Christmas and Tchaikovsky – Conclusion

Libby spent the rest of Christmas week helping Artie and making sure the shop ran as best as it could with just the two of them. As she worked, she thought about all the times Michael had stayed over late to help. How he would suddenly appear when a heavy box needed moving or nail up twinkle lights. Since he had been working there, Libby had not taken one load out to the dumpster. It was more than that though, she realized. He truly listened when she spoke and seemed to understand her grief over losing Reggie. She was ashamed to admit that she knew very little about his personal life.  She knew about his studies but had not even asked him what his plans were after graduating. She knew he had grown up in St. Louis and moved to Nashville when he started at Vanderbilt.  Beyond that, she didn’t really know a thing about him. 

Christmas day she joined Artie’s family for their big, colorful Indian feast. There was always lots of music, chatter, and delicious aromas in their home. Artie’s parents affectionately considered Libby one of the family and always made her feel welcome. As per custom, she and Artie were stuck at the “children’s table” with all of Artie’s nieces and nephews. They seemed to add new ones each year.  Artie jokingly called her three sisters “Indian baby making machines.” Her sister Laxmi had just sat a plate of barfi, an Indian sweet treat made from sweetened condensed milk, flour, sugar, and various nuts in front of them.

Artie held her stomach, “I cannot eat another bite, I am so stuffed!” Then laughing, she reached for a piece of barfi, “Maybe I have room for just one more little bite.”

Libby laughed; she enjoyed seeing her friend with her family. They all seemed so at ease and noisy! She was glad Christmas would be over in a few hours. It had really been a struggle this year. Looking down at her plate, she fought to keep tears from forming.  Artie noticing the change in Libby’s face immediately, said, “Hey, you okay?” Libby just shook her head.

Artie took her hand, “Come on, let’s go up to my old room.” Libby allowed herself to be led upstairs. Once in Artie’s childhood bedroom, they shut the door and sat on the foot of the bed.

“Missing your dad, aren’t you?” She reached for Libby’s hand.

“I am, I always miss him, but it’s more than that. It’s me. I have been so self-involved since dad passed. I had never known loneliness until he was gone. He had always been my rock, my best friend. I’ve always missed not having a mom around, but he always made sure I had everything. Birthday parties, a sweet sixteen, prom, graduation, on and on.  I never really realized how much I depended on him…for everything. It stinks to admit that you are totally spoiled and selfish.  I have felt so adrift since he has been gone. The shop has been my salvation, and a huge part of that is because of you…..and Michael.  I have not been able to sleep since I figured out last week that he was the one who left all the gifts. Now I know that’s why he resigned. I’m not sure why he wasn’t at TPAC, but I’m sure it was because I was making such a big deal over stupid Chance Ford.  Now he has left, and I really think I may have missed out on getting to know a really wonderful guy.” 

Artie rocked her while she sobbed her heart out. Once her tears had subsided, she said, “You know, I had thought it was Michael, but I knew he wasn’t your type so I just poo-poo’d the idea. I could tell in the way he looked at you, that he was in deep.  For all his extrovert ways, Michael is really an introvert at heart, and he never shared overly personal info with me.” Artie pulled away and put her hands on either shoulder. “I ask the question again, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? He made it clear he did not want to speak with me in person. Let’s face it, once again, I’ve blown it.” Libby started crying again.

“Where is that McBride fighting spirit?  You never give in to anything you truly want.  Why does this have to be any different? Go after the guy.  See what happens.  If he doesn’t want to give you a chance, then so be it, but you won’t know until you at least talk to the guy.” Artie looked like Mrs. Shibad with that, ‘you know I’m right’ look on her face.

Despite herself Libby had to giggle. “Well, I guess at this point, I’ve got nothing more to lose. Perhaps I can try calling or texting and see what happens?”

“Well, perhaps, but what if a little bird knew where he was working?” Artie grinned, ignoring the look Libby had on her face.

“You rat, have you been talking to him?”

“Only long enough for him to ask if he could use my cranberry orange scone recipe. He’s working at Three Brothers Coffee over on West End Avenue. Just two days a week in the mornings.  He also apologized for not saying goodbye.”

Feigning anger, Libby swatted her as they left the room.  “And would this little bird know what mornings those would be?”

“Maybe….but I think I need another barfi before I can give you that information.”

As the two friends rejoined the festivities, for the first time in a while, Libby felt hopeful.

                                                                                               ********

January was a busy month training the new barista to the shop routine. Willow was a supreme barista, and Libby felt very fortunate that she accepted the offer of a full-time position. She was originally from Oregon but had settled in Nashville hoping to hit it big in the music business as a songwriter. As all musicians and songwriters quickly found out, they needed other skills to support themselves while they waited for Music City to take notice. Willow was single, early thirties, and a bit bohemian which fit in perfectly with the East Nashville crowd.  The only issue thus far is that she was Vegan and gave unsolicited culinary advice to Artie. When she left the two of them were arguing over coconut vs. vegetable oil in baking.

She pulled into a parking spot right in front of Three Brothers Coffee.  It was a Tuesday morning in mid-February and the first chance Libby had to even attempt to see Michael.  Today was supposed to be one of his workdays and she was hopeful to at least make contact.  The flip-flop of her tummy told her she was nervous, but she squared her shoulders and entered the shop.  Michael was working the counter and she could hear his laughter the minute she walked in. There was a line, so while she waited her turn, she couldn’t help but notice the atmosphere. Books and Beans was far cozier and once again she was reminded at how lucky she was.

As she stepped up to the counter, Michael looked up and saw her standing there.  He immediately dropped the spoons he was holding.

“Uh, oh, hey, Libby, what are you doing here?” He blundered while picking up the stack of spoons.

“Is that how you greet a customer? I was actually hoping to get one of your Regular Joes?” Libby smiled at him expectantly.

“Uh, sure, yeah, coming right up.” He quickly turned and busied himself getting her coffee. As he carefully approached the counter, he pushed a to-go cup with steaming hot coffee towards her. “Anything, else?” He looked so awkward, she felt badly for putting him on the spot.

“Well, I was wondering if we could talk, Michael? Maybe when you get a break or after work if that would be more convenient.”

Looking around her to see the line getting longer, he replied, “Uh, sure, I can do that. Maybe after I end my shift at noon. Would that work?”

“Sure, do you want to come to the shop, or I can meet you somewhere…”

“Can you meet me at the duck pond at Centennial Park?” She could tell people behind her were getting tired of waiting, so she quickly agreed.

“Perfect, I’ll see you there around 12:15?” He nodded and with a wave she left. 

She decided to make use of her time and ran an errand downtown. Driving passed TPAC she noticed that Hamilton was coming to town in a couple of weeks.  Seems like she remembered Michael carrying around an encyclopedic volume on Hamilton months ago. He was obviously into history. Why had she not made more of an effort to get to know him?  She wasn’t sure what to expect from their conversation, but she at least had to give it a try.

Entering the park, she quickly found a spot right in front of the duck pond. She remembered coming here with Reggie as a young girl to feed the ducks.  That was back before the city passed an ordinance that prevented anyone other than park officials feeding them.  As she stepped out of her car, she noticed Michael walking across the parking lot towards her.  He was on time!

She smiled to calm her nerves with the hope of changing that serious look on his face. Once he was standing before her, all the things she had rehearsed in her head immediately fled. For once, she was the one fumbling for the right words.

He just stood a minute looking at her, but then asked, “Would you like to sit in one of the swings?” He turned and pointed to one nearby under a large oak tree.

“Sure, why not.” she replied. He let her go ahead of him and once they were settled in the two-seater swing, she took a deep breath.

“Michael, I know it was you that left all the wonderful nutcracker gifts. It took me a while to figure out it was you, but by then, you had left.  I just wanted to say thank you, and, well, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that I didn’t get to know you better. I’m sorry that I was so busy looking for Mr. Wonderful that I totally ignored there was someone wonderful already there.” She felt her face flush; dang that Irish blood!

When he didn’t say anything, she looked over at him.  He was silent and looking down. Finally, his eyes met hers. “I’m glad you know it was me. I should have had the courage to just ask you out. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not that great with dating and women in general. I’m not your type, and I knew that, but the guys kept encouraging me, so I thought, what the heck, I’ll give it a try…the being romantic thing. 

“Wait a sec….what guys?” Libby asked.

“Oscar, Willie, and Burt.  They have been on me for over a year to ask you out. Well, obviously, my one attempt was a complete failure.  Heck, I even missed getting to the show. The bus I was on broke down in the middle of Broadway, and it was going to take forever for them to make the exchange, so I tried to walk it. By the time I got there, the show had already started, and they would not allow me in since I gave you both tickets. I started to wait for you to come out after the show, but I decided it was a bust.  I knew you had met that Ford guy beforehand, and he was the kind of guy you were hoping for.  So, I just left.  I had the weekend to think about it and decided that I could not continue working every day with you knowing that I had fouled things up.  It was just too hard.  I’m sorry I left the way I did, but at least now you know why I left without a proper goodbye.”

“But Michael, you didn’t foul things up.  I did, by not recognizing I was going after the wrong kind of guys.  And those gifts, that was very romantic, Michael.  I will always cherish them.  I wondered why you didn’t show up at TPAC.  I kept looking around for someone with a rose, but just figured the person had changed their mind. I should have known that dad’s old friends were behind some of this.  That is totally the kind of approach dad would have taken.  And while I am thinking about it, why do you take the bus everywhere?  I know you have a car, why not use it?”

“Greenhouse gas pollution. Also, we need to support Nashville’s Transit Authority; plus, the money I save goes into a fund for my business when I graduate. It also gives me time to study between stops.” His response just made Libby smile.

Standing up, he said, “Libby, I’m sorry for all the trouble.  I really need to go. Thanks for wanting to clear the air.  I appreciate it.” He made as if he was leaving but Libby grabbed his hand. 

“Michael, wait.  Think we can start fresh and maybe have that date?” Libby’s eyes were full of hope gazing up at him. He thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world but shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Libby.  I just think we are too different, and I am not up for a huge let-down, and I think that is what would eventually happen.  I’m clumsy, love being alone too much, my head wrapped around numbers, and you are everything else that I am not.  I can’t.  Please forgive me.”

This time she let him walk away.

Walking into Books and Beans, Artie and Willow were waiting for her. By the look on her face, they knew the news was not good.

Approaching, Artie said, “Well????”

“No go, he thinks we are too different and that I would bail on him.  Honestly, I cannot blame him for thinking that way.  He’s watched for almost three years me fall over guy after guy.” Libby sat her purse down on her desk.

Willow and Artie followed her in.  “So does this mean, that’s it?” Willow politely asked.

Libby smiled over at Artie, “Are you kidding? I am not giving up without a fight. I think I have an idea.”

Both women crowded into her office. Artie pulled up a couple of chairs and motioned for Willow to join her. “Okay Girlfriend, let’s hear it.”

                                                                                                ********

Michael had not figured out why Thursdays always seemed to be hectic and prone for accidents. He was sure there was some Universal equation that explained the phenomena, but he did not have time to stop and figure it out. First the VitaMix had gone on the fritz, and then Micah had dropped a whole bag of coffee beans behind the counter. Between working on the blender and avoiding stepping on too many beans, he never saw someone leave a box with his name on it by the Tip Jar.  Looking around, he tucked it under the counter until things slowed down.  That was an hour later when he was finally able to take a break.  Sitting down in his favorite corner with a coffee, he looked at the box.  He knew that handwriting.  He had seen it hundreds of times before.  Opening the box, nestled on red glittery tissue paper was the nutcracker he had given Libby along with two tickets to Hamilton at TPAC that weekend.  There was a note with them that read:

“Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker cordially invites you for an evening where my history meets your history.  Bring these tickets and meet me out front.  I’ll be the one holding a rose.”  P.S. Don’t take the bus! 

It was 6:45 and Libby was standing in front of TPAC wearing her red velvet dress and her mother’s white cashmere stole.  In her hand, along with her evening bag was one long stemmed red rose. She had left the tickets and her precious little nutcracker at Three Brothers Coffee; all she could do now is show up and wait.  It was very crowded as this was the opening weekend of the show. She tried to remain calm and be okay with whatever the outcome, but in her heart, she was praying.  At 6:59 someone tapped her on the shoulder.  She turned around and there was Michael wearing a tuxedo and looking nothing like the slightly clumsy guy she had come to care about.

Smiling down at her, he took the rose from her hand and asked,

“Would you care to make some history, Ms. McBride?”