Free Remembering Christmas by Dan Walsh

on one side.
    “I didn’t know Mrs. Bell had a boy.”
    “Well, he’s not a boy, Amy.”
    “Well, I didn’t want to say she had a man .”
    Rick laughed. She was cute. She reached out her little hand, so he shook it. “Nice to meet you, Amy.”
    “And you too, Mr. Denton.”
    “Can she call me Rick?” he asked Andrea quietly.
    “It’s okay with me.”
    “How about you call me Rick?”
    “Okay.”
    “What you got here, some kind of school project?”
    “No, silly.” She held up a JCPenney Christmas catalog, with a picture of Santa on the front wearing a blue apron, painting a toy. “I’m making a catalog.”
    Rick didn’t understand. “Looks like the catalog is already made.”
    She held up a black composition notebook. “No,” she gently scolded. “ This is my catalog. I’m making it for Annabelle, so she can pick out what she wants for Christmas.”
    He saw a blonde-haired doll sitting next to her on the sofa. Presumably Annabelle. “Oh. Why don’t you just have Annabelle look at the Penney’s catalog?”
    Amy looked all set to explain. “Hold on, sweetie,” Andrea said. “You can tell Rick all about that later. I’ve got some things I need to show him in the store first.”
    “Okay. It’s not ready to show anyone yet anyway. I’ve got a lot more I have to do with it first.”
    Andrea headed toward the aisle closest to the back wall. “We’ll start over here.”
    “Okay if I get a cup of coffee first?”
    “Yeah, I can use one too. Then we’ll make a fresh pot.”
    “You’re going to have to show me how to do that too.”
    “What?”
    “Make coffee. I don’t know how.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    He shook his head. “Accountants don’t make coffee.”
    She smiled. “Guess that means you don’t clean toilets, either.”
    “Toilets?”
    “I was saving that for last.”

15
     
    Rick sat in the Book Nook’s dreary back office, Art’s office.
    A few minutes ago, Andrea had finished giving him the grand tour, explaining way more than he could retain. But she was right. It wasn’t that complicated. He’d actually felt stupid for his apprehension. Teenagers in high school get hired for jobs like this at minimum wage. People came in to the store, picked stuff out, and brought it up to the counter to pay for it. That’s it.
    But if they asked questions about the merchandise, that would be a problem. What’s the best book on marriage? I’m buying a book for a friend, do you recommend this one? Which of these three Bibles is a better translation? He didn’t know anything, knew he didn’t know anything, but he hated appearing that way. He had an almost biological resistance to saying “I don’t know.” His practice had always been to come up with something that sounded like it made sense and say it with authority.
    But he couldn’t do that here; he had no reference point to even pretend.
    Andrea had seemed to discern his struggle and offered some advice: “If customers ask you questions, tell them you’re just watching the store for a few days to help your mom out while Art’s in the hospital.” Then she walked him behind the counter and pulled out a pad of paper, suggesting he could write their questions down, get their name and phone number, and tell them she’d call them back when she got in at around 3:00 p.m.
    Rick had then asked if she shouldn’t write down her phone number in case any of their questions were urgent. Immediately, he felt like a total fool for saying it. Who would ever have a question about a religious book that needed immediate attention? She’d given him a look that said “You’re kidding, right?” But she didn’t say it, which was all he could hope for. Instead she’d said, “I can’t take personal calls at the restaurant.”
    Rick knew he’d only asked the question to get her telephone number. Like some reflex reaction. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to detect his scheme. She was probably wondering, though, how someone with a