CHAPTER 6 | The voice of an angel
CHAPTER 6
The voice of an angel
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T he community center was filled to bursting when Max and his family arrived. Mona had texted they saved them some seats up front, and Ginny found them quickly. Mona waved, the light catching the hundreds of sequins on her sweater. Around her neck was a set of Christmas lights that seemed to flash in morse code.
“Over here, guys.” Harold stood and shuffled to the side for his granddaughter. “Hey, princess,” he said, wrapping Josie in a bear hug.
To no one’s surprise, Harold had taken his role of grandfather seriously before Josie was home from the hospital. He’d bought cigars with her initials and handed them out to everyone he knew in town, sometimes on several occasions. When Henry rounded out their family, he’d had ballcaps made with Henry’s birthdate and wore it until the brim warped and the embroidery faded.
“Hi, Gramps.” Josie hugged him back before leaning over and sharing the love with Mona.
Max and Ginny took their places, silencing their cell phones and shedding their coats. “Is our boy ready?” Mona asked as she handed everyone a program for the show.
“I think so,” Ginny replied. “I heard him practicing his lines in his room before we left. He’s really excited.”
Beside her, Max tensed. His program was already rolled up tight, the paper creasing in his firm grip. Ginny covered his hands with hers and squeezed. “What if ...” Max whispered, careful to keep his voice low so Josie wouldn’t hear.
“No what-ifs,” Ginny chastised, pulling whatever confidence she had left. “Hen is ready, and he knows what he’s doing.”
Max leaned closer and added, “But he stammered in the yard the other day and ...”
Josie surprised her parents by scooting closer. She shook her head and looked older than her twelve years. “Henry is fine, guys. He was upset about Zippy, but you saw him today. He wouldn’t shut the hell up.”
Harold bit back a smile. “Language, princess.”
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “But I know I’m right.”
Max pulled his daughter in for a hug, likely embarrassing her with the public display of affection. “Have I told you recently you’re a great freaking kid?” He kissed the top of her head as tears threatened to fall.
“Pfft.”
Their love fest was interrupted by the lights flashing. A stout man in a green sweater clambered up the stage and pulled the mic from its stand. “Good evening, everyone.” The room quieted as he went over the program plans. “And as we get ready for the kids to wow us”—he paused to make jazz hands—"I remind everyone to silence their phones, avoid flash photography and ...” He hesitated before turning to Mona. “If you’re wearing lights, we ask that you turn them off for the performance.”
Mona winced, fumbling the power button on her necklace. Harold leaned in, and said, “I think you look lovely.”
Ginny warmed at the display. Even after all these years, it filled her heart to see her father so happy. Her mother hadn’t been in the picture for decades, and at first it seemed Harold was destined to roam the earth alone. Then Mona moved to Buckeye Falls and the rest was history. Ginny was sad they wouldn’t be joining the festivities at Christmas, but Mona promised her son Tommy they would visit in Cleveland. Seeing as how she got to see them every week, Ginny knew she had to share.
“Without further ado, let the pageant begin!” The emcee clapped and hopped off the stage.
Both Max and Ginny had been at Henry’s practices, so they knew he didn’t come on until the third song. Everyone hummed along to the familiar tunes and clapped when the first soloist, a gangly girl the same year as Josie, finished her rendition of Silent Night . A pair of boys a few years younger than Henry then stumbled onto the stage. One of them played the recorder as the other sang the chorus of Santa Claus is Coming to Town six times before his mother began clapping to end the repetitive performance.
On their way off the stage, the shorter of the boys plugged his finger up his nose before flicking a booger on his friend. Josie made a gagging sound as Harold struggled to contain his laughter. “Boys are gross,” she muttered, which earned a smug grin from Max.
“Sounds like we might have another few years before I need to buy a shotgun,” he whispered in Ginny’s ear.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him she thought that time was closer than he realized.
Finally the time came for Henry’s part of the show. He parted the actors on the stage, emerging with the confidence of a thirty-year-old Broadway star, not an eight-year-old novice. “And then the angels appeared ...” He threw his arms out theatrically, his voice as clear as a bell. The Sanchez clan watched in delight as Henry did his first scene with ease, never once stumbling or missing a line.
Max quaked beside his wife and daughter, holding back the tears until the end of the show. He was so proud of his son, proud of what he’d overcome at such a young age.
“He’s killing it, Dad,” Josie promised, leaning her head on his shoulder.
And he did kill it. Henry didn’t miss a beat throughout the show. His monologues were funny, the timing on the songs perfect, and his voice never wavered—not once.
When the pageant ended, everyone in the community center erupted into cheers and applause. Josie stood on top of her chair, cupping her hands as she shouted, “You did it, Hen!” She added a few cat calls for good measure.
Ginny caught Max wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and she couldn’t keep her own tears at bay. Dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve, she took a deep breath and rallied for her son. While she knew he’d appreciate their emotions, she didn’t want to cause a scene.
Harold was the first to greet Henry as he joined his family. “Henry, my boy.” He eased down on his knees and nearly crushed his grandson’s ribs with his enthusiasm. “That was the best show I’ve ever seen in my sixty-eight years.”
“Thanks, Gramps,” Henry said between squeezes.
Mona hip-checked Harold out of the way. “My turn.” She giggled as she hugged Henry and peppered his face with kisses, leaving bright red lip prints in her wake. “Best performance I’ve seen. Oscar-worthy.”
Henry pulled free and received a fist bump from Josie. He looked skeptical at his sister. “How was I?”
“Kicked ass, like I knew you would.” She ruffled his black hair before stepping back and allowing their parents to envelop Henry.
“Hen,” Ginny gushed as she hugged her son and husband.
Max rambled his praise until Henry got embarrassed and wiggled free. “Thanks,” he said, straightening his sweater and wiping Mona’s lipstick marks off his cheeks. “Can we eat now?”
“Yeah, buddy. We can eat now.” Max draped his arm around Henry’s shoulders and led the way to the exit. They had plans to go to the diner and celebrate with whatever Henry wanted—which would likely involve copious amounts of bacon.
As they approached the exit, Buckeye Falls’ favorite troublemaker stepped forward. Mrs. Sanders stopped their exit, lifting her cane to block the door. Despite the festive occasion, she was dressed in black and looked ready for a funeral to break out. “Merry Christmas,” she said, her greeting warm despite the Lord of the Rings routine.
Everyone smiled and returned the greeting. “What can we do for you, Mrs. Sanders?” Ginny asked, already fearing the answer. The woman was approximately three hundred years old, and she’d spent nearly all of those years stirring up trouble.
“It’s supposed to snow on Christmas Eve.” She said this with a hint of malice, like a witch in a children’s fairy tale.
Max seemed undeterred. “Oh yeah?”
Mrs. Sanders swept a gnarled hand through the air. “Yes. Edna woke up with a kink in her neck this morning. Agnes said she hasn’t felt her thumbs since Sunday night. I have swelling in my ankles, so we estimate the blizzard will arrive in time to muck up everyone’s holiday plans.”
Mona, never one to question the weather predictions of the elderly, covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh dear. We’re supposed to drive up to Cleveland on Christmas Eve.”
Mrs. Sanders frowned. “Might want to change your plans, Mona. You and Harold don’t want to mess with that.” She waved her other hand through the air, as if conjuring the snowflakes herself.
Harold, more pragmatic, tucked Mona against his side and smiled at Mrs. Sanders. “Thanks for the forecast, but I think we’ll be all right. I haven’t seen a word about this on the Weather Channel.”
“The Weather Channel?” Mrs. Sanders threw her head back and barked. “Those hacks wouldn’t know a hurricane if it blew up their asses.”
Henry and Josie both snickered, earning a poke from Ginny. “Maybe Agnes should have those numb fingers looked at?” she suggested, sidestepping the older woman and creating an opening for her kids to escape.
“Pfft, that old girl is fine. When her digits get tingly, we know snow is coming.”
“All the same,” Ginny said with a frown.
Max shook Mrs. Sanders’s hand and wished her a Merry Christmas for the third time before she finally stepped aside. Mona nibbled on her nails as they crossed the parking lot. “I’ll check my phone in the car. If it’s going to be bad, maybe we shouldn’t go to Tommy’s?”
Harold chuckled, still unconvinced that anything other than sunshine was headed their way. “I’m telling you, dear. It’s going to be fine.”
All talk of snow ended when they got to the diner. Evan was working that night, and he had a tower of bacon waiting on a plate for Henry when they arrived. “Here comes the man of the hour!”
CeCe wheeled out from the kitchen on Max’s office chair. She was clad in her biggest chef’s tunic, which strained under her belly. “Dude! I heard you slayed it.” She clapped and whistled as they all poured into the corner booth.
Ginny pointed at CeCe’s makeshift wheelchair. “Do I want to know?”
Max joined them, pulling off his coat with an eye roll directed at his favorite coworker. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This is hardly bed rest ...or OSHA approved.”
Evan rested his hands on his wife’s shoulders and sighed. “This is the best I could do. I left her at home in a pillow fort with her favorite movie playing and a box of Lucky Charms. Twenty minutes later I get an Uber alert that my ride was here.”
CeCe shrugged. “I couldn’t sit there another minute, plus I’d already drank all the milk. You know I hate dry cereal. So, I thought I’d come see how the show went, and I knew you’d be pissed if I drove myself. Really, I was being responsible.”
Ginny was incredulous. “So you took an Uber for a five-minute drive?”
“It’s called compromising, Ginny.” CeCe stuck her tongue out, earning a laugh from the group.
Helen joined the fray, doling out hot cocoa covered in whipped cream. Harold, Mona, and the kids nestled into the booth, eager for the celebration to continue. “Here you go, little man.” Helen slid an oversized mug covered in marshmallows and chocolate shavings. “I hear you’re the next Laurence Olivier.”
“Who?” the boy asked, scrunching up his nose.
“Seriously?” Harold asked his grandson.
Mona tsked . “Next time you’re over at our house, we’re watching Hamlet or maybe Wuthering Heights .”
“Good luck with that,” Max said, joining his family. “If it’s black and white, these two aren’t giving it the time of day.”
Josie nodded. “No offense, Gram, but this looks terrible.” She scrolled through the actor’s page on the IMDB app, scowling the longer she read.
Henry craned his neck to see, quickly agreeing with his sister. “Yeah, nope.”
Helen snorted. “Sorry I brought it up.”
Evan interrupted, pushing the plate of bacon toward Henry. “So other than a stack of bacon, what can I get everyone?”
Thirty minutes later, the table was covered in a variety of options. Evan and CeCe made everything family-style, piling platters and bowls with everyone’s favorites. Max flipped the Closed sign a little early so they could take over the diner in peace.
“Aunt CeCe,” Henry said from his spot in the booth. He’d inhaled two cheeseburgers and enough bacon to warrant a cholesterol statin. “Can I ride around on that thing when you’re done?” He pointed to her vacated office chair.
“No,” Max said as CeCe said, “Only if your dad isn’t watching.”
Ginny, Mona, and Evan cleaned up while Harold pushed Henry and Josie back and forth in the office chair. Max loaded the dishwasher, closing the lid with a satisfying click. “All set.”
Mona held her phone up triumphantly. “Look, the Weather Channel app says it’ll be sunny on Christmas Eve.”
Evan draped CeCe’s coat over her shoulders before patting her belly gently. “Were they calling for snow?”
Max scoffed. “Mrs. Sanders and her crew are apparently blaming their aging bodies on the blizzard of the century.”
CeCe frowned. “I’m glad it’s not going to be bad. Evan’s parents are traveling to Indiana to see his sister, and that would be a slog. We have enough on our minds without worrying about their travel.”
Evan’s eyes pinched, pulling CeCe closer to his frame. “I’m with CeCe—I hope this is nothing.”
Harold took Mona’s hand and stepped outside, bracing against the nighttime chill. “Do I need to remind everyone that the Weather Channel isn’t calling for anything but blue skies on Christmas?” The only thing Harold watched more than the Cavaliers was the Weather Channel. No one was about to start an argument about the weather, especially with Harold.
Max held the door open as everyone else filed out into the cold December evening. Evan ran for his car so CeCe didn’t have to walk. After getting her piled in and settled, they bid farewell and drove home, where he would likely duct tape his wife to the couch.
Ginny looked up at the sky, blinking at the chill. “I think it’ll be fine,” she said to herself.
“I know it will be, mostly because Agnes needs a doctor, not a meteorologist.”
They hugged and kissed Harold and Mona before getting into their car with the kids. The sugar and excitement had worn off, with both kids falling asleep during the ten-minute drive home.
When he pulled the car into the garage, Ginny held her hand out to stop him from turning off the car. Bing Crosby crooned through the speakers, the only other sounds the kids’ snores. “Tonight was perfect,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss Max’s cheek.
“It was,” he agreed, turning his face so he could kiss Ginny on the lips. “At the risk of sounding corny, this might be the best Christmas ever.”
Ginny smiled, her lips finding Max’s once more. “It will be.”
Pressing his forehead against Ginny’s, Max said, “He was great. Not one hiccup.”
“I knew he would be.” Ginny sighed contently, relieved beyond words.
The moment was interrupted by loud barking from the house. Apparently, Zippy wanted to share in the family togetherness. Josie and Henry woke, unbuckled, and ran inside to play with the dog. “Don’t even think about overfeeding him, Hen!” Max shouted as the door slammed shut.
“Merry Christmas, Max.” Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close.
“Merry Christmas, Gin.” Max turned off the lights, ushering his family to their corners for the night. As he unplugged the Christmas tree, he blinked back a fresh round of tears. Things were perfect; better than he could have imagined in his wildest dreams. Business was good, his family was healthy and happy, and it was his favorite time of year. He looked forward to sharing this feeling with his friends in a few days.
Max loved the residents of this quirky town, but he knew the snow wouldn’t come. There weren’t any white Christmases in their future this year; he was certain of that.