The Perfect Christmas (4 page)

O
n the Saturday morning after Thanksgiving, which she’d spent with Angie and her family, Cassie headed for Southcenter Mall. This was the venue for her first task and she was eager to prove herself to Simon, obviously a curmudgeon. Spending four hours soliciting money for charity couldn’t possibly be that difficult.

Since she’d be standing outside, Cassie dressed in wool pants and a hand-knit sweater over her long-sleeved blouse. Between the shirt and sweater, she could barely get her arms inside the sleeves of her coat. She added a hat, gloves and a scarf, dressing for the cold. When she met her one true love, she wanted
to make sure she didn’t have a runny nose and a sore throat.

Cassie showed up at the mall at the required time and met the other charity bell ringers. Standing with her colleagues, she glanced around. Some were being paid and frankly she thought they looked kind of shifty. Others, like her, were volunteers.

“Smile and greet everyone,” the leader instructed. “Be friendly even if someone walks past you.”

Filled with enthusiasm, Cassie could hardly wait to be assigned her post.

“Make eye contact” was the second bit of advice. “And ring that bell. Remind shoppers of those less fortunate.”

“Got it,” Cassie said aloud.

“This is one of the busiest shopping weekends of the year, so you shouldn’t have any problem making your quota.”

In the back of her mind, she recalled Simon’s casually mentioning something about collecting a certain dollar amount and the way he’d made light of it. The recommended donation amount turned out to be $60 an hour. That was a dollar a minute! How was she supposed to know how much money she’d collected when the red pot was securely locked? It wasn’t as if she could pry the lid off and count the cash.

“Are we ready?” their helpful leader called out.

Cassie’s shout blended in with the others’. “Ready!”

One by one, they received their assignments. Cassie was told to stand in front of the Target store, which had an outside entrance. With bell in hand, she headed
toward her designated post. This wasn’t so bad. Not only was she helping the underprivileged but she was moving toward the man of her dreams.

She waited eagerly as a couple walked up. Smiling sweetly, she jerked her hand several times in succession, making the bell jangle. “Merry Christmas,” she greeted them.

The couple avoided eye contact and entered the store via the door farthest from Cassie.

Their lack of generosity—and appreciation for her efforts—didn’t faze her.

Not much later, a grandmotherly type approached her. “Do you have change for a five?” the woman asked.

“Sorry, we can’t make change.”

“Oh, dear,” she said regretfully, “then perhaps I can give you something on my way out.”

“Don’t worry,” Cassie said cheerfully, “I’ll be here.”

In her first thirty minutes, Cassie estimated that she’d collected less than five dollars, which wasn’t even close to her hourly goal. She stomped her feet to ward off the cold. In an effort to liven things up a bit, she attempted to ring the tunes of popular Christmas songs.

She gave that up during “Frosty the Snowman” when a teenage boy walked past and reached for his cell phone. He said, “Hello. Hello. Hello,” before he realized it was her bell and not his cell. He stopped in front of her and glared.

“Sorry,” she said, and gasped when the youth shot her the finger.

“Well, Merry Christmas to you, too.” Of all the nerve!

After an hour Angie came by and mercifully handed her a cup of steaming hot coffee.

“God love you,” she said, gratefully accepting it.

“How’s it going?”

If it’d been Simon rather than Angie, she would have declared that this was the most wonderful, rewarding experience of her life. With Angie she felt compelled to tell the truth. “I can’t feel my nose.”

“Can I get you anything else?” her friend asked, her expression concerned.

“Put some money in the pot. I’m nowhere near my quota.”

“Oh, sure.” Angie put in a hefty donation.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stand in for you? You look like you could use a break.”

“No way.” Simon Dodson was sure to find out about it and consider her unworthy of John. Cassie wasn’t willing to risk that.

“You have a donation quota?”

Cassie nodded. “I bet that guy at the other entrance isn’t having this problem,” she muttered. Her breath made small whiffs of fog. Her nose wasn’t the only body part in danger of frostbite. Even the knit cap wasn’t enough to completely protect her ears. She’d swear those weren’t earrings dangling from her lobes, but tiny icicles.

“I’ll come and see you again later,” Angie promised.

“Great, and thanks for the coffee.” Cassie wondered whether anyone would notice if she stuck her nose in the hot liquid.

Angie disappeared inside the mall and Cassie rang her bell with renewed enthusiasm. It helped to remember that in less than three hours she would have completed one of the tasks that would bring her closer to meeting John.

In retrospect she wished she’d pushed Simon to show her John’s photograph. Then again, she didn’t want any predetermined impressions of him. He was already bigger than life in her mind. She pictured him at the head of a boardroom table or the helm of a sailboat. Or…

Suddenly, she noticed the scruffily dressed middle-aged man standing in front of her. He looked like he belonged to a motorcycle gang. He had on a worn leather jacket that barely zipped up over his protruding belly and a bandanna around his head. His hair, long and greasy and tied in a ponytail, reached to the middle of his back. He made a beeline for Cassie as if destiny had called him to her side.

Her bell ringing became a whole lot less enthusiastic.

He looked her slowly up and down. Then he smiled as if to say her waiting days were over;
he
had arrived. “Hello, there, pretty lady.”

Cassie managed a weak smile in return. “Happy holidays.” This guy didn’t strike her as the charitable type.

“I bet you’re real cold standing out here all by yourself.”

She didn’t respond but his gaze lingered on her, which gave her a decidedly uncomfortable feeling.

“I could find ways to keep us both warm.”

“Ah…actually I’m warm as toast,” she said. An outright lie. She hoped he didn’t notice that, by this time, her nose was probably blue.

A mother and daughter scurried past her. Cassie thrust out her arm and rang the bell as if sounding an alarm during the great San Francisco fire. When the pair resolutely ignored her, she rang the bell using both hands. Still they walked past. In fact, it seemed to Cassie that they went out of their way to avoid her. In other words, she was on her own with the biker.

“We’d be grateful for a donation,” she told him.

“I was thinking you could give me one.”

“Me? What could I possibly give you?” As soon as she asked the question, Cassie realized her mistake. “Forget I asked that,” she said.

“What are you doing after this stint?” he asked.

Cassie could hardly believe this was happening and let her bell-holding hand fall to her side. “Are you trying to pick me up?” she asked incredulously. “You’re old enough to be my father.” She did her best to hide her revulsion.

“Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Yes, I can. Now kindly move along. You’re discouraging donations.” She scowled at him, letting him know she didn’t appreciate that he was cutting into her hourly quota.

He chuckled as though amused. “You have no idea what you’re missing.”

Frankly, Cassie was grateful for the escape. She heaved a sigh of relief when he sauntered off. Her one
hope was that when he left the mall he’d use a different exit.

As soon as Mr. Easy Rider was gone, donations picked up. Still, as far as she could figure, Cassie wasn’t even close to making the recommended quota, despite her cheerful greetings.

Distracted, she didn’t notice another man approaching.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he said angrily.

Taken aback, she blinked, then asked, “I beg your pardon?” Obviously
he
wasn’t the one standing in the cold, ringing his heart out, seeking donations for the poor.

“It isn’t even December.”

“And your point is?” she challenged, which she recognized almost immediately was a mistake. She didn’t want to invite an argument, which she’d inadvertently done.

“Christmas is far too commercial.”

“Ah…”

“Everyone’s got their hand out. I’ve had it up to here,” he said, slicing the air over his head, “with greedy beggars asking for handouts.”

“Greedy beggars?” she repeated, growing agitated. “Don’t you have any compassion for others? Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“It doesn’t come out until December. Look at these shops! Most of them had their Christmas displays up before Halloween. All they’re after is the almighty dollar.”

“Go complain to them, not me,” she urged, hoping to send Scrooge on his way. “And when you do, say hello to Tiny Tim for me.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

“Those greedy shop owners spoil the true meaning of Christmas. And you’re no better than corporate America, stopping people as they’re going into the store. Irritating them with that stupid bell.”

“I’m not asking you for anything. The bell is to remind shoppers of the less fortunate. I didn’t
stop
you—you’re the one who came up to me. Furthermore…” She halted midsentence as it occurred to her that this man might be a plant of Simon’s, that he’d purposely headed right over to chat with her.

Cassie eyed him warily. “Simon sent you, didn’t he?”

“Simon? Who’s Simon?”

“This is a test, isn’t it?”

“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can’t fool me! Simon sent you to see how I’d respond. Well, you can tell him I saw through your little charade and it didn’t work.” She felt downright smug that Simon hadn’t outsmarted her.

Scrooge stared at her, wearing a puzzled look. Then his eyes narrowed. “Lady, I suggest you seek counseling.”

“Thank you, but I suggest you make an appointment first. You can tell Simon I said that, okay?”

He backed away from her as if he suddenly suspected she carried an infectious disease.

Donations were few and far between, and Cassie
glanced toward her counterpart at the other end of the mall with envy. He had more business than he knew what to do with. She, on the other hand, felt like the Little Match Girl. Using her foot, she eased the red kettle ever so slightly toward the department store entrance. She was about halfway between the two when the other charity collector noticed.

Cassie eased her foot away from the pot and gazed in the opposite direction.

“Hey, you!” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You stay in your half of the mall and I’ll stay in mine.”

Playing innocent, Cassie pressed her gloved hand to her chest. “Are you speaking to me?” she called.

“You drag that kettle one step closer, sister, and you’ll live to regret it.”

Cassie opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d been caught. There was nothing to do but drag the kettle back, one step at a time.

Eventually Cassie returned to her original spot and figured she’d probably lost thirty minutes in this attempt to find more fertile ground. With no option other than to follow her original plan, she continued to greet the shoppers, doing her best to display a cheerful holiday spirit.

A young couple approached from the mall parking lot and Cassie made eye contact with the man. The woman, who carried a cup of takeout coffee, didn’t appear to see her, but he looked friendly enough, so Cassie rang the bell with renewed energy. These people
seemed like the kind who’d dig deep into their wallets in order to help the less fortunate.

As they neared the store, just as Cassie had hoped, the man reached in his back pocket for his wallet. This was a good sign. Cassie smiled encouragingly.

The woman walked toward the store entrance, while the man paused in front of Cassie and slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the pot.

The woman quickly rejoined her husband. “How much did you put in there?” she demanded.

“Come on, Alicia, it’s for charity.”

“Charity begins at home. We’ve been through this, remember? We’re on a Christmas budget. We don’t have extra money to be giving away.”

The man grimaced apologetically.

“It’s for a good cause,” Cassie reminded the woman.

“As for you,” Alicia said menacingly. “I saw the way you were flirting with my husband. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

Cassie was too stunned to react. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t bother denying it. I have eyes. Maybe the two of you are old
friends.
”

“Alicia,” the man snapped.

“That’s it, we’re finished. It’s over.” In a fit of anger she tossed the cup of coffee at Cassie.

She gasped and leaped back but not in time to avoid having coffee splash the front of her caramel-colored wool coat.

The man looked horrified, whispered something Cassie couldn’t hear, then hurried after his wife. “Alicia, Alicia…”

In shock and denial, Cassie stared down at her coat. Some very unladylike comments formed in her mind. However, she didn’t express them since that would reflect poorly on the charitable organization. Within minutes she was glad she’d kept her mouth shut. Because, to Cassie’s astonishment, donations started to increase dramatically following the incident. She glanced at the other bell ringer, who was scowling at her. He rang his bell louder and harder.

Cassie retaliated with an all-out rendition of “Deck the Halls” and soon had a short line, everyone waiting to drop in donations. She wasn’t sure what had changed but clearly there’d been a reversal. Perhaps her bell ringing was superior. Or perhaps that section of the parking lot had filled up. Whatever the cause, she was taking full advantage of it.

Toward the end of her shift, a sweet old lady sidled up to Cassie with a benevolent smile. She stuffed something inside her coat pocket and leaned close to whisper, “Use this to buy yourself a decent coat, dear. You poor thing.”