CHAPTER FOUR
The door off the garage opened. “Is my girl home?” Lindy’s father asked. He paused long enough to kiss Ellen and then hug Lindy. “Missed you,” he said, his eyes full of love.
“You’re home early,” Ellen said, as she continued to build the dinner salad, adding a sliced pear and chopped walnuts.
Lindy knew that as supervisor of the local UPS center, her father didn’t often return home until six or even seven, especially at this time of year.
“I left early. I didn’t want to miss out on time with my baby girl.”
“Dad, I’m hardly a baby.”
“You’ll always be my Sweet Pea,” he countered.
Yup, this was home, and the love that surrounded her eased the ache in Lindy’s heart.
Opening the cookie jar, her dad reached for a thumbprint and headed to the countertop to sort the mail. After he went through everything, he looked to Ellen. “Did you show Lindy the Santa letters?”
“I did.”
“What did you think, Sweet Pea?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It was fun going over them with Mom.”
“And to think she saved them all these years.”
“Astonishing, really,” Lindy said.
Lindy spent the evening with her parents, catching up on everything she’d missed since her last visit. Her parents headed to bed at ten, and after calling her brother and planning to connect, Lindy went to her own room. Beau leaped onto her mattress and cuddled up at the foot of her bed. She intended to read as she did most nights. Sitting up in bed, her blankets gathered around her, with a book in her hands was how she normally ended her days. Instead of being drawn into the story, her thoughts drifted over the unexpected events of the day. Most likely, she wasn’t going to be able to concentrate.
Turning out the light, she tossed and turned for the next hour, then, giving up, she turned the nightstand lamp on and sat up. Knowing it was useless, she got out of bed, rummaging through her desk drawer until she found a tablet and a pen. She looked down at the blank page and wrote:
Dear Santa,
It’s Lindy. I hope you haven’t forgotten me after all these years. Checking in to let you know this hasn’t been the best year of my life. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for world peace. My requests should be right up your alley, if a bit out of the ordinary.
Could you kindly introduce me to a man like the one you brought my mother all those years ago? A man who values family, and commitment. One who is trustworthy and honorable, hardworking, caring, and fun. It’d help if he was fond of children, too. I know he’s out there somewhere, and frankly, I don’t want to wait until I get to heaven to meet him.
I could do with another good friend. One I can pal around with and share secrets. One with a sense of humor and adventure. Just wondering if you could clone Peggy?
I’m grateful to work with Media Blast and be able to use the talents God gave me. If I were to have my latest proposal accepted, I know it would greatly advance my career.
I’ll leave it to you to get working on the list and thank you in advance. You’ve never disappointed me in the past.
With her letter written, Lindy felt ready to sleep. A smile came over her as she rested her head against her pillow. Who would have thought she’d think to write Santa beyond the age of eight? Life was full of wonders.
—
“Did you sleep well?” her mother asked, as Lindy stumbled out of her bedroom at seven-thirty the following morning.
“I did.” Truly, she was amazed at how well she had slept. Once she’d written Santa, she’d experienced a feeling of peace. It was probably the silliest thing she’d done in ages, but she couldn’t discount the contentment that came over her after she’d penned the letter.
“I’ve got my book club meeting this afternoon,” her mother said, sounding almost apologetic.
Barely listening, Lindy brewed herself a cup of coffee, opening the refrigerator to add creamer.
“It’s our Christmas party,” her mother continued. “Would you like to join me?”
Leaning her backside against the kitchen counter, Lindy blew into the hot coffee and shook her head. “Thanks, Mom, but if you don’t mind, I thought I’d run a couple of errands this morning, and then I’m meeting Chad for lunch on his break.”
“Of course. I didn’t want you to feel like I was ignoring you.”
“Don’t be silly. Go and have fun. I’m capable of entertaining myself for a few hours.” Lindy was touched by her mother’s thoughtfulness, although it didn’t surprise her.
—
After a lazy morning, Lindy met up with her brother at the Wenatchee warehouse. Chad had gotten his degree from Central Washington University in supply-chain management. He’d always had great organizational skills and enjoyed his job.
They headed over to the local diner and talked nonstop for nearly forty-five minutes. Chad filled her in on his and Ashley’s plans for the holidays, and Lindy was pleased to know she’d have plenty of time to spend with them and Peter.
Knowing she’d need to update him on her own life, she gave him a brief rundown of what had been going on with her. When he heard about Brian and Celeste, she watched as the anger tightened his face.
“I hate that you had to go through that, sis,” Chad said, his dark eyes full of sympathy.
“It’s over; I’ve moved on.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
They hugged outside the diner, and as she walked toward where she’d parked her car, she realized it hadn’t been an exaggeration. She felt free of the disappointment and hurt she’d carried on her shoulders these last six months.
Her next stop was at the local dry cleaner. She had a few items she wanted pressed and hadn’t had time to have it done before she left Seattle. When she finished, she noticed a Starbucks had opened on the tail end of the strip mall. A peppermint latte sounded good, and she headed in that direction. After ordering a salad for lunch, she was in the mood for something sweet and hot.
As she stood in line, Lindy noticed the tall, slim, fashionably dressed Black woman in front of her. The woman turned to ask her friend something, and Lindy thought she looked vaguely familiar. By the time Lindy placed her order, she was afraid she was staring at the woman, debating if she should introduce herself. No, that was silly. It couldn’t possibly be who she thought it was. The only Black person she knew from Wenatchee had been her childhood friend, Peggy. After collecting her drink, Lindy headed for the door, not wanting to look foolish if it wasn’t who she thought.
“Lindy, is that you?” The question came at her from the table close to the exit.
“Peggy?” It couldn’t be. “Peggy Scranton?”
“Lindy? Lindy Carmichael?”
Lindy started to laugh. Really, what were the chances? “Peggy. Oh my goodness, how long has it been?”
Peggy smiled and gestured for Lindy to join her and her friend. “Since right before middle school.”
Peggy had been one of Lindy’s closest friends from second grade on. The trouble they’d gotten into was epic. The summer between grade school and middle school, Peggy’s family had moved into a new development on the other side of town. Peggy had enrolled in a different school. For the first few months, they were able to keep in contact and maintain their friendship. As time went on, they grew apart. Over the years, Lindy had wondered what had ever happened to her grade school friend.
“This is Jayne,” Peggy said, introducing her friend, a blond, blue-eyed woman who looked to be about their age.
“Hi. I’m Lindy.”
“Lindy and I were the best of friends eons ago,” Peggy explained.
The two started to exchange stories from their youth, entertaining Jayne, who had a bright, easy laugh. “Remember the time we decided to form our own band?” Peggy asked. “We were doomed to failure, since neither of us could play a musical instrument or sing—not that we let that stop us.”
“Hey, I can sing,” Lindy insisted, “although only rarely on key.”
Peggy smiled. “Since we clearly weren’t going to make it as rock stars, we launched a neighborhood newspaper.”
“A gossip tabloid is more like it,” Lindy clarified.
“We certainly didn’t lack for originality. Remember that Fourth of July when we decided to put on our own parade?” Peggy asked.
“Indeed, I do.” That idea had been one of their few successes. Peggy’s two older siblings had come along, and then Chad and his friends had joined the line with their bicycles. Peggy carried the American flag, waving it from side to side as Lindy beat a toy drum. Soon, several of the other neighborhood kids raced to become part of the fun. They didn’t have much of an audience, but none of that mattered.
“And remember when you decided to straighten my hair?” Peggy asked. Looking to Jayne, she explained, “Lindy used a flat iron and started my hair on fire.”
Lindy nearly snorted her latte, laughing. She’d felt dreadful afterward, and, thinking it would help, she chopped off nearly all of Peggy’s hair. Then she had Peggy cut her hair so they would look alike. Even at that early age, she knew she would never make it through beauty school.
After wiping the tears from her eyes, she asked, “You’re living here in Wenatchee?”
“Peggy is the editor and journalist for the local magazine Wenatchee Alive,” Jayne answered. “She does an excellent job, too.”
“Oh my goodness, and to think you started your literary career with me as your assistant editor,” Lindy joked.
“Jayne makes me sound like I’m writing for The New York Times. It’s a local publication with a small but dedicated staff.
“What about you?” Peggy asked. “Don’t tell me you’re here in Wenatchee and it’s taken us this long to reconnect.”
Lindy shook her head. “Seattle. I’m home for Christmas.”
“How long will you be in town?”
“Nearly two weeks, unless I hear back on a proposal I submitted…That’s unlikely, though.”
“Two weeks. Perfect. Just think of the ruckus we can raise in that amount of time.”
“You should join us tonight,” Jayne said, looking to Peggy, who eagerly nodded agreement.
“What’s tonight?”
“Girls’ night out,” Jayne said.
“We’re heading for drinks at the Wine Press.”
“Is that a new place in town?” Lindy couldn’t remember hearing anything about a new restaurant while she was home last summer.
“It’s been around for a couple months now. It’s the ‘in’ place to go for fun.”
“And the wine choices are excellent,” Jayne added.
“The owner features Washington State wines. It’s surprising how many good wines come from our state.”
General knowledge told her Washington was the largest wine-producing state outside of California. She wasn’t surprised to learn the Wine Press chose to highlight state wineries. It was smart to support the local economy.
“Do you have other plans?” Jayne asked, and seemed genuine in her wanting Lindy to join them.
“Nothing important. I’d love to meet your friends.”
“You’ll meet Chloe,” Peggy told her. “She’s a supervisor for Costco.”
They stayed and talked for another hour before agreeing to meet later for drinks and appetizers. While they were together, Peggy called and made reservations at the Wine Press for that evening at six o’clock.
Her mother was back by the time Lindy returned from her errands. She must have been smiling when she walked in the door, because her mother commented right away. “It looks like you had an entertaining afternoon.”
“You won’t believe who I ran into while I was out. Peggy Scranton! We were just talking about her, remember?”
“Peggy Scranton,” her mother repeated slowly. “That’s wonderful. The two of you were such good friends back in the day.”
“Peggy invited me to join her this evening with a couple of her other friends for a girls’ night out. Peggy’s single and so is Jayne, but Chloe’s married.” Lindy looked forward to spending time with Peggy’s friends. Working the long hours she had on the project for the Ferguson Group, she hadn’t been out with friends in ages. Although Lindy hadn’t spoken to Peggy in years, it was as if they’d never spent time apart. They both fell right back into the easy friendship they’d once shared.
“I remember when you and Peggy were inseparable,” her mother said, interrupting Lindy’s musings.
“She was one of my best friends ever.”
That evening, as Lindy readied for meeting Peggy and her friends at the Wine Press, she paused long enough to open her nightstand. She removed the tablet with the letter she’d written Santa the night before. One of the things she’d asked Santa was to bring her a new best friend.
“Gotta say, Santa. You’re good. You’re really good.”