<< Go Back

Sharon’s Shorts~A Multi-Genre Collection of Short Stories

By Sharon K. Connell

Order Now!

Ring-A-Ling Holiday Blues

Houston, Texas

What? Ohhh…the alarm. Already? “Nooo, not already.” Traci Winterhaven slapped at the clock on the nightstand until she struck the button. Ah, silence.

What had she been thinking? Busiest shopping day of the year and she had volunteered to work. Crazy people darting here and there. Tempers flaring for no good reason. At least she worked in a jewelry store in an exclusive downtown Houston mall, and not Wal-Mart with its herd of shoppers on Black Friday. That frenzy would be a nightmare.

She winced. Her dream last night was gut-wrenching enough when David said they wouldn’t meet again. And then, poof—he vanished. Same thing she had dreamed every night since he told her about his job offer in New York—and that he’d accepted. I hate soggy pillows.

Traci rolled over. Her reaction might be understandable if they were engaged, but he’d never even mentioned marriage. Never kissed her either. Not that way, anyway. They were just friends…wonderful friends. Friends who never dated anyone else.

“Who are you kidding?” She loved that tall Texan. Had for some time now. But he was too busy with his career to develop any relationship. This year, she wouldn’t get to spend even part of Christmas with him, thanks to his schedule.

Would David have time to keep in touch with her when he moved to New York and started his new life? How could she say goodbye?

With a moan, she slid her reluctant legs over the edge of the bed and tucked her feet into fuzzy black slippers. She grasped her plush purple bathrobe from the cedar chest at the foot of her bed and flipped it onto her shoulders. “Move, feet!”

Her body demanded she return to the nice warm bed and comforter.

“Come on. Move!” She shuffled to the window and tugged open the drapes. Even they seemed unwilling to cooperate on this frigid morning. When they did, her hand snapped up to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare on fresh-fallen snow. “Wow! That bright light could blind a person.”

The local weatherman had been right. Last night’s temperature had fallen to freezing as predicted, but he hadn’t mentioned an overnight snowfall.

Lots of caffeine. That was what she needed.

Traci shaded her eyes as her sight traveled to the neighbor’s yard and the wooden snowman they’d set up next to the driveway. She chuckled. Still there, stovepipe hat and all.

Every year, Gramps had worn that tall black hat when he’d drive from his farm to her parents’ home in Chicago after the first snow. Then he’d help her build the first snowman of the season. Her face contorted. When Gramps died from a heart attack, she was only twelve. How she missed him.

She took in a sharp breath. Now Grandma, Mom, and Dad were gone. They’d all passed on within a couple years of each other. Right before Christmas. Not a good time of the year for her. It didn’t seem as if it would ever feel like Christmas again.

But thanks to her friend, Cynthia, David Lovejoy had come into her life. A smile came to Traci’s lips. What a difference he’d made in only a year. Gramps would’ve loved him.

She winked at the snowman. Good thing she’d spotted that topper while she helped Grandma set aside clothes for the Salvation Army last year. “Right, Frosty?”

Was he smiling back? Wait, he had faced the street yesterday. The kids must have turned him.

Her gaze remained on Frosty as she mused. She’d also salvaged Gramps’ silvery-blue winter scarf and that crazy, curved, black plastic pipe he’d always pretended to smoke while he read in his recliner. A sigh escaped. If he’d actually smoked a pipe in the house, Grandma would’ve had a hissy-fit. Traci grinned.

Yesterday had been an enjoyable day though. It was fun helping the three neighbor kids decorate the snowman with her grandfather’s things. She leaned against the window frame.

As she pulled her robe tighter, the preteen triplets came bounding out of their house next door and scooped snow together with their hands. What were they doing…building a sandcastle from snow? A snowman…possibly? They hadn’t a clue how to form a snowball, much less a whole man.

Their dad emerged from the side door of the home, feet slipping from one edge to the other as he made his way down the porch steps. At the bottom, he landed on his derriere. He clutched the rail, stood, and brushed the snow from his backside. Traci laughed.

Mr. Richards continued on to his kids. He rolled a ball of snow on the ground, making it larger with each pass of the house, and gathering dead leaves in the process. Clearly, he wasn’t born in the south and knew what he was doing. But there wouldn’t be enough snow in the entire neighborhood to create a snowman as tall as their wooden Frosty. Perhaps a little brother instead.

Frosty stared at her with lifeless, black eyes.

How did that song go about Frosty the Snowman? “Fro-o-os-ty…the Snowman…was a—” Was he able to grant wishes? If so, she’d wish that David would ask her to marry him so she could join him in New York.

She pushed herself off the window frame with her shoulder. Dream on. If she were a stunning redhead like Cynthia, he’d ask in a heartbeat.

Did that snowman wink at me? Lack of sleep did the weirdest things.

Traci backed away from the window, leaving Frosty to supervise the kids and their dad in making him a brother. She crossed the plush carpet into the bathroom. “You need a shower.”

Order Now!

<< Go Back