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It’s Nice To See Your Smiling Face Again

12/1/2024

Leo tugged at the collar of his lavender Oxford shirt. Father Nowak’s homily was dragging on, and he was regretting his decision to wear a tie.
‘Offer it up to the poor souls in Purgatory.’ His Nana would say. ‘I hope somebody gets sprung, because this isn’t doing it for me.’

The sun wasn’t even up yet and the parish priest was leaning heavily into admonitions of Advent austerity. ‘Of course, it was tough growing up in Poland during the Cold War. Yes, we have to be less worldly and focus on the Second Coming, but God’s not going to care one way or the other if there’s peppermint in my coffee.’

He felt the weight of someone watching. He cringed as he looked from side to side. ‘Gee, maybe God does care if I’ve got peppermint in my coffee.’ He spotted Grace on the far side of her family in the pew across the center aisle.

Their eyes met.

She looked down at her hymnal. ‘Snagged.’ She placed a prayer card in the hymnal to hold the place for “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence”. ‘Good advice.’ She slid the hymnal into the rack and forced herself not to look at him. ‘He looks really nice in purple.’ She squeezed her hands together in her lap. ‘Ah, what are you doing? This is not the time or the place. What’s he to you, anyway? He was always a spoiled brat who got everything he wanted and then some.’

“So, we prepare our hearts and our minds for the miracle of Christmas.” Father Tom looked out at his congregation. “It’s easy to get caught up in the glitz and the glamor of the season, but that’s not the miracle we’re seeking. Think of the Holy Family on their arduous trek to Bethlehem. The Queen of Heaven, heavy with child. Mile after plodding mile. Keep this in your heart for these twenty-four short days. Please stand and join in the Nicene Creed. Let us pray.”

‘Yes, praying is good.’ Grace stood and straightened her skirt. ‘Then you won’t be tempted…’

She stole a glance at Leo anyway. ‘He won’t catch me this time.’

Their eyes met.

‘Ha, she was checking me out.’ He fiddled with the knot of his tie before putting his hands in his pockets. ‘So what does that even mean? Playing footsie with me. The teasing. What am I, some Winter Break fling to keep her occupied until she goes back to Empire City and the Wisler Institute? Am I some Christmas cookie to her?’

He glanced over at the Chmielewskis. Staś was in his Sunday best and looked as uncomfortable as Leo felt. He was a rough, stoic man with a blond flat-top cut that made his head look even more square and a prominent nose that appeared to have been broken, likely over an argument. Staś liked to argue, particularly with Leo’s dad.

Elka, her mother, was a lovely woman despite her severe appearance. She dressed sensibly, didn’t wear too much makeup or jewelry. Her chestnut hair was usually in a ponytail, but she had it loose and had curled the ends up for church.

Josh was the very image of Staś, but he’d opted for the semi-formal look. Button-down collar, no tie, V-neck sweater and slacks. Leo suspected he had tried to slip out with ‘nice jeans’ and was sent packing by Elka.

Ronny had a cable-knit sweater over a shirt and tie. The sweater was a bit big on him. Leo wondered if Emma had made it. She was close beside him in a matching cardigan over a sensible dress. ‘Yeah, she probably made it.’

Just beyond was Grace. As usual, her thick honey blonde hair was done up in a French braid that dangled over one shoulder where she could fiddle with it. She had been teased for talking with her hands, so Grace had developed the habit of fiddling with her braid instead of accenting her speech with gestures. She was dressed to impress… him? The skirt ended just above the knee, which was scandalously short for church. The matching bolero jacket and the ruffles on her blouse seemed to emphasize her curves in a way that was both sensible and salacious.

‘Wow. Is that for me or is she just being a city gal?’

Leo caught Staś scowling at him, so he turned back to the altar. Peeking at him peripherally, Leo realized Grace’s dad wasn’t scowling at him. He was scowling at Dad.

‘Already?’ Grace fumed. ‘We just sat through that endless sermon about staying simple and pure for Advent and Daddy’s already giving Murray Q. Murray his first ration of Light Fight stink-eye. Man, the sun’s not even up yet and you’re ready to throw down?’

From what she could see, Leo’s dad was more than ready for it. He was in a charcoal suit with an eggshell shirt and a wide purple tie. Like his sons, Murray had a narrow triangular head with a shock of wavy hair trimmed short at the sides and back. His was a distinguished salt and pepper while his sons had a pale shade of brown.

Mary had a perpetually snooty expression that didn’t match her warm and gracious manner. Grace had never known Mary to behave as snooty as her appearance suggested, but she was definitely in her Sunday best. Her onyx hair was bound up in a tasteful chignon that rested on the layered folds of the silver cashmere pashmina coiled around her long, willowy neck. The black turtleneck that hugged her slender form was tucked into a pleated wool pencil skirt over knee length, black suede slouch boots with intimidating stiletto heels.

Murray and Mary only had sons. It seemed to Grace that she felt the need to be feminine enough to counterbalance the rest of her family.

Beside her stood Leo with his pastel purple shirt, dark blue tie and navy slacks. His tousled waves suggested he’d brushed his hair with his fingers and a dab of gel. She approved.

His brother, Chris, was another rough copy of Murray. The budding architect wore a tailored charcoal suit with a pale yellow shirt. Grace wondered if he’d picked it out in the dark, thinking it was white. The wild paisley tie featured shades of gold and canary, so perhaps it had been deliberate after all.

Leo’s brother, Joe, had always seemed robotic to her. He appeared to be a manufactured android copy of their dad with slicked back hair and circular, professorial tortoise-rimmed glasses. His suit was heather brown with a taupe vest and a narrow, forest green bow tie. She could tell it was hand-tied. Not by sight, but because Joe was an engineer and a clip-on would be too slipshod for his exacting personality.

Beyond Joe was the firstborn son, John. Another architect, chiseled exquisitely from the old block. John appeared to be an exact copy of Murray a few decades younger. His wife, Joan, was trying to match Mary’s style without outshining her. An interesting balancing act.

Joan was as classically beautiful as her mother-in-law, but had to maintain a certain ease in order to keep up with her energetic children, Jim and Jenn. No stiletto heels for Joan. Her suede slouch boots had short-heeled wedge soles so she could sprint to keep Jim from running into traffic.

The Murrays were actually kind and down to earth when you got to know them, but the air of success and status that they all maintained always brushed her dad the wrong way.

It wasn’t that he was jealous of them. It was that Staś had worked hard to get where he was in life. He was a hands-on kind of guy and couldn’t help being suspicious of people who only did brain-work instead of brawn-work. He could probably give Murray a run for his money at a game of chess, but he’d rather destroy him at arm wrestling.

Her dad was a proud man, so it hit him hard when the Pine Hollow Light Fight trophy went across the street more times than not. Especially with Joe as their ringer, it was difficult to best their neighborly nemeses.

‘Oh, those freaking lights. I wish we could just skip a year.’

At the end of the service, both families exited their pews away from the center aisle. The Murrays and the Chmielewskis knew it would not do to display their enmity in church, but it boiled all the same.

“Good morning, Staś. You clean up nicely.” Father Tomasz Nowak shook Staś’s hand. “Such a beautiful family and I hear that I have Ronny to thank for the case of Old Cas.”

“Think nothing of it, Father.” Ronny smiled. “You bless the brew. You get first dibs.”

“Certainly, fair trade. Very good. It’s nice to see your smiling face again after all this time, Grace. Are you doing well at school?”

“Yes, Father. I have an internship at the Wisler Institute, and Dr. Wisler gave me an excellent review right before I came home. She even put me in contact with Dr. Hu at St. Hedwig’s.”

“How lovely. I’m sure you’ll be of great assistance.”

Staś and family milled around the nave, greeting friends and neighbors. Grace saw him glancing over at Father Tom.

She frowned. ‘Now, what are you up to?’

A smile crept over his face as he made his way to the door. She looked back at Father Tom to find the Murrays working their way to him in line.

‘Seriously, you’re going to call a win because we got to see Father before the Murrays? I’m going to say something. They’re going to flip, but I have to say something.’ She followed her dad outside while the rest of them took their leave and shuffled out. “What if we just didn’t this year?”

“Didn’t what?” Her dad was watching the doors for Ronny and Josh to come out.

“Didn’t do lights. What if we just took the year off and had a nice, quiet family Christmas?”

“What? Didn’t you hear Ronny’s idea? That’s going to be great.”

“I just don’t understand why we have to be in this one-upmanship with them all the time.”

“But they’re having a celebrity guest this year. He took the trophy the last three years, Gracie. If we can get it this time, it will more than make up for all the times–”

Grace growled in frustration. “But Joe is making robots, for crying out loud. How are you supposed to beat robots with bells? What’s the point? Get a new hobby, will you?”

“Of course Joe is making robots. He’s never going to get a wife, so he has to build kids instead.”

“Boy, the pair of you.”

“What?”

“You and MQM could keep a team of anthropologists gainfully employed for decades. Why do you have to continue this pointless competition?”

“He tasks me.” Staś placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes with his baby blues. “He tasks me, and I shall have him.”

“Seriously? You’re quoting “Wrath of Khan” to me right here?”

He laughed and pinched her cheek. “I can’t get anything past my little genius. So, you’re going to work tomorrow?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I have to go over to the hospital and figure out where his office is and see if I can get some hours.”

“That’s nice. I hope you can be some kind of help. This gives you college credits or what?”

“Not exactly, but it shows up on my transcript as proof of experience.”

“No pay. No college credits, but you get a gold star on your transcript?”

She shrugged. “Whatcha gonna do?”

He laughed and gave her a big hug. “That’s my Gracie. I’m so proud of you.”