Chapter 4
JASON
Two days later, Jason parked his rental behind Mauve’s office just as the last light of day dissipated.
He sat for a minute with the engine off, watching the snow come down in slow, lazy flakes.
He was twenty minutes early. He hadn’t meant to be but, when it came to Mauve, well, she was all he thought about all day long, and it was torture to have to wait to see her.
Which was ridiculous. She had a job, after all. He wasn’t her whole world.
He had this feeling of time slipping away, minute by minute, and an urge to capture it. As if he could.
The sidewalk glittered where the shop lights hit the new snow.
Sugarville Grove didn’t do Christmas with any restraint.
That certainly hadn’t changed. Garlands looped from every lamppost, wreaths on every door, white lights strung along the eaves of buildings, every storefront beautifully decorated. It certainly wasn’t L.A.
He’d been so anxious to leave when he was a kid. But now, all these years later, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine why people chose to live in Sugarville Grove. Especially at Christmastime.
He pulled out his phone to see if Mauve had texted. But there was nothing, other than their earlier exchange.
Jason
Day 2. Shopping at the Christmas market?
Mauve
Sounds great. Dinner afterward?
Jason
Wherever you want to go. Whatever you want to see. I’ll be by your side.
Mauve
How poetic!
Jason
I’m an artist. What can I say?
Mauve
I’ll be done at 4:50. Pick me up at my office?
Jason
I’ll be there.
Maybe she was done early. He’d go in and wait in her lobby if not. It was cold. Which was a good excuse.
Mauve’s office was in a narrow three-story red brick with a hand-lettered sign in the window of the second floor that read SUGARVILLE SPEECH & LANGUAGE — MAUVE CALLAHAN, MS, CCC-SLP, painted in sage green on a cream background.
He went inside, climbing the stairs to the second floor.
The landing at the top opened into a small waiting area with a fluffy rug and two upholstered chairs.
Picture books were crammed into a low bookshelf.
A small plastic Christmas tree stood in the corner decorated with paper snowflakes that children had obviously made.
The reception desk was empty but he could hear Mauve’s voice through the closed door of the therapy room.
“Try it with me. Ready? Watch my mouth. Chris. Mas. Two pieces. The first part’s the hard one. Krr-iss. Your tongue pulls back, then pops forward. Chris.”
A small voice uttered a half-syllable.
“That’s it. I heard the k. That’s the hardest sound in the word and you just got it. Let’s try the second part. Lips together, then open up for Mas.”
Another attempt. Jason couldn’t tell if a word had come out or not.
“Ollie, that was fantastic.” Her voice exuded warmth and patience. “Thumbs-up.”
He took a seat, flooding with memories of his own time working with his speech therapist. Linda.
He’d had the biggest crush on her. She’d been young and pretty and so patient with him.
He often thought of her and wondered if she knew that the little boy she’d worked with until his stutter was almost completely gone had grown up to be an actor.
As a child, he would never have believed it possible. But Linda had made it so.
Wherever she was, he hoped she understood that she’d done something meaningful with her life. And she’d changed his.
Through the door he heard Mauve say, “That’s it for today, kiddo. You worked hard. I’m really proud of you.”
The door opened.
Ollie came out first. When he saw Jason sitting there, he stopped, clearly surprised to see him.
“Hey, Ollie,” Jason said, standing.
Ollie gave him a shy smile.
Behind him came Mauve, looking beautiful in a red sweater and black slacks.
“You’re early,” Mauve said. “Or am I late?”
“I’m early,” Jason said.
The door to the lobby opened, and Ben Chambers came in, a little breathless. “Sorry I’m late. I got stuck at work.”
Ollie went to him, wrapping his arms around his dad’s legs.
“You’re perfectly on time,” Mauve said.
Ben nodded at Jason. “Hey. Good to see you again.”
“You too. Get your tree home okay?”
“Yeah. The lights nearly had me swearing off Christmas, though,” Ben said.
“It wouldn’t be Christmas without a fight with some string lights,” Jason said.
“That’s the truth.” Ben squeezed Ollie’s shoulder. “All right, bud. Let’s get home. Mom’s making spaghetti.”
Ollie didn’t answer. He just leaned into his father’s leg a little and let himself be steered toward the door.
Mauve walked them out to the landing. She said something quiet to Ben, who answered just as quietly. Then she was back, closing the door behind her, smiling at him. “Hey. You’re here. In my office.”
“You’re amazing at what you do,” Jason said. “I heard a little through the door.”
“That’s nice of you to say. He was struggling today, and I’m not sure why. Something’s bothering him.”
“Poor kid. He’s a cutie.”
She smiled. “He really is. I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I do. Hang tight. Let me get my bag and coat.”
She disappeared into her office, returning a few seconds later. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day. This is the first year Sugarville Grove has had a Christmas market. I can’t wait to see what they have. I want to get a little something for each of my sister’s children.”
“Remind me. How old are they?” Jason asked as he helped her into her coat, catching a whiff of her perfume.
“Eli is three. The baby’s almost one. Willa.”
“Willa,” he said. “Pretty name.”
“I think so too. All right, let’s do this.” She flicked off the lamp on the reception desk and turned the deadbolt behind them as they went out onto the landing.
At the bottom of the stairs, before she pushed open the door to the street, she turned and kissed him. Not a long kiss but firm, like she’d been saving it all afternoon.
“Thanks for making time for me,” Mauve said.
“This month, I’ve got nothing but time, and it’s all yours.”
Jason’s cousin Max had organized the Christmas market in the space behind his country store.
The idea had come from his desire to assist local artists and small businesses during the holidays.
He hadn’t been sure it would be a success, but, given the number of people out this evening, he shouldn’t have worried.
Families were everywhere, kids weaving between adults, teenagers in packs, a string quartet in fingerless gloves playing Christmas music.
Several food trucks were parked at the edge, wafting delicious smells of grilled meat and fried food.
Every type of vendor one could imagine seemed to have a booth.
There were jewelry makers, knitted goods, pottery, soaps and food stalls selling roasted nuts and pretzels.
A local farm sold their craft cheese, another had a display of handmade ornaments, and another with local honey.
In the far corner, Jason spotted the Hayes Maple Syrup booth.
“We’ll have to say hello to whoever’s manning the family booth,” Jason said.
“Perfect. I want to get some syrup for my sister,” Mauve said. “I send some every Christmas.”
Jason took Mauve’s gloved hand as they headed toward the first row of vendors, stopping to look at a table of hand-carved wooden toys.
“These are amazing,” Mauve said.
The man behind the booth smiled. “Thank you kindly. Every one’s made with these two hands.
” He held them up for Mauve and Jason to see.
There was no doubt that the man did the work himself, given the thickened skin on the thumb and forefinger from gripping tools.
“Name’s Robert. I live forty miles north.
My family’s been making toys for three generations. ”
“Three? Really?” Mauve asked. “That’s something.”
“None of us have gotten rich, but we’ve had a lot of fun,” Robert said.
“My nephew loves trucks, especially fire trucks,” Mauve said.
“I have just the one,” the man said, reaching for one in the corner of his display. “This one took me a while. Had to get the ladder just right.”
“You did a beautiful job,” Jason said as he took hold of the toy.
“We’ll take it,” Mauve said. “What do you have for a baby?”
“How about a set of blocks?” Robert gestured toward a stack of simple blocks with letters carved into the sides.
“That’s perfect,” Mauve said.
As Robert wrapped up the gifts, he said to Jason, “Love your show.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Jason said. “Couldn’t do the show without the fans.”
“I heard you grew up here, and I guess it’s true,” Robert said.
Jason smiled, nodding but feeling slightly embarrassed by the attention. “Just here for the holidays.”
“Well, welcome home,” Robert said.
“I think that may happen a lot today,” Mauve said under her breath as they walked away. “Do you mind?”
“Does it bother you?”
“It doesn’t. I’m proud of you.”
He glanced over at her. She looked gorgeous in a red knit cap, her cheeks pink from the cold. Proud. If only he could take her with him, hold on to her hand forever. Make her proud.
It was not to be. He would be grateful for the time he had.
They continued, walking down the second row. Mauve found a pair of earrings for Reese and another for her sister and a beautifully illustrated book about Vermont birds for her brother-in-law.
“He’s crazy about birds,” Mauve said. “He’ll love this one.”
They traveled further, stopping at the Hayes Maple Syrup display. Uncle Walter and Aunt Grace were manning the booth, both wearing Santa hats and green aprons over heavy sweaters.
Aunt Grace beamed at the sight of them. “Hello, you two. Out for a shopping day?”
“I’m finding gifts for my family,” Mauve said. “This is wonderful.”
“Max did good,” Grace said. “He’s dedicated to our local craftsmen and artists. I’m glad you’re finding gifts here instead of ordering from one of the big stores.”
“I’m a proud Vermont resident now,” Mauve said. “Even if I sound like a southerner.”