It was half past six when Nancy Herring stepped into the large foyer of Rock Church. She was dressed in a soft grey skirt and a cranberry sweater. Her blond hair was caught up in a clip in a casual way, and her blue eyes sparkled. She was one of those girls who drew attention without trying. But while Nancy didn’t try to draw attention to herself, she was well aware of how unusually attractive she was. She had enjoyed popularity throughout her years in high school back home in Pennsylvania. During grade school, perfect strangers had told her mother they thought she should be entered into a beauty pageant, and in high school her own peers told her she should be a model. But Nancy’s mother had never encouraged such a path, and Nancy herself had never been interested. As profoundly natural as her beauty was the interest she showed in people around her. It was not a passing interest or a surface one. Hers was genuine, and people responded—if not immediately, very soon—to her warm smile. She took for granted her own beauty, but not the people in her life. Nancy had many friends, and she seemed to add to their number all the time.
Tonight as she met the people coming into Rock Church, she greeted them with “Merry Christmas!” and chatted briefly with each one. Oftentimes the brief conversing was punctuated with a spontaneous hug. Nancy had just called after a friend, “See you at Marbury’s,” when she turned around and found herself face to face with a nice-looking newcomer. Michael Chadwell had caught Nancy off guard, which was something unusual in itself. She had met plenty of young men—and attractive ones—but she had never felt an immediate, undeniable spark of interest in any of them. This time it was different. What it was, Nancy wasn’t sure. Was it maturity? Was it confidence? Certainly it was in part his good looks and his perfect height. Was it the fact that he carried his Bible as though it were actually meaningful to him?
All these thoughts flashed through Nancy’s mind before she could catch her wits to do her job and say hello.
“Hi, I’m Michael Chadwell,” the young man stated. For the second time inside a minute, Nancy was caught off guard. Her eyes opened wide.
“Michael Chadwell?”
“Yeah. You know me?” Michael grinned, but his eyebrow twisted in bewilderment. “Because I don’t think I know you,” he added in playful candor.
“Nooooh.” Nancy intoned the word in many pitches and went on to ask, “Do you have a sister named Carla?”
Michael nodded, but didn’t have time to say anything before Nancy spoke up.
“We work together. But I had no idea…”
Her voice dropped off, and Michael finished her sentence. “That she had a brother who was a Christian?”
“Well, I mean…yeah,” Nancy stammered.
“It’s OK. I’m kind of an oddball in our family. It’s not that they’re not believers. It’s just that, uh… it isn’t so important to the rest of them. Except for my mom. She’s pretty full-time—full-time plus tradition.”
Nancy knew she should turn her attention to others walking into the foyer, but she still queried, “What tradition?”
The question was a polite one, but Michael seemed to know she was genuinely curious.
“Methodist—like for her whole life. Fifty years of tradition. But…it’s helped carry her through some hard times.” He glanced around and then spoke. “I’d better go find a seat.”
“Yes. We should have a full house tonight.”
“Where’s the best place to sit?”
“I always sit in the left section about halfway back. It’s pretty good.”
“OK. Is someone saving you a seat?” Michael must have known this would sound bold but felt it worth the risk. He obviously recognized that his and Nancy’s personalities had already meshed undeniably.
“Well, actually a bunch of my friends usually sit there and generally save one seat for me.” Then she added, “We usually go out for coffee afterwards. We’d love to have you join us.”
Michael pointed to himself. “Would I be the lone guy?”
“Oh, no,” Nancy laughed as she waved to a friend just coming in the door. “Whoever comes—we all go. But the new kid always buys,” she added mischievously.
“Can I? Can I?” he questioned, grinning. “You can count me in.” He held out his hand and grasped hers firmly. Looking right into her soul—or so it seemed to Nancy upon reflection—he added, “Thanks for the invitation.” Then he was off, vanishing into the crowd that already was starting to fill the large hall.
Nancy greeted another fifty or more people after Michael left, but her mind kept coming back to Carla’s brother. Finally it was seven o’clock, and she turned to the hall, finding her way to the empty chair three seats in from the aisle just in time to hear the opening greeting.
……….
Saturday morning, Carla awoke to the pristine beauty of new snow blanketing everything she could see from her bedroom window. She grabbed her robe and plopped down in the chair by the window for a few moments, thinking about the events of the past week.
The party had turned out well, and she had spent many moments thinking back on it and the people who had come. All the married couples brought their wives and husbands, and some of the singles brought dates. And of course Mr. Garman brought Patrice.
Carla was intrigued with Patrice. She seemed to be about twenty-six or twenty-seven. Her hair was dark brown and styled perfectly for her heart-shaped face. Carla suspected she must have had some background in cosmetology, because her face, pretty enough, was made stunningly attractive by her makeup. She had worn a periwinkle slacks and sweater outfit that complimented her figure, and her overall appearance would have been enough to have drawn all eyes toward her as she walked into the big conference room where the party was held. But of course, she also commanded attention just because her escort was Mr. Garman.
Mr. Garman had introduced her to the group in a way that had made Carla smile approvingly, along with practically everyone else. “Thank you all for coming,” he had started out, in a take-charge but pleasant voice. “I’d like you to meet the woman in my life and my very best friend, Patrice Hamlin. I hope you’ll all make her and the rest of our guests feel welcome.” As he spoke, he put his arm around her waist and drew her close to him, looking at her with a smile on his face and sincerity in his eyes. Although she was tall herself, Patrice had to tilt back her head to look at Marc. She appeared an accomplished woman with an air of confidence and seemed to accept her escort’s compliments with full appreciation.
“What a handsome couple,” Carla found herself reflecting now, as she looked out her bedroom window. “Perfect man meets perfect woman.” It was inspiring—a couple to model after.
Carla got up from her chair, yawning and stretching lazily. She was going to enjoy shopping today. Almost all her Christmas presents had been purchased, and she was looking forward to a leisurely morning watching the hustle and bustle of the rest of the world while she sat at Corner’s, sipping coffee. She’d already decided on a teal shirt she’d seen at Radache’s for Michael, and she thought Susie would probably like a pair of brushed silver earrings. Having in mind what to buy was three-quarters of the job done. It was going to be a fun day.
A hot shower and plenty of time gave her a feeling of well-being, and an hour later, at 9:15, she found herself humming as she walked down Main Street. The sidewalks were cleared for the most part, and she had purposely parked four blocks from Radache’s so she could enjoy the crisp winter air.
“Very few days are left in this year,” Carla thought to herself, “and I’m going to appreciate this one.” She inhaled the cold, fresh air and listened to the rhythmic crunching of her boots on the sanded sidewalk.
At Radache’s, Carla glanced around the men’s department and found the polo shirts. She dug through them, finding a large size for Michael, then paid the clerk, asking for a shirt box. Now, with bag in hand, she headed back out into the crisp world of Rock Pier last-minute Christmas shoppers.
Coffee was next. The words and melody of a timeless Christmas carol tumbled into her thoughts as she ventured into the crowded sidewalks. It was a slow walk, the block and a half to Corner’s, but Carla didn’t feel like pushing herself to pass anyone. She had plenty of time, and she intended to enjoy the morning without a feeling of haste. After all, there was enough of that already in her workaday world, and this day she’d set aside for recreation in the truest sense of the word.
She pushed open the heavy glass door at Corner’s and got in line. Counting nine people in front of her, she thought again how nice it was not to be in a hurry. The little girl ahead of her was pulling on her mother’s sleeve. “I want spweenkles, Mommy,” she said. As she spoke, she turned to look admiringly at Carla who had just walked up behind her. “Do you like spweenkles?”
“Yes, I do—chocolate sprinkles; and I like whipped cream. Do you?”
The little girl, who looked about three, lifted her right shoulder shyly and stood on her left foot as she turned her right foot at an angle to it. “I ‘o’ know,” she replied, tilting her head. Perhaps, as a child with a stressed mother beside her, she was drawn to the calmness of the pretty lady she saw in the red coat who looked happy and relaxed.
“Are you gonna have hot chocluh?” she asked Carla, her dark eyes shining with anticipation of the treat she’d been promised.
“No, sweetie. I’m going to have a caramel macchiato.” Carla enunciated the words carefully, with such affirming delight that the little girl just looked up wonderingly for a moment and then tugged on her mother a second time.
“Can I have a carmo makahdo, Mommy?”
The mother, who’d obviously been enjoying the diversion of the dialog, laughed. “Caramel macchiatos,” she said slowly, “are for adults. Aren’t they?” She looked at Carla for support.
“Yes,” Carla nodded. “But you can have whipped cream and cinnamon on your hot chocolate, I bet—if it’s OK with your mommy.”
“Can I have cimanum, Mommy?”
The mother smiled. “Let’s ask when it’s our turn, Mandy. OK?”
The rest of the time they stood in line, the three conversed, and Carla, with her determination to enjoy this day, could not help but be buoyed by talking happily with a vivacious, well-mannered child.
Finally, coffee in hand, she turned to find a table in the crowded shop. A couple was just getting up from the table in the corner by the window. Carla headed for it, thinking, “Everything’s going my way.”
……….
It was bright at the table, with the snow reflecting the sun outside, but Carla sat facing it anyway. She had just taken a sip and set her coffee back on the table when she heard a familiar voice.
“May I join you?”
She looked up to see Marc Garman.
“Oh, M…Mr. Garman. Hello.” She stammered in her surprise. “Yes, of course.” She pulled her coffee and napkin closer to herself.
Marc sat down opposite Carla. “So you’re drinking a ‘carmo makahdo.’”
Carla smiled, still caught off guard by Mr. Garman’s attention and presence. “You must have overheard our conversation.”
“I was eavesdropping. At the very moment I recognized you right in front of me, your little friend began engaging you in conversation, and I knew my interrupting would end it. I chose to listen instead. Cute little gal.”
“Really cute.”
“So what brings you to Corner’s today? Last-minute Christmas shopping?”
“Not exactly ‘last minute,'” Carla was pleased to answer. “I’m done with my shopping, except for buying my sister a present; and I actually enjoy watching all the shoppers hurrying and not having to hurry myself. How about you?” She decided she could ask a personal question of her employer in this setting. After all, he was the one who had chosen to sit down with her and open a conversation.
Marc sipped his coffee. “Mmm. Good stuff,” he said, with a satisfied smile. “Well, I don’t celebrate Christmas per se, but I always have a little shopping to do for it, anyway.”
Carla wondered why he didn’t celebrate Christmas. Maybe he was an atheist, she thought to herself, or maybe he’d had a painful past that precluded celebrating such an important holiday. But she didn’t comment, and Marc changed the subject.
“I haven’t had a chance to ask you: What did you think of the party?”
“Oh, I thought it was great. Everybody seemed to have a good time.” She paused and then smiled. “I loved Joe’s jokes. Has he done that every year?”
“Yep. Every year, and each year it gets better. I think he’s pretty amazing.” He set his mug down. “Patrice didn’t like the blond joke, though. She’s really sensitive about humor that puts down women.”
“It was funny, though,” Carla conceded. “I thought Nancy was going to choke, she was laughing so hard.” She grinned, remembering how her friend had laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks.
“Nancy’s about 180 degrees from Patrice,” Mr. Garman said. Then he added, as if remembering that Carla and she were good friends, “but Nancy’s a good kid.”
“She’s a very good kid.” Carla was surprised at how bold she felt in defense of her friend. “I have a lot of respect for her, and I really enjoy her company.” She paused thoughtfully. “Nancy’s different from most people. I’m not sure why, but she is,” she added, and then shrugged her shoulders. “Everybody likes her, though.”
“I know George appreciates her. He says she’s the best secretary he’s ever had, and he’s had a few.”
Carla wondered how she herself rated in the eyes of her own boss, but there wasn’t time to think about that now.
“Carla, did you say you’re not in a hurry today?”
“Mmhmm.” Carla wiped her mouth neatly with a napkin. “I just have to find a pair of earrings, and I have all afternoon to do it.”
Mr. Garman’s eyebrows went up. “A pair of earrings? Really?” Then, hesitatingly, “Well, I was just going to ask if perhaps you could help me find a ring for Patrice.”
“A ring?” Carla half-gasped, excitedly. “Are you engaged?”
“No. Nothing like that. I just wanted to give her one. We’re not really into engagements and weddings,” he said, almost apologetically. “But I’d like to find a ring she’d really like.” He smiled. “Trouble is, I don’t know what she’d like, and yet I want to surprise her.” He looked at Carla, a hopeful look on his face. “Would you help me?”
Carla hesitated before replying. “OK—so long as you make sure you can return it if she doesn’t like it. What I like might not be Patrice’s style at all, you know.”
Her employer stood up, picking up the containers from the table. He walked over to dispose of them. Carla walked over to the door, and Marc Garman hurried to open it for her.
……….
The jewelry store was just across the street and three doors down. The two walked in silence and then Carla ventured, “Mr. Garman, are you going to buy a diamond?”
“No.” Marcus pursed his lips determinedly. “Patrice doesn’t like diamonds—too ‘archaic’ she says. I’m thinking maybe a sapphire.” He turned and smiled broadly at Carla as he opened the door to the jewelry shop. “But that’s the reason you’re here. What would you choose?”
They were just inside the store, and Carla didn’t answer his question. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and asked in a subdued tone, “Are you sure you want me to do this?” The store had two other customers chatting softly in the quiet atmosphere.
“Do you like sapphires?” Marc spoke in his normal voice, deep and resonant, and Carla, in a fleeting second, glanced around in embarrassment. But Mr. Garman had such an air of confidence that she quickly got over her embarrassment. He was a person who seemed to command respect no matter what company he was in, and his handsome face and frame allowed him to get by with what most people couldn’t.
“Yes, I like sapphires,” Carla replied, her own voice still subdued. She couldn’t keep back a mischievous grin. “And I like emeralds. And I like rubies. Actually I like garnets and topaz—blue topaz—and peridots too.”
“So any stone will do? I hope Patrice is like you. But isn’t there one you like best?”
“If you really want my opinion, I would choose…mmm.” Carla put her hand to her forehead in frustration. “I can’t remember the name. Let me find it.” She walked around the glassed-in counter, looking at the various displays, then stopped, exclaiming, “Here it is—tanzanite! Isn’t it beautiful? Such a gorgeous color! And I remember Patrice wore this color to the office party, so she would probably like it.”
Mr. Garman looked at the various tanzanite rings. “They’re very nice, but somehow they don’t seem right for Patrice. It’s the first hint of direction I’ve felt, though.” He looked at Carla, who was totally absorbed in comparing the various settings in the display case and appeared not even to have heard him. If Carla had looked up at him she would have seen a faint grimace on his face, reflecting his not wanting to reject her suggestion. After all, he’d specifically asked her to help him in this decision.
“I agree with you,” he said, a bit louder. “This really is a beautiful stone. None of these rings really looks like Patrice’s style, though. I’m thinking she might like a diamond-cut ruby or maybe a sapphire—without diamonds on the sides. Would you help me look for one of those?”
“Sure,” Carla responded cheerfully, and began a second time around the long oval-shaped display, while Mr. Garman went in the opposite direction.
“What about this one?” Carla said.
He came hurrying around the counter and leaned over Carla’s arm as she pointed to a gold ring with a large diamond-shaped emerald that appeared to be at least a carat.
“It has a little tiny diamond on each side, but isn’t it pretty?” She added, apologetically, “It’s awfully expensive,” and turned to look up at Mr. Garman. She hadn’t realized he was bending down, and now his head was inches from her own. Carla felt her blood rush to her face at the same time as she inhaled the scent of his shaving lotion. She knew he must have noticed her deep blush, but he answered smoothly.
“Yes, that’s very nice. Very nice. I think that’s the one.” He stood up straight again and smiled sincerely. “Thank you. You’ve been a great help to me.”
“I’m glad.” Carla hoped her face had returned to its usual color, but somehow it was impossible for her to make eye contact with her employer at that moment. She murmured, “Well, I think I’ll look for Susie’s earrings now.” As she turned to head toward the earring turntables at the far end of the counter, Mr. Garman gently caught her arm before she could take a step.
“Carla.”
Carla had no choice but to look up. Mr. Garman on his part certainly was not avoiding eye contact. He seemed to be looking into her as much as at her as he addressed her in absolute sincerity. “I really appreciate your helping me today.”
“No problem, sir,” she answered glibly. She walked to the earring display and kept her concentration on the jewelry in front of her eyes until after she knew he’d made the purchase and had left the store.
“Well, how strange,” she admitted to herself when he was gone. “I wonder how many girls’ hearts he’s set to fluttering like he did mine just now.” She pursed one side of her mouth as she thought, “He must have known my heart was pounding already, and still he held my arm. Why?” Carla uttered the question in a low whisper. She glanced up sheepishly, but no one seemed to have heard her. “He’s engaged! Sheesh!” Carla rolled her eyes at the thought. This was a heretofore-undisclosed dimension to the suave personality of her boss.
Carla found it hard to concentrate on searching for just the right earrings. She felt a little dirty from her encounter with Mr. Garman, even though she had done nothing to encourage such a personal encounter. Indeed, had she foreseen it happening, she would never have consented to accompany her handsome boss. It would have been easy enough to have declined with the excuse of being too busy. On the other hand, she reasoned, it was probably totally meaningless and innocent on his part.
Whatever the case, Carla found herself wishing the incident had never happened. But on the heels of the thought that dwelling on the incident might ruin this day she’d looked forward to, another thought prevailed.
“No!” she reassured herself. “This is not my fault, and this morning’s encounter belongs to the past. Mr. Garman is still ‘engaged’ to Patrice Hamlin, and his charisma is not going to topple me, control me, or even affect me.”
It was like taking off a warm coat in a hot room. Carla found herself able now to concentrate on the matter at hand—Susie’s present. She spent another ten minutes examining all the earring displays the store had to offer and came up with a pair she knew Susie would like. Just thinking of her sister made her feel better. Carla headed with a determined step towards her car and home.