Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Appearing out of thin air was a sensation that was going to take a little getting used to. Luckily for Helen, no one was around when she suddenly came to find herself standing around the corner from the town square. She looked down at the bright red coat she was wearing, along with black slacks and very practical, yet stylish, black boots with faux fur trim around the top and thought Stella had done a nice job. With a large, but not gaudy, gold and black handbag slung over her arm, Helen took a deep breath and headed for the shop.
She’d only gone a few steps when she caught her own reflection in the window of the empty store next to her destination. “Oh, my!” she gasped, looking herself over. She certainly looked different! Her hair was short and curly—and a fiery red! She ran her hand along the bottom of each side, giving it a little poof. Several inches taller than she was used to being, even without the boots, Helen dared to say she was even lithe and graceful. Her face was pretty, with blue eyes the same shade they’d been before—when she was herself. Memory had blue eyes the same color. Hopefully, Helen’s eyes wouldn’t give her away. With the rest of the disguise, she didn’t think so. Satisfied that she looked pretty darn good, Helen approached The Memory Box.
A few customers bustled around, checking out the different wares. Helen hesitated, looking through the window. She didn’t see Memory at first, but then, her granddaughter stepped out from behind one of the Christmas trees that displayed some of the ornaments they had on offer. Helen gasped. She was lovely, as always, but there was a sadness about her eyes Helen had never noticed before. Placing a hand to her heart, she did her best to keep her emotions in check. It pained her to think she had caused the spark of life she was used to seeing in her granddaughter’s blue eyes fade even a bit.
“Stella, are you there?” Helen thought, hoping this prayer thing really did work two ways since she’d really only ever experienced it one-way, as far as she knew.
“Yes, I’m here.” Stella sounded nervous, or maybe annoyed, Helen wasn’t sure.
“Great. I’m going in. Can you clear the store out in a few minutes so I can talk to Memory alone?”
It took a moment for Stella to answer, and at first, Helen thought maybe she wasn’t going to respond, or maybe she had and Helen hadn’t heard—like the many times she had prayed about something and felt God had not answered her, when maybe He had, and she just didn’t hear it. “Fine, but I do have other work to attend to, you know.”
“Hey, do you want to keep that job or not?” Helen snapped. “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to need your help.”
Stella grumbled something Helen didn’t quite understand, and then, with another deep breath, Helen entered the shop.
The bell above the door dinged, a familiar sound to Helen, one she hadn’t heard in a while, and the scent of the old wood of the shop itself, mingling with the cedar and cinnamon scents of the season, settled around her. Helen instantly felt back at home.
“Merry Christmas!” Memory called, giving her a little wave. Still busy with a family of four, with two little girls who seemed to want to touch everything, she didn’t come right over. Helen smiled and took a moment to look around, hoping Stella would do as she’d asked and get the rest of the customers to leave so that she could speak to Memory alone. What she was going to say, she wasn’t sure, but she prayed it would come to her.
“Why don’t we go get a donut and come back on our way to the car?” the dad suggested, picking up one of the little girls.
“It will only take me a minute to ring you up,” Memory said, her smile a little forced, her voice a little desperate.
“This one really wants a pink donut before they run out,” the mom explained. “We’ll be back.” She took her daughter’s hand and led her to the door.
“See you soon,” Memory called after them, the desperation still there. Helen felt bad for driving a customer away. The other couple who’d been shopping left as well, and Memory’s face fell.
“Hello, dear,” Helen said, addressing her granddaughter for the first time in a long time. “How are you today?”
“I’m good,” Memory applied, turning to the only remaining customer and giving her a bright smile. “How are you?”
Helen almost said the same thing she would’ve said when she was alive but caught herself. “I’m fair,” she said—not fair to middlin’—don’t say that. “This is a lovely shop you have here.”
“Oh, thank you. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“No, no. I just love the holidays. I’m in town for a few weeks, until Christmas, and thought I’d stop by and see what sort of décor I might add to my room at the inn, that’s all.” It sounded rehearsed because she’d been practicing it while she waited. She took another gulp of air, hoping Memory didn’t seem to think she was acting odd. If she did, Helen couldn’t tell.
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Candy Cane Lane Inn,” Helen replied with a smile, looking over the ornaments hanging on a small tree atop a table. After some prodding, she’d gotten Stella to see where Dakota was staying so she’d know where to find him. Stella had protested, saying she was getting too much help, but Helen needed to make sure she had the opportunity to bump into him, too.
“Oh, I love the Candy Cane Lane Inn,” Memory said, straightening some of the ornaments. “It’s the only family owned bed and breakfast in Christmas Falls.”
“You don’t say?” Helen replied, running her hands across a music box she’s picked out herself the year before. She remembered thinking the intricate wood carving was a real eye-catcher. “This is lovely.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Memory said, stepping over beside her. “My grandmother found that at a craft fair. It’s hand carved.”
“She had good taste—has good taste, I mean. That is....” Helen cleared her throat. “It’s lovely.”