Page 40 of 5 Golden Flings

Living in the downtown area of Rosewood had been a necessity for Alice. There were cheaper options with more space once she got a little further out, but it was more important that she be close to work. Since they didn’t offer an apartment in City Hall—a suggestion she’d made more than once—a little cottage nearby did the trick. It was also very quiet for downtown. Across the street, her nearest neighbor was the Baptist cemetery. Justbeyond that was the church, so aside from some bells Sunday morning, it was just about perfect.

On a Sunday evening, the diner was usually pretty quiet and tonight was no exception. Two men were eating dinner at the counter, and an older couple were sitting in the back sharing a slice of pie and coffee. Alice took an empty booth and settled in with her tablet and the laminated menu left on each table.

In Rosewood, Sundays were dedicated to time well spent with God, family and grandma’s fried chicken, if you could get it. Alice didn’t have any of those things in her life to occupy her time, so Sundays were usually a day spent planning her upcoming work week, doing laundry, and eating Fred’s famous meatloaf at Ellen’s Diner.

“Hey Miss Alice,” Ruth, the waitress at the diner said as she came up to the table. “Are we changing things up this week? There’s a nice pot roast special today.”

Alice looked at the menu, and shook her head. “You can’t beat Fred’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

“Peas and carrots, with extra gravy on the side. Diet Coke.” Ruth didn’t need to write it down, it never changed despite her attempts to get Alice to branch out.

“That’s it.” Alice put the menu away, unsure why she really looked at it. Ruth reappeared a few minutes later with her drink, and then left her to open her tablet and do some work.

She couldn’t wait for a magic ornament to bring a new Santa into her life. She needed to hunt one down. And she started by brainstorming a list of every man in town she could think of. Any and every name went on her list as long as they were over eighteen. By the time the meatloaf arrived, she’d come up with over a hundred potential candidates.

“Is that some kind of shopping list?” Ruth asked as she put the plate down.

“Not unless I’m shopping for a man,” Alice quipped.

Ruth looked over the list and shook her head. “I’d cross most of those candidates off, honey. Trust me, I’ve lived in this town my whole life.”

Alice chuckled. “Well, thankfully I’m not looking to date them. I’m just looking for a new Santa for the parade.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d heard about Leo’s brush with the law. There’s a man that needs a good woman to keep an eye on him. He hasn’t known what to do with himself since his wife left him.”

“How long ago was that?” Alice asked.

“Oh, gosh. I’d say Foster was eight or nine years old when she left. On Christmas Day, if you can believe it. She told them she had to run out and pick up something she forgot for Christmas dinner, and she never came back.”

Alice stopped, mid-lift of the pepper shaker. “That’s terrible.”

“I know. Leo held it together for Foster’s sake. He did a fine job raising his son alone, I’d say. He focused on that instead of dealing with his marriage ending. But once Foster went off to college and ended up in Nashville, his thoughts got the best of him. Being alone wasn’t good for Leo. He used the bottle to keep him company.”

Now Alice felt guilty for being so hard on him. It didn’t change what he’d done, or that he had to be replaced, but she understood him a little better now. Everyone filled the emptiness with something.

“I’d say you can cross his son off the list of candidates for Santa Claus, first and foremost,” Ruth added, gesturing toward the tablet screen.

“Why is that?” she asked. He had declined yesterday, but Alice never took someone’s initial “no” as their final answer when it came to soliciting volunteers for town events. People always said no at first. If she listened, nothing would ever happen around here.

“Leo took to drinking when Sue left,” Ruth explained, “but Foster associated her abandonment with the holidays. As far as I know, he hasn’t celebrated or even acknowledged Christmas in any way, shape or form, for twenty-some years.”

As Foster stepped into the offices of Mayor Otto Gallagher, he was greeted by a half-decorated Christmas tree and the wool-clad rump of the mayor’s unsuspecting assistant as she bent over a box of ornaments.

He didn’t give a fig about the tree, but he had to admit that was one fine ass. His dad had been correct. “Nice,” he said before he could stop himself.

Alice shot up to attention and spun on her heels to turn and face whomever had come in without her notice. She looked stunned for a moment when her gaze met Foster’s, and then she smiled and pulled herself together. He noticed that she always seemed to have a practiced friendliness that only displayed its cracks for a brief moment before being restored. It made him want to keep her off balance to see what was behind the plastic facade.

“Mr. Robinson,” she greeted, then turned behind her to look at the tree she was working on. “It’s a work in progress,” she said, mistaking his praise for the incomplete tree instead of her rear end.

He didn’t bother to correct her presumption. Instead he held up the garment bag. “I brought in the Santa suit, as requested.”

“Great,” she said, scooping the bag from his arms and hanging it on a nearby coatrack. “I’ll run it to the dry cleaners later today. Thanks so much for bringing it in.”

“Do you want me to drop it off? I have a little time before I have to get back to the house and check on my father, the inmate. He’s having a chat with his attorney at the moment.”

“Oh, no,” she insisted, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “It’s my job.”

“Well then, how about I walk with you to the dry cleaners and buy you a cup of coffee for the inconvenience of dealing with my father. There’s a new place on the corner, isn’t there? Across from Pizza Palace?”

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