Not Just For Christmas

“It looks well used.”

An outsider like Vaughn couldn’t possibly understand how much the children of Buffalo Valley cherished the park. “My family owns the hardware,” she continued, pointing to the opposite side of the park toward the store. “We donated the wood for the picnic tables.”

“I notice they aren’t secured with chains,” Vaughn said.

“We don’t have much crime in Buffalo Valley.” It distressed her to visit public areas where everything, including picnic tables and garbage cans, was tied down by chains to prevent theft. But no one had ever stolen from the park or any other public place in Buffalo Valley. There’d never been any real vandalism, either.

“No crime?” He sounded as though he didn’t believe her.

“Well, some, but it’s mostly petty stuff. A few windows soaped at Halloween, that kind of thing. The occasional fight or display of drunkenness. We did have a murder once, about eighty years ago. According to the stories, it was a crime of passion.” Quickly changing the subject, she said, “The War Memorial was designed by Kevin Betts. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him, but he was born and raised right here.”

“Sorry, I haven’t,” Vaughn said with a shrug.

“He’s Leta’s son, and he’s an artist who’s making a name for himself.” Everyone in town was proud of Kevin. “This sculpture—” she gestured as they neared it “—was one of his very first.” She watched Vaughn’s expression when he saw it and was stirred by the immediate appreciation that showed in his eyes.

Kevin was a gifted artist, not only because he was technically skilled but because his work evoked emotion in people. The bronze sculpture was simple and yet profound. Half-a-dozen rifles were stacked together, upright and leaning against one another, with a helmet balanced on top. Beside the guns a young soldier knelt, his shoulders bowed in grief. No one seeing the piece could fail to be moved, to respond with sorrow and a bittersweet pain.

Vaughn stood before the memorial and didn’t say anything right away. Then he squatted down and ran his finger over the name of Vaughn Knight. “My parents still talk about him. He was the one who brought them together,” Vaughn said, and slowly straightened. “I’m glad he won’t be forgotten.”

“He won’t be,” Carrie assured him. “With this memorial, his name will always be here to remind everyone.”

Vaughn thrust his gloved hands into his coat pockets.

“Cold?” Carrie asked.

He shook his head. “I know about the pharmacy and you’ve mentioned the hardware store. Tell me about the other businesses in town.”

They walked toward Main Street and Carrie told him about each one in turn, starting with Joanie Wyatt’s video-rental and craft store and ending with her parents’ place.

“It was a leap of faith for you to move into town, wasn’t it?” Vaughn said.

Carrie nodded pensively. “Yeah, but it’s paid off. My two oldest brothers are still farming and the two younger ones work exclusively with Mom and Dad. It’s a good arrangement all around.”

“Are you hungry?” Vaughn asked unexpectedly.

She laughed. “You offering to feed me?” It was a bit early, but dinner would pass the time until Hassie returned.

“Unless there’s a reason for you to hurry home.”

“No reason. I’m divorced.” Even now, six years later, the words left a bitter taste on her tongue. She focused her gaze directly in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am, too.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice, as if to say she was over it.

“I thought I’d suggest Buffalo Bob’s 3 of a Kind. I was intrigued by what you told me about him.”

“He’s certainly a character,” she agreed. “But before we go there, I’d like to show you Maddy’s Grocery.” Carrie loved the wonderful and witty Christmas display Maddy put up every year. Eight reindeer were suspended from the ceiling, with the front half of Santa’s sleigh coming out of the wall.

Vaughn laughed when he saw it. His reaction was one of genuine enjoyment and not the short derisive laugh of someone mocking Maddy’s efforts. On their way to 3 of a Kind, they strolled past the Buffalo Valley Quilting Company.

“This is the success story of the decade,” Carrie boasted as she motioned to the holiday quilt displayed in the first set of windows. “Sarah Urlacher started the business in her father’s house, dyeing the muslin herself from all-natural products. The designs are her own, too.”

Vaughn stopped to look at the quilt in the window.

“It all began when Lindsay Sinclair introduced Sarah’s quilts to her uncle. He owns an upscale furniture store in Atlanta, and before she knew it, Sarah had trouble keeping up with the demand. Now people all over the country buy her quilts.”

“That’s great.”

“Sarah’s business has boosted the economy of Buffalo Valley to the point that we can now afford things that are commonplace in other towns.”

“Such as?”

“The sidewalks got refurbished last summer, and the town could never have paid for that without the tax revenue Sarah’s business brings in.” Carrie didn’t mention the new community well and several other improvements that had taken place over the past few years.

“I’ll let Leta know where we are so she can tell Hassie,” Carrie said, and made a quick stop at the pharmacy. She was back within moments. Vaughn waited for her outside.

There was no one at the restaurant or in the bar when they arrived. Studying Buffalo Bob with fresh eyes, Carrie could only guess what Vaughn must think. The ex-biker was a burly man. He was an oddity here in a town where most men came off the farm. With his thinning hair drawn back into a ponytail and his muscular arms covered in tattoos, he looked as though he’d be more comfortable with a biker gang than waiting tables.

“How ya doin’, Carrie?” he greeted her when she took a seat across the table from Vaughn.

“Good, Bob. Come meet Vaughn Kyle.”

“Welcome to Buffalo Valley,” Bob said, extending his hand for a hearty shake. “Merrily told me you’d dropped by.” Bob gave them each a menu. “Take a look, but the special tonight is Salisbury steak. I don’t mind telling you it’s excellent.” He grinned. “And who would know better than me?”

“I’m convinced,” Vaughn told him with an answering smile. “I’ll have the special.”

“Me, too,” Carrie said, returning the menu.

Bob left them, and Carrie tried to relax but found it difficult. She hadn’t been alone with a man, other than her brothers, in a very long time. Following her divorce, she’d only dated twice, and both occasions had been awkward. Her schooling, plus her internship, didn’t leave much room for a social life, anyway.

Vaughn sat back in his chair. “Tell me about Hassie,” he suggested easily.

Carrie felt the tightness leave her shoulders. On the subject of Hassie, she could talk his ear off. “What would you like to know first?”

“Whatever you feel is important.”

“She’s been my hero for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what would’ve happened to this town without her.” Carrie wanted him to realize how deeply Hassie was loved by everyone in Buffalo Valley. “She’s older now, and she’s slowing down some.” Carrie had seen the evidence of that in the months since she’d come to work as an intern. She almost suspected that Hassie had been holding on until she got there.

Vaughn glanced at Buffalo Bob as he brought their salads and nodded his thanks. “Every year, along with my birthday card and a U.S. Savings Bond, she wrote me a short message.” His mouth lifted in a half smile. “She called it words to live by.”

“Give me an example,” Carrie said, curious.

“I don’t remember them all, but … okay, she told me about the importance of being on time. Only, she did it by making up this little poem. …” He hesitated and a slow grin crossed his face. “She once wrote that if at first I don’t succeed, it just means I’m normal.”

“That sounds like Hassie.”

“She has a wonderful way of putting things.” He paused, a reflective look on his face. “When I was sixteen, she told me the grass isn’t greener on the other side of the fence, it’s greener where it’s watered.”

“I think it’s wonderful that you remembered them.”

“How could I not, when she made them so much fun? She was like an extra grandmother.”

Hearing that warmed Carrie’s heart, because she knew Hassie felt toward him the way she would a grandson.

They were silent as they ate their salads. Buffalo Bob had made even a plain lettuce, cucumber and tomato salad taste delicious with the addition of a tart-sweet cranberry dressing. They were just finishing when Bob reappeared, carrying two plates heaped with food. He placed them in front of Vaughn and Carrie, then stepped back, and said, “Enjoy.”

Vaughn stared after him as he returned to the kitchen. “He’s not the typical sort of person you find in a place like this, is he?”

“Bob’s a sweetheart,” she said defensively. “He’s hardworking and well-liked and a wonderful father and—”

“Tell me how he happened to land in Buffalo Valley,” Vaughn broke in. He reached for his fork, tasting the fluffy mashed potatoes and tender gravy-covered steak.

“He came here when the town was at its lowest point. My uncle Earl owned this hotel and he’d been trying to sell it for years. Seeing that there weren’t any buyers and he was losing money every month, my uncle devised an unusual poker game. It cost a thousand dollars to play, but the winner walked away with the hotel, restaurant and bar. Lock, stock and barrel.”

Vaughn’s brows arched. “And Bob won it with three of a kind.”

“Exactly.”

Vaughn shook his head. “More power to him.”

“A lot has changed since then, all of it for the better. Bob married Merrily, and two and a half years ago, they had little Bobby.”

“The one who’s prone to ear infections?”

She nodded. “You’ve never seen better parents. Those two dote on that little boy something fierce. In fact, Bob and Merrily are terrific with all the kids in town.” Carrie paused long enough to sample her dinner. “Hey, this is terrific.”

Vaughn agreed with her. “In addition to his other talents, Buffalo Bob’s a good cook. He wasn’t kidding about that.”

“I don’t know what his life was like before he came to Buffalo Valley, but he’s one of us now.”

Vaughn was about to ask a question when the door opened and Hassie hurried inside.

Carrie was instantly on her feet. One look told her Hassie was exhausted. Her shoulders were slumped and she seemed close to collapse.

“Hassie,” Carrie said, wrapping her arm protectively around the older woman’s waist. “This is Vaughn Kyle.”

It was almost as if Hassie didn’t hear her at first. “Vaughn,” she repeated, and then her face brightened visibly. “My goodness, did you let me know you were coming and it slipped my mind?”

Vaughn pulled out a chair for her to sit down. “No, I very rudely showed up without an invitation.”

“I wish I’d known.”

“It’s no problem. Carrie was kind enough to spend the afternoon with me.”

“Let me take a good look at you,” Hassie said. She cupped his face with both hands and a smile emerged. “You’re so handsome,” she whispered. “You have such kind eyes.”

If her praise embarrassed or flustered him, Vaughn didn’t reveal it.

“How long can you stay?” she asked.

“Actually, I should probably think about heading back to Grand Forks soon.”

“No,” Hassie protested. “That’s hardly enough time for me to show you everything.”

“Carrie already gave me a tour of town.”

“That’s good, but I have a number of things I’ve saved that I’d like you to have—things that were my son’s.”

Her disappointment was unmistakeable, and Carrie glanced at Vaughn, trying to signal him, hoping he’d change his mind.

“I want to see them.”

Carrie could have hugged him right then and there.

“But,” he added, “you’ve had a long, tiring day. Perhaps it would be better if I came back later.”

Hassie didn’t bother to deny what was obvious. “Would it be too much to ask you to come here on Sunday?” Both her hands gripped his, as if she was afraid to let him go.

Carrie found herself just as eager to hear his response.

“I’ll meet you at the store shortly after noon,” he said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you then.”

Carrie felt a surge of relief—and anticipation. She couldn’t help smiling, first at Hassie, then at Vaughn.

Happiness shimmered in the old woman’s eyes as she placed one hand on Carrie’s shoulder and leaned heavily against her.

“That would be perfect,” she said quietly. “Thank you, Vaughn.”

Two

Hassie felt old and weary, especially after a day like this. But God had rewarded her patience by sending Vaughn Kyle to Buffalo Valley. Seeing him, however briefly, had lifted her spirits. Best of all was his promise to return on Sunday afternoon.

Tired though she was, Hassie brewed herself a cup of tea and sat at her kitchen table, mulling over the events of the day. Ambrose Kohn had been a thorn in her side for many years. His family had lived and worked in town for generations, but with impeccable timing, the Kohns had moved to Devils Lake just before the economy in Buffalo Valley collapsed.

Ambrose owned several pieces of property here and a building or two. The theater belonged to him, and he’d been quick enough to close it down, despite the town council’s efforts to convince him otherwise. The old building still had plenty of life in it, but it’d sat abandoned and neglected until the first year Lindsay Snyder came to Buffalo Valley as the high-school teacher. She’d wanted to use it for a Christmas play. If Hassie remembered correctly, Ambrose had demanded she go out with him first before he gave permission. That annoyed Hassie even now, several years later.

Lindsay had attended some social function with Ambrose, and it had nearly ruined her relationship with Gage Sinclair. But she and Gage had resolved their differences. They’d been married for more than five years now and were parents of two beautiful daughters.

Ambrose, despite his underhanded methods, had walked away a winner, as well. After the community had cleaned up that old theater and put on the high-school Christmas program, he’d reopened the movie house and it’d been in operation ever since.

Unfortunately Ambrose hadn’t learned anything from that experience. He hadn’t learned that people in Buffalo Valley loved their town and that they supported one another. He hadn’t figured out that for them, Buffalo Valley was home, not just a place to live. Now the middle-aged bachelor held the fate of the community in his hands. Value-X, a huge retailer, wanted to move into town and they wanted to set up shop on land owned by Ambrose. The company had a reputation for sweeping into small towns and then systematically destroying independent and family-owned businesses. Six months earlier, Hassie had watched a television report on the effect the mega-retailer had on communities. At the time she’d never dreamed Buffalo Valley might be targeted. Naturally the company insisted this was progress and a boon to the town’s economy. There were already articles in some of the regional papers, touting the company’s supposedly civic-minded attitudes. Profit-minded was more like it.

No one needed to tell Hassie what would happen to Buffalo Valley if Value-X decided to follow through with its plans. All the small businesses that had recently started would die a fast and painful death. Her own pharmacy wouldn’t be immune.

Ambrose owned twenty acres just outside of town; this was the property Value-X was interested in acquiring, and he wasn’t opposed to selling it—no matter how badly it damaged the community.

Nothing Hassie said had the least bit of impact on him. Buffalo Bob, as president of the town council, had tried to reason with him, too, again without success. Heath Quantrill had thrown up his hands in frustration at the man’s stubborn refusal to listen.

While Ambrose didn’t live in Buffalo Valley, he did have a powerful influence on its future. For that reason alone, he should think carefully about his decision to sell that parcel of land. Progress or not, it wasn’t the kind of future she or anyone here saw for Buffalo Valley. Jerry, her husband, might have been able to talk sense into Ambrose, but Jerry had died the year after Vaughn. She’d lost them both so close together.

The TV report on Value-X had made a strong impression on Hassie. What had stayed in her mind most clearly were the interviews with business owners, some with three- and four-generation histories. They’d been forced to close down, unable to compete. Local traditions had been lost, pride broken. Men and women wept openly, in despair and hopelessness. Downtown areas died out.

Hassie couldn’t bear to think what would happen to Buffalo Valley if Ambrose sold that land to those outsiders. Why, it would undo all the work the town council had done over the past six years. The outcome was too dismal to consider.

Joanie Wyatt’s video-rental and craft store would probably be one of the first to fold. And the Hendricksons—they’d sunk everything they had in this world and more into AceMan Hardware. Value-X would undercut the lowest prices they could charge and ring the store’s death knell for sure.

Dennis Urlacher supplied car parts to the community at his filling station. Although that was only a small portion of his business, Dennis had once mentioned that his largest profit margin came from the auto parts and not the fuel. It wouldn’t be long before his business was affected, too. Even Rachel Quantrill’s new hamburger stand would lose customers. Maddy’s Grocery would suffer, too; how long she’d be able to hold on depended on Value-X’s plans. It was said that many of the newer stores included groceries.

None of that concerned Ambrose. All he knew was that he’d been offered a fair price for a piece of land that had sat vacant for years. He’d let it be known that he fully intended to sell those acres. If anyone else was interested, he’d entertain other offers. Ambrose had made one thing perfectly clear: the offer had to be substantially higher than the deal Value-X had proposed. No one in town, not even Heath Quantrill, had a thick-enough bankroll to get into a bidding war with the huge retailer.

Hassie sipped her tea and purposely turned her thoughts in a more pleasant direction. What a fine-looking young man Vaughn Kyle was. After all these years, she was grateful to finally meet him. His letters had meant so much to her, and she’d saved each thank-you note from the time he was six years old.

For a short while after her son was buried, Hassie and Barbara, the boy’s mother, had been close. They’d stayed in touch, but then a year later the wedding announcement arrived. Barbara, the beautiful young woman her son had loved, was marrying Rick Kyle, who’d been one of Vaughn’s best friends.

Hassie didn’t begrudge the couple happiness, but she hadn’t attended the wedding. Their marriage was a painful reminder that life continues. If circumstances had been different, this might have been her own son’s wedding.

Two years later, Rick and Barbara had mailed her the birth announcement. They’d named their first child after Hassie’s son. Two years later came another birth announcement, this time for a girl they named Gloria. Sight unseen, Hassie had loved that boy and thought of him as the grandson Vaughn could never give her. Her own daughter, Valerie, had two girls and Hassie adored them, but since Val and her family lived in Hawaii, there was little opportunity to see them. Vaughn Kyle had assumed a special significance for her. Neither his parents nor anyone else knew how deep her feelings ran. With a determined effort, she’d remained on the sidelines of his life, writing occasional letters and sending gifts at the appropriate times.

Now she would have the opportunity to give Vaughn the things she’d set aside for him so many years ago. It’d been her prayer that they meet before she died.

She had to stop herself from being greedy. She would gladly accept whatever time Vaughn Kyle was willing to grant her.

* * *

Carrie found herself smiling as she walked into the family home shortly after six. She paused in the entryway to remove the handknit scarf from around her neck and shrug out of her coat. Softly humming a Christmas tune, she savored the warm feelings left by her visit with Vaughn. She’d enjoyed getting to know him. Even though it’d been years since she’d spent this much time in a man’s company, the initial awkwardness between them had dissipated quickly.

Vaughn seemed genuinely interested in learning what he could about Hassie and Buffalo Valley. What she appreciated most was that he hadn’t asked any prying questions about her divorce. A lot of people assumed she wanted to tell her side of it, but Carrie found no joy in reliving the most painful, humiliating experience of her life.

Their dinner conversation had flowed smoothly. He was easy to talk to, and Carrie loved telling him about Buffalo Valley. She was proud to recount its history, especially the developments of the past five years. The improvements could be attributed to several factors, but almost all of them went right back to Hassie Knight and her determination and optimism. Hassie refused to let the town fade into nothingness, refused to let it die like countless other communities throughout the Dakotas.

When Carrie walked into the living room, her mother glanced up from her needlework and her two younger brothers hurried in from the kitchen. All three fixed their eyes on her. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to speak.

“What?” Carrie demanded.

“We’re curious about your dinner date,” her mother said mildly.

Carrie should’ve realized her family would hear she’d gone out with Vaughn. How they knew she could only speculate, but in a small town word traveled even faster than it did on the Internet.

“How’d it go?” Ken asked, looking as though he’d welcome the opportunity to defend her honor should the occasion arise.

Part of the pain of her divorce came from knowing that she was the first in their family’s history to whom it had happened. Long-standing marriages were a tradition she would gladly have continued. But she couldn’t stay married to a man who didn’t honor his vows, a man whose unfaithfulness undermined her self-respect, as well as their marriage. Her four brothers had hinted that things with Alec would have worked out differently if they’d been around to see to it. Needless to say, the last thing she wanted was her brothers, much as she loved them, playing the role of enforcers.

“He’s very nice,” she said, carefully weighing her words. She didn’t want to give the impression that there was more to their meeting than a simple, friendly dinner.

“He didn’t try anything, did he?” Chuck asked.

Carrie nearly laughed out loud. “Of course he didn’t. Where’s Dad?” she asked, wondering why her father hadn’t leaped into the conversation.

Before anyone could respond, her father shuffled into the room, wearing his old slippers, a newspaper tucked under his arm and his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He stopped abruptly when he saw her.

“So how was your hot date?” he asked. He stood in front of his easy chair and waited for her to answer.

“It was just dinner,” she protested. “The only reason he asked me out was to kill time while he waited for Hassie.” It was unlikely they’d be doing this again, which she supposed was just as well. She had to admit she wanted to, but from what he’d said, he was only in the area for the Christmas holidays and then he was going home to Seattle. There was no point in starting something you couldn’t finish, she thought. Not that she knew if he was even interested in her … or available.

“Will you be seeing him again?” her mother asked, but Carrie wasn’t fooled by her nonchalant tone.