The Christmas Lamp by Lori Copeland

Author:Lori Copeland [Copeland, Lori]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: book
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2009-11-22T21:00:00+00:00

7

“Roni, have you seen the parade list?”

“Not recently. Why?”

Judy handed over the file. “Read it and weep. I had been meaning to mention the lack of business interest earlier, but I thought there would be a lot of last minute entries.”

Roni scanned the sheet. Participation was way down.

“Have you called the ones who usually compete?”

“Just finished the list and everyone I spoke to had the same answer: cutting back, business is down, afraid to spend the extra money. It’s too late to do anything now.

The parade’s coming right up.”

“This is bad.” Applicants were half of what they were in past seasons. She reached for the phone and dialed the Food Mart. Phil’s harried voice came on the line.

“Phil …”

“Now don’t start with me, Roni. I’ve already told Judy that I ain’t got the money to put a float in the parade this year. Celery’s gone through the roof, bread and milk are outta sight. I got customers drivin’ up to Branson to shop at Lucky Mart in spite of high gas prices.”

“But Phil, the parade is a wonderful advertisement …”

“Not if you have to shut the door to your business.”

He clicked off.

“See. I told you,” Judy said as Roni hung up. “I’ve noticed the lights at Neilson’s haven’t been burning late like they usually do.”

“I’ll call Steve.” She punched in the garage number.

“Yo! Neilson’s Garage.”

“Steve, put your dad on.”

“Is this about the parade?”

“Yes — ”

“He won’t talk to you, Roni. He’s busy fixing a flat.

Besides, he already told Judy we aren’t putting a float in the parade this year.”

“He needs to consider — ”

“Hey, I like the floats. You don’t need to convince me.”

“Then put your dad on.”

“He won’t talk to you. We don’t have the money to participate. No dough. Business is down.”

She hung up.

Neilson’s Garage was the hub of float assembly. By this time of the year, crews would usually be working late into the night on their entries, their infectious laughter and good-natured banter ringing throughout the town. Nativity was starting to resemble a morgue. If Brisco thought green and blue twinkling lights on an empty gazebo could encourage a spending stampede, he was sadly mistaken. She glanced at his office, where he sat staring at a miniature town. Did he actually think he’d make Nativity solvent by playing a board game? Occasionally he’d move tiny automobiles and tour buses to different locations marked with Santa faces or Mary cradling the baby Jesus. Then he would shift a business to another corner, or remove the used clothing store and set a five-and-dime building in its place. She could not figure out what was going on in his analytical mind as Christmas drew closer and her hometown fought for its dying breath. His boredom was highly evident.

Returning to Judy’s statement, Roni admitted, “You’re right. It’s too late to change the businessmen’s minds.” She picked up the list and perused the entries which included high school marching bands, the Shriners and their funny little cars, a local children’s dance studio, and a convertible carrying Little Miss Merry Christmas.

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