Keeping Christmas Magic: a novella

By Cherie Ann Vick

In this holiday fiction, a family beset with financial troubles from a lengthy period of unemployment searches for renewed hope and love in time for Christmas. 

In December 2008, Bob Morrison is eleven-months unemployed. T

• Language: English
• Publisher: Story by Cherie
• Release date: Oct 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735276021

Cherie Ann Vick

With twenty-five years' experience writing educational materials, and ten previous years working in employee assistance, Cherie makes her fiction debut with Keeping Christmas Magic. In this book, she tells the story of a family facing financial difficulties during the Great Recession. Her inspiration came from her own participation in a transition support group sponsored by her church in North Carolina in 2009. Cherie has master's degrees in both Social Work and Education. When she isn't writing, she is reading or singing for her church choir. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, Alan, and her cat, Silvershine.

Book preview

Chapter 1

December 3rd, 2008

ON THE WEDNESDAY EVENING three weeks before Christmas, Stephanie pulled her black Volvo sedan into the driveway of her home. It was already dark outside, but there were no lights trimming the second-story roof as she had expected. She pressed the garage door remote and saw her husband’s old Ford Fairlane inside their one-car garage. She got out of the car, briefcase in hand. Her boots crunched against the frozen patches of grass as she hurried through the cold evening air into the garage. She pressed the remote again and the door squeaked and moaned as it closed.

Once inside the kitchen, she removed her heavy winter coat and placed her boots on the rubber mat by the doorway. The television was playing in the living room. Bob cheered a sonorous all right as his favorite hockey team, the underdog Rangers, finally scored a goal. She turned from the mat toward the living room, noticing the kitchen sink piled high with breakfast and lunch dishes. An empty pizza box was balanced on top of the toaster oven next to the fridge. There were a couple of empty beer bottles on the counter. A loosely-tied bag of trash sat near the door. The room smelled of Italian sausage and stale beer.

Stephanie, normally home two hours earlier, had called to say she had a late meeting. She told Bob to heat some leftovers to eat if he was too hungry to wait. She forgot to tell him to clean up, she thought, but figured a forty-five-year-old man didn’t need that instruction. She raised one eyebrow and shook her head at the sink. Then she grabbed her briefcase and walked up the stairs at the back of the house. The steps responded with soft, plaintive creaks. Someday, she thought, she would get a pest control company to check the wood for critters, or rot, or worse.

At the top of the stairs were the four closed doors she had painted that summer after their years of wear had become an eyesore she could no longer ignore. She opened the door to her closet-sized office and placed her worn leather briefcase on her desk. Then, she went to bathroom and stripped off her jacket, skirt, and underwear. Turning on the shower, she waited for the hot water to join the icy cold stream before stepping inside. The fragrance of lavender body wash encircled her as she lathered her skin.

After a longer-than-usual shower, Stephanie felt refreshed and relaxed. She pulled on the flannel pajamas that hung on the hook inside the bathroom door and wrapped herself in a terry cloth robe. She stepped into two comfortable slippers. It was already eight thirty. She was smiling just a little now, realizing she didn’t need to cook anything.

Back down the stairs, she stopped in the computer room. It was a small room right off the kitchen that had once been their nursery. Now it held a lot of Bob’s books, some sports magazines, and a desk with their shared computer that Bob used to look through job listings. On a small silver tray next to the monitor they put the incoming mail. Next to the mail sat a telephone with an answering machine. Stephanie felt her neck tighten again as her eyes moved between the stack of unopened mail and the blinking red light of the answering machine. She clicked on the play button, drew in a deep breath, and sat down on the small wooden chair to listen.

The first call was from an old friend who would be in town for Christmas and wanted to get together. The second message was from a credit card company. A smooth female voice politely told them the account was thirty days in arrears and asked for a return call to discuss their payment. The third message was from another credit card company. A man with a deep, gravelly voice sternly reminded her that he had called twice before and was waiting for a return call. He hoped he would not have to report the account to the credit bureau. The last call was from the Police Benevolent Association wishing them a Merry Christmas and hoping they could rely on the Morrisons’ support again this year for Christmas turkeys. Clearly, Bob had not heard this message, Stephanie thought. He would have given them a maxed-out card number!

Stephanie turned her eyes to the mail in the tray. She needed a glass of wine before tackling this part, she thought. Scuffing her way into the kitchen, she could hear the cheering crowd noises and the announcers as they described the action, pausing only for the occasional beer commercial. She could see the back of Bob’s head of thinning brown hair. He was leaning forward in his chair, transfixed. She opened the refrigerator, took out the Sauvignon Blanc, and poured a glass. It smelled as crisp as the apples that grew in their backyard tree in summer. Then she returned to the computer room and sat down with a letter opener.

Stephanie had always paid their bills alone. As long as there were two paychecks, that was never a problem. After twelve months without Bob’s income, she felt as if someone had dropped her inside a cage of lions, each of them hungry and circling her with drooling interest. She was afraid.

Fifteen minutes later, the glass of wine empty and all the mail reviewed, she sighed and organized the stack of bills. The mortgage and the payment on her Volvo went into the Pay Now stack. The electric and the cable and internet bills went into a Pay Soon stack. And five credit card bills, including the two late ones, went into a stack called Pay Something When Able. Of all the bills, the electric bill was the most troubling. While November had been cool, this bill was twice what it had been the same month last year. Now that he was not working, Bob was here all day long with the thermostat up and the furnace running.

Stephanie turned to leave the room, clutching the electric bill in one hand and the empty wine glass in the other. She set the wine glass on the counter with the empty beer bottles and walked into the living room. We need to talk, she said, waving the bill in the air.

He turned and smiled at her. Can it wait a minute? The game is nearly over, and it’s really close.

This is more important than who wins the game, Bob.

He turned down the sound and stood up to face her. What is it?

The electric bill is already $470. That’s twice what we paid last year in the same period. She watched his expression turn from annoyance to embarrassment.

He breathed audibly, and his lips closed tightly together.

It’s just that we have such a load of debt right now, and we have to be careful with the thermostat, she said in a gentler tone.

He nodded but stayed silent. As she turned to leave, Bob spoke. I suggested we get a space heater for the computer room a month ago. Probably would have paid for itself by now.

And which of the many maxed-out credit cards would you have used for that? There’s barely enough money in the checking account to pay for groceries!

From the television behind him Bob heard the crowd roar as the other team scored. It was over. The Rangers had lost in overtime. He had missed the final play. He shook his head.

I hope we can pay for the Christmas lights this year, she added as she walked back into the kitchen and began doing the dishes.

Bob spun around and retorted, So maybe it’s just as well I waited a couple of weeks to put them up. Better than freezing to death in here.

Stephanie rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Then she poured more wine into her empty glass and climbed the stairs to her office, where new statistics on student performance waited. When she was gone, Bob took the recycling to the curb. He opened the refrigerator and took out a third beer. He opened it and walked back to the computer room. Turning on the computer, he began flipping through the latest listings for inside and outside sales positions.

Chapter 2

December 4th

THE NEXT MORNING, BOB hurried down the stairs to the church basement, his folio tucked under his left arm. Children in the corridor going to day school smiled as they looked up at him passing by so quickly. He caught the scent of peanut butter mixed with playdough.

At the end of the hall, he saw the door to the meeting room about to close and lunged toward it, pushing it open. He was panting a little. Sorry I’m late. Really no convenient parking today.

He looked into the knowing face of Bonnie, the group leader, who motioned him to sit in the remaining chair just inside the door. It was a full house today. Since the group had begun advertising on local job boards, it seemed there were always new faces. Around the U-shaped tables sat many he knew, including Emily. His eyes met hers and she smiled. Bob sat down and opened his folio.

We were just taking our temperatures before doing introductions. Would you like to add yours? Bonnie gestured to the easel with flip chart paper that stood just inside the door. It was a ritual she encouraged at every session: record how you are feeling today about your job search.

Bob looked up at the flip chart. It displayed mostly positive comments:

* I have a new interview scheduled—optimistic

* My son is coming home for Christmas

* Hopeful for the New Year

* Worried—still not sure they will extend the unemployment benefits

* Panicked—behind in the rent

* Had two positive calls and referrals—really happy

Bob stood and approached the chart. Picking up the red cherry-scented marker, he added:

* Two new leads. Grateful for the support of fellow job seekers.

When he sat down, Bonnie spoke, Since we have some new people today, let’s go around the room and do brief introductions. Then anyone who wants to share progress on their goals can do that. Bonnie gestured for Bob to begin.

Bob straightened up in his seat, feeling buoyed by an upcoming job interview. He smiled at the group. Hi, I’m Robert Morrison. Most people call me Bob. I’m in sales. I worked at the Ford dealership here for nearly ten years, but we had layoffs in January. I haven’t found anything suitable in the area since, but I’m not giving up.

Bonnie smiled at him and gestured to the next person. Bonnie was a slim woman with dark, short hair worn in a pageboy style. She was always impeccably groomed and had a large smile and a self-deprecating demeanor that made her a good group leader.

When it was Emily’s turn, she told the group she had an important interview the next day.

Terrific, said Bonnie. Let’s hear more about that as soon as we finish the introductions.

Mark spoke next. He was nearly fifty and had worked in IT for most of his career. He had been part of a large layoff six months ago. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses back on his nose and looked up at Bonnie. "Spoke to