‘Wow, nice trick.’ Kaisha admired the arrangement.
‘My grandma taught me to do it. She was as good at flower arranging as she was knitting.’ Cleo stopped for a moment, mesmerised by the silver twigs as nostalgic memories of Grandma Eliza came flooding back.
‘You okay?’ Kaisha put a hand on her shoulder.
‘I’m feeling a bit sentimental, that’s all.’ She swiped away a tear and pulled herself together. Christmas did it to her every time. It was a time for family, togetherness, and even Grandpa Joe seemed to be forming a new relationship with Maggie, whereas Cleo had nobody by her side. She wanted to wake up with someone and giggle as they felt the cold seep through the frosted windows, snuggle up until the heating kicked in, cosy up in front of a warm fire.
‘’Tis the season.’ Kaisha smiled.
Cleo gave herself a stern talking to inside her head and with determination, her Christmas cheer found a way out. ‘And now, for the pièce de résistance!’ The store had fallen quiet enough to allow Cleo to bring out the feature piece from the storage cupboard in the back room.
‘Ooh… what’s that?’ Kaisha, more colourful than the entire store in a cardigan that reached the backs of her knees and had to have all colours of the rainbow, was eager to see. ‘Is it a fireplace? Made out of polystyrene?’
‘It certainly is.’ Cleo took it to the front of the store and stepped up onto the generous ledge in the window. She’d made the fireplace the first Christmas she was here. She’d spent hours on it too. The packaging leftover from the television she’d bought for her apartment had served as the main surround, and then other pieces of polystyrene from a new kettle, a toaster, and a waffle iron had added all the other bits she’d needed. She’d painted the entire thing in russet to mimic the look of bricks, painted different colours on the inner section to create a tiled effect, and then she’d painted a lighter colour across the top for the mantelpiece.
‘Go outside and let me know if the position’s okay, would you?’ she asked Kaisha.
Pulling her cardigan tightly around her torso, Kaisha stood outside gesturing to move it slightly until it was in a position that would mean it was on prominent display.
‘It’s freezing out there!’ Kaisha dashed inside as soon as Cleo gave her the thumbs up.
‘I hope it snows.’ Cleo looked up at the heavens, willing to see some of the white stuff. It made the city so magical at this time of year and enchanting enough that you could ignore the mayhem it caused if you were lucky enough to live close to your place of work.
‘Here, take these.’ Cleo handed Kaisha two of the stockings she’d knitted. There were duplicates out back, for sale, and other designs too. ‘We’ll cheat and use a staple gun to fix them to the fireplace. I’m afraid this thing is on its last legs.’ She patted the polystyrene gently, as though it were an old friend.
‘Can I string some fairy lights across the mantel?’
‘You read my mind, Kaisha. Great idea.’
They finished the window display in between greeting customers and helping with requirements, and wishing everyone who came in a Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. As a darkened sky crept over Manhattan, preparing to bring another day to a close, Cleo and Kaisha stepped outside the Little Knitting Box to admire their handiwork. The smell of roast chestnuts hung in the air and the aroma of mulled cider snaked along the sidewalk from the opposite direction. It was the smell of Christmas, the feeling of hope and togetherness, and it was hard for Cleo to believe that anything would ever change.
When another customer entered the store, they made their way inside, rubbing their hands together. They’d stood admiring the window for so long, Cleo’s fingers felt the bite of cold and she shivered as her body tried to grab at the warmth inside.
‘Can I help you?’ This woman wasn’t their usual customer. She seemed familiar but far too posh for this humble little store.
‘I’m looking for the owner.’ The woman was well-spoken as well as immaculately dressed. Beneath a heavy, black, wool coat she’d unbuttoned, unable to cope with the heat of the Little Knitting Box, she had on a sharp, navy suit jacket with a pencil skirt, a silver, silk shirt, and a string of pearls Cleo bet were the real thing.
‘I’m Cleo. I run this store.’ She smiled although the gesture wasn’t returned.
The woman took out an envelope and handed it over. Cleo didn’t open it.
‘It’s a letter,’ the woman explained, ‘from the Amersham Group.’ She seemed put out that Cleo’s face showed no recognition of the name. ‘I’m the real estate sales manager with the Amersham Group and the letter is confirmation that your lease will end at the start of March and we will require all tenants to vacate by that date.’
Cleo’s mouth fell open. ‘What about the extension? We were explicitly told by the previous owner we’d have an extra year.’
The woman rolled her eyes as though having this conversation so late in the day was about the last thing she could be bothered with. ‘That was down to the previous owner. It wasn’t in the contract and therefore the lease ending is final. The letter explains all this.’ She talked to Cleo as though she were a child, not a fully grown adult business owner.
The woman hoiked her handbag further up onto her shoulder as though to make a point, even though it was still obediently in the same position it’d been in all along. She seemed to be waiting for Cleo to say something but Cleo couldn’t find the words. She’d known the store’s days were numbered, but to be faced with closure so soon was another thing entirely.
Cleo could see Kaisha watching them from her position at the middle display where she was tidying yarn, sorting colours as she replenished purples and reds.
‘Is there no way you’d reconsider?’ Cleo asked, even though she knew the answer.
The woman sighed deeply, but Cleo couldn’t tell whether it was because she felt like she was dealing with an imbecile or whether she realised how disappointed Cleo was with the news she’d delivered. ‘I’m afraid there’s no room for negotiation,’ said the woman. ‘This whole building is going to be redeveloped into apartments.’
Kaisha was at Cleo’s side now, quizzing the stranger: How many apartments? Were they worried about stripping the area of its character? What about all these businesses?
But the pleas fell on deaf ears. And in that moment, Cleo knew she’d made her decision. She knew what she was going to do with her future come the New Year. Yet again, taking a step back and refusing to worry had made everything that much clearer.
