Chapter 1
Judith Winters never understood why they called it Black Friday. That might be a positive term for retail stores, but it was also a color often associated with mourning and funerals. That was closer to how she felt today. She had been staring at her perfectly brewed cup of coffee long enough for it to go from warm to cold. What time was it now, 9:30? How’d it get to be 9:30 already?
For her, the day after Thanksgiving had never been about shopping. Even when her two daughters, Anna and Suzanne, lived at home. Now, theyshopped on Black Fridays as soon as they were old enough to drive. Spent every Thanksgiving evening rummaging through newspaper flyers looking for the best deals, then up before the crack of dawn. Judith never tried to stop them. She knew they’d find out when they were married and had kids of their own. Shopping on Black Fridays wasn’t as much fun with a lot less money in your purse.
They understood that now, her two girls. Even Suzanne, who had just become a mom this past year. Judith had spoken to both of them at different times yesterday on the phone. Anna in Richmond, Suzanne in Fort Worth. They laughed when Judith had asked them how early they’d be hitting the stores today.
But Judith wasn’t laughing now. Those conversations were the main reason Judith was sitting there, staring at her coffee all this time. They were talking on the phone, not around the dinner table.
Anna was four states away to the north; Suzanne four states to the west. Both spent Thanksgiving Day with their husbands and her grandkids, not here in Mount Dora with her and Stan. Same thing with Brandon, their middle child. Until this year, he and his family had lived in Jacksonville, a two-hour drive from here. They always drove down for Thanksgiving. Not anymore. Now they lived five states away in Denver.
None of her kids had been there. None of her grandkids, either.
It was the first year that’s happened since Judith and Stan had become empty-nesters. They had roasted a turkey, her and Stan. She’d made her famous homemade mashed potatoes. A big bowl of piping hot gravy. String bean casserole, turkey stuffing, cranberry sauce. All of it on the table. Pumpkin pie for dessert. But it wasn’t Thanksgiving Day at the Winter’s house. Not with just her and Stan there, nothing between them but all that food on the table. After saying the blessing, they’d hardly talked.
Stan had even left the TV on.
Before he’d left the table, Stan had mentioned one thing. He saw no reason why they shouldn’t keep their usual Black Friday morning tradition alive, just because the kids hadn’t come home. You know what I’m talking about, he’d said. The one where she gets up and starts decorating the house for Christmas, and he goes off bass fishing on Lake Dora with his best friend, Barney.
That’s where Stan was right now, with Barney on their little fishing boat. He’d left the house before she’d gotten out of bed. But he’d left her a little present. On the dinette table in front of her sat two boxes marked: “Christmas Decorations.” He’d brought them in from the garage before he left, the same as he did every year. He’d return before lunch expecting heated-up turkey leftovers from yesterday, and the house all decorated for Christmas. Everything except the tree.
He’d bring the Christmas tree in after lunch and set it up in the corner of the living room, expecting her to have it all decorated by dinner. Meanwhile, he and Barney would take a forty-five-minute drive south to Orlando, spend the afternoon stocking up on all the great Black Friday deals at Bass Pro Shop.
This had become the Black Friday tradition for Judith and Stan. Same thing for years. Except for one thing.
Every other year before today, Judith could count on at least one or both of her daughters, and her daughter-in-law being there with her all day, and at least some of her grandkids. She’d fill the house with Christmas music, put eggnog and hot chocolate on the table, and they’d spend a pleasant day together, chatting about fond memories and making new ones. Before long, they’d transform the Winter family home into a charming Christmas cottage.
But today, Judith was all alone.
She stood and carried her coffee mug to the sink, poured out the remains and rinsed it away. Staring at the boxes on the table, she realized she had no desire to open them. How could she decorate the house now? Tears welled up in her eyes. They weren’t tied to yesterday’s disappointment.
No, these tears belonged to something much worse.
In those same phone conversations with her children yesterday, Judith learned that none of them were coming home for Christmas this year, either. They couldn’t make it. The money just wasn’t there. She could hardly believe it.
Thanksgiving certainly mattered. But Christmas mattered so much more. She had come to accept the reality that she would no longer get the chance to see her children or grandchildren on a regular basis. But Christmas had been the one occasion she could always count on. It was the one season―and always had been―for making memories. The one time they would always get together and reconnect.
But not this year.
What was the point of decorating the house, or even setting up a tree? There’d be no one here to see it, no one to share it with.
