Page 26 of Jingle Bell Jilt
My gaze travels down to the strip mall at the end of the parking lot and it gives me an idea. I’m just not certain it will go over well. But I can’t seem to shake it. As we walk to BR, my gaze keeps flicking over to the Christmas store.
We load the groceries into the back of the car. Evan comes around and opens my door for me. Nathan never did that kind of thing. He’d always say that I’m an independent woman and he didn’t want to offend me. Not that I had ever said it did offend me.
Evan makes his way over to the driver’s side. No, I hadn’t even tried to get the keys back. He passed the test, and I’m content to let him drive the beast.
He starts the car and slowly backs out of the parking space.
“Nicely done, sir,” I say and tip an imaginary hat.
He smiles over at me. “Mr. Jones, my driver’s education teacher, would be so proud.”
“Mine would likely have predicted my failure. He was never voted as Mr. Congeniality.” I see the strip mall out of the corner of my eye, and I know this is my last chance. “Hey, Evan? Can I stop by that Christmas store? The more I think about it, the more I want to buy my mom that snow globe.”
He nods, but I can see his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Sure.”
“I can just run in,” I hurry to clarify. The last thing I want is for him to come into the store with me. “You don’t even have to turn off the car. That way we won’t have to worry about any of the food spoiling in the heat.”
His whole body melts into the chair. “Are you sure?”
I wave a hand in the air. “Totally. I’ll be really quick.”
He pulls up in front of the shop and I hop out. Once I’m on the sidewalk, he pulls forward and I watch him pull into a parking space.
I run inside and wave at the store clerk, once again taken aback at how much she looks like Mrs. Claus. Not that I know Mrs. Claus personally, but just what I imagine her to look like.
“You came back.” She smiles at me.
“Yeah,” I say. “I decided that I wanted that snow globe for my mom.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “And I think that I want to buy a tree topper.”
“I thought you might be back for that.” She smiles at me knowingly.
Why would she think that? Had she been listening in on our conversation? I shake that thought off because it’s too ridiculous and slightly creepy.
“Why don’t you grab the snow globe you want, and I will get the angel. We don’t want to keep that man of yours waiting.”
I open my mouth to tell her that Evan isn’t my man in any sense of the word. But then I decide, ‘Why bother?’ It’s not like I’ll be seeing this lady again. Plus, I’m wondering why she thinks that she knows which tree topper I’m talking about.
She disappears while I’m looking at the snow globes. I pick one that has a sandy beach with a palm tree and a surf shack. When you shake it, instead of snow, fine pieces of glitter and sand rain down. My mom will love it.
I take it to the front counter where Mrs. Claus’s doppelganger is wrapping a bow around a box. She already wrapped it? How do I know it’s the right one?
She takes the snow globe from me. “Do you want this wrapped too, dear?”
I nod, but my eyes are riveted on the package. What if she grabbed the wrong one? It will be a disaster when Evan opens it.
“Is something wrong, dear?” She asks without looking up.
“I just wondered which angel tree topper you picked. There are, like, half a dozen of them back there.”
She ties a big red bow around the elf wrapping paper. “It is the one in the red velvet dress holding a star above her head, yes?” She finally looks up, piercing me with a look that makes me wonder why I ever doubted her.
I nod, because I’m a little scared at what she might interpret from it. After all, she had figured out the right angel, and all I’d said was I wanted a tree topper. What else would she discover if I actually opened my mouth?
She rings in my purchases in the old-fashioned cash register that dings with each push of the keys. It’s so quaint. But it must be one of those old time-y remakes using modern technology but old aesthetics because it’s attached to a credit card machine. I tap my card on the screen and she hands me over a plastic bag with the shop’s name and logo on it. As the bag changes into my hands, a bundle of fake snow falls on my head.
I set my bag on the counter and drop my head down, swishing my hands at the fake snow and trying to get it all out of my hair. But all I succeed in doing is getting several plastic ‘snowflakes’ stuck on my eyelashes. “What was that about?”
She giggles. “Oh, you were our ten thousandth customer.”
