Page 12 of The Nutcracker
“Why deny yourself something this wonderful for eleven months of the year when you can enjoy it all year round? You drink eggnog all year, don’t you?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Why not? Don’t you like eggnog?”
“I love eggnog.”
“Of course you do. Everyone does. So why not enjoy it whenever you want it? See, that’s the biggest misconception people have about Christmas. They think it only comes once a year, and perhaps the twenty-fifth of December does. But the spirit of Christmas… that’s something that can last the whole year long if you let it. It doesn’t take much to feel it.”
I paused and tried to soak in the spirit, but my cut nose was stinging and my head was hurting and all I could think about was my grandmother sitting by herself at Cedar Village on the other side of that storm outside. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling it.”
Curtis winked. “You will before you walk out that door. I promise.”
I looked at him curiously. “What are you, one of Santa’s elves?”
He laughed. “Do I look like an elf to you?”
The short answer was ‘no’. A great big ‘NO’. A jolly, jangly, jingle-my-bells-anytime ‘NO!’. The fact was, Curtis looked more like a sexy mountain man or a hot lumberjack than one of Santa’s little helpers. I also realized there was nothing ‘little’ about him after stealing a not-so-discreet glance at the package beneath this red velvety pants.
He noticed and smiled, one eyebrow hoisted.
I felt my cheeks set themselves alight like a couple of marshmallows held too close to the flames crackling in a fireplace.
I swiftly changed the subject. “Say, I seem to remember this store used to be a lot bigger.”
“You know this place?”
“Sure I do. I used to come here all the time as a kid. I’m sure Mr. Hanover’s heart jumped for joy every time I charged through the door, ready to part with my hard-earned pocket money from raking leaves and washing cars for my Grandma’s neighbors.”
“Ah… a toy-lover.”
“A model-maker, actually. I started off making castles and towers built out of sticks and old pots I found in my Grandma’s backyard. I paved roads with pebbles and made winches for my twig drawbridges using cotton spools and string. When Mr. Hanover opened his doors and started stocking model trains and towns and paint sets that could bring everything to life… I was in heaven.”
“You sound like you love this town.”
I shook my head. “No, I love my Grandma. This town and I… let’s just say we have history. There’s no denying we’re—”
“Connected,” Curtis finished for me. “Everything is connected. Unlock the right door, lift the right latch, turn the right key and you’ll see everything is connected.”
“I guess so.”
“Tell me, do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“All the models you discovered in Mr. Hanover’s store. All those things that gave you so much joy.”
I thought about the question. It demanded an honest answer. “I do now. I didn’t miss it for a long time. I grew up and became an architectural engineer. I simply traded tiny models for the real thing. But lately…”
I thought about Grandma.
About the house with the porch step that needed fixing.
About my grandfather Jerry.
“Lately I’ve had to give all that away— my career, my engineering dreams. I’m not sure I’ll ever get them back. I’m not sure I want them now.”
“What do you mean?”