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“You mean gifts? If you tell me the ages and their interests, I’ll be happy to help. Lucy? Can you take these?” The woman called to another passing elf and handed her tray of cookies over. “I’m with a customer. Thanks.” Having offloaded her baked goods, she turned back to Gayle. “I’m Stacy, and it’s my pleasure to help you today. And we have just about everything a child could want right here.” The girl swept her arm through the air and Gayle followed the trajectory, dazzled by a kaleidoscope of fairy lights, decorations, toys and trees in vibrant colors that sparkled with glitter. Everything was so bright.
She was grateful for Stacy’s enthusiasm. The girl didn’t seem daunted, but that was probably because she had no clue as to the size of the task that lay ahead.
Gayle didn’t only want gifts. She wanted proof that she could “do” Christmas and do it well. She had no idea where to start, and not knowing unsettled her. She was used to feeling in control and competent. Used to people turning to her for advice.
When it came to creating a festive feeling, she was a novice. But she could learn, couldn’t she? Decorations would be the perfect way to make her apartment more child friendly without actually remodeling the place.
What had Ella always asked for as a child?
A tree. She’d wanted to go and choose a real one, and drag it home along snow-covered streets, a fantasy stimulated by watching too many Christmas movies. She’d wanted a magical Christmas. In Gayle’s opinion magical Christmases existed only in the mind. The real thing not only cost a fortune, but also rarely lived up to expectations. And if it did, then it made it harder to handle the harsh reality of real life when it finally poked its ugly head through the glitter.
Gayle had never let her children believe in Santa.
Samantha had been furious when she’d sat Ella down and told her the truth.
Why did you have to do that? Why do you have to spoil everything that’s fun?
Gayle had been unapologetic. She didn’t believe in raising a child to believe in fantasy, when the real world was so far from magical.
But now she had to give herself to the fantasy. It was probably ridiculous to be decorating her apartment just for a couple of hours while her granddaughter visited, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t about tea; it was an investment in the future. She wanted Tabitha to be enchanted. She wanted her daughters to see that she was capable of change.
A tree would form the centerpiece.
Gayle had never bought a Christmas tree. Money had been so tight when the girls were young that it had felt profligate to throw hard-earned cash away on something so commercial. She’d put the money into their college fund instead and been terrified by how little she had and how much was needed. It was like filling a swimming pool, one small drop of water at a time. She’d made sure not a single cent was wasted. What was the point of toys that would be discarded after a few days? Instead she’d bought books, and activities that she’d believed would help them through life.
But this time she didn’t have to worry about that.
She didn’t have to worry about college funds, or how she was going to pay rent and buy food at the same time. She was in the fortunate position to be able to spend money without worrying too much about the future. And she wasn’t concerned about Tabitha’s expectations, because those were not her responsibility. She had parents for that.
What Gayle lacked wasn’t funds or focus, it was knowledge.
“I want to decorate. For the holidays. I need a tree.”
“Of course. Do you have a tree you already use from previous years?”
“No.”
“You usually have a fresh tree? I love fresh trees. My mother complains about the needles dropping onto the floor, but I always think that just makes it seem more like being in a forest. And the scent when you walk into a room—well, that just makes clearing up the needles worthwhile.” Stacy’s enthusiasm was as bright and glowing as the decorations in the store. “Of course if you’d rather not clean up the needles, our biggest seller is the beautiful prelit pine tree, that comes with 220 multicolored lights, and it’s scented.”
Gayle was dragged from a distant memory of a fresh tree with spiky needles and a woody smell.
“A fake tree with fake scent?”
“That’s right.” The girl beamed. “These days you can buy pretty much anything.”
Even your family?
Gayle managed not to ask that question aloud. She didn’t even want to think it. She wasn’t buying them. She was showing them that she was capable of being the person they needed her to be. This was no different to a doctor splinting a leg to offer protection while the bone healed by itself. The tree and the gifts would be the splint that held her family together long enough for it to heal.
She’d buy a fake tree, because she had no idea what to do with a real one. But she’d make it look as real as possible.
She wandered between them and selected one that looked most like the real thing. “This one.”
“Would you like it with multicolored lights?”
“No, clear lights.”
“Snow covered or plain?”
