Page 1 of Busting Nuts
Chapter One
CLARA
It’s cold and rainy, yet there is still snow everywhere outside. It’s Christmas Eve, so I assumed the weather was going to be awful, but this is rude. It’s bad enough I’m working, but is it too much to ask for sunshine? I sigh as I rest my chin on my hand and stare into the darkening street outside.
When I applied to work at an antique store, I thought I would be meeting with high-end clients and discovering precious treasures. In reality, I’m stuck sorting through unwanted crap that family members dump on us after someone dies. It’s far less glamorous than I envisioned, but at least it pays the bills. Well, most of them. I won’t think about the mountain of student debt I’ve yet to pay off or the credit card debt that’s constantly maxed out no matter how little I use it.
My mood has well and truly matched the weather today with all these doom and gloom thoughts. Probably because tomorrow is Christmas, and I know I’ll be spending it alone in my tiny apartment with a bowl of ramen. As boring as it is here, at least I have something to do. At home, I’ll stare at my walls and wish for a life that I don’t have. One filled with a Christmas feast, a husband who adores me, and presents under the tree.
The bell over the door chimes, and it makes me come back to reality.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” a woman’s voice calls from the front of the store. I straighten in time to see her carrying a giant box in her arms.
“Oh goodness, let me help you,” I say as I go around the glass case we use as a counter and take the box from the small woman.
“Thank you. That was more difficult than I thought it was going to be.” The woman is petite with dark hair and has a light-up Christmas sweater that says Jolly Ass Mama.
“No problem. That’s what I’m here for.” I smile back at her before I nod to the box. “Are you looking to donate or sell?”
“Hmm, maybe sell?” She checks her watch and then nods to the box. “This stuff belonged to my great aunt. She passed away earlier this year, and I found it when I was getting out Christmas decorations.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” My heart squeezes. I can’t imagine what that feels like because as far as I know, I don’t have any family. I was raised in an orphanage, so I don’t have any way of knowing for sure. I grew up surrounded by people, yet I don’t have anyone I’m close to.
“Thank you, but it was expected. She was a hundred and five, after all.” When my eyes widen, her smile is mischievous. “She was never married and didn’t have any children. That’s probably what kept her so young all those years.”
The laugh that bubbles out of me is unexpected. “I’m sorry.” I snap my hand over my mouth to cover it, but she waves me off.
“Nonsense. Men are stressful, and children are ungrateful. Why do you think I’m here instead of at home with a house full of people?”
“I can see what you mean.” I’ve longed for a family my whole life, but I guess if the family I had was awful, I wouldn’t want to be around them either.
She shrugs like it’s the nature of life. “It’s fine; I used this as an excuse to get a break. I gave away or sold most of her stuff already, but somehow this box was put with our Christmas stuff. You’re the only place open today, so here I am.”
“Here you are.” I try not to think about being the only one working on Christmas Eve, but it’s not like I don’t need the money. “Unfortunately, the owner is off this week. He’s the only one that can appraise an item or offer to buy it.”
“Oh, well, that makes it easy then.” She looks at the box and then checks her watch. “As much as I don’t want to get back, I’ve got a ham in the oven, so I guess I’m donating.”
“Are you sure? He’ll be back in next week, and I’m sure he’d be happy to?—”
“I’m sure,” she says and pats the lid of the box. “It’s all yours.”
“Would you like a receipt?”
“Nope, I’m good. Have a merry Christmas,” she calls over her shoulder, and before I know it, the bell over the door is ringing, and the woman is gone.
“Merry Christmas,” I say to myself and the empty store.
Walter, the store owner, doesn’t like for me to go through anything before he does. I think he thinks I’m going to find something valuable and steal it. The policy is that anything donated has to go to the back where he can appraise its value. Once it’s been marked for sale, I can use my ten percent off employee discount to purchase it. In all the years I’ve worked here, that’s happened exactly zero times. If someone brings in anything of value, Walter keeps it for himself or pawns it. Most of the time it’s total junk, and we have to trash it.
That lady was the only customer I’ve had all day, and I still have a couple of hours to kill. It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m bored out of my mind, so what Walter doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
I go around the glass counter and take a seat on the stool before I open the box. Dust comes flying out when I lift the lid, and I wave it away as I cough. On top is a photo album, but I guess the lady didn’t want it. It would have been the first thing she saw when she looked in here, so it’s not like she could have missed it.
When I turn the first page of the album, I see a photo of a young girl with the caption Elodie age ten under it. As the pages go on, the girl gets older, and I realize this must be the great aunt. Every page is a new year, and as time progresses, she travels the world. Toward the back of the book, there's a photo with a date and a caption that says Christmas in Black Forest. Elodie has snow-white hair at this point, but she looks so happy. She appears to be in a shop surrounded by nutcrackers while holding on to one. The next photo is of her standing beside a Christmas tree with the same nutcracker. The caption on this photo says First Christmas with Hans.
There are more pages of her travels after this one, but every year, there’s a Christmas photo with Hans. The nutcracker must have been very special to her for it to have such a place of pride in her photo album. There are no other pictures of anyone or any other names mentioned except his. Maybe it was a memorable trip for her. I’ve never traveled anywhere, but clearly this vacation left an impression on her.
The last photo in the album was taken a year ago. Elodie is holding a cane and standing in front of a fireplace. On the mantle next to her is, of course, Hans. I can’t believe she was over a hundred years old because she still somehow looks youthful, in spite of the white hair and cane.