Twist of the Magi Page 3

  “What about you?” Candace asked.

  Penny looked up to see Candace looking at her. “Me?” She thought of the squishy package sitting under her little artificial tree back at her apartment. “I’m not sure. My parents keep our presents a surprise. I –”

  Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by her duster knocking over a doll. In horror, she watched all the dolls start to tumble off the shelves as doll halves came apart, bouncing everywhere, multiplying by the second.

  “Penny!”

  Mrs. Reinholtz scurried over, staring in dismay at the sight of doll uppers and lowers rolling all over the place.

  “I’ll get them, Mrs. Reinholtz,” Penny said, scrambling to pick up the pieces and get them matched back up again.

  “We open in five minutes.”

  “I’ll help.”

  Penny looked over to see Mary on hands and knees, scooping doll halves from under the display case. They reached for the same piece, their hands closing together over a woodsman Santa. Their eyes met, and up close, Penny realized she could see flecks of gold in Mary’s brown eyes behind her glasses.

  “I’ve got this one,” Mary said.

  Penny nodded and pulled her hand away, feeling a strange tingle in her fingers. From the pile gathered in front of them, she and Mary began matching up the correct halves. Penny glanced around and saw that Candace had moved off to another part of the store.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled a few minutes later when she and Mary had all the right dolls nested inside one another again and they were all arranged on the shelves.

  “Well, at least now they’re clean,” Mary said, tucking her rag into her apron pocket and turning to greet the first wave of customers. She paused to look at Penny again, who nodded, red-faced. “It was an accident. Oh, before I forget, my mother wanted me to invite you to our house for Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner since your family can’t be here with you.”

  She moved off as Penny stood there, looking after her and wondering what just happened.

  “Get out of there.”

  Penny plucked Chester out of the box she was packing to mail to Iowa. She sighed as she looked at the few small parcels inside, all wrapped in spare paper Mrs. Reinholtz had given her. It wasn’t much. Second-hand books, CDs, a new tie for her dad. She hated not having money for nicer gifts, but it would have to do. She went to the kitchen for the packing tape and began taping up the box. She heard a muffled meow from inside. Ripping the tape back, she opened a flap to find Chester peering up at her again.

  “You almost got mailed to Iowa,” she said, picking him up and quickly closing the flaps before he could jump back in.

  She taped the box up and carried it into the kitchen where she was surprised to hear a knock.

  She opened the door to find Mary standing there.

  “Hi,” she said in surprise. “How did you know where I live?”

  “Mrs. Reinholtz gave me your address,” Mary said. She gestured toward the kitchen. “Am I allowed in?”

  “Sorry,” Penny said, moving back. “Come on in.”

  Mary stepped in, looking around curiously. “I didn’t know you had a cat,” she said as Chester came limping in, meowing loudly as he rubbed around Mary’s ankles. She bent down to pet him. “What happened to his leg?”

  “That’s Chester,” Penny said, closing the door. “He got hit by a car when he was a kitten, before I got him.”

  Mary stood up. “Chester?” A slow smile spread across her face. “Good name.”

  “Um, what brings you out this way?” Penny asked.

  Mary unslung her backpack from her shoulder. “I read your stories.” She reached inside and pulled out the stack of papers Penny had given her a couple of weeks earlier. She carried them to the table and sat down.

  Penny hesitated a moment and then followed, pushing aside the box she had been packing.

  “I thought you might not want to do this at work,” Mary said, taking her down jacket off and hanging it on the back of her chair.

  Penny stared at the table, unable to meet Mary’s sharp, owlish eyes that she knew were watching her reaction. She just nodded.

  “You can relax,” Mary said.

  Penny looked up to find Mary watching her with an amused expression.

  “I liked them.”

  Penny stared at her. “What?”

  “I said, I liked them,” Mary repeated.

  “Really?” Penny sat up a little straighter.

  “Yes, really. They’re good. I mean, not quite O. Henry good, but they’re good.”

  “Really?”

  “Would you stop saying that?”

  “Sorry,” Penny said. “But you really liked them?”

  “You didn’t think I would?” Mary tilted her head. “I thought you were expecting to hear from agents any day now.”

  Penny looked at her for a moment and went to the kitchen drawer where she lifted out a stack of envelopes. “I have heard. All rejections.” To her embarrassment, she could feel tears stinging her eyes.

  “I’ve read that any writer worth their salt has a stack of those,” Mary said bracingly. “Kind of like an initiation rite.”

  Penny shook her head. “All my life, it’s been my dream to be a writer, but after these, I was starting to wonder if I should give up.” She pushed the drawer shut. “I didn’t know if anyone else would ever like my stories. And then, when you wouldn’t say anything, I thought you were just being nice and trying to figure out how to tell me you didn’t like them, either.”

  Mary laughed. “You are so weird.” Penny looked up sharply. “In a good way,” Mary added at once. “In a nice way.”

  Penny could feel her face getting warm as she stared into Mary’s eyes, remembering how many different colors were in them when she was close.

  “Anyway,” Mary said, and Penny broke her gaze.

  “Can I get you something to drink? Or eat?” Penny offered.

  She prayed Mary would say no to food, as she didn’t have anything but two packs of Ramen noodles and three cans of cat food in the cupboard.

  “Maybe something to drink?”

  “I’ve got some hot chocolate mix,” Penny said. “Sorry, it’s not the real thing.”

  “That sounds good.”

  Penny filled a kettle and set it to boil as Mary wandered into the living room and sat on the couch. Penny busied herself getting mugs and spoons out, checking them to make sure they were clean. It took a few minutes to heat the water and mix the hot chocolate. Penny carried two steaming mugs into the living room where she found Mary kneeling in front of the coffee table.

  “What happened to this little guy?” she asked as Penny set a mug down next to her. She reached into the stable and held up a lamb with only three legs.

  Penny smiled. “This was my grandmother’s Nativity set – or ‘activity set’ as my little sister called it. We played with it for hours, rearranging the figures. I don’t remember when the lamb lost her leg, but now the shepherd boy gets to carry her.”

  Mary smiled, and took a sip of her hot chocolate. “This is good, thanks.”

  Penny sat next to her, close enough to see the fine hairs on her cheek, gilded by the illumination of the lights on the Christmas tree. Mary turned to her and Penny quickly looked down and blew on her hot chocolate.

  “I almost forgot,” Mary said. “You never said if you could come to our house for Christmas. My mom asked again if I had remembered to invite you.”

  “Oh, um,” Penny stalled, turning away. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to go to my aunt’s up in Akron…”

  “But you won’t go, will you?” Mary said. She reached out and lifted the tag on the lone present under the tree. “There’s no need for you to be alone. I have to warn you though, my family is a little weird. My parents were hippies, and my three brothers are all into computers. We all love to read. No television. And no Gucci, either.”

  It took a second for the last remark to sink in. Penny laughed. “I wou
ldn’t know Gucci if it bit me,” she said.

  Mary tilted her head again. “So? Will you come?”

  Penny nodded. “That would be nice. What can I bring?”

  “My mom said just you, and she meant it. We’ll have tons of food. On Christmas Eve, we always do homemade chicken soup, because it reminds them of when they were first together and had no money. That’s all they could afford. It’s kind of a tradition now.”

  Mary reached into her pocket. “I wrote our address and phone number down.”

  Penny reached out for the slip of paper in Mary’s hand and again felt that odd tingle when her fingers brushed Mary’s. “Thanks.”

  Mary nodded and finished her hot chocolate. “I should go.” She carried her mug back into the kitchen and put it in the sink. She retrieved her jacket, and went to the door. “See you at work tomorrow.”

  “See you.”

  She closed the door and listened to Mary’s footsteps descending the stairs. She hurried to the living room where she could see Mary walking out to the street. Mary went to her car, a rusty Datsun, and glanced up. She gave a small wave, which Penny returned.

  Chester sat next to her, reaching up to paw at Penny’s leg. She picked him up as Mary’s car pulled away from the curb.

  “We won’t be alone for Christmas,” she murmured, burying her face in his fur as he purred.

  Mrs. Reinholtz was agitated when the girls arrived at the shop on the 23rd of December.

  “Only two shopping days left,” she fretted, wringing her hands. “We must be extra diligent. I need all of you out on the floor, no one in the back just doing the wrapping. We’ll wrap as needed. We’ve had a few things go missing in all the commotion. At least one Hummel and several CDs and ornaments. Keep an eye out for anyone tucking things into a pocket or bag. If you see anything, come and get me at once.”

  They all scattered for a frantic cleaning before the shop doors opened. Penny noticed that Mary was wearing a slimmer-fitting sweater than the shapeless, tunic-length ones she usually wore. It looked nice on her. Mary glanced over and caught Penny’s eye, giving her a quick smile. Penny turned away, nearly knocking over a three-foot-tall Santa dressed in a mink cape – “recycled from old mink coats,” Mrs. Reinholtz had said when Mary sputtered furiously about the mink. It was outrageously priced, but soft to stroke, and Penny did whenever she passed by. She stood the Santa back up and hurried off to another part of the store.

  Funny, I never noticed how pretty she is, Penny realized as she watched Mary through the branches of a Christmas tree. Not beautiful, like Candace, but pretty, with a nice, straight nose and a mouth that smiled a lot. Even her eyes, behind her glasses, were almost always smiling.

  The store was crazy with shoppers, and the morning flew by. When lunchtime arrived, Mrs. Reinholtz asked them to take their breaks one at a time. Penny pulled a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of her backpack, and saw there the rolled-up pages tied with their ribbon – the story she had written, thinking it would be a present for Candace, until Candace started talking about Gucci bags and diamond earrings, and then she just couldn’t face giving it to her. Penny pulled the scroll out. She could hear Mary’s voice, talking to a customer. I wonder. She quickly tucked the rolled-up pages into the pocket of Mary’s down jacket. She leaned closer and sniffed. When did Mary start wearing perfume? It was nice. She sniffed again and then went to eat her lunch.

  She ate quickly, not even taking her full half-hour, and went back out to the floor. She gave Mary a nervous smile as Candace headed back to take her break next.

  Penny meant to keep an eye out after lunch for any sign that Mary had found her little gift, but she was so swamped with customers that she didn’t even notice when Candace came back from lunch and Mary left. All four women scurried about the store, retrieving items from shelves, looking for boxes for the collectibles, ringing purchases up at the register. In all the chaos, they tried to watch for shoplifters as well, though Penny couldn’t see how they could tell who was trying to steal something when nearly all the customers held bags.

  “My grandson will look adorable in these!” a woman gushed, holding up a pair of children’s lederhosen. She asked Penny if they had them in the next size larger. Penny got down on her hands and knees, searching the cupboards under the display case.

  “Found them!” She held up the lederhosen for the woman to inspect.

  “Wonderful, or should I say, ‘wunderbar’,” the woman said with a laugh. “Can you wrap them, please?”

  Penny took the lederhosen to the back to box them up. She was taping the wrapping paper in place when Candace hurried back.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said, handing Penny a small box, and then heading back out to the floor.

  Penny opened the box. It was one of the wooden pens, a cherry one. It was beautiful. Penny stared out toward the store with her mouth open. Candace had given her a present. She quickly looked toward Mary’s jacket, wondering if Mary had found the scroll in her pocket. Maybe she could retrieve it and still give it to Candace.

  “Penny!” Mrs. Reinholtz’s voice called back. “There’s a lady out here asking about her lederhosen.”

  Penny tucked the pen box into her own jacket pocket and hurriedly finished wrapping the lederhosen. “Here they are,” she said, handing them to Mrs. Reinholtz.

  Her heart was beating fast as she tried to catch Candace’s eye, but she was busy with a customer. Another customer asked Penny for assistance with the Hummels. Penny was still waiting on that customer several minutes later as she tried to decide between two figurines when she became aware of Mrs. Reinholtz calling to Candace.

  “Where is this customer’s pen?”

  “I gave it to Penny to wrap,” Candace said.

  Penny felt as if she’d been slapped in the face.

  “Miss?” Her own customer plucked at her sleeve. “I think I’ve decided on this one. Can you wrap it?”

  Numbly, Penny nodded and tried to hide behind shelves as she made her way back to the stockroom. Once there, she set the Hummel down and hurried back to where her jacket was hanging.

  “Penny!”

  Caught with her hand just pulling the boxed-up pen from her jacket, Penny turned to find Mrs. Reinholtz and Candace standing there.

  “What are you doing?”

  The shock and disbelief on Mrs. Reinholtz’s face spoke volumes. Penny could feel her face burning fiercely. She stared at the floor.

  “Explain yourself,” Mrs. Reinholtz said.

  Explain what? That I thought Candace had actually given me a present? That I was stupid enough to think she liked me? Penny stood there miserably, pen in hand. Even letting Mrs. Reinholtz think she was stealing was preferable to admitting what an idiot she’d been. Wordlessly, she set the pen on the wrapping table as Mary came back with a box to wrap.

  “What’s going on?” she asked innocently, taking in the expressions on their faces.

  Penny turned and grabbed her coat and backpack. Wrenching the back door open, she fled into the cold.

  “Penny, honey, I’m worried about you,” came Mrs. Havers’s voice over the answering machine. “If you’re still at work at this hour, you’re working too much. Please call us, honey. Love you.”

  Penny sat in the dark of her apartment, lit only by her little Christmas tree and the single bulb illuminating the Nativity stable, as she let her mother hang up without answering the phone. Chester lay on the couch behind her, one paw resting against her shoulder as he tried to comfort her. She reached for another tissue and blew her nose, adding the crumpled tissue to the growing pile next to her on the floor.

  There were other messages on the machine. Mrs. Reinholtz had called once, and Mary had called four times. Penny refused to pick up. She didn’t want to talk to any of them. Fresh tears filled her eyes at the memory of her humiliation.

  How could you have been so stupid? Of course, it seemed perfectly clear now, Candace was only joking with the “Merry Christmas” comment. Penny
braced her elbows on her knees and pressed her forehead to her hands. And for Mrs. Reinholtz to think… Penny would never be able to face her again. Never.

  She and Chester were both startled by a loud knock on the door. She lifted her head, but made no move to get up and answer it. They’ll go away. Four more loud raps on the door made her frown.

  “I know you’re in there.”

  Mary. She should have known.

  “I’m not leaving. I’ll sit out here all night if I have to, but you’re going to talk to me.”

  Penny pulled out another tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Please.”

  Penny blew her nose and got up. She gathered all the crumpled tissues and crept into the kitchen to throw them away.

  “It’s freezing out here. If you leave me out here all night, I may die of hypothermia and then how will you feel?”

  In spite of herself, Penny smiled.

  “Do you know what happens to a person’s blood when they become hypothermic?” Mary’s voice continued from the stairwell. “Their blood crystallizes as it freezes. It’s excruciating. Do you really want to do that to me?”

  Penny clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

  “I can’t feel my feet. I think –”

  Penny yanked the door open. “Shut up and get in here.”

  She walked back into the living room, leaving Mary to close the door and follow. She sat back down on the floor, her back against the couch.

  Mary hesitated, then took off her jacket and sat down beside her.

  For long minutes, they sat side by side in silence. Penny could only look at her own knees.

  “We know what happened,” Mary said at last, her voice soft and low. “Mrs. Reinholtz doesn’t think you were trying to steal the pen.”

  Penny closed her eyes. “The truth is more humiliating,” she whispered. She could feel fresh tears pricking her eyelids, and tried to stop them. She didn’t want to cry any more, not in front of Mary.

  “Well, I think Mrs. Reinholtz got it,” Mary said. “She sees more than we think she does. She scolded Candace for being so thoughtless.”