Page 90 of Theo of Golden

Theo and Simone left Glissen House and walked down South Broadway together. When they reached the music school, they parted ways, Theo to continue home and Simone to retrieve his cello before doing the same.

As he walked up the stairs to the apartment, Theo heard Christmas carols in the distance, amplified down the Promenade from one of the few bars open for business that night. He turned to look at the river and the lights on the western shore.

CHAPTER 49

Duty called, and there were matters that could only be handled in New York, none terribly urgent but all in need of Theo’s close attention.

He left Golden in early December, intent on spending the Christmas holidays and New Year’s Eve in the city.

When he got off of the plane at LaGuardia, he waded through a bouillabaisse of humanity before stepping out of the terminal and into a hard-falling snow. The moderate and occasional chill of Golden was quickly forgotten in the fierce and settled cold of New England.

As freezing air spread through his old bones, Theo longed for the climate of the Promenade.

And already he missed his neighbors there.

It is rumored that some people take long trips at Christmas simply to get away from the burden of obligatory gift giving and the seasonal rush of activity at home. The strategy seems a sane response to an otherwise insane time of year.

When Theo left Golden in early December, he might have appeared to be one of those people, a refugee from the excesses of the holidays. In fact, and much to the contrary, he had taken pains to somehow remain present with friends in Golden during his absence, meaning that he bought gifts well in advance to be delivered while he was away.

Three days before Christmas, Mrs. Gidley walked to the Verbivore and passed through the gauntlet of Penny Loafers; the temperatures were still mild enough that, on sunny days, one could sit comfortably outdoors in a sweater or light jacket. She entered the chaos of the Verbivore, stepped over and around stacks of books, and found Tony at his desk, doing paperwork.

“Good morning. Mr. Wilcox?” she asked hesitantly.

“Call me Tony. Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“My name is Anita Gidley.”

“And you work at Ponder House. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Gidley. I’ve seen you going in and out of that building for years.”

“Thank you. And it’s nice to meet you too. Yes, it’s hard to believe we’ve been neighbors all these years and never spoken.”

Tony might have pointed out that Mrs. Gidley had walked by the Verbivore several thousand times over the years without so much as a glance in his direction, but he bit his tongue.

They shook hands. She held out a box to him. It was elegantly and precisely gift wrapped, deep-green paper and burgundy ribbon. Tony could not help but wonder why this woman, a stranger just thirty seconds ago, would give him a Christmas gift.

“I’m delivering this at the request of a friend,” she explained. “And there’s a note for you too.”

Tony cleared a space on his desk and took the box. “Well, thank you, or thank whoever. This is quite a surprise.”

“I’m just the messenger, but I’ll pass along your thanks. I think you’ll be pleased.” She smiled warmly. “Merry Christmas.”

She glanced around the room at Tony’s cluttered desk and floor. He read her thoughts, laughed, and scratched his head. “It’s a mess, isn’t it?”

She had no reply for his statement of indisputable fact. She just raised her eyebrows, tilted her head, and grinned.

Tony was going to make his poverty spiel — “Please buy a book; I’m only a week or so from closing my doors” — but thought better of it. She might not understand his humor. She didn’t seem the type. Instead, he thanked her once more, invited her to stop by again sometime, and wished her a good holiday.

When she left, Tony looked at the typed note. “Do not open until Christmas morning.”

From the Verbivore, Mrs. Gidley went to the music school at the college in search of Simone. She found him easily enough, practicing a cello piece in one of the rehearsal rooms. She introduced herself, apologized for the interruption, and gave him a box and an envelope. Simone, as Tony had been, was surprised, curious, and grateful for the anonymous generosity. He flew home the next day and took the gift with him.

Over the course of two days, Mrs. Gidley delivered gifts to Theo’s considerable circle of friends, a dozen or more. In the process, their surprise and happiness became hers. She wondered if she was feeling, in some measure, the pleasure that Theo had tried to describe to her about the portrait bestowals.

She was using muscles in her face, and expressions, that she had not used in a long time. More than once she was hugged. And on Christmas, a cold, gray, stormy day in Golden, when the recipients opened the gifts, she was at home imagining their delight and vicariously sharing it with them.

And with Theo.

Every gift was accompanied by a handwritten letter. Theo had composed each one to include words of gratitude, words of encouragement, and words about the Christ child. Each was specific to the recipient.