Page 14 of Once Upon a Christmas Carol

Snow was falling hard by the time Victor parked in front of a brick building with lights glowing inside. “Is this Vittorio’s?” Carol asked.

“Well, like I mentioned, I kept my name so it’s no longer Vittorio’s.

” He pointed to the neon “Paolo’s Pizzeria” sign in the front window that was only slightly obscured by snow.

“It shouldn’t take me long to get my boxes.

You can stay in the pickup if you want to keep warm and dry.

I can leave the engine running and heater on. ”

“How about if I help you?” she suggested. “I’d love to see inside the restaurant. It looks charming.”

“It used to be,” he said dourly.

Sensing this wasn’t easy for him, she didn’t comment. Instead, she got out and jogged behind him through the blowing snow. A bell tinkled as they entered, but the small restaurant had only one table of customers, a family of four who were sharing a pizza.

“Smells good,” she whispered to him.

“Yeah.” He barely nodded, then called out to the guy behind the counter. “I’m here for the boxes from Vittorio’s you’ve been storing for me.”

The man jerked his thumb over a shoulder. “In the office, by the door.”

She followed him down a dark hallway and into a messy room that slightly resembled an office. “That’s them.” Victor pointed to three storage boxes. “If you can manage one, I can get the other two.”

She thrust her arms out for him to set the box on. “So, how’s their pizza here?”

“I don’t really know.” He lifted the other two boxes with a grunt and pushed the door open with one foot.

“You’ve never even tried it?”

“No. I guess maybe I was treating it like sour grapes.” His smile was crooked.

“Well, I’m hungry, and it smells good. Plus it’s a long drive back to the farm.”

“Maybe we should give Paolo’s a try.”

“Looks like he could use the business.”

They went back to the storefront and ordered a medium mushroom and Italian sausage pizza, then took the boxes out to the pickup, where she helped him fight against the wind.

Together they wrapped the boxes in a plastic tarp to protect them from the weather.

Back inside, they removed their coats, shook off the snow, and sat down at a small table.

He patted the laminate tabletop. “I got these fixtures for a good deal,” he told her. “They’re not much to look at, but I always put red-and-white gingham tablecloths on them. And then I topped them with an old-fashioned wine bottle with dripping candle wax.”

“Just like Lady and the Tramp ,” she declared.

He laughed. “Exactly my inspiration.”

She lowered her voice. “Is it hard to be here?”

He shrugged. “A little. But I guess it’s good therapy. Thanks for pushing me. I probably needed it.”

“Well, the building itself is charming. I love the old wood floors and stucco walls. And the iron lanterns are a nice old-world touch. I can imagine how charming it used to be.”

“Yeah, I never had that long counter over there or the soda machine. Or those big pizza signs, of course.” He frowned.

“I had these great vintage travel posters of Italy in nice frames. In fact, I still have them. And I used to have a lot of big plants, but I left them behind.” He glanced around.

“I’m guessing they bit the dust.” He sighed.

“I always tried to create an atmosphere that made customers feel like they were somewhere else ... or maybe even that they’d gone back in time. ”

“I would’ve liked a place like that.” She smiled. “Especially if the food was good.”

His brows arched as if he was about to defend his culinary skills.

She beat him to it. “And I know your food would’ve been excellent.”

“Thank you.” He sipped his water, then wrinkled his nose. “And I never used plastic glasses or dishes or anything like that.” He pointed to the napkin dispenser. “And I always used cloth napkins. When I was starting out, I’d take linens home to launder myself.”

“Very domestic,” she teased.

“Mostly just cheap.” He paused as the pizza was set down, along with two plastic plates. He thanked the server, then bowed his head to say a short but sincere blessing.

They got quiet as they began to eat. Although Carol was hungry, she was a bit disappointed by the pizza. “I think it smelled better than it tastes,” she whispered to him. “Kinda validates your low opinion, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Well, in Paul’s defense—that’s the owner—this weather has probably taken its toll on traffic. Maybe he’s not into pizza-making tonight.”

“Yes. I’m surprised he’s even open.”

“Right. Maybe it’s an off night.”

She took another bite, slowly chewing the tough crust. It was crispy on the outside but doughy and undercooked in the middle.

“Tell me about your life back in Seattle,” he said, using a plastic fork to scrape off the pizza topping that he proceeded to eat, leaving the gummy crust behind.

She followed his example, then tried to think of a way to describe her life back in Seattle.

It suddenly seemed so far away and removed, like it was another world.

Maybe it was. “Well, I mostly just work. I mean, I have a few friends that I socialize with, but sometimes I’ll work so hard staging a house for a realtor that I come home exhausted and just flop down with a frozen dinner and an old movie.

I guess I’ve gotten into something of a rut. ”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

She thought he already knew the answer to this but decided to fill him in a little more, painting an even gloomier picture.

“And the Seattle weather? What’s it like? All I’ve heard is that it rains a lot.”

“It definitely rains. But on a clear day, it’s beautiful there.” She sighed. “But clear days seem few and far between.”

“And you don’t really have family there?”

“Family?” She pursed her lips. “I honestly don’t know that I’ve ever had family.

Not really.” She began to pour out her story .

.. about a lonely little girl whose parents fought like cats and dogs, then split up.

She painted a tale about a preoccupied single mom, more interested in dating than parenting.

“To put it mildly, my mom was not a homemaker. I guess that’s why I got so interested in home decor and why I was so thrilled to get a place of my own and make it beautiful . .. and homey.”

“So your place is homey?”

She considered this. “Well, it’s attractive enough.

But homey? To be honest, I don’t think so.

Not like Maria’s house is homey. But when I furnished it, I suppose I was thinking more about impressing others than I was about my own comfort or coziness.

And then I got so busy with work, I never really got around to making it look the way I wanted. ”

“Guess that’s city life, eh?”

“I guess.” She considered this. “But you know, if I were to have my own design firm, I’d like to make it more about cozy comfort than style and money.

A way to make home a home. In college I used to imagine a way to incorporate the kind of beauty that God put in the natural world all around us into the design of a home.

” She frowned at her old unrealistic dream.

“But even if I could figure out how to do that, I doubt I’d have any customers. ”

“Why not? That seems like a great business plan to me. Imitating God’s beautiful creation, making people comfortable in their own homes—what could be better?”

“I agree ... in theory. But it seems the ones looking for design help have one goal in mind ... okay, make that two.” She held up a forefinger. “Spend money.” Another finger. “Impress friends.”

“That’s pretty sad.”

“I agree.”

“But I bet you could find customers who prefer a homey home.”

She was skeptical. “I don’t know.”

“Around here, you could. I’m sure of it. Don’t give up on your dream, Carol.”

“Well, it’s just a dream ... I doubt I’ll ever achieve it.”

He waved a hand, gesturing around the restaurant. “This was just a dream for me. Well, not this ... but the way I had it before .”

“But you gave it up.”

He nodded grimly. “Yeah. For family.”

“Right.”

“But the dream is still in me. Really, I’m not done yet. And neither are you.” He picked up his plastic cup. “Here’s to dreams.”

“To dreams.” She clicked hers against his ... wondering.

****

The drive back to the farm was quiet. Partly because Carol didn’t want to distract Victor from his focus on the road.

The truck’s grip on the slippery streets seemed precarious, and he was being so careful, she didn’t want to be to blame if they wound up in the ditch or behind a tow truck, like some of the vehicles they’d seen.

Finally, when he was turning down Maria’s driveway, she spoke. “I really am relieved not to be flying to the Bahamas, after all.”

“You really don’t mind giving up those sunny beaches?”

“Not really. Being with my aunt is a good trade.”

“I know Maria will be thrilled to have you.”

“And I hope I can help more around the house. And maybe even with the cotillion decorations. I know how important that is to her. She seemed really worried that no one would step up.”

“You’d be the perfect candidate.” He chuckled. “Well, if you can keep setting aside your negative attitude toward Christmas.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Who knows? By the time you leave Michigan, you might even like the holidays. If Maria has any influence, she might transform your Grinchy thoughts completely.”

“Well, don’t expect miracles.”

He pulled up next to the house but kept the engine running. “We’ll all do everything we can to make sure your Christmas is the best one ever.”

Her smile was tolerant as she remembered her past Christmases and how bleak most had been. “Well, that shouldn’t be a big challenge.”

He used a bandanna to wipe humidity from his side window. “Now, if you’re going to help decorate for the cotillion, there’s no time to waste. You do know it’s scheduled for Saturday night? But Maria usually just puts up the same decorations every year so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Unless I could make it more special.” She wondered how that would even be possible. Or if people would appreciate it if she did. Small town folks might be resistant to change. “I’d like to see the venue where the event is held and what kind of decorations they use.”

“It’s in the Miller’s Creek Grange Hall each year, and I’m sure Maria can tell you where everything is stored. Although I doubt she can be of much physical help.”

Carol reached for the passenger side door handle, then paused. “I really feel Maria should get her arm checked. And probably x-rayed too. I’m worried it’s more than just a sprain, and she could have permanent damage if it heals badly.”

“I’ve had the same concern. How about I pick you two up in the morning? It can be under the guise of taking you to check out the decorating biz at the Grange. Maria will gladly agree to that. But then after she shows you around a bit, I can escort her over to urgent care.”

“Perfect. And if necessary, I will use my decoration assistance as leverage. I can refuse to help her if she refuses to get her arm looked at.”

“Great idea!” He hopped out of the pickup and trudged through the snow to open her door, helping her out, then catching her as her boot slid on the slick driveway.

“Whoa,” he said, holding her close until she was able to steady herself. “You almost did a face-plant there.”

“Thank you.” She stepped back self-consciously.

He grabbed her bag, and she hurried up to the porch, then thanked him again. “For everything,” she told him. “It’s been a surprisingly pleasant evening.”

“I agree.” He tipped his cowboy hat. “See you in the morning.”

Carol found her aunt snoozing in her recliner with her partially eaten dinner on the TV tray next to her.

Although she hated to disturb her, Carol felt like Maria would rest better in her own bed.

She gently nudged her aunt’s good arm and soon, blinking in surprise, Maria smiled. “Am I dreaming or are you still here?”

“I came back.” Carol winked. “Just like a bad penny.”

“More like a lucky penny.” Maria reached out with her good hand, grasping Carol’s fingers and giving them a squeeze. “I’m so glad you did.”

Carol gently removed the afghan from her aunt’s lap, then helped her to her feet. “Just in time to tuck you in bed too.” As she helped her aunt with her nighttime routine, Carol told her about the canceled flight, her choice to remain throughout Christmas, and the pizza she’d shared with Victor.

“That’s wonderful.” Maria set her toothbrush back in the holder. “The best Christmas present anyone could give me.”

By the time Carol got Maria into her bed, she had presented the plan for Victor to take them to the Grange first thing in the morning.

“I want to see about decorating for the cotillion since it’s right around the corner.

But I thought you’d want to go too.” She tucked the soft quilt up by Maria’s chin.

“To direct me, you know, like you did with the Christmas tree.”

Maria chuckled. “As I recall I slept while you and Victor decorated for me.”

Carol smiled. “Well, I’d still appreciate your input and suggestions.”

“Of course, dear. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Carol leaned down to kiss her aunt’s cheek, wishing her sweet dreams. Maria assured her that she would have nothing but now that Carol was back.

Satisfied that she’d made the right decision to give up on the Bahamas, Carol picked up her aunt’s dinner dishes, straightened up the kitchen, checked the thermostat, and turned off the lights.

When she finally went up to her room, she plugged her phone into the charger, then canceled her resort reservation and booked a return flight to Seattle after Christmas.

Then, realizing it was late and that she needed to get up early to complete some chores for Maria, she contentedly unpacked her meager bag and prepared for bed.

Being here, even for just a week, felt almost magical to her.

Perhaps Victor was right. Maybe she really would learn to see Christmas in a fresh new light and finally appreciate the holiday for what it was meant to be: a celebration of the One who’d come to give the world hope.

Because that was how she felt as she drifted off to sleep . .. hopeful.