Enough to Miss Christmas

We would begin the process of furnishing our new home by spending the next day going through the Newton mansion and identifying what, if anything we would move. Choices, new and otherwise, would be made collectively in the interim period before we married. Hopefully, if it could be arranged, we'd wed in June, the following month. Paul had already informed the help in Newton of our intentions, albeit before they were firm. He swore everyone accepted their termination, helped no doubt by his severance generosity.

A stop by the church added no further stumbling blocks to our plans. While the children sat in a pew, ostensibly to say a prayer, we spoke with the elderly priest about our intentions. Paper work was needed, and we were to meet again several times, together and separately, but our hoped-for date in mid-June was approved. The wedding would be a small affair with a half dozen business friends of Paul's and my sister, her daughter and family, and of course the children who were thrilled at the news.

The four of us spent most of the afternoon strolling around town, poking through the shops and walking, hand in hand along the beach. It was our first day together as a family and I reveled in the experience. Only Karen appeared tentative, holding on to Paul as if she still harbored reservations.

Timmy bore no such qualms. He remained a constant bubble of energy. He spied a toy store in town called Peck O' Fun and insisted we all stop in. The elderly proprietress stood by as Timmy, and Karen to a more restrained extent, perused the inventory of old-fashioned toys. Paul commented, favorably, on the lack of electronics. Both Paul and I were fascinated by the array of educational items as well.

"I'm sure when I sell the store a new buyer will change all that," said the owner who introduced herself as Mrs. Peck. "I'm too old fashioned to learn all that crap." She winked when she caught my reaction to the term.

"I hope not," Paul said. "There's a lot more to learn from using your imagination than from pressing buttons."

"It comes from my being a school teacher until the boobs I worked for interfered too much with the teaching part," the feisty woman answered.

Timmy picked out detailed toy figures of a man, a woman and a boy and girl. "This is our family," he said proudly. Paul made the purchase as he squeezed my hand. We returned to the church for the five-thirty afternoon service, thereby freeing the next day, Sunday, for our scavenger hunt of the Newton household.