Page 37 of The Christmas Mittens
“We’ve not even ordered yet,” I reassured her as I sat on one of five stools at the retro counter. The diner was an old train car that had been converted to an eatery.
“I am so sorry,” she said again as she stuffed her phone into her apron. Her blue eyes were dewy with unshed tears. “I ruined everything for her.”
“Hey, hey, nothing is ruined.” I patted her arm tenderly unsure of what she could have possibly ruined.
“Yes, it is. I overbooked the fire hall, Mitch. Somehow, there are two parties on the twenty-sixth. I hate that new calendar they make us use. What was wrong with a paper calendar? This stupid computer one is so confusing. There are too many slots and colors and…I booked two events at the hall on the day of Gilda’s party. Bert was just looking over the schedule to see what they needed to set up for next when he found it. I am so, so sorry!”
Oh crap. I glanced over my shoulder to look at Gilda chatting away with Kimmie. I drew in a breath while Chloe sniffled then returned my attention to her. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes. What other event is taking place on the twenty-sixth? Can we possibly go before or after them?”
“I doubt it. It’s Gillian and Paul’s wedding reception,” she said into a wadded-up ball of paper napkins under her nose. “Those take forever to set up, and it runs until nine.”
Well shit. “Okay, well, what openings do you have for anything else?” I knew it was a long shot. Our little fire hall hosted everything from gun shows to wedding receptions. They were always booked solid.
“We have tomorrow afternoon from four to six open. The Grouse Falls Poultry Lovers had to pull out at the last minute since the president was dealing with a bumblefoot situation. I’msosorry. Gilda is going to hate me.” She cried in earnest now. The chatter behind us fell silent as I rubbed her arm to try to console her. “I told Bert I was tech-challenged when he asked me to fill in dates for the hall.”
“It’s fine, truly. It will be fine,” I lied. I had no cake since that was ordered to be picked up on the twenty-sixth, no DJ as she was also booked for the twenty-sixth, and hardly any guests since most of Gilda’s friends had left to see family. Crap, crap, crap. “We’ll take that two-hour slot.”
She dabbed at her eyes. “I’m going to refund your fee and cover the rental myself.” I started to argue. She held up a hand, the hand with her cell phone. “No, do not think to argue. This mess is on me. I’m typing Bert now.” And she did, even as I tried to tell her that her kind gesture wasn’t necessary. “There. Done. Paid for out of my pocket. You’ll get a check tomorrow when you show up for the party.” She looked over at Gilda and got teary again. “I feel so terrible. Do you want me to tell her that I ruined her party?”
“No, I’ll tell her there was a mix-up with the hall and we’re going to celebrate a little earlier. There is no fault. Mistakes happen. What is it that Pastor Pete says? Only God is flawless, and that the rest of us fall a little short, but the Lord is patient and understanding of our human imperfections.”
She nodded. “Yes, he does say that.”
I gave her biceps a squeeze. “We’ll get things all sorted. It will be fine.” She gave me a big hug and hustled off to the ladies’ room to splash cold water on her face, I assumed, as I made my way back to the table. Gilda and Anders, heck, the whole group, were waiting for me to sit. I gave them a flimsy smile. “Everything is fine with Chloe. Bert’s fine. There’s just been a little mix-up with your party, Gilda.”
The happiness faded from her face. “What kind of mix-up?” Gilda asked while the rest of the table was as quiet as mice.
“Well, it seems the day after your birthday they’re double-booked and a wedding reception needs the hall. But we get it tomorrow afternoon!”
I did my best to be cheery, but the perky balloon went kind of flat. Gilda bit down on the inside of her cheek, a move I knew meant she was quite upset. “I realize the guest list will be smaller, but we’ll have a great time just the same.”
“Of course we will,” Anders chimed in, followed by every adult there assuring her that it would all be fabulous. No cake, no DJ, and no friends. Ugh, what a kick in the shins for Gilda. She nodded gently, worked up a smile, and assured us that it was cool. I knew her well enough to know she was greatly disappointed, but she was handling it with maturity and grace. My little girl was truly growing up. I hugged her to me. “It will be the best birthday party ever.” Anders and I exchanged looks. There was a lot to be done in a short amount of time. “If you will order me a muffin and a coffee, I have to step outside to make a call.”
Chloe exited the bathroom looking calmer and headed toward us. “Yes, of course, go make your call,” I told Anders. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and left his seat. He motioned to Arne and Alfred as he passed them on his way to the door. They both rose in tandem to follow him out into the cold.
“So, who wants muffins?” Chloe asked, her voice shaky. Gilda ordered then Kimmie, opting for hot chocolate and a muffin while the rest of us got coffee or hot tea with our baked treat. The table was alive with party ideas. Gilda was subdued but tried her best. I kept an eye on Anders, talking to his bodyguards as well as someone on the phone. Within minutes, they were back inside, the guardians at their own table, and Anders sitting beside me.
“I had to hurry and check if my surprise for Gilda could come tomorrow as well as reply to a notice from home,” he whispered into my ear as coffee, tea, and cocoa were served. “They assure me it can be made to happen.”
“Is everything okay at home?”
“Yes, it will progress without me at the moment,” he stiffly assured me, so I let it go. It sounded as if he might have to return to the situation in some manner soon but that was none of my business.
“Good, I’m glad.” He gave my thigh a squeeze under the table. “And I’m happy her present will be delivered early, even though you didn’t have to go to that kind of trouble.”
“It was no trouble. It was my pleasure. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure her party is talked about for years to come.”
He was so sweet. I hoped we could pull together a party worthy of the young woman who had handled this disappointment with such dignity. Katie was surely proud of her. I knew I was.
***
After being assured that Arne knew how to crossfade with the best of Östermon’s well-known DJs, they took Anders back to his dog as the caroling get-together broke up. Truth be told, the abrupt change of plans had thrown everyone into either a turmoil of worry—me—or a funk—Gilda—so the ho-ho-ho vibe was deeply chilled. Gilda was quiet on the way home, and I’d not pushed her too hard to communicate. I’d let her settle in and check on her before bed. Tomorrow was going to be frantic, so I decided to just close the shop for the day. Probably if I were as dedicated as some, I would go in to finish working on the few jobs that remained, but I was too damn tired. I’d reach out on the morrow to let folks know to come in the following day. The list of things to get ready for the party would take all day.
Once we were home, Gilda went to her room, quietly closing the door and turning up some BSX2 to drown her sorrows. While she had been all stiff upper lip in public, I knew she was sad. Granted, she was three days away from official teendom, which many would say meant childish things like tears and fits of pique should be left behind. I personally felt that thirteen was still childhood, late, yes, but a thirteen-year-old was far from an adult. Even if they themselves felt they were grown up. So I suspected she was hiding some tears in private. I made myself a cup of coffee and took it to the living room and pulled my ratty old laptop from under the coffee table. Sipping my umpteenth cup of the day, I worked on a to-do list for tomorrow. I might need help. The baking and treat prep was going to be large. I texted Anders as an older BSX2 song “Shiny Sugar Cake” floated around the house. The lights on the tree were on, softly blinking, and I found myself singing along to the slow song detailing a bad breakup with a sour cake that opened the boys up to finding their shiny sugar cake girl. Sure, it was kind of hokey, but I’d grown to really like some of the band’s songs.
I sent Anders a message around eleven to ask for his help. He assured me he would be here with bells on at nine sharp to help however he could. When asked if he wanted me to come get him, he said no, he would drive the camper since it needed gas. Was he planning on leaving soon? Was that message from home calling him back? I wanted to ask. Badly. But I replied I would see him at nine and thanked him profusely yet again. He replied with a dozen or so kissy faces and cake emojis before signing off.
A yawn surprised me just as Gilda’s door creaked open. She pit-patted out to the kitchen in her fleece jammies and opened the fridge.
