measures up to its reputation.

The tuxedoed maitre’d seated them at a table by the end wall. After handing them menus, he left. When the waiter arrived, Craig ordered tea for her and coffee for himself.

Steffy hated to ask the waiter to explain things and her French wasn’t sufficient to work out some of the offering. Examining the menu of entrees, she took no chance and selected a steak au poivre and salad. Craig did the same.

After the waiter took their orders and left, she turned to Craig. Okay, what’s this big news?

I’ll save it for dessert, he said and grinned. I was wondering when we should set the wedding date.

Steffy blinked at the abrupt change of subject. It made her a bit curious. Umm, Valentine’s Day?

Not bad, although that’s months away. I was thinking somewhat sooner. His boyish smile charmed her.

Oh? How soon?

The beginning of December.

So soon She hadn’t expected that. We’re planning a small wedding, yes, but we have to work out all the arrangements and how many people we’ll invite, arrange a place, put together a reception, all that. We need enough time to do it right.

Craig looked disappointed. I thought small meant just our families and maybe a friend or two. Forget acquaintances and co-workers. Small, as in as few as possible. He sighed and then brightened. Maybe we should just elope and tell everyone after the fact. Nobody does big weddings any more, except the very rich and famous. Or, we could live together and get married later.

No. We get married. None of this have the fun and forget the responsibilities stuff.

Ah, so much for modern romance.

He took her hand in both of his and gazed into her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. Her pulse began to race and heat made face flush. Maybe sooner would be better.

The waiter arrived with salads.

After the meal, Steffy debated over the dessert menu, but settled for the Crème Brulee. Craig ordered an apple tart with ice cream.

He’d said nothing about his surprise. Steffy hoped he was getting a promotion. He made a good salary, but setting up a household and buying a house took money. She lived check to check, and she doubted he had amassed much in the way of savings.

Finished with the Crème Brulee, she leaned forward. Now, what’s the big news that rates an expensive dinner?

Craig took a deep breath before speaking and squared his shoulders. I’ve been offered a position in the London office. It’s a big promotion and a chance to see the overseas operation. It’s also more money.

Stunned, she stared at him. When?

January. I know it’s soon, but we can get married and have our honeymoon on the way. You always said you wanted to travel.

Numb, Steffy struggled to absorb his news and what it meant. London? That’s across the ocean.

Just a telephone call, a flight, or an email away. These days distance means nothing. It’s the chance of our lifetime. We may never have another like it. Craig paused a moment as if sensing her disquiet. Hey, I realize it’s a lot to absorb. Will you please think about it?

* * * *

The next morning, Steffy arrived at Gram’s frozen with indecision. How could Craig ask her to leave her family, her friends, her country, but especially Gram. Visiting Europe was one thing, but to live there was something else. She wouldn’t know anyone. How could she get a job? Did they even need flutists? In a muddle, she decided not to tell Gram.

Her grandmother had certain customs like morning tea and afternoon tea. Morning tea always included scones. If Gram knew Steffy was coming, she would serve a cream tea. Steffy loved Gram’s flakey homemade scones with currants. The butter, cream, and jam she included, while not good for a diet, made Steffy feel special.

The door opened to her knock. Gram looked so little standing there she made Steffy feel like a giant. At just under five feet, and slender, Gram’s silver hair and blue eyes reminded Steffy of a mischievous sprite. Her frailness made mothering her irresistible, but Gram was fiercely independent and wanted none of that.

They always had morning tea in Gram’s sunroom just off the living room. Plants filled every window of the cozy room courtesy of Gram’s green thumb. Her small lemon tree even had a lemon on it. The African violets flourished in a variety of colors—intense violet, a deep pink almost magenta, pale blue, and a pale cream fringed with red. Steffy sighed. She had a black thumb and a talent for killing even philodendron.

How’s the job hunt? Gram said as they sipped morning tea.

Not progressing well. Not much in this city.

If there aren’t any jobs here, you’ll have to go where they are.

I keep hoping. Steffy sipped the hot fragrant tea.

Sighing, Steffy examined the teacart Gram always used, but didn’t see any scones today. Instead, large oatmeal raisin cookies sat there. Surprised, she looked to Gram.

I was feeling tired this morning so you get the cookies I baked yesterday instead of scones. I know you like them.

I love them. Have you been doing too much? Can I help?

Shaking her head, Gram smiled. No, it’s just old age catching up with me. I still walk every day, but it takes me a bit longer.

Have you talked to your doctor? Steffy hoped another stroke wasn’t in the offing.

Gram laughed and her blue eyes sparkled. He told me to watch my diet and keep my exercise moderate. He also told me to stay off ladders.

Ladders? Why ladders?

I hung some Thanksgiving decorations and...well, the ladder started to tip.

Gram!

The thought of Gram falling frightened Steffy. Old bones sometimes didn’t knit well. Ally’s great-aunt broke her hip and ended up in nursing home. She died there. Steffy shuddered.

No, no, nothing happened. I just put a bit too much strain on my wrist. An elastic bandage took care of that. It’s fine now.

Please, call me if you need help. There’s no reason for you to be on a ladder.

Gram sighed and made a moue. I’ve always done for myself, and I don’t intend to stop now."

Don’t be stubborn. If you want to see great-grandchildren, you’d better watch that stuff. I would have thought one stroke was enough.

You’re right. Umm, any prospects? Gram had a twinkle in her eye.

Of what? Steffy played innocent.

When is that young man of yours going to marry you? Gram refilled Steffy’s cup with fresh tea.

Craig wants a December wedding.

December? Good idea. Just do it before Christmas.

Gram. I hate December for weddings.

So what? What does that matter so long as it’s soon. Don’t expect me to hang around forever waiting for those great-grandbabies. Now drink your tea before it gets cold.

Steffy didn’t tell Gram about Craig’s promotion or her doubts.

* * * *

Saturday, Craig took Steffy to a special performance of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. A local group presented key scenes from the novel along with Austen’s letters and a commentary on the action. The versatile cast provided a lively rendition of the story. Steffy thought the costumes suited the period and the witty exchanges between Elizabeth and Darcy enlivened the production. Austen wrote some great dialogue.

After the play, they stopped by a local Irish pub and enjoyed some Irish music. Some of the tunes she hadn’t heard before. The group alternated between jaunty jigs and soulful ballads. The man on the tin whistle did a fantastic job. She wondered if he also played the flute.

When the musicians took a break, Craig raised his glass of ale to Steffy. To my beautiful bride-to-be.

Steffy blushed. You’re not so bad either. She sipped her tea before saying more. Craig, about London and a wedding...

Yes? He looked happy and relaxed.

I’ve been thinking about Gram. She’s so frail these days. Steffy stopped. I ... I can’t leave her.

He stared at her, a frown on his face. Why not? You’ll have to some day.

Steffy couldn’t look at him. It’s too much...It’s too soon. I don’t know anyone in London.

Hey, you’ll love it. You’ll make new friends.

Craig, I can’t go. Gram’s ... old. I’d never forgive myself if I weren’t here to help her. London’s too far away.

He stared at her for a long moment. A long distance marriage won’t work.

I know that. That’s why I can’t marry you.

What? He ran a hand through his hair. Are you mad? London has all things English. You always love those Masterpeice Theater shows. Think of the museums and the concerts. You might even get a job with an orchestra.

She wanted to reach over and smooth his hair down. Steffy said nothing for moment trying to marshal her thoughts. How could she make him see the problems? Living in a foreign country wouldn’t be easy no matter what. She’d heard London was one of the most expensive cities in the world. It was just too far away.

I don’t want to go. I can’t leave Gram.

"Your parents are still here. What about them? What about your brother Johnny? Surely, they would take care of her.

I’m the one who visits and spends time with Gram. They were in the Bahamas when she had the stroke last year. Johnny lives in New Mexico. He only visits at Christmas.

Craig looked at her as if wondering at her sanity. Two red spots marred each cheek. Don’t you want to marry me?

What could she say? There was no easy answer. She wanted to marry him, but wouldn’t go to Europe. She saw no solution.

Twisting her napkin in a knot, she forced herself to speak. If you go to London, I can’t marry you.

Craig’s eyes opened wide, and he looked stunned. You don’t love me.

That’s not true, Steffy insisted. I do love you, but Gram’s important to me.

I like her. She’s a great lady, but she doesn’t need you to hold her hand. Craig signaled for the check. Steffy, this is our future. You say you love me, but you don’t want to marry me. I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.

You’re right. Anyway, I can’t marry you and go to London. If you want to marry me, stay here. If you don’t, we should end our engagement.

* * * *

The next morning, Steff’s phone rang early. It was Alison.

I heard back from Cleveland. I’ve got a temporary slot for six months. I don’t know what will happen after that, but I’ll be able to list it on my resume and hope it leads to something permanent.

That’s great news.

Yeah, wish it was permanent. So, when’s the wedding?

It’s not.

What does that mean? Did Craig get cold feet?

No, I did. He’s going to London.

For his job? That sounds great.

I don’t know anyone there. I wouldn’t have a job. Steffy knew she sounded sorry for herself, but it was all true. She needed stability and people she knew.

You’d make new friends. You’d find a job. The experience of working in London would be great for you.

There’s no guarantee of a job.

You don’t have one here, at least not a full-time one. You’d be no worse off. Marriage to Craig has to count for something.

It does, but I can’t leave Gram. She hasn’t been well. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her.

Stephanie Anne Graham, are you nuts? You marry the man you love and get to live in London for a while. What could be more exciting? Don’t you love him?

Of course, I love him, but I love Gram too. She’s important to me.

Listen, gal, they don’t come along like Craig every day. He’s one in a jillion. Your Gram won’t thank you for using her as an excuse not to marry.

It’s not an excuse. Anyway, I won’t do it. I broke our engagement.

You did? Alison gasped and said nothing for a moment. Are you serious? Is it over between you two?

Yes. Steffy suppressed a sob.

What did Craig say?

What could he say? Once my mind is made up, I don’t change it.

Umm. That means Craig is a free man.

Uh, yeah. So what?

Maybe he’ll look for someone else.

"Alison? What’s do you mean by that?

Well, I’ve always liked Craig. I sort of had a crush on him in school, but you got there first.

Alison? I thought you and Walt were a twosome.

Her best friend and Craig? NO. Alison couldn’t be serious, could she? A slow burn started in Steffy’s stomach.

Walt’s fun. It’s nice to have someone to go out with now and then. I like him. I don’t love him. Now Craig, that’s a different matter.

Panic struck. Alison, don’t you dare.

Why not? You don’t want him, and I‘ve always wanted to try living in Europe. Maybe I’ll give him a call.

You’re my best friend. You can’t do that.

Why not? Men like him are keepers. If I don’t get him, you can be sure some European will snap him up, and he’ll come back with an English or French bride. You’ll see.

Furious, Steffy disconnected. Alison, of all people. She’d better leave Craig alone. An English wife? Would Craig do that? Did he love her so little?

That night images of Alison and Craig and then Craig with some brunette who looked a lot like Katherine, Duchess of Cambridge, haunted Steffy’s dreams. Next, it was Princess Diana. She woke up early, drenched in sweat.

After a hot shower, she felt better. A bran muffin, hot tea, and a banana contributed to her sense of normalcy. Thoughts of Alison and Craig still troubled her. They had dated a bit before she and Craig became involved. In fact, Alison had introduced her to Craig. Would he marry her on the rebound?

* * * *

Steffy’s weekly visit to Gram was in order. Remembering the cookies, she stopped by her favorite bakery and bought a box of raisin scones. Next, she went to the supermarket and bought some whipped cream in a spray can. It might not be as good as Gram’s, but it would do. By ten, she greeted Gram, box and bag in hand.

Morning, Gram, she said to her grandmother when Gram opened the door.

Steffy held up the box. I brought some scones and whipped cream so we could feast this morning without you having to do a thing. Can’t think why I didn’t do it sooner.

Thank you, dear. The kettle is already on and tea will be hot soon. I’ll just put these on a plate. Gram hustled off to the kitchen.

Steffy looked at stacked boxes in the living room. What’s all this? she called.

The Christmas decorations. I got them out so we can decorate the tree, Gram said as she wheeled in the teacart.

The can of whipped cream sat next to the pot of jam and the butter dish. The plate of scones were beside the teapot in its cozy. Steffy could hardly wait to eat.

Taking one of the scones, she broke it apart. Butter, a spoonful of blackcurrant jam, and a dollop of whipped cream and her scone was ready to eat. A mouthful later, she smiled at Gram and licked her lips.

Maybe not quite as good as yours, she said, but very good just the same.

Gram grinned at her. Less work. Where did you get these?

The French Loaf, but you have to go early. They sell out fast. Which tea are we having today?

Lady Gray. It’s a mild tea. I’ve never been much for Oolong or Souchong.

It’s very good. I also like that Russian Caravan tea we had last week so long as it isn’t too strong.

I’ll remember, Gram said.

In short order, the teapot was empty, and only crumbs remained of the scones. Steffy sat back and relaxed. It’s a good thing we don’t do that every day. I won’t need lunch after that.

I’ve a cure for that. I’ll put you to work helping me sort the ornaments after I deal with these remains.

Nope, I’ll do it. Steff got to her feet and pushed the teacart to the kitchen.

There, she put the jam and can of whipped cream in the fridge and the butter on the table. She washed and rinsed the dishes including the teapot and put everything away. Then, she rejoined Gram.

The old woman was sitting by an open box holding an iridescent blue glass ball. She had a thoughtful smile on her lips.

We won’t decorate the tree until Thanksgiving, Steffy said. Why get these out now?

I like to see them and remember all the Christmases past. You know each ornament commemorates family events. So many ornaments, so many years. The history of this family is in these boxes.

I never thought of it that way. I wondered why some of them looked so odd.

Odd? Gram looked at her with a frown.

We never had store-bought ornaments. Steffy blushed. She hadn’t meant it as a complaint.

"That’s true. We made these, each and every one. I made some, the children made others. There were only two rules—nothing sharp or breakable. We made them from paper, foam, glitter, yarns, ribbons, plastic, almost anything. When the children were small, I made them. As they grew, each child wanted to make one.

"The year my husband John and I married we bought the star to top the tree and a few hand-blown glass ornaments. Once your father Gerald, our first son began to crawl, that stopped. He was such a happy baby. He also had a sense of adventure that kept us on edge at times. Water fascinated him. Catching him before he drowned himself when we went to the beach kept me scrambling.

But Gram, Steffy said. Who was granddad Steve?"

My first husband, Gram said. I forgot you never knew him. He died when your dad was young.

Oh. Steffy decided to wait before asking more.

"Anyway, on your dad’s first Christmas, he headed for the tree as soon as he saw it. Fascinated by the glittering tinsel, he grabbed a handful and tried to stuff it in his mouth. Your granddad John and I laughed, but we rushed forward and pulled the sticky strands from his pudgy fist. Not deterred, he grabbed at a branch and pulled on it. The tree started to topple. John rushed forward to right the tree, and I grabbed Gerald. After that, we left the lower branches undecorated, and I worked on making Gerald understand he was not to touch the tree.

"I loved glass ornaments on the tree, but they were too tempting and a real danger to a young child. I packed them away until Gerald or any other children reached an age when they would no longer be a danger. From your dad on, I allowed no glass of any kind on the tree.

Each new addition to the family meant a new ornament. As John and I added to our family, each child wanted to make an ornament. The early attempts were ludicrous, and we had many laughs later over them. Your dad and aunts and uncles took pride in seeing them hang on the tree.

Somehow, I never realized that, Steffy said. I sort of knew about symbolizing achievements and things. I remember when I had my first recital, you added a little wooden flute that year.

Gram smiled. Of course. I also made a mortarboard with a tassel when you graduated from OSU. When you and Craig marry, I’ll add a wedding couple.

"We ... we aren’t getting married.