Naughty or Nice

---

The snow began to fall in the early afternoon.

Elm wished she could go outside and run down the docks and taste the snowflakes with her tongue, but she had twelve gift baskets to make before Christmas Eve, which was only two days away. And, as Big Dave reminded her, there was no telling if the power would go out any minute.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Elm sorted each red basket with an assortment of soups, vegetables, and fruit cocktail. She wrapped them with cellophane and tied a bow with a red velvet ribbon at the top. Then she tied a gift tag that read: Merry Christmas from Elm Sunday!

This fulfilled the requirements of Step Four. Elm thought about the people who would receive her canned food baskets. People like Minnie on Gluttony Drive, needy people with very little money and maybe even less hope and faith in the miracle of Christmas.

"Daddy, how am I gonna get these to the people if you won't let me go outside?" asked Elm.

"I'll take them," said her father. "Just give me the list and you stay home, all nice and cozy, with your mother."

The blizzard continued at 40mph for seven hours, dumping a total of twenty-four inches in some areas. Elm kept herself busy with reading, writing, and watching television.

When the snow finally stopped, it seemed like the entire town of Little Blessing had joined a musical shoveling concert. Strangely, the rhythmic sounds of metal scraping against pavement were comforting to Elm.

But where was Big Dave?

They hadn't heard from her father since morning and Glorie was chewing her normally well-manicured fingernails. That was how Elm knew her mother was worried.

"Do you think Daddy's truck broke down?" Elm asked.

"Oh, Lord, I hope not," said Glorie, looking out from the living room window.

"Wouldn't he call if it broke down?"

"Yes."

"But what if Daddy got hurt and couldn't call?"

"Oh, Elm, stop with the questions! Maybe you could help by cleaning your room."

Cleaning my room?!

From her perspective, there was nothing to clean because it looked perfect the way it was. Oh, maybe there was a little dust on the windowsill and her desk and her dresser, and maybe her mirror could be cleaned a little, too, but nothing majorly earth-shattering.

No, Mermie is just worried about Daddy and taking it out on me.

Elm busied herself by reviewing her mystery case notes and wrapping Christmas gifts for her parents. When she had finished and considering what to do next, she spied the Christmas Angel peering at her from behind the aquarium. She could almost hear her say: "Elm Sunday, are you going to be naughty or nice? Whatever you choose, I'm going to report you to Santa!"

Okay, so maybe I should do some cleaning. But where do I start?

She didn't mind dusting so much when she used the feather duster. It was actually fun. So, she decided that the best way to tackle the cleaning was to make a game of it.

Elm tried whistling, singing, and clapping her hands but nothing magical occurred. Did Mermie really want her to clean her room the regular way? It seemed like a waste of time for a girl with Elm's talents, but she had to admit she was no Mary Poppins.

Removing knick-knacks from her bookcase, she couldn't miss the layer of dust. But instead of cleaning it, she thought about how wonderful it would be if Santa brought her a fingerprint kit. She hadn't asked him for one, but she figured he could read her mind. At any rate, it would come in handy when she was solving mysteries.

Elm changed her sheets, but the bed looked so inviting that she took a nap.

Nighttime came and Elm and Glorie ate their dinners without Big Dave. While Elm watched television, Glorie was on the phone calling friends, but no one had seen her husband.

"I'm not going to bed until I see Daddy!" Elm proclaimed, after Glorie suggested she get ready for sleep.

"Elm, I'm sure Daddy is fine. I'm sure we're all going to laugh about this later."

"You're not laughing!"

"Ha ha," her mother said, half-heartedly.

It was at that very moment Elm heard the sounds of shoveling outside, accompanied by singing.

"Jingle bells! Jingle bells! Jingle all the way!"

Elm ran to the kitchen to look out the window that overlooked the outside steps to the Sunday's second-floor apartment.

"It's Daddy! Mermie, it's Daddy!"

Glorie came running in and tapped on the window. Big Dave turned, waving at her. "Thank God," she said.

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

The Abominable Snowman who came in from the cold was wearing a bright orange parka and navy wool hat, his cheeks and nose ruddy with color.

"Sorry I'm so late, Mermie," said Big Dave, planting a big kiss. "I was on Gluttony Road delivering a basket to a nice woman named Minnie, when somebody's car stalled outside. It took me awhile to get them going again and then I dropped my phone in the snow and couldn't find it. The power's out in that whole section of town. Anyway, I hope you weren't too worried."

Elm gave her father a squeeze. "No, she wasn't too worried, Daddy. But she did make me go and clean my room!"

"Did you finish?" asked Glorie.

"I was going to, but I got - " She searched for the word. "I got distracted!"

Glorie shook her head and laughed. "I'll bet!"

"You can go out now if you want," Big Dave said to a delighted Elm, as he made his way to the kitchen in his wet boots.

"I heard you singing Jingle Bells, Daddy," Elm said, as she joined her father, who was pouring a steaming mug of black coffee. "Did you know that the man who wrote Jingle Bells didn't actually write it for Christmas?"

"Really?"

"Yeah," Elm continued, "it was supposed to be a Thanksgiving song. They used to have one-horse open sleigh races at Thanksgiving time where he lived in Massachusetts."

"Well, that's interesting," said her father. He took a long sip of coffee and sat at the table, carefully placing his mug on a crocheted red and green coaster. "And did you know that jingle bells were used by the pagans to protect from evil spirits?"

Glorie had entered the room and had her own take on the conversation. "I watched a documentary once about the space program where they said that sleigh bells were one of the first instruments ever played by the astronauts. It happened in the Sixties, I think."

"Wow, that's so cool!" Elm exclaimed. "I guess astronauts get bored, too."

Big Dave smiled. "Hey, what do you say that we go Christmas caroling tomorrow night? There will still be a lot of snow on the ground but the weather is supposed to warm up a bit and most of our neighbors have shoveled their walkways, so we can still get to the houses. Maybe a few patches of ice, here and there, but we'll keep an eye out for that."

Elm shook her head. "I can't, Daddy. I'm already going caroling with Mermie and my Brownie troop."

"We sure are," said Glorie. "I was just on the phone with some of the Brownie mothers and we all agreed to do it. Unless it snows again."

"It's not supposed to," said Elm, glancing at her father who was now standing over the kitchen counter, fiddling with the marina radio. "Snow's not gonna be at the meeting, is she?" She really needed a break from that girl.

"Nurse Debra said she only had a little cough, so she's still coming. Haven't you two girls made peace yet?"

Elm wasn't sure if they had. If so, it was most likely a temporary ceasefire.

---

"Why do we have to watch this darn old black and white movie?"

The Sunday family was watching television in the living room, their eyes riveted to A Christmas Carol, starring Alastair Sim.

"I think it's scarier in black and white," said Glorie. "More dramatic. I've seen the colorized version, and it's just not as effective."

"Well, I don't like it," Elm whined.

"Shush!" said Glorie. "Think of it as research for your article."

Glorie and Big Dave sat together on the couch, while Elm cuddled in her mermaid blanket with Two on the wooden floor next to the twinkling tree. Ebenezer Scrooge had just seen the image of his old business partner, Jacob Marley, appear on his door knocker.

"Scrooge!" Big Dave mimicked. "Scroooooge!"

Elm rolled over to face her father. "Stop it, Daddy."

"Are you scared yet?"

"No," she lied. "It's just a story about some mean old man with big, googly eyes who doesn't like Christmas and says 'humbug' a lot." She wondered if maybe she shouldn't have commented on the actor's eyes. It wasn't polite. "So I guess that's the ghost, huh?"

"One of them," her father replied.

"Cool." Elm had recently become interested in ghosts and hoped there were scarier ones to come in the movie.

Scrooge was ascending the staircase, carrying a lighted candle.

"Does he live in that big house all by himself?" Elm asked.

Glorie laughed. "Yes. And I sure wouldn't want to clean it. But he has a housekeeper, so I guess he doesn't have to worry about that."

"Scrooooge!"

"Daddy, stop that!"

Now Scrooge was sitting in a chair next to the fire, eating porridge.

"What is he eating now? More soup?" Elm asked.

"Shush," said her mother. "You won't want to miss this next part."

Scrooge's doorbell chimed, the grandfather clock bonged and bonged. Then there was an eerie silence.

"Guess who's coming?" Big Dave teased.

Footsteps echoed in the outer chamber and the music swelled. Scrooge's bedroom door flew open and the ghost of Jacob Marley appeared.

Yikes!

Elm squeezed the small brown and white dog for protection.

After a few minutes of Scrooge spending time with Marley's ghost, the miser ran to his great canopy bed, hastily shut his bed curtains and cowered under the covers, not wanting to face any other unwelcome specters.

When the film had ended, Elm said, "So the movie was about what happens when you're mean to people, right?"

Big Dave winked at his wife and answered, "That's one way to look at it. But do you know what Christmas really means, Elm?"

"Presents!"

Glorie covered her eyes with her hand, while her husband chuckled.

That night Elm dreamt she was alone in a toy store, trapped inside a revolving door with her arms full of gifts. Frantic, she couldn't decide if she should choose the Naughty or Nice exit. She continued walking around and around, while The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come stood outside, mocking her future.