I’ve been mentally preparing to dump Beth once the holidays are over because I resent her parents looking down on me because I’m a poor bond salesman on Bay Street.
But now that we’re snowbound at the country museum where she helps out we finally speak the truth—or at least Beth does and tells me that despite my mocking her volunteering, “at least it’s real.”
I go deathly pale as if shot through by an arrow.
Her eyes grow huge when she sees my face. “Oh no, Spence—I didn’t mean you—I meant my parents, my brother Trent—they mock my views.”
“They do?”
She nods and bows her head, “Just this morning they laughed at me coming here today—they said it was a waste of time.”
I felt guilty for what I had been thinking. “Why would they say that, Beth?”
She shrugs, “I suppose because I was asking them to make a donation to keep the museum open. Our number of patrons has been declining—that’s why I made a special effort to come out today—to give back to the few who have given so much.”
“That seems a good cause—why would they be so opposed?”
Her eyes flash. “Because I asked them to make a donation to Stickley House this year in lieu of presents they usually give. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but it’s such an extravagant waste. I mean it’s gotten to the point where I just loathe opening their designer wrapped presents and seeing those little blue boxes.”
My hand instinctively goes to my jacket pocket where the Tiffany jewel box is safely tucked.
“Tell me Spence, what’s your vision—do you want the good life?”
At this moment, I just want to put my arms around this girl and never let go—but she’s opened herself to me and deserves an answer.
“If by ‘good life’ you mean the pursuit of wealth, well I’d have to say, count me out. I’m like you, Beth—and now that I know how you feel about gifts, I’d like to be added to your list,” I blushed, “ of donors, that is.”
She throws her arms around me and surprises me with a huge kiss.
Before I can recover, there’s a knock on the door.
“Who could be out in this storm?” she mutters, as she hurries off to see. I trail behind.
An OPP officer is waiting on the porch, and behind him a huge snowplow idling, its blue lights flashing.
“Good evening, Miss—we’ve been patrolling the roads looking for stranded motorists—we saw your lights and came to check. Do you need an escort to the main road?”
She looks forlornly at me and I stare helplessly back at her.
Needless to say, we were both reluctant to leave, but Beth was concerned of course with propriety—and equally needless to say, we didn’t make it to the Browning’s party that evening.
Beth phoned to say we’d been delayed.
We did, however, spend the evening talking in a local McDonald’s, getting to know each other for the first time.
It took a snowstorm and a few moments of honest conversation to open my eyes to the real gift I possessed all along.
That Christmas was the first Christmas my desires were met and my deepest longings fulfilled—
It wasn’t with something packaged, purchased or put on a tree, but by someone so unique and personal, she fulfills only me.
