Monday, December 23, 2024

Merri Christmas by Victoria Chatham

 


The book that started it all!
AVAILABLE HERE


For the last several years, I have written a short, Christmas-themed story, and here is this year's offering. I hope you enjoy it.

 


 

A passing customer pointed at her name badge, chuckled, and sang out, “Ho, ho, ho.”

Meredith Christmas grinned at him from behind her glass-topped jewellery counter, pointed her finger at him and repeated his greeting before giving him a cheerful thumbs-up.

“Merri, I don’t know how you put up with it,” her colleague, Sandy, moaned. “All that ho-ho-hoing year-round would drive me nuts. How did you get the surname Christmas anyway?”

“It’s from my Dad’s side of the family and dates back to thirteenth-century England via one Richard Christmas, who settled in Virginia in 1647,” Merri said. She waved at a girl of about seven or eight who looked longingly at the jewellery displays but was hurried along by her mother.  

“Wow, it’s a pretty old name then,” Sandy mused.

“Yes, it is. Mom and Dad have a framed certificate showing the family crest and history.”

“That sounds positively baronial,” Sandy said, narrowing her eyes and looking thoughtful. “I can see an oak-beamed hall with a log-filled open fireplace and flames leaping up a stone chimney.”

Merri laughed. “You and your imagination. But wouldn’t that be lovely? It would be decorated with holly, ivy, and real lanterns, and there would be room for everyone.”

Sandy nodded. “Family and friends and all the peasants, of course.”

“Naturally,” Merri agreed, then sighed. “Christmas is such a special time of year.”

“Merri, of everyone I know who loves Christmas, you’re the hands-down winner.”

“You love Christmas, too, Sandy, and don’t pretend otherwise. Ooh, look out, a customer is checking out the gold counter. Your turn.”

Merri picked up a polishing cloth and moved aside for Sandy to approach the counter. They started working on the same day at Boyle’s Emporium, the town’s original and historical corner store. It had been family-owned since it opened, but it was a mystery that none of the staff knew anything about the current Boyle family. Another mystery was that at the end of September, when Boyle’s started hiring for the Christmas season, they had not asked for resumes but five-hundred-word essays on why the applicants wanted to work at Boyle’s and why they liked Christmas.

Meredith glanced around the beautifully decorated store. Who could not like Christmas here? She had loved it since sitting on Father Christmas’s knee in the Winter Wonderland when she was five years old and asking for a baby brother. Her innocent request made her smile now, but hadn’t Father Christmas delivered? The following summer, her baby brother arrived, wrapped in a pale blue crocheted shawl, not in pretty snowflake patterned paper as she had imagined.

The sound of the till opening and closing broke into her reverie.

“Good sale?” Merri asked as Sandy rearranged the jewellery display to fill the gap made by the removal of several pieces.

“Four-hundred and ninety-four dollars and change,” Sandy replied. “I can’t believe how much cash we’ve taken today. I’m glad I’m not closing tonight, so I won’t have to count it.”

Merri glanced at her watch. “Goodness, we’ve only got another half an hour to the end of our shift. The day has flown by.”

“We can’t claim to be bored, that’s for sure,” Sandy agreed. “Especially when there’s a gorgeous-looking man on the horizon.”

She cocked her head, indicating a six-foot-plus, dark-haired individual approaching their counter. “This one’s yours,” she whispered, placing a firm hand on Merri’s back and pushing her toward the counter.

Merri faltered as she recognised the child holding tightly to the man’s hand. Right, she thought, remembering how the mom had hustled her daughter past the jewellery counter. So, there’s mom, dad, the kid, and possibly more than one, but she smiled at the child and said, “Hello again.” Then she shifted her gaze to the man she took to be the girl’s father and swallowed at the twinkle in his warm brown eyes. She pulled herself together. Be professional. “May I help you?”

“Yes, you may,” he replied. “My sister was in a hurry earlier and didn’t give Amanda time to buy a gift for her grandmother.”

“Then let’s see what we can do. Would you like to look at silver or gold earrings?”

Amanda shook her head. “I want to see Christmas earrings. Grandma loves them.”

“Got it.” Merri pulled a chair from behind the counter. “You sit here, and I’ll bring you a selection to view.”

She took a black velvet pad from under the counter and carefully browsed through the earrings on display. She frowned as she realised how few Christmas earrings they had in the silver and gold displays, so she moved to the carousel stands and carefully turned them, relieved to see more of a selection. There were tiny green trees studded with different-coloured stones, glittering globes, a pair of wreaths decorated with red bows, a fun pair simulating red and white striped candies, and another pair in the shape of a snowflake. Merri placed them all on the pad and took them back to her young customer, but then had a thought.

“Amanda, while you look at these, I’m going to check something. I’ll be right back.”

Merri raced to the main floor storeroom. She and Sandy had checked a delivery the day before, but hadn’t they left one box for this morning? Merri keyed in her code and entered the storeroom, scanning the area where they had worked yesterday. Yes, there it was, tucked in the corner of a shelf.

She hauled the cardboard container onto the worktable, reached for a box cutter and slit the tape. She removed the invoice and checked it, but nothing was specifically Christmas earrings. She would have to empty the whole box. She tipped the contents onto the tabletop and checked each packet, breathing a sigh of relief when she found three pairs of Christmas earrings. She ticked the removed items off the invoice and hurried back to her counter.

“I’m sorry I took so long, Amanda,” she said, catching her breath. “Here are three more pairs.” She removed them from the packets and laid them on the pad. “What do you think?”

“Oh, I like these.” Amanda pointed at a pair of enamelled snowmen. “But I like these better.”

She picked up a pair of stars made of mother-of-pearl and hanging from gold wires.

“These are the ones, Dad. Grandma will love them. They will go with her white hair.”

Merri looked up at the child’s father, who nodded. “Could you gift wrap them, please?”

“Of course.” Merri turned to Amanda. “Shall I put them in a box?”

“Yes, please.”

Merri opened a drawer and took out wrapping paper and ribbons. Amanda chose plain blue paper and silver ribbon and watched Merri measure and cut the paper.

“Can you wrap a parcel that small?”

Merri grinned at the child and whispered, “Watch me.”

In a few deft moves, she creased and folded the paper, quickly wrapped the ribbon around the small box, and had Amanda hold it with her finger while forming a bow.

“There, how about that?” She handed the small gift to Amanda. “Do you think your grandma will like it?”

“She’ll love it,” Amanda said. “Grandma says simple things are classy, whatever that means.”

“Your grandma sounds like a smart lady,” Merri said. She shifted her gaze to Amanda’s father. “And I’m sure your dad will explain what your grandma means.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Christmas,” he said, removing a credit card from his wallet.

Unsure he was being sarcastic at her suggestion or thanking her for helping his daughter, Merri barely glanced at the card as she entered the sale into the processing machine and handed it to him.

“Would you like a receipt, Mr.–” Merri stopped, suddenly flustered because she didn’t know the man’s name.

“Yes, I would, please, and the name is Boyle. Josh Boyle.”

Merri looked up at him. “Boyle?” she stammered. “As in Boyle’s Emporium Boyle?”

“That’s the one. We prefer to keep it quiet if you don’t mind.”

“Um, yes, yes, of course,” Merri said. Her head whirled. With her name in plain view so that everyone knew who she was, she still couldn’t quite accept that she was talking to one of the renowned but reclusive Boyles.

“And thank you again for helping Amanda.” The smile he gave her warmed Merri right down to her toes. “My mother said you were a good salesperson. She was right.”

Merri’s brow wrinkled. She didn’t know any Boyles until now.

Josh Boyle whispered, “You know her as Mrs. Winter, in Human Resources. She told me to come and see you. I’m glad I did.”

“Dad,” Amanda tugged his hand impatiently. “We have to go. Aunty Caroline said not to be late. If you want to talk to,” she squinted at Merri’s name badge, “Merri, she should come too.”

“What a splendid idea,” Josh said. His eyes twinkled even more as he smiled at Merri. “How about it, Miss Christmas? If you are free, would you accompany Amanda and me to my mother’s Christmas party?”

“Please come, Merri,” Amanda said. “Grandma is lovely, and so is Aunty Caroline when she’s not in a rush.”

“But what about your…” Merri began, unsure how to ask the question uppermost in her mind.

“Wife? Amanda’s mom?” Josh softly supplied for her.

Merri bit her lip and nodded.

“No longer with us, I’m afraid.”

“She died,” Amanda said with all the candour of childhood.

“Well, then,” Merri took a deep breath. “Yes, I should like that very much.”

“The party starts at eight this evening. We’ll collect you at about seven-thirty if that suits you. Perhaps you’d put your phone number into my phone?”

Merri nodded, speechless because her mouth was suddenly dry. He gave her his cell phone, and she tapped in her number, then returned the phone to him.

He slipped it into his coat pocket. “Later, then.”

“Wow,” Sandy whispered in her ear. “Cinderella shall go to the ball. I can hear the uproar when this news gets out.”

“Don’t,” Merri said. “Please don’t say a word to anyone.”

Sandy chuckled. “Alright, I promise. But you must also promise to tell me more about Mr. Dark and Delicious and his daughter after that party. And if the look on your face is anything to go by, you will have a very merry Christmas.”

Merri groaned. “Not if I don’t get a move on.” She glanced anxiously at her watch. “Where’s Dora and Sue? If they are late–”

Sandy gave her a push. “Just sign out and go. I can manage until they get here.”

“You are–”

“Your best friend, and don’t you forget it. Go and have fun.”

Merri quickly hugged Sandy, grabbed her coat and rushed out of the store into a cold, crisp evening. She still couldn’t quite believe that she had accepted Josh’s invitation, but there was no going back. She couldn’t contact him because although she had provided him with her phone number, she hadn’t taken his.

But, she told herself, you don’t want to go back. Amanda and Josh had charmed her, and she wanted to get to know them much, much better. Merri smiled at the thought that, yes, Sandy was right, and she would have a very merry Christmas indeed.

 

THE END

 

 Victoria Chatham

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Sunday, December 22, 2024

Christmas letters and other junk mail


 Everyone has received newsy family Christmas letters, sometimes including a photo of the entire family dressed in gnome footy jammies or something equally seasonal. I've read them, sometimes cringing, other times laughing. Most are quickly thrown into the recycling bin. 

In an effort to avoid the stigma of having written the boring Christmas letter, I create an annual tongue-in-cheek newsy letter every year. Each has a different theme. This year, I shared the horrors of moving to a different house ---

 Yep, we packed up the whole mess and moved it to a different place. It's a pain, but the process forced to rethink what we needed vs. what we'd saved because we had space to store it. There were MANY trips to the charity thrift store where our treasures were offered up for someone else's storage.

We hired a moving company staffed by local firemen who move furniture on their days off. It seemed like a good plan. Trustworthy firemen, carefully moving my stuff. We watched them hustle as they scurried around with boxes and furniture. My wife focused on getting the furniture in the right room in our new house (you wouldn't think that was a problem. Sofa in the living room and dressers in the bedroom. Right?) I carried around a toolbox and offered up screwdrivers, wrenches, and pliers as required. Within four hours we had one house loaded into a truck and the other house filled with furniture and boxes. And the firemen were gone!

What I hadn't anticipated was that our firemen were apparently illiterate or blind. Our carefully labeled boxes ended up wherever the firemen set them down. Boxes clearly marked "bedroom" were stacked in the garage. Others marked "garage" in the kitchen. "Kitchen" boxes were in a spare bedroom closet. Unpacking the bare essentials

 became a treasure hunt.

The first night, my wife asked, "Have you seen a box marked sheets?" The answer was, "no." I found that box on an overhead rack in the garage. The next morning, I found a box of groceries, including breakfast cereal, hidden in a bedroom closet. That discovery made me question whether all of the refrigerated and frozen foods had been unpacked.

Me,the second night: "Let's take a break and celebrate our new house with a bottle of wine!"

Wife: "Great! Where's the corkscrew?"

Me, searching through kitchen drawers: "Perhaps it's in the same box with the missing can opener and the sheets for the spare bed."

Wife: "Why not open a bottle with a screw cap."

Me: "Good idea! Have you seen one?"

Determined to make one last sweep (literally) of the old house, I opened every drawer and peeked in every closet. That included the linen closet where I found sheets for the spare bed, and an apparently overlooked kitchen drawer with corkscrew, can opener and other utensils. A Sedona souvenir turquoise necklace was found hanging from a mirror. With our old house clean, and our missing belongings in the car with the broom, we locked the door one last time and slipped the keys through the mail slot for the new owners. That night, we opened a corked bottle of wine and sat on the patio of our new home.

My wife: "The plants look a little dry. Where's the hose?"

Me, sheepishly: "I think the owners of our old house will appreciate the hose and sprinkler we left for them. Don't you?"

That's my version of the family Christmas letter. Merry Christmas 

If you need a last-minute gift or a chuckle pick up a copy of "Whistling Wedding" or "Whistling up a Ghost."

Hovey, Dean Whistling Pines series - BWL Publishing Inc.

Friday, December 20, 2024

The books I forgot I'd written...by Sheila Claydon


                                                     
 
                                                                                        

Find my books here



                              
Golden Girl, my first book, was published in the 1983, and because things were very different then the money I earned was enough for me to fly my family to Munich in Germany to stay with very dear friends. My husband had flown before on business, but for me and my two children it was another first. We had a brilliant time in Munich and then in Salzburg in Austria, something we all remember to this day, often reminiscing about the highlights when we get together. 

After that I sold three more books, The Hollywood Collection, Empty Hearts and Bouquet of Thorns. Then things began to change. An editor who was working with me suddenly left the publishing house and her replacement didn't like my next manuscript. Too much story apparently and not enough romantic action! Once I read a couple of the books she was pushing I realised I didn't stand a chance. Not with that publishing house anyway. And worse still, I was never going to be able to write that stuff, so I put away my typewriter (yes it was a typewriter in those days) and found a proper job that brought in a regular wage. It was a sort of needs must with two growing children.

Fast forward twenty-five years and it was a different world. Not only had I retired but digital books were now a thing. And suddenly all the stars aligned in my favour because that publishing house went out of business (all those books with no stories!!) so the copyright reverted to me. I approached a digital publisher with some trepidation because it was a long time since I'd written anything other than annual reports, newsletters and company reports and I didn't know if my stories stood a chance. The news was good though and those four books were soon back on the market, this time in digital print. That gave me the confidence to start again, and that's when I found Books We Love. 

Many digital and print books later, the copyright of those original books again reverted to me as another publishing house bit the dust. Too busy writing for the hugely successful Books We Love and treasuring the support that all its authors get, I ignored them for a long while. Then one day I had an epiphany. Would Books We Love republish them? Jude was more than helpful, dismissing my concerns that they were written so long ago that much of the content would seem out of date. So now they are re-published yet again, but this time as Retro romances, and with the year they are set in clearly marked at the start of the first chapter. I had to re-edit them of course, but with much nicer covers they have now been part of my Books We Love stable for several years. They are also published under my own name, not the pseudonym I used before. 

And this brings me to a whole new situation. We have just had our loft cleared, no longer having any use for the myriad belongings that have been clogging it up for years, and not wishing to leave it for someone else to deal with when we get too old to cope. The only things left are the Christmas decorations, suitcases, photos and a stack of long forgotten manuscripts. Amazed they were still there, I started reading them, and yes, they still have a lot of story, but the romance is there too. I haven't decided what to do yet because I know they will need editing, but I'm tempted. Will Books We Love be interested? Will I be able to update them or will they have to be published under a retro label again? I haven't had the thinking time to start something new for quite a while now, so is this recent discovery what I need to get me writing again? Time will tell. In the meantime I'm enjoying revisiting my past.









Tuesday, December 17, 2024

Christmas is Coming by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Stockings #Christmas

 

Here's the cover for my coming release. There will be at least two more books in the series.

Now as to why I was late publishing this blog. Today I finished stuffing stockings for the family's Christmas and sending them off to Florida and Georgia. There were seventeen to do and stuff but they're done.

Every time I get into the Christmas spirit,a poem my grandfather used to tell me every year.

Christmas is coming,

The goose if getting fat,

Please put a penny in the old man's hat.

Once those words echo in my head, I know the time has come. By not the stocking's are done, the tree is up and trimmed, the two displays have been set up. One is of silly Christmas figures and the other is glass trees and glass characters. Santa, Snowman, Two reindeer, Mouse. 

So I'm wishing all my writer friends to have good holidays and look forward to a new year.


Monday, December 16, 2024

Ah, the bright darkness, by J.C. Kavanagh

 

To purchase the award-winning Twisted Climb series, click here 

The concept of The Twisted Climb series began with a kick. Multiple kicks, in fact. And sometimes these kicks landed on my partner, Ian. Accidentally, of course. You see, I have a medical condition known as Restless Leg syndrome. For some unknown medical reason, the legs grow a brain (my non-medical explanation) and develop a mind of their own, at night, in bed, and without my permission. What's the night-time purpose of these "brainy" legs?  It's to twitch, kick, jiggle and turn all attempts of sleeping into a completely uncomfortable and totally annoying ritual.

So after many a restless night where I felt like I was climbing a never-ending mountain, I did what any crazy creative person would do. I made-up a few characters to join me in the playground that is my mind. And for these night-time adventures, I created a new world - a dream world - where climbing would ultimately help me 'fall' to sleep. Each night, the final destination would be the Town of Sleepmore. Get it? Sleep more. To make it really interesting and because I couldn't control the leg jerks, I generated a character who was a jerk - Dick Hatemore. 

This dream world is a spooky, peculiar place. It's always night time in my dream world. No daylight and no sun. However, there is always a full moon, every night, night after night. Puffy clouds slide in and out and over the full moon. The clouds move, but the moon remains stationary. Because of this, the dream world is as bright as you'd find it on a sunny day. In the very first paragraph of The Twisted Climb (book 1), Jayden holds up her hand in the moonlight. This is actually something I did when the restless legs forced me to get out of bed and pace. I would stand in wonder at the brightness of the full moon and check out my hand, front and back. The moonlight became my soothing friend.

For anyone who might think that a full moon would not and could not shine like the sun... I give you evidence from my own back yard. 

Pictures taken December 12 and 13 between 8 and 10 p.m.
in Central Ontario (between snow squalls). It's dark here at 5 p.m.
Beautiful blue sky and great big puffy clouds,
just like "the lumpy potatoes Jayden's mother served when she felt like making dinner."


As bright as daytime, right?

The planet Jupiter is below the moon, to the left.


The Twisted Climb dream world was my personal dream world for a number of years. I still 'travel' there now and then, depending on the legs. So, if you're up for an exciting read in an exciting world, you need to check out this award-winning series. But only if you like adventure, action, suspense, drama, stellar characters and of course, the paranormal activity found in the dream world. And the un-World. Because where else will you find a place where you have to 'fall' in order to sleep?


Lighting of our Christmas tree. Ian joked that the "17,000" lights
could be used as an airport runway. He's a cheeky one, so he is :)

It's the Christmas season and I wish goodness, light and love to friends, family and you, the reader. Don't forget to tell the ones you love that you love them!



J.C. Kavanagh, author of
The Twisted Climb - A Bright Darkness (Book 3) Best YA Book FINALIST at Critters Readers Poll 2022
AND
The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends (Book 2) voted BEST Young Adult Book 2018, Critters Readers Poll and Best YA Book FINALIST at The Word Guild, Canada
AND
The Twisted Climb,
voted BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers Poll
Voted Best Local Author, Simcoe County, Ontario, 2021
Novels for teens, young adults and adults young-at-heart
Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com
www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
www.amazon.com/author/jckavanagh
Instagram @authorjckavanagh




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