Page 11 of The Christmas Mittens
“She loves children,” Anders informed me as my daughter’s laughter filled the tiny shop. “My eldest brother has three little ones, and she adored them. Since I left home, she’s not had a youngster to play with.”
I picked up a note of sadness in his deep voice just as Gilda and Della rose, the dog in her arms licking her face as if she were a lollipop. Gilda was grinning widely, yet her eyes were still red from the tears she had just cried. Tears I’d brought about by being a dunderhead. I owed her an apology.
“This dog is everything,” Gilda announced between laps of a tiny tongue on her cheeks. She had always wanted a dog, but with both of us gone all day, it didn’t seem fair to the pooch. Seeing how happy she was, perhaps we needed to reexamine having a pet. I could bring the dog to work with me if need be…
“She likes you,” Anders said just before Della wiggled free to jump down to the floor. “Her name is Della. And mine is Anders Becken.” Gilda held out a hand to shake. Anders turned her hand over, bent crisply at the waist, and kissed her knuckles. Gilda’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. The man was so debonair. Who does that nowadays? Only European men, I guess.
“I’m Gilda,” my daughter coughed out, cheeks as pink as Della’s blanket. Anders straightened, smiled at her, and released her hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gilda. I have had the pleasure of conversing with your father for a few days now, thanking him for creating little booties for Della to wear out in the frosty grass. She doesn’t care for them much and chews them into bits, but she also doesn’t like to be cold so here we are gathering mittens that will be worn once and then destroyed.”
Gilda giggled, threw me a dour look, and then went over to sit by the front window to play with Della. Ouch. Okay, well, she was still mad at me. I blew out a breath, forced a smile, and returned my attention to Anders.
“I’ll be sure to tell Franny across the street that you have a dog and not a baby,” I said and got a funny look from Anders. “Some of the ladies were distressed over you riding your bike in the cold with a baby.”
“Ah, yes. Well, Della disliked the ride. I think we need a sweater for her as the blanket wasn’t enough to keep her warm.”
“I can do it!” Gilda called from her spot on the worn wooden floor. “I’m good at knitting. I can make her lots of sweaters.”
Anders seemed taken aback. “If your father and mother agree, then that will be fine, but I don’t wish to pull you from your schoolwork.”
“My mom is dead,” she replied emotionlessly. It was just a statement of fact for her, sadly. She’d been so young when Katie passed that she never really had time to bond tightly or build any lingering memories. “Dad, are you okay with me knitting a sweater for Della as long as I do my homework?”
Oh, the sass in that question. She could rival any drag queen. I bit back the urge to chide her for being so sharp with me but let it slide. The girl was mad, and she was entitled to her feelings, butI would later discuss her speaking to me with respect no matter how angry she was.
“That’s fine,” I replied coolly. Della pranced around the shop, fetching a small ball of yarn and bringing it back to Gilda. Anders and I mostly watched and made some general small talk until he glanced out the window.
“It’s snowing quite hard now. We should get back to the camper before we get stuck. My tires are fat and made for some snow but this looks to be a big dump.” He called his dog over. The min pin pouted as did my daughter but soon Della was covered up in her pink cashmere blanket, with a scarf I’d made wrapped around it. “That should keep her warm.”
“Would you be willing to give us a call when you arrive at the campgrounds? Just to let us know you and Della arrived safely?” I chanced.
“Of course, how kind of you to worry.” Gilda nodded strongly as she gave the little dog one last snuggle. Anders added his number to my phone, and I gave him mine. “There. Now we’re contacts.”
“If you wish, I can close the shop and give you a ride to the campgrounds?” I offered, but he waved that off.
“We’ll be fine. I’ve ridden in much worse conditions. Thank you, though. You also, please drive home safely. I would hate to have something happen to my two new friends.” He gave Gilda a wink before tucking his phone into his pocket, his dog under his arm, and heading for the door. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” He juggled the min pin burrito, plucked a few mismatched mittens from the line, and dropped his donation into the jar. “There. Now we can go. Mush, Della!”
Gilda and I both laughed at the thought of that little dog pulling a sled. We stood by the window watching as Anders got his pup strapped into the doggy seat on his handlebars, tucked her in tightly, and with a jaunty wave, pedaled off.
“He’s very nice, isn’t he?” I asked while watching Anders take off with speed, bent over the bike like a racer.
“His dog is cool. I bet he doesn’t talk about her personal female issues with the whole town like you! He seems smarter than that.”
She stalked off, tossing the curtain aside with attitude. I drew in a breath through my nose and followed, moving around in front of her to block her from locking herself into the bathroom. The glower I got was intense. Gilda folded her arms over her chest.
“Okay, I get that you’re mad, and you have a right to be, but that does not clear you from speaking to me with respect. I’m not a total moron, and your calling me dumb is not cool.” Her eyes rolled. Hard. But she didn’t snap back. “Now, we’re going to close the shop early and go home before the snow gets any worse. While we’re riding home, I think we both should think about what we wish to say to each other, calmly and respectfully, and then we’ll talk over dinner. Now, get your coat and hat.”
She did as she was told but the silence was as icy as the weather outside. There were a few inches on the roads already, and it was highly doubtful anyone was out doing any shopping with several more inches predicted. Thankfully, the Subaru handled the snowy roads well, and within fifteen minutes, we were home. Gilda went to her room, the door closing with a little more vinegar than was necessary. Toeing off my boots, I let out a weary sigh. My phone buzzed in my back pocket. If this were someone ringing me up to say they were at the shop and needed something, I would scream. Thankfully, for my larynx, it was Anders texting to tell me that he and Della were in the camper and that she was trying her best to gnaw through the mittens on her tiny feet.
I hit him back to let him know that we’d also gotten home safely. Then I walked to the door of my angry almost teen andrapped gently. The thumping dance beat of a K-pop band floated out from the crack under the door. I had no clue which band it was. I knocked louder. With a huff that the big bad wolf would be proud of, she threw the door open. And then stood there, hip out, arms crossed, the very epitome of a rankled teenager. It was going to be a turbulent few years.
“Anders and Della are home. She’s eating mittens.”
“Okay.” She closed the door in my face and cranked the K-pop back up.
“Nice talking to you too,” I mumbled before turning from the door to go make some coffee while staring at the snow, wondering what to make for dinner and how to make amends for my gaffe. The meal would be easy. Chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. She might be older now, but she still loved her nugs and cheesy mac. Trying to navigate the explanation slash apology would be far harder. So, I did what most people would do. I sat down with my coffee and began scouring the internet for tips on how to speak to your upset teenager. I suspected I might need those suggestions over the next few years.
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