A Bit of Home for the Holidays

A Last Word Christmas tale

Sal knew enough about Texas to not expect a white Christmas. He had, however, expected that it would at least be cold enough for a coat. Yet here it is the day after Thanksgiving — Black Friday to retailers and bargain hunters alike — and he is wearing a T-shirt with short sleeves and he is still, damn it, sweating. The store is not as crowded as he expected, given all the Black Friday hype.

“Where is everybody?” he asks Julia. “I thought this was the day of day for merchants.”

“Oh, it is,” she answers cheerfully, not at all concerned about the lack of customers. “Just not for us. Today is the day for marked-down electronics and other big-ticket items; you know, televisions, video game systems, stuff like that.”

“Ah,” he says. “And when do they come here?”

“It will pick up steadily until the week before Christmas, then we’ll get slammed.”

“And that’s because…”

“Because last-minute shoppers, for whatever reason, buy books,” she answers with the certainty of an old pro. “Maybe it’s because all the good deals on other stuff have passed, or maybe because a book feels more like a present than cash or a gift card. Just watch, you’ll see.”

She moves away to help one of the few customers in the store, and Sal heads across the store to where Camden is rearranging a display of holiday-themed books. She seems distracted, which is odd. The woman is typically the most focused person he’s ever met.

“What’s wrong, cousin?” he asks when he reaches her. She looks up, almost as if she’s surprised that anyone but her is here.

“Wrong?” she asks, then after a pause, “nothing’s wrong.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Something’s bothering you. Arsenal lose again?”

“Not funny,” she says through gritted teeth. He takes a step back.

“Sorry,” he says. “Is it the lack of customers, then? I can explain that.” He is eager to show off his newfound knowledge, though he has no intention of telling her he acquired it mere moments ago.

“No,” she says, pushing a small book back and forth across the corner of the display table. “Jacob told me it wouldn’t get really busy until the week before Christmas.”

Damn it.

“So what’s the problem?” he asks, not willing to let it go until she tells him. She apparently realizes this.

“It’s silly, really,” she says, not looking up from the book she’s still pushing across the table. “I have so much to be thankful for after all that’s happened to me this year. I have a new career, new friends, and yes, even you.” She manages a weak smile when she says this. “But this will be the first Christmas I’ve ever spent away from home, the first Christmas I won’t see my mum. It’s really the first time since I left that I really miss England.”

“That’s not silly at all,” he replies. “The first time I spent Christmas away from home I was stuck in a train station in Buffalo. It really bothered me, and I’m supposed to be a tough guy.” She nods, but still does not look up. “Anything I can do?”

“No,” she says, finally looking at him. “It will be fine.”

“What about going home for the holidays?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“I can’t afford that, and it will be our busiest time,” she says, then looks around. “All current evidence to the contrary. No need to worry about me, Sal. But thanks.”

She leaves the book on the corner of the table; Sal puts it back in its proper place and watches her walk to the counter. He can just hear Jacob prattling on about Dickens to a customer when an idea strikes him. If Camden can’t go back to England for Christmas, maybe they can bring England to her.

A few nights later he has assembled their core group at the Dream Emporium, minus Camden. He is actually surprised that Jacob came, but it turns out his sisters-in-law are still in town following Thanksgiving and he is glad for the excuse to not be home. Heather and Julia are there as well, but Ramon had to study for a chemistry exam.

“Okay,” Sal says, getting straight to the point. “Camden’s never been away from home at Christmas, and it’s putting her in a serious funk. So I say we bring Christmas in England to her.”

“I knew there was something wrong,” Heather says, “but she never would tell me what it was. But how exactly do we bring England here?”

“I’ve been giving that some thought,” Sal says, “and I have a few ideas to run by you. And Jacob, you’re going to get the ball rolling tomorrow.”

“How exactly am I going to do that?” he asks suspiciously.

“She’s going to ask you to be the store’s Santa Claus,” he replies.

“What? Where in the blazes did she get a crazy idea like that?”

“From me,” Sal says with a smile. “Just do exactly as I say.”

Sal lays out his entire plan. By the time he’s done, everyone agrees it just might work. At the very least it will make things very interesting.

“I will not dress up as Santa Claus,” Jacob says with a firm shake of his head. Sal had warned her this would be his response, but Camden thought he would at least do it for the children.

“Do it for the children,” she says, not quite begging, but more than pleading.

“Children do not expect a Santa in every store they visit,” he replies. “And certainly not in a bookstore. Have you ever seen a Santa in a bookstore?”

“Well, no,” she admits. “But we need December to be a huge sales month, and Julia thinks Santa will drive sales. Black Friday has come and gone, and we are nowhere near being in the black.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be a big day for us,” he says. “Just wait.”

“So what about being Santa?” she asks again hopefully.

“I’m too skinny,” he says, then grins. “Make Sal do it.”

“He refused already. He said his heart was three sizes too small. And cold and black. And in a box under his bed. You get the point.”

“He’s right on all counts,” Jacob says with a chuckle. “Why don’t you step outside the box on this one, Camden? Everyone does Santa and elves and reindeer. Try something they’ll talk about, that will make people show up just to experience it.”

“Such as?” Her tone is skeptical.

“Dickens,” Jacob replies, thinking to himself that it really was a stroke of genius on Sal’s part.

“Dickens?” she repeats. With her accent she immediately reminds him of a Dickens character. “What does that mean?”

“A Christmas Carol, my dear. We bring Victorian London to our little corner of Texas.”

“You mean Tiny Tim and the ghost of Christmas past and scary old dead Jacob Marley? Interesting that you two have the same first name,” she muses.

“Cute,” he says. “No, I don’t mean we recreate the story. But we can recreate the time period, or at least the feel of it. The Dickens story singlehandedly resurrected the observance of Christmas in England, and America too, and that is the time in history we subconsciously associate it with.”

“Um, wouldn’t the time period we think of be when Jesus was actually born?” she asks.

“Absolutely not,” he says. “We even view that through the lens of what Charles Dickens created.”

“I suppose we could give it a try,” she says hesitantly.

“Excellent,” Jacob says, rubbing his hands together like Scrooge. “Trust me, this is much better than some fat old Santa.”

Much to Camden’s surprise, the Dickens plan actually works. Heather procured period costumes from a friend in the TCU theater department, Sal and Julia decorated the store, and Jacob pushed all his beloved dead Russian authors to the back in favor of an all-Dickens display. It was worth it just seeing Sal in a top hat every day.

The changes do indeed bring in more customers, and along with the sales comes an unexpected side benefit for Camden: a large number of British tourists, all stopping in to see if these Texans can actually recreate a Dickens Christmas. Talking to people who sound like her lifts Camden’s spirits noticeably, and she grills each one for news from back home. Sal does his part after hours by keeping their television locked on BBC America, and within a week has become a closet Doctor Who fan. But the best part comes on Christmas day.

With considerable help from long-distance calls to Camden’s mum, Heather and Julia have cooked a traditional English Christmas dinner. They start with shrimp cocktail (her mum calls them prawns). After this they pull out the Christmas crackers that Sal bought online, which are not a food but rather a cardboard tube wrapped in brightly colored paper. The tube has three chambers, with the middle chamber containing a tiny explosive charge so that when two people pull on each end of the cracker, it breaks with a bang. Inside the chambers are the following: a paper crown which everyone must wear, a very small toy, and a joke containing the worst puns imaginable. It is an odd little device, but Camden is delighted.

The crackers are followed by the main course: roast turkey with chestnut stuffing, gravy, and roasted potatoes. There are also pigs in blankets, roasted carrots and parsnips with thyme, and (yuck) Brussels sprouts. Finally, there is an amazing dessert of Christmas plum pudding with brandy butter sauce.

When no one can eat another bite, Sal goes to his room and returns carrying an exceptionally large box with a bow on top. He sets it down in front of the television.

“Open it,” he says to Camden. “It’s from all of us.”

She squeals with delight and rips off the wrapping paper. She lifts something out of the box; it looks like a chair.

“What’s this then?” she asks, staring at what she has just unwrapped.

“It’s a chair,” he says. “Well, more accurately it’s a chair fashioned from a stadium seat. You should recognize the color.”

Her eyes widen.

“You didn’t!”

“Not directly, no. Being five thousand miles from North London meant I had to hire a contractor for the job. He did quite well.”

“This is really from Emirates Stadium?” she asks, her voice now more of a squeal.

“Indeed,” Sal assures her. “Home of your beloved, hapless, pull-defeat-from-the-jaws-of-victory Arsenal Football Club. Lord knows you talk about them enough. There’s also a tin of dirt he dug up from near one of the goals.”

“No!”

“Yes. Father Christmas must like you a lot.”

Camden looks as though she might cry.

“I also borrowed some shotguns,” Sal continues, “so we could go wassailing just like in Merry Olde England. Turns out it’s really just a crazy word for caroling while getting hammered on hot mulled cider, so the guns are not only unnecessary but probably unwise.”

At this her tears turn to laughter, which progresses to snorting, then to more laughter because of the snorting.

“And as our final salute to Christmas in England,” Julia says, “we’re all going to watch Love Actually. I never thought about it until Sal pointed it out, but it has three wizards from the Harry Potter films…Emma Thompson, Bill Nighy, and Alan Rickman, and a Jedi…Liam Neeson…which he says makes it cool for guys to watch.”

“I can’t believe you did all of this for me,” she says, starting to cry again.

“Like I’ve said before,” Sal says, putting an arm around her. “We’re one big happy dysfunctional family. Merry Christmas, Camden, and God bless us every one.”

If you’d like to read more about Sal and Camden’s adventures in the world of bookselling, you can check out The Last Word series here.