Page 27 of The Blessings of Christmas
By the timeRyan left that day, lemon bars, thimbles and sand tarts filled the case, just in time for the lunch crowd. Sarah felt so bad about his burned hands. He didn’t seem himself today, although his question about the coffee got her thinking. Her mother would have to buy into it and lately Mom was on another planet.
The holidays were always a busy time for the bakery. They had to “make hay while the sun shines,” as her dad had always said. This income had to last them through the lean months of January and February. This year, that extra income meant more. She had to catch up on their taxes. Did foreclosure lurk in their future?
She’d finished baking for the day. Turning off the ovens, she called Mrs. Wilcox. Might as well get this over with. Nathan’s teacher was polite but firm. He’d called another boy a name and Sarah was shocked that he even knew that word. Jamie rarely swore.
“I know things are difficult right now,” Mrs. Wilcox said, concern softening her voice.
“That’s no excuse for bad behavior.”
They agreed that Nathan would apologize. “This won’t happen again,” Sarah assured the teacher, feeling the weight of that promise.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah went out to check on her mother.
“Doesn’t that case look wonderful?” Her mother greeted her. Sarah stood back from the counter, drinking in the orderly rows of pastries and cookies. Bread filled the racks along the wall behind the counter.
“It sure does. Ryan’s a hard worker, but he burned his hands today.”
“Oh, no. Poor boy.”
“Mom, he’s not a boy.”
Her mother pursed her lips with one of her tick-a-lock expressions.
“He’s got something on his mind. I don’t know what.” She studied the coffee machine. All the levers and buttons were intimidating. Mom was quiet and Sarah turned to find her staring out the front window in the direction of the library.
“Don’t we all.” Leaning over the display case, her mother propped her chin up with two hands.
“I saidsomething, Mom. Notsomeone.”
“What?” Her mom jerked. The woman was blissed out.
Nerves jumping, Sarah looked around. “Does it look bare in here?”
Her mom shrugged. “I suppose it’s not very Christmasy.”
“We need some decorations.” One more thing on her list.
“The boxes are in the attic,” her mother said, reaching for a white bakery box. “Guess I’ll take some of these fresh cookies to the library. Stir up some business.”
Suspicion set in. Sarah glanced out to the cold, empty street. “Is the library busy this time of year?”
Her mother hitched a shoulder. “Of course. Everyone wants to read their favorite Christmas story again.”
Somehow Sarah doubted that. “I suppose the children’s story hour brings a lot of young mothers.” Mothers who didn’t have time to bake.
A flush stained her mother’s cheeks. “Actually, I’ve been asked to read to the children this coming Saturday.” Her mother didn’t look up as she filled a box with samples.
“Mom, you’re taking our profits right out the door.”
Lila stopped and Sarah felt terrible. She didn’t want her mother worrying. “That’s okay, Mom. Sorry.”
But her mother quietly returned a couple of lemon bars to the tray.
“So tell me about the story hour. What will you read?”
“Frosty the Snowman. Rudolph. You know. The classics.”
“I see.” Stepping over to the coffee pot, Sarah decided it needed to be freshened. When she turned, she met her mother’s eyes. How involved should she be with her mother’s love life?
