Page 11 of The Blessings of Christmas
After Mercedes had scurried back out into the snow, Sarah decided to bring her lunch out front. Sitting at one of the glass topped tables at the window, she opened her ham and cheese sandwich. The snow was picking up. She would have to shovel their little patch of sidewalk. No one would be coming in now and her spirits plummeted.
But maybe she was wrong. A car that looked like her mother's blue Chevy pulled up into one of the spots out front. A blonde stepped out. The wind caught her red paisley headscarf, but she wasn’t giving it up.
Time for some fresh coffee and Sarah went back to fill the pot with water. Grabbing a warm thimble, she returned and set the pot to perking. She’d just bitten through the nutty layer of the soft, warm cookie when the door opened. There stood the blonde. Realization turned the thimble to a lump in her throat. Sarah had a hard time swallowing.
“Mom. What have you done to your hair?”
CHAPTER 3
Sarah’s mother fluffed her pert new hairdo. Gone were the frizzy white curls pinned back with a headband. A sleek blonde wave hung to her mother’s chin. “What do you think?”
Sarah struggled to find the right words. “Gosh, Mom. I hardly recognized you.”
Her smile slipping, Mom tucked the scarf in her pocket. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Now she’d made her feel bad. “Forget what I said. You look great, Mom.”
“I just thought, after seeing Lindsay's mother at the wedding, that her blonde hair looked so pretty. You know, so young.” The last bit was delivered in a whisper.
“So you’ve been thinking about this for a while?”
Her mother nodded. Sarah had to agree. Rose Wheeler, Lindsay’s mom, had been blonde for ages. She did look about ten years younger than Lila. Well, not anymore.
Slipping off her heavy gray coat, her mother looked pleased. “I just thought I’d give myself an early Christmas present.”
“You look more like my sister than my mother.”
“Oh, nonsense.” Her mother couldn’t stop smiling. “Phoebe said to say hello.”
“Oh she did, did she?” A member of Sarah’s book group, Phoebe owned and operated Gull Harbor’s hair salon.
“Guess I’ll hang up my coat.” And her mother whirled through the swinging half door, humming some Christmas tune.
Had Sarah been too busy starting up her babysitting co-op that she’d missed a change in her mother? Almost thirty, Sarah viewed sixty as mature but not old. Her mother was pretty and still relatively young.
Tying her apron strings, Mom reappeared and peered into the case. “How did your thimbles turn out? You know, the ones you made with Ryan?” Did she give Ryan’s name a mischievous uptick?
“Delicious. I could eat all of them. But I won't.” Her words were a promise to herself. She was going to fit into her red Christmas dress if it killed her. After all, that dress was tradition. She’d had it since high school, but every year she had to let out the seams a little more.
“The thimbles look so yummy. I have to try them.” With that, her mother reached into the case. One little bite had Mom closing her eyes in ecstasy. “These are perfect, sweetheart. So soft and buttery. Maybe Ryan would make a good pastry chef.”
“Oh, I don’t think cookies are his thing.” Resting her chin on one hand, Sarah peered out the window. The lake wind caught the falling snow, shaping ghostlike figures and mini-drifts. “If this blasted snow keeps up, we'll be lucky to sell these today. No one goes out in this kind of weather.”
Her mother stopped chewing. “Maybe I should take some to the library.”
Sarah wheeled around. “What? With all this snow?”
Granted, her mother did visit the library every other week. Mildred Wentworth, the head librarian, set new romances asidefor her. Of course, that was before Mom’s recent interest in ancient history.
“You might get stuck.” Sarah didn’t want to have to dig Mom’s car out of a snow drift. The fact that she’d made it back from Phoebe’s salon was amazing...and scary.
“Oh, for goodness sakes. It’s just up the highway.” Averting her eyes, her mother took another bite. “In weather like this, people like to read. Why not hand out cookie samples?”
With that her mother began to put together one of their white bakery boxes. Then she scooped fresh cookies from the tray. “After all, it's the season to share.”
Sarah moaned. “Good grief, Mom. I haven't even started my Christmas shopping.”
“No worries,” her mother practically sang out. “We have lots of time. Besides, Christmas isn’t about presents. It’s about people.” By this time her mother was back in her coat. She didn’t even bother to take off her apron. Shaking out the paisley headscarf, she wrapped it carefully around her new hairdo.
