Page 23 of The Healing of Christmas

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Charlotte wasn’t sure of her mother’s schedule. According to her grandfather, Louise usually finished her shift at Jeez, Louise by mid-afternoon and returned home to eat a healthy lunch and rest. Sometimes, she returned to the diner for the dinner rush, where she tore her feet and knees apart, serving club sandwiches and French fries.

Louise’s house was the same one in which Charlotte had been raised. It was a half-mile from the Cherry Inn and looked exactly the same, with its dark blue shutters and gray siding. Charlotte stood out front with her hands shoved deep in her coat pockets, playing out all the years of her life before her feud with her mother. She could imagine herself walking up and down the walkway, on her way to and from school, skipping, her backpack banging against her. She could imagine herself leaning against the porch, kissing her high school boyfriend goodnight. In some ways, this house was even more haunted than the Cherry Inn, heavy with memories. Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself up the walkway. She knocked hard on the door, then craned her ears to hear for movement. But there was nothing.

Like a stalker, Charlotte peered through the front window, wanting to see what the living room looked like. Her mother had gotten a new couch and a new television, but the bookshelf along the side wall was the same as always, and the photograph of Grandma Hank and Grandma Dee on their wedding day hung above the fireplace, just like always. Upon closer inspection, Charlotte realized there was a photograph of Van and Collin as teenagers framed above the couch.

When Charlotte glanced back at the bookshelf, something caught her eye. It seemed impossible. Along the middle shelf were all seven of Charlotte’s children’s books, which she’d written and illustrated herself. She’d hardly spoken to her mother since that first book about the Cherry Inn had been published. It struck her as bizarre that her mother had gone out of her way to purchase every single one of her books. It was as though, even in her rage, she couldn’t overcome her motherly pride.

Charlotte couldn’t breathe for a moment. She stared at the children’s books, wondering what her mother’s opinions of them were. Did she think Charlotte had done a good job? It was suddenly all Charlotte wanted to know in the world.

“Charlotte? Is that you?” A man hollered to Charlotte’s right, and Charlotte nearly leaped from her skin.

“Oh! Mr. Velton. Hi.” Charlotte stumbled away from the window and waved at Bert Velton, her mother’s long-time next-door neighbor. He was shorter than she remembered him, his shoulders stooped, and he wore a thick sweater not dissimilar to Mr. Roger’s. His thick glasses made him look vaguely like an adorable turtle.

“I thought that was you.” Bert put his hands on his hips and smiled unabashedly from his porch. “Your mother mentioned you were in town.”

“Did she?” Charlotte imagined Louise had complained about Charlotte non-stop to anyone who was willing to listen.

“She said she has a new great-grandson,” Bert said.

“My daughter had a baby. Ethan.” Charlotte’s voice cracked with love.

“I hope you’ll bring him by soon!” Bert went on. “I know your mother wants to dote on him. She’s such a baby lover.”

Charlotte furrowed her brow. Her mother? A baby lover? To Charlotte, Louise was an angry woman, ready to hurl an insult in your direction whenever she got the chance. It was difficult to imagine her doting over a baby.

Then again, the Louise in Charlotte’s deepest memories had been so soft and kind. To Charlotte, she’d been a loving and beautiful queen.

“Anyway, if you’re looking for your mother, she’s at the diner,” Bert went on. “She said it’s been really busy there this week. There are lots of folks from out of town wanting the magic of a small town at Christmas. I suppose you, being from the city, can understand that.”

Charlotte walked slowly to the Jeez, Louise diner, feeling a mix of dread and excitement. The Louise she’d just heard about from Bert didn’t sound anything like the woman who’d stormed into the apartment the other day and screamed at her. She was curious to meet that other Louise, but she wasn’t sure Louise would ever reveal that side of herself. Perhaps too much had happened between them.

Just as Bert had warned, when Charlotte approached the Jeez, Louise diner, she found it in a state of chaos. Every single booth, stool, and table was taken, filled to the brim with Christmas shoppers and Christmas revelers, most of whom looked to be from the city. In the center of it all was Louise, her hair in a wild mess behind her as she rushed from table to table. She’d always prided herself on never needing to write any of the orders down, but through the window, Charlotte could see her mother was struggling, muttering to herself as a way to remember what people wanted. Behind the counter, Charlotte could see the fry cooks and other kitchen staff members running themselves ragged in the kitchen, spitting out delicious, greasy diner food. Charlotte’s stomach rumbled. All she’d had that afternoon was cookie dough— a rookie mistake.

Back in middle school and high school, even long before Charlotte had legally been able to work, Charlotte had worked at the Jeez, Louise diner. She and her mother had worked tirelessly, shift after shift, slinging plates, fetching drinks, taking orders, and slicing pieces of pie. As a result, Charlotte had developed her mother’s miraculous memory. In college, she’d impressed her friends by memorizing entire Shakespeare sonnets and Edgar Allen Poe poems.

Now, Charlotte knew what she had to do. She pressed open the door of the diner, making the bell jingle overhead. Her mother was too busy with a table and didn’t glance her way. Charlotte removed her coat, breezed past the counter, fetched an apron, and waved hello to one of the fry cooks, a guy named Calvin who’d been there for years.

Charlotte hurried up to a table that hadn’t been served yet— a family who looked glum, their children kicking each other under the table. “Sorry about your wait,” Charlotte said. “Can I get you started on drinks?”

“We can order everything now,” the father said with a sniff. He wore a shirt with a high thread count, something that had probably cost upwards of two hundred dollars. They looked like Upper East Side money.

“I’m ready for you,” Charlotte said, maintaining her smile.

Suddenly, her mother’s breath was hot on the back of her neck. “What are you doing here?” She sounded even angrier than she’d been at the apartment.

“What can I get you?” Charlotte asked the man, ignoring her mother.

Her mother’s hands flew up as she scurried past to fill glasses with water. Her face was beet red. Charlotte concentrated hard on the man’s order, a collection of burgers, soups, sandwiches, and salads, plus coffees, a diet soda, and a regular soda. The Jeez, Louise diner wasn’t updated with modern technology (obviously), which meant there was no computer for inputting orders into the kitchen. The Jeez, Louise Diner would never waste money on such a system. Charlotte scribbled the order on a piece of paper that she handed to one of the fry cooks and got to work on the drinks. As she filled one of the glasses with regular soda, her mother appeared beside her and grumbled, “I don’t need your help.”

Just then, another family of five entered the diner, the bell jangling overhead. Charlotte turned on her heel and said, “Welcome to the Jeez, Louise diner! The wait for the next table is about ten minutes. Can we get you something to drink while you wait?”

Louise flared her nostrils and gaped at Charlotte. As the family of five grabbed menus, Louise lowered her voice and added, “I know you’re too good for this now. Don’t pretend like you care. It makes it so much worse.”

Charlotte shot her mother a look. “Tables six and seven are still waiting to order. Table ten looks like they want to pay. We can get them out of here and seat that new table. What do you say?”

Louise waffled between what looked like incredulity and anger. With a final sigh, she whirled around and headed for table ten to take their money. Charlotte fixed her smile, brought the drinks to the Upper East Side family, and took table six and table seven’s orders. Already, she felt herself a part of the flow of the diner. As long as they kept moving, they would get through this rush. The diner was just as it always had been, as was waitressing. She felt both forty-eight and seventeen at once.

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