It Had to be Good! - Christmas at Famous-Barr 1929 - 10. XI. Week Three – Chapter 3: Lazy Sunday 'fore Christmas

XI. Week Three –

Chapter 3: Lazy Sunday 'fore Christmas

Like everyone else, Bettina Martin was beat, and thus the tray in her hands loaded down with sandwiches and full pop bottles from the employee café on 12 seemed heavier than it had last Sunday afternoon.

Lorna's sewing machine was set near the Santaland windows again, but she was conspicuously absent. The twins had one of the elephants on its side and were rooting around in its mechanical guts.

'The good thing,' she thought. 'Is this is it. Last maintenance day before we wrap this gig up.' All at once, as her eyes darted to the empty doorway leading to Santa's Throne Room, the 'this is it' sentiment made her anxious, sad, and oddly overjoyed too.

She set the troupe's refreshments on the waiting card table and watched as Lawrie and Dandiprat Dave drew out bandannas from back pockets. This was their prelude to 'washing up' and coming over to eat lunch.

Her father strode up to her with a frown on his face.

"Where's Lorna? My breeches need a patch."

"She's in Santa's Closet, getting interviewed."

"Oh…"

As she let her father's tone of acknowledgement seep into her brain, she cast another nervous glance at the doorway.

"Are you all right, Bet?" His tone was both caring and paternal. "You're not yourself lately – perhaps you're working too hard."

Bettina smiled the small grin of one who experiences genuine affection. "You are a great dad. Have I told you that recently?"

He slowly shook his head.

"Well, you are." She inhaled sharply, and rose up on tippy-toes to kiss his cheek. "Cheer up, Father! It's only three days until Christmas."

Lowell Fredricks watched the seated carny 'Big Lady' fiddle with her hat.

She was depressing and releasing the spring-work daisy on her straw headgear over and over to make sure it sprung back in just the right way.

Lowell was impressed: he had seen time and time again just how hard these carnival troupe members worked at other people's mirth. In its way, it was a totally selfless and noble pursuit.

"Who first taught you how to sew?" the adman asked, setting pencil to sketchpad.

"My Aunt Becky, in the House."

"The house; her home?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. It was home to many girls like her, and my mother too."

Lowell had a spark of recognition, but there was no way to tactfully confirm 'a bordello' was meant. "And where was that?"

"Duluth, Minnesota."

Satisfied – or grown resolutely uncomfortable with the adman's questions already – she laid her hat on a dressing table, folded her pudgy fingers across her midriff and eyed him coldly.

Lowell assumed he better swing the subject around; he knew one guaranteed to soften Lorna.

"Bet is a great girl. You did a wonderful job in raising her."

Lorna's mouth slackened, then suddenly drew up into a smile. "She is a beautiful person. I love her with all my heart."

"And Bettina looks on you as her surrogate mother; Alden as her homespun uncle."

"Alden loves her with all his heart too. He's a good man."

"How did you first meet him?"

"Alden? Well, it's a funny story."

Lowell wordlessly turned the page and watched Lorna gather her thoughts. To the artist, it seemed the sizeable woman's creaking chair conveyed the uneasy tact she was trying to summon in storytelling form. He started to sketch her.

"Well, I suppose I can't 'start in the middle,' so… Sakes alive! But be warned, my beginnings ain't great. Let's just say I was born in Duluth into a household of aunts. My mother – the boss of the establishment – never had much time for me, or even much of an interest, I figure. But my aunts looked after me. Matilda taught me my A, B, C's, and a love of books; Becky, the needle and thread; Juanita, how to behave at table, and how to cook. I loved all of them. That included Big Killby – see, he was the one man around the House, and he kept things peaceable and quiet. Seems he was also keeping his eye on me, and not in such a good way."

"What do you mean, if you don’t mind me asking."

Her face went suddenly blank. A tiny wave of immense hurt crinkled the corner of her eyes for a millisecond. "I wasn't always this big, you know."

Lowell stopped sketching; he didn’t know what to say.

Lorna re-gathered herself, her chair's squeak confirming her tension. "Nah, I used to be a bright young thing, and I guess that attracted Big Killby to… To – "

"You don’t have to tell me."

"Look, my story's not unique. Let's just say, he introduced me – without consent – to two things. One, liquor; and two, intimacy."

"And, how old – "

"Thirteen."

Lowell swallowed down a lump.

"See, that's why." She raised her arms and made a brief up-and-down gesture along her body. "I spent more time than ever with Auntie Juanita in the kitchen, cooking and eating, gaining weight once I realized he did not like that in his 'gals.' The alcohol numbed me until I gained enough size that he'd stop 'visiting' me at three in the morning." She shrugged her shoulders. "Anyway, that eventually worked, and by my eighteenth birthday, I was three-hundred pounds. That was also the day my mother told me I was 'growed up' now and packed a suitcase for me. Becky passed me a few dollars, and I was both happy and scared to be on my own in Duluth.

"Anyway, a few days later I was having a fifteen-cent lunch at a drugstore soda fountain when a man sat down next to me and silently passed me a card. 'Rowan Brothers Traveling Sideshow.'

"'What am I supposed to do with this?' I snapped.

"'Make a living,' the oily man said."

"So, did you join his sideshow?"

"No other choice, honey. I was already hungry enough. But, I never liked being the 'Fat Woman,' the 'freak,' for gawping hayseeds to ogle while they munched on popcorn and Cracker Jacks. No sir, never liked it – but I did like the traveling. New town, new library to get books and the latest McCall's magazine – that was my escape, and I mostly left the bottle behind.

"Eventually, we worked our way up to bigger events in Saint Paul and Minneapolis. Alden was a frequent visitor. He stood out by his intelligence, and his kindness. And I mean, he stood out." She laughed.

"Anyway," Lorna continued, shifting more relaxed on her seat. "I stuck around to speak to him one day, and he told me about Singer's outfit. He said if I wanted to join up… But, I had to explain I signed a one-year contract with Rowan Brothers. Alden then informed me Singer had a four-year-old daughter who could do with a mother's love."

"So, what happened?"

"We confronted my boss that same night, and Alden slapped down a fifty-dollar bill, saying my contract was paid off. MY 'owner' protested, naturally saying that I could earn him more, but Alden told him 'Take it or leave it.' He took it."

A smile lighted Lorna's face; the first one Lowell had seen since the interview started.

"That was the night I met and fell for little Bettina Martin. Finally, I felt at home again." She chuckled. "But speaking of 'falling,' that's what I did for Alden as well. Anyway, he set me straight, so to speak, and we've been chums ever since. And – in case you're wondering – I paid back his fifty bucks long ago. And not only did I pay him back every penny, but I cut out the booze altogether due to having to look after little Bet."

The big woman let out a large laugh.

"There's nothing like responsibility…" Lorna chuckled "…to sober a gal up, and right quick too!"

"So, speaking of the money part of it, what do you think about the hard times that may be coming down the pike?" Lowell glanced up to gauge the possibly-unsaid answer on her face.

"Here's what I think…" she said matter-of-factly. "It's all going to be fine."

"Really?" The adman studied, but saw no attempts at subterfuge on her visage.

"Oh, yes. This holiday season says it all."

"How so?"

"Don’t you see 'em? In and out all day long – in this store, in all the many others around here – spending, spending, spending! To my sight, to my way of thinking, they're our hope and rescue too."

"I never quite – "

Lorna cut him off enthusiastically. "Sakes alive! It's like this – see, it's a holiday mood that's about to pull us out of the mire. It's a 'live for today, pay the bills tomorrow' optimism that's already saved us."

"So, you think we'll turn the corner by January?"

"I don’t see why not. Do you?"

To the carny aunt's question there was no proper rebuff, but still Lowell wondered if he'd yet have a job come the start of the new year.

Bettina glanced at her wristwatch, her eyes once more finding a vacant doorway to Santa's Throne Room.

A smiling Alden sallied out to her.

She told him, "You look glowing."

The man blushed, and Bet suspected he and Lowell had ratcheted it up a notch.

He said nothing.

"So, spill the beans," Bettina said to him excitedly. "Did the adman find you irresistible in your tuxedo? Hmm?"

Alden's smile slipped into a smirk. "You ask too much."

"Well, then at least tell me how it went."

"His awards dinner was tasty; his acceptance speech, witty; his manners and attire, gentlemanly – "

"Get to the good stuff!"

"I met him at his room, fetched him for his banquet, as a gentleman should. We had a swell time out, and I escorted him back to his room, as a gentleman should."

"And then…?"

"And then, he invited me in – "

"As a gentleman shouldn't." Bet laughed and latched affectionately onto her uncle's arm.

After she released him, Alden slowly shook his head. "It was not like that, Bettina Martin."

"What was it like, then?"

"We sat, we talked, we learned a lot more about each other, and…we kissed."

Bet felt her peepers form into saucers. She asked in all seriousness, "And how was that?"

"Let's just say, a gentleman never kisses and tells, but the sky looked extra blue this morning, I do have to admit."

"So…you stayed all night?"

"No, child, I did not. After our chat, I put on my jacket and I came back to our boarding house."

"So, you don’t – "

"So, I – we – don’t want to mess this up. We want to leave ourselves enough room to 'work things out.'"

"I'm happy for you, Alden. Lowell is a wonderful man. You're lucky."

"Seems I am the lucky one, Bet." He kissed the top of her head.

Afterwards, and just as Bettina was about to 'pump' him for more details, a sly grin washed over Alden's expression.

He lowed his voice and head, and gestured behind her. "Go have fun, Bettina. You're only young once, you know."

She followed the track of his leering glance. Glen was there, leaning in the doorway with folded arms, and smiling softly at her.

Bet reached up and kissed Alden on the cheek. She then tried to casually head to the Throne Room, but caught Dandiprat Dave noticing her movements. Just as she neared Glen, out of the corner of her eye she saw the little Lion Tamer slap Lawrie on the arm; both young men glowered at her as if they were fuming.

Lowell glanced up from his sketch of Lorna.

Movement from the door to Santaland caught the attention of both artist and sitter. Glen and Bettina joined hands without a word and strolled towards the rear exit.

After they had departed, Lorna exclaimed dreamily, "Ain't young love the best?"

"Yes," Lowell Fredricks admitted, but in his head, flashes of Alden's shy smiles, and the feel of the carny man's hand in his own made him realize something. The love the adman felt may not be young, but it was exactly that – the best!

˚˚˚˚˚

A great department store asleep is like a slumbering giant. Lilliputian hands reach out to touch only with trepidation, lest the slightest pressure be felt by the Giant One, and thereby awaken him from his repose.

Bettina Martin and Glen Curtis moved among the treasures of the 6^th floor of Famous-Barr with Sunday School sincerity and awe, and did so hand-in-hand.

"You look handsome as ever." Bettina referred glances to Glen's tweed suit, and the light blue shirt he wore under a midnight-blue tie.

"Thank you, Bettina. You always look beautiful too. But, where are we going?"

Bet whispered: "There's a place I've wanted to see, and it should be over this way." She tugged on his hand, delighting in the manly roughness of his skin there; a light and dreamy aurora of coconut oil haloed his head and met her nostrils with joy. Glen was a farm boy, she realized, or more specifically the son of a California rancher, and the honesty of doing the work the sunlit hours required was written across his palms, and the taming of that roughness scented his city-slicker head. The combination – the sum of the parts that equaled Glen Curtis – made Bet's heart swell.

She led him towards one corner of the building where an enclosed space of generous proportions had been carved out.

"Here!" she exclaimed, pointing at the sign above an open wood and glass door. "The Children's Playroom – I don’t think another department store in the world has one of these."

"What is it?" Glen asked, applying a little drag on her hand – the young man apparently didn't want to be pulled into anything too hastily, especially concerning kids.

"It's all right, Glen. Remember, the store's closed. Nobody's here."

"I still don’t know what it is." He slackened his pull on her and repositioned his fingers to be more deeply enmeshed with hers. Bet loved the feeling.

"This," she informed him. "Is something I've read about on the back of the FB Tea Room menu. Here, Mother can check in her little tike – "

"Rabble rouser, you mean."

"Tikes and rabble rousers stay here while she spends the afternoon shopping."

Bet watched Glen's blue eyes sparkle in recognition. "That's a million-dollar idea if I ever heard one!"

The girl laughed. "So, let's see what Famous kids have to look forward to."

They stepped into a rectangular reception area. A line of wooden benches shot across the long wall to their left, and above this were two continuous rows of metal coat hooks. In Bet's imagination, she peopled winter cloaks, scarves, and caps on those hooks, and she also thought she could faintly hear the excited voices of little ones hanging up their gear in the anticipation of getting into the play area just in the other room.

At the narrow end of the space was a desk. "I guess this is where the kids are logged in," Glen offered.

"Yes. I suppose so," confirmed Bettina in speculation.

Cheap and cheerful holiday die-cuts of Santa Claus, candle wreaths, and merrily ringing bells decorated the walls.

Straight ahead was the other long wall, which was wood and glass and looked into the main play area. Natural light poured in from here, and Glen and Bet made their way through the second open door.

The playroom itself was brightly painted in shades of blue, yellow and red. The size of a very large classroom, it had windows to the outside on two entire walls.

The attending nurse's desk was across the room from the main entrance and set at an angle so the white-uniformed lady could have a full view of the rest of the space. Piles of freshly laundered and folded blankets sat on the work surface waiting to be put away.

As Bet and Glen got to the center of the room, the young lady noticed the wall to their right was mounted high with shelves. Charmingly out of reach for small ones, but presumably handed down when a little-voiced request was made, were rows of teddy bears and smiling dollies in summer frocks and bonnets.

Various play areas were spread across the fun-space. Some areas hosted gaily-colored 'work benches,' where toddlers could be seated, given a mallet, and set to work busily pounding in yellow and red pegs for hours at a time. Other places had groupings of tables at a variety of heights for children of all ages to sit, read, color – do whatever they liked.

She spotted something intriguing. Over by the windows, to the side of the nurse's station, bookshelves were loaded with the colorful spines of juvenile reading material, and a central table supported a large white box. Only it wasn't a box, it was a dollhouse with hinged wall section like accordion doors – but this was no run of the mill dollhouse. No, this was an enchanting model of the store; a child-scale model of Famous-Barr meant for play.

Bet's breath caught in her throat. She had to see it close up. As if in a trance, she allowed herself to be drawn into it.

Six stories in all, the exterior was just like the actual façade – ivory-white piers and spandrels, and large cutouts for acres of window glass. Above the top of the fancy cornice, four flagpoles rose with American flags and blue pennants emblazoned with the store's name on them.

"Oh, my God, Glen. It's so amazing."

He seemed to be more focused on her reaction than the dollhouse, but Bet paid that no nevermind. Instead, she inserted fingers at the perfect replicas of the store's entries. These grand gateways at the miniature sidewalk level had caryatid, just like the majestic, heroic-scaled lady columns downstairs at the real doors. She pulled gently, and the walls of the doll-store parted effortlessly for her, The way they moved made her realize they folded like shutters, so she nestled them all the way back.

Glen, who had swung around to the right side of the structure, opened up his wall as well, flooding light into this intricately detailed busy-bee-hive model of Famous.

The ground floor was taller than the others, and Bet knelt to get a better view.

Counters were manned by young ladies, and cases were filled with miniature boxes, gloves, scarves, laces, perfume bottles, and a myriad of the other actual items for sale downstairs.

On top of the counters, hats, and various other fancy goods competed for attention.

"Look at that," murmured Glen.

Bet saw where his focus rested, and there was a complete replica of the 1^st floor Soda Fountain, right down to the stools and its marble-onyx grandeur. Little customers camped out there, and cute soda jerks manned the behind-the-counter areas with minute paper caps.

Bettina glanced at Glen again; the wonder in her heart was perfectly matched by that on his face, but he was only looking at her.

She blushed, and rose to her feet following up the other delights of miniature department store floor by floor. "We have to tell Lowell about this – he'll definitely want to sketch it."

As she trailed her attention up the model sales areas – menswear on 2, women's wear on 3 and 4 – she noticed all the figures of employees and patrons alike were dressed in old-fashioned, high-collar clothes.

"Did you see, Glen? All the 'people' are such fuddy-duddies. I bet this dollhouse was made when they moved into this building."

"How long ago was that?"

"About fifteen years."

"Hmm. Time flies, huh?"

"Yes, sir. I guess it just goes to prove there's no time like the present." Now Glen blushed while a wicked smile licked Bettina's lips.

On the top floor of the diminutive establishment, a replica of the store's main restaurant was detailed right down to the white and green tiles on the floor. This provided a great sea for the tables and chairs, and the perfectly dressed waiters sailing about the hungrily seated shoppers. Even chefs got in the action, and burst forth from the kitchen doors with trays of roast turkey.

Bettina giggled out loud – she felt like a kid again.

The two grown-ups stood, met at the 'corner' of the building, and reached out hands.

"Oh, my gosh!" Glen suddenly cried out. "Look at that."

Bet followed his eyes and gasped.

In the area to their left, a small carousel – perhaps eight feet round, and six feet tall – stood silent and dark. Again Bettina's imagination animated it with young riders, lights, sounds and motions. The echo of kids' laughter was not far behind.

"It must be electric," Glen said breathlessly. "Probably has music to go along with it too."

"Well, I'll be."

Glen spotted something recessed in the long wall opposite the windows, and went to it. Bet followed by being pulled along by his charming grip on her hand.

Metal steps climbed into a niche.

"Glen!" Bet warned all at once. "You're too big!"

But it was too late. Her hand was left cold, and Glen Curtis scaled the diminutive staircase in a flash. In another moment, the sound of friction preceded a devilishly pleased Glen emerging from the bottom of the shiny slide.

"Having fun?" she asked sarcastically.

"Join me and find out?"

"Not on your life," she stated, knowing full well she would not leave this playroom again without at least one ride on the 'Chute-the-Chutes.'

Turning herself around, she noticed that one of the walls forming the space for the merry-go-round was also a wood and glass partition. Around the corner was a door to this room-within-a-room; she went to it.

"Glen, look at this – I've never seen anything like it."

The stage cowboy snuggled up intimately behind her, and Bettina swooned under his manly touch and exotic smell.

"Well, I'll be," he said softly. "It's a sandbox."

And that's indeed what it was. Behind a high curb that provided a dust-off area near the door where they stood, the fifteen-by-fifteen room had its own set of corner windows looking onto the city, and the entire floor was sand. A line of colorfully lithographed pails were stacked one within the other against a wall, and along with tin scoops and hand-shovels, they all awaited eager little hands to build sandcastles. More shelves on the wall to the right held a complete collection of Sandy Andy toys, whereby a scoop of sand could power various wheels and cogs as it fell à la hourglass-fashion to delight young engineers at play.

On the partition dividing the sandbox room from the place the carousel 'lived,' hung a Christmas decoration. Unlike the flat, and cheerily printed decor in the lobby, an object in stunning three-dimensional animation and detail hung there in painted plaster.

It was a life-size Santa Claus face, his beard and billowy white hair swirled about his features. Peachy cheeks and ruby lips were highlighted in natural looking rouge, and his open mouth wore a jolly laugh; likewise, his eyes smiled too. A dark-red cap with sapphire-blue trim crowned the piece, and all along the base were candles tipped in miniature amber-colored light bulbs.

Glen saw Bet's enrapture and went over to the figure. "I guess…" He found and depressed a switch. "…It's electric."

The glow from the soft flame-shaped bulbs brought a whole new level of realism to the holiday figure. Now his smile looked warm, his eyes, magical and deep-seeing.

Bettina let her own peepers drift onto Famous-Barr's holiday Santa for 1929 and felt exactly the same magic.

"Oh Glen, it's all so wonderful! As a kid I could have spent hours and hours in this sand room."

"Me too, only imagine all the screaming."

"Screaming…?"

"Yep. If I were a kid in here, they'd have to drag me away kicking and screaming."

Their mutual laughter slowly ended as Glen's lips came down to Bet's.

The girl closed her eyes; the girl's ears grew abuzz with the sound of her own throbbing heartbeat.

Glen's pressure on her mouth was gentle, but her hand found its way to the back of his neck and drew him in. His lips parted and pressed more resolutely. She followed suit, and soon the young man's sweet taste was exponentially enhanced as his sweet breath entered her mouth.

Her own breathing quickened, and girl and boy tenderly inhaled the life force straight from the lungs of the other.

Glen drew back.

Bet opened her eyes.

"You do know I love you, Bettina Martin. You do know that, right?"

"Yes, Glen. And I love you too. With all my heart."

Their mouths came together again. Glen's strong arms skillfully slipped around the young woman's waist, and she surrendered to him. Their kisses grew moist and Bettina Martin's hand lay open-palmed on his broad chest.

In another moment, she turned her head and rested her left ear against his shirt. To her utter delight, she heard the boy's heartbeat was just as deafening to her as her own.

"Oh Glen, I'm so scared."

He gently pushed her back on her shoulders. Once she saw the confused and hurt blink to his eye, she explained sadly, "It's only a few days before Christmas. Soon both our contracts will be up, and then what?"

"Oh, Bettina. Our time may be running out, but I can't bear the thought of us going our separate ways."

"Me neither."

"Then, will you marry me, Bettina Martin? I promise to be a good husband, to protect you, to see that you're happy. Will you marry me, because I love you more than life itself?"

Bet felt a smile come to her lips. "It's funny you mention it that way, cowboy, because, that's how I feel about you. I'll gladly be your Mrs. Glen Curtis – no, wait – I'll proudly be your wife."

His scowl puzzled a moment; his knees bent slightly to bring his head down to hers. "So, it's a 'yes' then?"

"Yes, it’s a YES. I'll marry you!"

Glen scooped her up in his arms. He spun around, taking them both out into the main room, but not before Bet spied a happy glint from the Santa's face on the wall. He shouted: "Merry Yippee Kaiyay! I'm the luckiest cow-puncher alive!"

Bettina placed her hands on the spinning man's shoulders. She kicked her head back, and lifted her ankles. His motion seemed to drag a steady stream of relieved laughter out of her as if by centrifugal force.

"Glen! I'm happy too."

Gradually, his rotation slowed. Bet stiffened her spine and let her palms slide down the handsome young man's tweed lapels.

Their gazes locked, and Glen's movement calmed to a snail's pace. He let her body fall farther against his until their lips met again. Bet closed her eyes, and her entire world spun in her head – delightfully so. Glen's kiss this time was celebratory, and the girl had never known in her life until that very moment what thanksgiving tasted like on another's breath. But with Glen, it was as sweet and mellow as the summer's brightest honey.

She knew she had made the right choice.

He set her feet down on the floor. And she chuckled, still flush and giddy. "It's going to be the best Xmas ever!"

"Yes, Mrs. Glen Curtis – the very best one ever."

Glen glanced quickly at the desk. A new sparkle came over him as he asked, "Bet, would you like to lay out on the beach with me?"

"Yes, fiancé – it would be my honor."

Glen released her and grabbed a handful of blankets. He then strode into the sandbox room. While Bettina slowly joined him, he shrugged off his sports coat. He then plopped down on the curb, kicked off his shoes, and whipped off his socks. In another pair of deft motions, his pant cuffs were rolled up. "Take off your shoes, Bet. Let's get cozy."

She giggled and did just that as the young man sprung up and laid out several blankets for them to lie on.

When she stepped onto the sand, Glen fell to his knees and then lay down on his side with his left hand propping up the side of his head; his legs were kicked straight out, and crossed at the ankles. He motioned for her to join him, and she did, so her head was supported by her right hand and could face him. He drew her in for a moment and hugged her.

A brief glance up at the glowing candles and Santa's smile reassured the girl.

"Oh, Bet – my sweet charming Bet – you've made me the happiest man in the whole world."

"Oh really?" she asked slowly, readjusting herself so she lay flat with his arm as a pillow. Her hand came up and brushed the side of his face. "Since I'm otherwise occupied with my own happiness, I won't take the time to ask random fellas if they're happier than you."

He kissed her quick. "Good. It'd be a waste of time anyway."

"Yes, I suspect it would, mainly because it’s only your happiness I can give two cents about right now."

Glen repeated "Good," and then recapped his kiss for good measure.

She started giggling uncontrollably.

"What," he laughed. "Are my kisses that funny to you already?"

"No, no, Glen. I was just thinking about a certain female who may not be so happy I'm in your life."

"Who's that?" He went blank-faced.

"Carmen! Nothing worse than a jealous Shetland pony."

They both busted up, Glen finally reassuring his fiancé, "She'll love you too, and now she'll have an extra hand to help take care of her on the road."

"Oh, yes," Bet uttered in all seriousness. "I will help you both. If I take a cowboy, I take his horse too; that's the law out West, isn’t it?"

"Yes, honey. That's the law of the range. But truly, Bet – you're so wonderful. You don’t want to change me, do you?"

"No, Glen. I love you, and you are an entertainer."

A moment of relieved-looking sadness washed over his blue eyes. "And you're ok with not having kids right away, while I work on my career?"

"I told you, and I meant it – I'm not ready to give up 'The Road' just yet. We'll have plenty of time to start a family once you make it big. I have faith in you."

"I know you do, sweetheart." He played with her curls. "But can you tell me, when's the first moment you fell?"

"Fell in love with you…?"

"Yes."

"Easy. That first day in Santaland, when that first child climbed into your lap, I knew you were just as good as you seemed. The child knew it too, and I fell in love with you."

Glen's features slackened.

Bet asked softly, "And you? When did you fall for me?"

He blinked sadly. "That day in the piano department, when you said you believe in me and my talent. When you said you 'knew' I'd make it. How could I not let myself fall all the way at that moment, Bettina, and I did. I let myself 'know' you are my perfect girl."

He suddenly chuckled. "And then seeing your face light up as I gave you that Santa candy – oh, Bet – I just love you so much."

"And I love you, Glen. And I do have faith in you; you can be what you want to be in this world, and Carmen and I will help you get there."

Again they chuckled, and again Glen's mood dipped to the serious. "Your father will never agree to our marriage."

"You don’t know him like I do – I will ask, and he'll want me to be happy – "

Now the Santa mask from the wall took on a more sinister and doubtful cast. To Bet's eyes it was like Singer watching her.

"I doubt, Bettina darling, that it will be that easy."