Page 3 of Jam and Jingle Bells
I clapped excitedly. The holidays were my favorite time of the year and they were finally here! I still sort of believed in Santa, to be honest, and I couldn’t wait to spend this holiday with my new family. “Yes, let’s do it! I’ll let Audrey know there will be two of us. She’s militant with her scheduling, you know.”
Heather snortled and gazed at the ceiling, well aware of how Audrey Violet ran her ship. Tight, orderly, and with authority. A retired teacher, Audrey had her hands in everything this community did. Whether she was helping out at the food shelf, organizing the Thanksgiving meal, or handing out coats and boots to the kids at the annual Christmas dinner, she was always the voice of reason and calm at the event. I suppose because she was organized and militant. Not everyone can do what Audrey does and do it successfully.
I, on the other hand, was definitely on the opposite end of the spectrum when it came to organization. My mom tried, oh how she tried, but I prefer to go with the flow in life. I knew where everything was, even if other people just saw a mess. I had to learn to stay organized in the salon, but my apartment and car, oaf, not so much. Maybe it was because my mind worked creatively rather than academically. Maybe my dad was messy. Of course, I wouldn’t know about that since he walked away three months before I was born.
Heather checked the clock on the wall. “It’s the night before Thanksgiving and it’s been crickets for the last four hours. I think we’re done here.” She stood and walked to the front door to lock it. “I’m tired. Let’s go home and rest before tomorrow. We’ll snip our fingers to the bone then.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes at the girl. “Maybe we will, but we’ll also eat some amazing turkey and potatoes, not to mention Melissa’s pie.”
She did finger guns at me at the mention of pie. “I’m truly only going for the pie. But, while I’m there, I’ll be useful.”
I gave her the finger guns back. “Good. Maybe you’ll earn yourself a second piece of pie that way.”
She rubbed her generous belly and grinned. “You can count on it. I love Thanksgiving.”
She jammed her arms into her coat sleeves and grabbed her purse from the back. “I’ll see you there at eleven?” she asked with her hand on the doorknob at the back of the salon.
“Can’t wait!” I promised, waving happily.
“Don’t forget to lock the door!” she yelled from the parking lot. She knew I would without a daily reminder.
I threw a thumbs up in her direction, locked the door, shut off the lights, and headed up the stairs to my second-floor apartment. My apartment was two bedrooms with a small kitchen and living room. The bathroom, however, was down in the salon, which was a pain on a cold December night. At least I have my own private bathroom separate from the one the customers use, which makes it tolerable. I share laundry facilities with the salon as well, but somehow, it all works. The bathroom situation was the reason I got the entire building for such a good deal. The apartment is useless as a rental without a bathroom, so landlords avoided it like the plague. Their loss was my gain. It made my commute easy and cheap. You’d never hear me complain about going downstairs to use the bathroom at night.
I opened the fridge to stare at the mostly empty shelves. “Damn, forgot to buy groceries again.” I sighed and closed the door but left my hand on the door handle. Breakfast was the last time I’d put food in my mouth and it was now, I glanced at the clock, almost seven. I let go of the handle and grabbed my coat and purse off the rack by the door. I jogged back down the stairs and blew out a breath of frustration with myself. I always forgot about the important things, like buying groceries and doing laundry. I guess I was too focused on the business sometimes. I was also too tired and hungry to truck my butt to the Plaid Pantry for groceries. I’d probably spend a thousand dollars just in the chips and dip aisle. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, so the grocery store was closed, but at least I had lunch at the community center and dinner at Stan’s to look forward to. I decided I’d walk to the Nightingale Diner for dinner tonight. Maybe I’d even pick myself up a muffin for breakfast tomorrow morning. I promised myself I’d get to the store to stock up the moment they opened on Friday.
The walk to the diner was short, so I tossed the Nightingale menu around in my head on the way. Meatloaf? No, not in the mood for meatloaf. Eggs and pancakes? Mmmmm, sounds good, but then again, so does the chicken strip basket. Oh, wait! Barbeque chicken with rice pilaf. Don’t curl your lip up. It sounds like an odd combination, but it’s excellent. I blew out a breath and it puffed white in the cold night air. “That’s the problem with the Nightingale,” I said to the empty street, “deciding what to order when you really want a little bit of everything.”
I rounded the corner and the sight of the diner made my insides all mushy. I grinned the same way I had since I was a little kid. The building stretched before me in the shape and design of an old train car. It was long and narrow, but inside there would be more than enough space for any Bells Passer who needed a hot meal or their spirits lifted. Tonight, it was more the former leading me here. I slipped through the door and headed to the counter where I slid my butt over a stool. I flipped a coffee cup up and waited for the waitress, Becca, to pour me a cup of joe. She was busy at table four with a group of kids who looked to be enjoying the beginning of their Thanksgiving break from school.
She hurried over and filled my cup with a dark, rich brew. “Hi, Addie, how’s it going?” she asked, sliding the cream and sugar toward me.
“Hey, Becca,” I greeted her, my spirits already lifted from the friendly welcome. “I’m great. I just got done with work and realized I had no food in the fridge.”
“Well, the Nightingale Diner is always here for you,” she teased, her pen poised on her pad. “What can I get for you? Our special tonight is tater tot hotdish with a fresh baked dinner roll and a slice of pie.”
I put my hand to my chest. “Be still my heart. Tater tot hotdish? I haven’t had that since I lived with Mom. Definitely hit me up with that,” I nodded, rubbing my hands together.
She tore the paper off the pad and hung it on the wheel for the cook before she turned back. “It’s wonderful, and you know Mason, he can’t make just regular old tater tot hotdish. He has to create his own cheesy goodness.”
“Is Mason here tonight?” I asked, noticing Lance was the one working in the back.
“No, he worked the early shift, made about four pans of the special and left us to serve it up,” she answered, sticking her pad back in her pocket.
I closed my eyes and wiggled back and forth in my seat. “Seriously, I’m dying here. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starving.” I took a sip of my coffee and sighed. I needed that. “Will you be at the community center tomorrow?”
“I will be,” she said excitedly. “It’s my first year and I’m going to serve, which I guess isn’t a big surprise,” she teased, doing a curtsey. “I’m replacing Melissa since she’s making pies.”
I nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “I’ll be there, too. I’m going to offer haircuts to the kids so they’re ready for Santa.”
She tipped her head to the left. “Aww, that’s so nice of you! I’m sure the parents will be thrilled.”
Someone else came through the door and she grabbed the coffee pot, waved at me, and headed to the booth where they’d settled. I grabbed my phone and checked for texts but resisted the urge to sign onto social media or the internet. Ivy refused to install wi-fi in the diner, and while I had plenty of data, I understood her reasoning behind it. When your focus is on your phone, it’s not on your environment or the people around you. Not that I’m a huge social media person, because who has time, but eating alone is well, lonely.
The bell tinkled over the door again and my head turned automatically, a shy smile lifting my lips when the new diner waved at me. I waved back and he walked toward me, his usualNamasteballcap replaced by a soft stocking cap with the lotus flower symbol on the brim.
He stopped next to me and smiled, taking his gloves off. “Hi, Addie. How are you?” He kissed my cheek and stuck his gloves in his pockets.
“Hey, Ellis.” I lowered my coffee cup to the counter. “I’m good. How are you? I haven’t seen you around much the last couple of weeks.”
