Page 51 of A Little Christmas! 4: Song
“Desert winters do lack some of the charm of snow-covered ones,” Nan said. “Though I’m sure my chiropractor appreciates me staying off the skis these past few seasons. These old hips just couldn’t maneuver the way they used to, and I took a few more tumbles than I admitted to when we were on the phone. The artist colony we’ve been staying in is a far safer option at our ages than hopping a ski lift to the top of the slopes, but I do miss it.”
“Ain’t that the truth? Even the bunny hills made my knees ache the last time we went,” Ms. Lottie said. “But there’s nothing saying we can’t ride up to Stowe and spend a weekend at the lodge sometime for old times’ sake. We can hold court in front of the fireplace and see who pops over to swap stories with us. There’s always something exciting going on somewhere; if we can’t live it, the next best thing is getting to listen to someone else’s tales.”
“Having Greta Williams in residence at the colony teaching watercolors year-round now does make it far easier to spend less time traveling and more time sitting still,” Ms. Lottie said. “Our community gained a true treasure when she decided to settle out west.”
“She said the sunsets spoke to her,” Nan said. “Now she painted blooming cactuses highlighted by low, red suns, andsucculents of all shapes and sizes ringing beautiful, moonlit fountains. Listening to her tell the stories behind each one is as educational as watching her demonstrate the techniques she used.”
“She inspired me to start painting scenes right out of the stories my grandmother used to tell,” Ms. Lottie said.
“Can we hear some of them?” Song blurted, earning a wide smile from both older women.
“You can hear as many stories as you’d like,” Ms. Lottie told him, “but I think refills are in order first, along with a relocation to those comfy-looking easy chairs I spied on our way in here.”
Chuckling, Cooper stood and started refilling mugs, while Gage passed around the marshmallows, casting a stern look at the boys to suggest that they shouldn’t add too many. Cooper splashed Buttershots in his and Gage’s mugs while Nan and Ms. Lottie added schnapps to theirs. Because Zachy always looked a little sad when they added things to their drinks and he couldn’t, Cooper added a splash of flavored coffee creamer to his and Song’s.
Today it was Oreo.
“We stopped and did a bit of painting in New Mexico on our way through, then someone got it in her head to go north halfway through Texas so we could go through Omaha and see family,” Nan said.
“Was a nice visit,” Ms. Lottie tsked. “Most of it anyway. Sophia has always had a big mouth, but now that she’s creeping up there in years, she’s gotten downright cantankerous. You can bet it’ll be another six years before I drop by and say hello to her again.”
She was still muttering beneath her breath about this Sophia person on her way into the living room, occasionally pausing to blow at the steam rising from her mug. Nan settled into the black easy chair that was covered with purple and gray blankets.It was Gage’s favorite and the one he tended to nap in most often, especially when he claimed to just be resting his eyes as he listened to the Voice. His connection to the music industry was still strong enough that he enjoyed seeing who had the potential to be the next big thing, though that didn’t mean he always made it through an episode, especially if Zachy or Song curled up in his lap and decided to nap on him.
With Nan and Ms. Lottie in the easy chairs, Zachy and Song chose to sprawl in their giant beanbag chairs, blankets drawn up around them as they settled in to listen to stories, both so excited they wiggled around impatiently, though they were otherwise well-behaved. Thinking of how far he and Zachy had come since initially meeting online made him proud of the progress they’d made, both individually and as a unit. They’d grown in vastly different ways, all of them ones that had made the bond between them stronger and taught them what a daddy-boy relationship could be when they worked together and communicated with one another when something was going wrong or someone’s needs weren’t being met.
Watching Zachy stare up at his Nana with a look of wonderment and anticipation on his face, Cooper got a better appreciation for how difficult it had to have been for Zachy when he’d been playing the part of the villain on his show and not been allowed to join in the fun the other characters were having.
“Well now, seeing as it’s almost Christmas, I think I’ll share one in the spirit of the season,” Nan said as she set her mug on a coaster on the end of the table beside her, then folded her hands in her lap. “It’s an old story, one I heard while seated on the floor beside my grandfather’s knee, in the little New England fishing village where I grew up, not too far from where the story was said to take place.”
“So it’s real then?” Zachy asked.
“I believe so, though details of the storm may have been slightly embellished,” she admitted.
“You mean like the way you used to say that you had to walk through the cold and snow uphill every day to get to school and only missed class when the bridge over the creek got washed away?” Zachy asked.
“No, that story was real, sweetheart. Whoever built that school did their level best to ensure that it never flooded, but they didn’t think about how hard it would be for little legs to climb to the top on a snowy day. It was far more fun sliding down it and rocketing across the frozen creek on our sleds. That was always the best part of the day for me, that and any afternoon when it wasn’t too cold to go fishing.”
Her love of fishing had been highlighted in several video chats, as she and Ms. Lottie had shown off the fruits of their labors and tantalized them through the video screen with garlic butter bass and succulent trout grilled in an old cast iron pan. Cooper could almost hear it crackling just thinking about group chats he’d been lucky enough to be home in time for. A few he’d even risked dropping into at work, deeming it a well-deserved break from the blueprints and plans he’d been going over for the firm’s latest project.
“The story, if I remember correctly, takes place in a small fishing village overlooking the ocean,” Nan began. “A remote place, damp, foggy, but home to a community of people who loved and looked out for the other. Newcomers were rare, but when they did arrive, they were made welcome and looked after as treasured friends.”
She paused to take a sip, watching over the rim of her mug as all of us, even Ms. Lottie, who’d no doubt been there when Nan heard the story, leaned closer, eagerly anticipating where the story was headed and what was in store for the village.
“One spring, a candymaker came to town and opened a wonderful shop, right in the middle of Main Street. Day and night he filled the window with beautiful confections, and the children flocked in, spending their allowance money on bags of treats he always dropped a few extra into. Meanwhile, next door to the new candy shop, another beautiful store window was taking shape, this one full of toys that had all the children oohing and awing every time he added a new one.”
Nan paused again for another sip, but the magic of the story was already weaving its way through the room, mingling with the Christmas lights glittering on the tree and the gingerbread garland hanging everywhere.
“Working side by side meant that the toymaker and the candy store owner saw a lot of one another,” Nan continued. “They greeted each other in the mornings as they swept the snow from in front of their shops and, in the course of their work, discovered that there was a long-forgotten door leading between the two shops. Working from both sides, they cleaned the dust and grime away so they could open it and chat while they worked. In the afternoons, they started sharing lunch together, telling stories of their homelands and sharing the tales of how they’d come to be in the village.”
Another pause, another sip, then several more as Nan sighed and savored her peppermint schnapps-spiked drink.
“One day, as they were enjoying a blend of coffee mixed with a rich chocolate syrup the candymaker had crafted for them, they saw the sky begin to darken as storm clouds rolled in from off the ocean. The streets, which had been teeming with life earlier in the day, grew empty as everyone sought shelter. Fearing the damage a powerful storm could do to the large glass windowpanes on the front of each shop, they worked together to board them all up, and then the toymaker invited thecandymaker upstairs to ride out the storm together over a meal and more storytelling.”
“Nice,” Song murmured. “Storms are more fun when you’re with people you enjoy spending time with.”
“Yes, they sure are, aren’t they?” Ms. Lottie said, smiling fondly over at Nan, who met her gaze and beamed right back at her.
The love they shared was a living, breathing, tangible thing; like static electricity, Cooper could feel it radiating off them, even when they weren’t making eye contact.