Chapter 5
December 1631
Next step: getting Krystal in the holiday spirit, and that started with decorating. Sam, Grannie B, and Grandpa Eli worked with the whole Schulte family (Heinrich, Anna Maria, Gisela, Agatha, and little Dietrich) to get all the Christmas decorations from the basement/root cellar and attic. Grandpa Eli and Grannie B had left the both chock-full and locked their tenants out of them, until Krystal and Sam moved in. Krystal arrived home from working at the clinic to find the place bustling.
“How do you fit all of these decorations in your house? Do you put some on the porch and the roof and in the yard? That seems silly. Or are some of these decorations meant to be outside? It is too much.” Anna Maria and her daughters were completely overwhelmed by all the boxes of Christmas decorations. The two boxes filled with tiny lights made no sense at all. They were not large enough to light up a book or anything useful and it would take much time to untangle them. Americans could be very crazy people.
The up-timers all laughed. Krystal was getting into the spirit and answered. “Of course some are for outside! The garland, the big Santa Claus, the wreaths, the giant reindeer. The little wreaths go over the front windows on the outside. The rest is for inside, like the little electric candles for the windows.”
“Krys, let’s skip the window candles. We have enough work putting up the other stuff, and then we’ll have to take it all down later.” Sam didn’t want to say the real reason Grandpa Eli had suggested not using the electric candles: light bulbs were rare and getting rarer by the day. Saving them for a time when they might not have any other bulbs seemed prudent, but Krystal never reacted well to so much as a hint that they might not go back to their old, up-time lives.
The Germans were more flummoxed by the notion of keeping wreaths from year to year instead of making new ones than by the notion of having fake, electric candles instead of just using real candles. Wouldn’t the pine needles dry up and fall out of the wreathes before the next Advent? And, obviously, pine resin makes a sticky mess if you leave pine branches sitting around too long.
Krystal grabbed the biggest wreath and handed it to Anna Maria. “Take this one and put it on the front door. You’ll see, it’s just fine to pack away year after year. No sticky stuff, no needles sticking you, either. It’s called a ribbon wreath.”
As a tailor’s daughter, Anna Maria Schneider knew a thing or two about sewing, and a lot more about how tailors made money and the things they ended up not being able to use. After examining the ribbon wreath, she decided that sewing scraps would be perfect for making these “ribbon wreaths.” Not quite as pretty as the ribbons, but much cheaper (free material, almost) to make and they could be sold as “genuine American-style wreaths” in a Christkindlmarkt.
When Anna Maria and Agatha found an old wooden Advent calendar buried in a box, they got excited and set it aside to fill later, clearly having found a Christmas tradition they understood. Then they found a box with not one but three nativity scenes. Grannie B gently removed a set of very carefully wrapped figures of the Holy Family. “My mother brought this set with her from the old country. She called the whole thing our ‘o’presebbio’ and these are our presepi. Her family lived near Naples and made nativity sets. They sent this one with her when she and my father came to America with my sisters for a better life. She always told me, ‘Naples is the only place for a good nativity.’ To hear her tell it, that was how it had been for centuries.” She lovingly put the figures back into the wooden box on a bed of straw. “I wish Grandpa Eli and I could’ve gone to visit Naples. If wishes were fishes. Sam, I want you to take this when you have your own home.”
“Grannie B! That’s Dad’s! You gave it to him three years ago for Christmas. You can’t give it away again.” Krystal was aghast.
“Bless your heart. Child, that was mine before it was your dad’s, so I most certainly can give it away. If—IF—your father comes back and wants it back, I’m sure Sam will let him have it back—IF my Donnie Joe comes back.” Grannie B rarely used that tone with her family but when she did, they listened. It was also a reminder that while Krystal had lost a father, Grannie B and Grandpa Eli had lost more than one grandchild and more than one child to the Ring of Fire. “And if I want to give away any of my other things, or Grandpa Eli wants to give away any of his, we will. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now, where shall we put these other two nativities? And where is the tree stand? We should have that ready when Sam and Herr Schulte come back with the tree. Sam and Herr Schulte—it is time for you to go cut down a Christmas tree for us!”
As box after box was opened and emptied, the house gradually filled with festive decorations, including a practically perfect Christmas tree Sam and Herr Schulte found. There were German lace Christmas ornaments for the windows that Grandpa Eli brought back from WWII. There were small lap quilts from QVC. There were stockings, and pillows, and décor galore! Everywhere the Schultes looked, they were amazed to find more! It was positively exhausting.
Everyone was admiring the newly decorated tree as Krystal finished the final adjustments to it. “Mom finished the tree skirt for the last Christmas Grandpa Eli and Grannie B lived here. It matches the new sequined stockings she made us all. We would hang them from the mantel, but the stockings are with Mom and Dad, wherever they are. It’s good the old ones are still here.” Krystal tried to shake off her funk so she didn’t ruin it for everyone else. “Has anyone seen the tinsel? It’s the last thing we need to add, and Grandpa Eli gets to do that.”
Grandpa Eli took the bag of tinsel, paused for a moment and handed the bag to Sam. “Grannie B and I talked about it, and we think it’s time for a new tradition. Sam can put the tinsel on now that he’s tall enough.” And, he thought to himself, that’ll make it easier when I’m gone, Donnie Joe isn’t here, and Donovan is still…Donovan.
* * *
After Sunday mass, Irene Flannery walked over to Krystal and looked her up and down, sniffing in disdain. “I thought your mother at least taught you how to dress appropriately for mass, young lady.”
Caught off guard, Krystal had to bite back an angry reply. “Mrs. Flannery, you know I didn’t live in Grantville and most of my things were left behind, including my mother, my father, and my home. Unlike you, until things go back to normal, all I have of my own things are a few bags of laundry, which did not include my Sunday best, and my car. I am far too busy helping people, working, and studying to worry about finding a church dress.”
It was one of the few times in anyone’s memory that Irene Flannery looked embarrassed. Krystal was angry, but Grannie B seemed to like the old biddy for some unknowable reason, so she didn’t turn on her heel and leave without saying another word, as she deeply wanted to. “I’ll try to find something better for next week, so Grannie B isn’t embarrassed.”
Two days later, as Sam shoveled the sidewalk and took care of Mrs. Flannery’s roses, a police officer arrived in response to a complaint she called in that morning. Irene Flannery was the police station’s most frequent caller and they expected yet another complaint about some kid going into her yard to retrieve a ball or a person talking too loudly. She actually called the police when someone stopped to smell her precious roses.
At the station, they referred to calls over nothing “f-calls,” a station code phrase for “Flannery-calls.” When Mike Stearns overheard them talking about an “f-call,” they all managed to keep straight faces while explaining it was short for “flower-calls” because of people calling about strangers bothering their flowerbeds, which was kind of true since Mrs. Flannery often called for that reason. It was more than a little mean-spirited, but Mrs. Flannery wasted more than a little bit of their time and created more than a little bit of paperwork, and she was more than a little bit mean-spirited herself. Not one of them felt even a tiny bit bad. Having been on the receiving end of Mrs. Flannery’s mean-spiritedness his whole life, Mike would have approved the real meaning as well as the “official” one.
In point of fact, the “police” weren’t responding to Mrs. Flannery’s call today. Jürgen Neubert had been hanging around the station, trying to convince them he had the right stuff to be a police officer. As they got busier, Chief Frost started to think recruiting a bunch of young down-timers (compared to himself) might be a splendid idea. As a result, they hired Jürgen Neubert as an unofficial “auxiliary” helping the police department until the new training program got off the ground. Officially, he was the new office go-fer. As their workload continued to increase, the police staff decided he should help more by answering some of the obvious f-calls, specifically including any actually from Mrs. Flannery.
“I came home and found the door forced open. They only knocked over my Christmas tree! Then the blockheads stole my tinsel, of all the worthless things. How stupid are you people?” This wasn’t racism or up-timer arrogance on Mrs. Flannery’s part. In her opinion, everyone except her immediate family (who had all been dead for decades) was a stupid, uncultured blockhead.
Jürgen had heard about, but never met, Mrs. Flannery, Men twice his age feared her razor-sharp tongue. As a go-fer and unofficial auxiliary, he was beyond nervous when he realized that this was an actual crime, not yet another call about her flowers. As soon as he realized what had been stolen, a surprised and nervous Jürgen was all business, standing on the front step of her house. “They stole your tinsel? How much do you think they stole? Do you know the weight of what is missing? We will try to find the thieves, but I must be honest, they will melt the tinsel to sell. You should not expect to get it back.” As he pulled out a pen and paper and started taking notes, the first note was that she seemed irate but oddly unconcerned about the theft of such a valuable item.
Sam was so utterly confused by this that he broke into the conversation. “Tinsel? I know you can burn it but then you’re left with nothing. Why would someone steal something from up-time then destroy it instead of selling it?” Jürgen’s English was good for a down-timer, but he couldn’t understand everything. He wrote down the confusing statement to ask the other officers later. Even young up-timers like this Sam Reed had to know that silver doesn’t “burn.” It melts.
So, Jürgen ignored the statement that tinsel burned, an obvious misunderstanding on his own part, and continued doing his job. “Up-time things are most valuable when we do not have things like them already. We have silver tinsel strips, so these are just valuable for the silver. Only rich people decorate their trees with these silver strips, so I think the thieves won’t find anyone to buy it. They will melt the tinsel and sell the silver.”
As he talked, the reason someone would break in and steal her tinsel dawned on Mrs. Flannery. “Is down-time tinsel made of silver, like the metal in jewelry? Real silver?”
“Yes.” Now Jürgen was puzzled. “How would silver not be metal?”
Seeing his clear confusion, Sam reached inside the door and picked up a blob of tinsel from the floor and handed it to him. “Tinsel isn’t metal. It’s a cheap, shiny, fun holiday decoration colored silver. If you try to melt it, it will burn until there is nothing left.”
Jürgen examined the tinsel. “Ah. I see now, but you should perhaps not use so much of it. Others will also think it is real silver like real tinsel and try to steal it.” After an intense, but brief, conversation with Jürgen, Mrs. Flannery decided to remove any remaining tinsel on the side facing the windows and put it on the parts she could see from inside the house. Sam volunteered to remove the rest of the tinsel. Since Mrs. Flannery never left anyone inside except for emergency house repairs, he felt safe making the offer, confident she would decline.
“Thank you, Sam. That would be helpful. Please place any remaining tinsel on the other side of the tree so I can enjoy something normal.”
Having taken care of the rose bushes and the walkway Sam had slung his backpack onto his shoulder and started to leave before the words penetrated. He had no choice but to walk into Mrs. Flannery’s house and take care of the tinsel. For his part, Jürgen decided the newspaper should write about up-timer decorations and how their tinsel contained no silver, to deter at least a few other break-ins and make less work for the already over-stretched police. He was happy, too, because he had good gossip: Mrs. Flannery allowed a person into her house. On purpose. Invited, even. If anyone believed something so outlandish.
As Sam got ready to leave, Mrs. Flannery stopped him with an unexpected question. “Do you still live with your cousin Krystal?” After he nodded, she handed him a bag. “Please give this to her and tell her I expect to see her properly dressed for mass next Sunday, and every Sunday after that.”
Sam was too confused to do anything except agree and give Krystal the bag when he saw her that evening. Krystal was equally confused to be given a vintage-style dress with a matching belt and a note. The label clearly proved the dress was home-made, but it was equally clearly high-quality. This was by far the nicest dress she had ever owned, and not just because she didn’t like wearing dresses.
Miss Reed,
I’m sure you know that I am not accustomed to doing things like this, but I cannot abide seeing young women come to mass looking like hoydens. Your great-grandparents have assured me that you plan on coming more frequently but have little time for leisure activities, including shopping, given your work and study schedule.
Since you have the excuse that your church clothes did not come through the Ring of Fire with you, and Sam is such a help with my roses, I am enclosing a dress for you to wear to church. Since I did not have your measurements, it will almost certainly be loose. The enclosed belt will ensure it fits properly. Please wear these items to mass going forward and be sure that your appearance is neat and tidy, since I have gone to the effort of ensuring you have an appropriate dress to wear.
—Irene Flannery
“Well, I’ll be dipped in shit. Mrs. Flannery is acting like an honest-to-God human being. It’s almost like she has feelings.”
“Are you really going to wear that dress, Krys?” Sam asked.
“Of course. It’s not like I want to show up to church in scrubs or a sweatshirt, and I don’t have any other church clothes. I would be embarrassed if everything went back to normal during mass and I was wearing worn-out sneakers and a ‘1999 Orientation Fairmont State’ t-shirt. But now I need to find church shoes. None of the three and a half pairs of shoes that came through with me are dress shoes.” Krystal was wearing her new sneakers when the Ring happened. A bag on the back seat of her car held her new nursing shoes and old sneakers, which, along with one water shoe wedged under the seat, constituted all the shoes she brought with her down-time. “Bethel’s old boots fit me, so maybe she can give me some old church shoes, too.”
The next afternoon, Sam biked out to visit Grannie B and Grandpa Eli. “Mrs. Flannery let me into her house a few days ago. Her living room looked like a set from Austin Powers. Why did anyone ever think disgusting green kitchens and shag carpeting looked good? And she gave Krystal a dress to wear to mass.”
“Irene let you in her house? And she made Krystal a dress? Perhaps we should ask them to check and see if she’s had a stroke.” Grannie B grinned at her own joke. “She hasn’t wanted people in her house since, well, ever really, but she started getting bad after they got new furniture in the sixties. She hasn’t bought any new furniture or major appliances since then. A lot of people buy their major furniture and appliances young and never replace them, but most people don’t leave their home frozen in time. I recall hearing that when she replaced the worn-out shag carpeting a few years ago, she found someplace to install new shag carpeting. Hard to believe she thinks she has such great style! Honestly, I thought that was just a mean-spirited rumor, but I guess not. Does Irene still cover the sofa and chairs with plastic? I bet she used that old machine Patrick gave her not too long before he died to make Krystal’s dress. Either that or her mama’s old machine.”
“I don’t know if she made her a dress, but she definitely gave her a dress,” Sam said.
Grannie B shook her head. “Trust me, Sam, if a dress came from Irene Flannery, she made it. She was always the best in our sewing club, and she took more of the sewing correspondence courses than anyone else. She prided herself on never wearing store-bought clothing.” Grannie B had always been more than a little envious of Irene’s sewing skills, but her curiosity about the house got the better of her. “What did the house look like? We haven’t been inside in decades.”
“The living room had an ugly gold patterned sofa and orange chairs, covered in plastic like you guessed,” Sam said. “A giant console record player with records from people like Elvis and some group called ‘Peter, Paul, and Marla’ sat under the window. But everything was super clean, and I told her the house looked nice, so she didn’t yell at me again. Krys likes the dress. She said she’ll wear it to mass, but she needs church shoes to go with her new church dress.”
“It’s ‘Peter, Paul and Mary,’ not Marla. They were famous back in the sixties. I forgot how much Irene liked folk music back in the day. She used to go to Fairmont to buy the newest records. Patrick bought her that big old console record player when they got married. She couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, though. That’s why she ended up cleaning the church instead of in the choir.” Grannie B looked a bit sad. “She tried joining the choir, it just didn’t work out for her.”