P – is for Peppermint

Mr. Carson entered Bakewell's store and shook off the little bit of snow that had gathered on his shoulders. But, before he could even take the first real steps into the building, he heard his name being shouted and suddenly his legs were being hugged by a little girl.

"Miss Sybbie, Mr. Branson. How nice to see you both here, though I could have run any errand you needed today. No sense in you both getting out in this weather."

"We could say the same for you, Mr. Carson. What brings you here?"

"Two things, actually. Mrs. Carson needed some flour for some shortbread biscuits she's hoping to bake, and I needed to pick up a few candles, just in case the power goes out with the upcoming storm. What brings you here, or were you simply shopping for Christmas?"

"We were going to buy some sweets, but they're all gone. Can you believe it, Mr. Carson? There's none in the bins and Mr. Bakewell isn't even sure when he's going to get more."

He knelt down in front of the child and took both of her hands in his. "I seem to recall us having a good stash of sweets in my desk drawer. And, I know for a fact that Mrs. Hughes bought a few things when she was in town last week. Surely, you two haven't gone through all of that candy?"

"Well, no, we haven't but that's not the point. It's not that long until Christmas and if Mr. Bakewell doesn't have any peppermint sticks, we can't leave one out for Father Christmas and he'll not be happy."

"I've tried to reassure her, Mr. Carson, that the jolly old man won't care one bit about whether or not he gets a peppermint stick. I'm sure he'd be just as happy with a few of Mrs. Patmore's biscuits or even a bar of chocolate."

"But, I was going to leave him some of both so he could choose. If everyone in the village leaves him the same thing, it might make him sick if he eats too much. Or, he could take some back to the North Pole for his wife. I bet nobody ever thinks about sending something home with him for her. Isn't that sad?"

"Miss Sybbie, I can try to find a new supplier for the peppermint and a few other sweets, but I can't make any promises. I'm sure Mr. Carson and Mr. Branson are right. Maybe he'd like a sandwich? I love a good sandwich, myself … crusty bread, cheese, a bit of ham or chicken …"

Sybbie huffed and put her hands on her hips as she sighed loudly, blowing the hair on her forehead back from her face. "I wish Mrs. Hughes was here. She would understand why we need sweets."

"And you can tell her all about it tomorrow. Right now, we need to be heading back so Mr. Carson and Mr. Bakewell can conduct their business and get home before it gets bad outside. Tell them goodbye, please."

Sybbie walked over to the counter and waved at the grocer, not at all feeling very warm towards the man in question. "I hope you have a nice evening," she said, though there was only sadness in her voice. She slowly walked back to Mr. Carson and looked up into his kind face. "I'll see you and Mrs. Hughes tomorrow, won't I?"

"I don't see why not. We only took our half day today so we could get a few things done around the cottage. And cheer up. I'm sure we will find a suitable solution to the sweets crisis long before Christmas. If necessary, you can give him some of our sweeties, and we can replenish our supply afterwards."

"I suppose, but that doesn't help everyone else in the village. Not everybody has a Mr. Carson to help them solve their problems."

His heart was warmed by her faith in him and his ability to make everything right as rain. "True, but they all have someone who loves them very much, which is sometimes the same thing." He tugged on the bottom of her coat and tapped the top of her head through her hat. "Now, you'd best be off and don't give Nanny a hard time, tonight. It's not her fault about the lack of sweets. You and I will sort out something tomorrow. I promise."

"Thanks, Mr. Carson. I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Mrs. Hughes I love her."

"It will be the first thing I tell her when I get home. I promise."

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Carson. I don't know what either of us would do without you and Mrs. Carson." Mr. Branson extended his hand for a handshake then escorted his daughter back home, leaving a flustered Mr. Carson and a curious Mr. Bakewell behind.

"So, Mr. Bakewell, would you care to tell me how it came to be that you have no sweets in the shop and a very dissatisfied customer named Sybbie Branson?" He shared a smile with the man and listened as the grocer explained his predicament.

"Simple as that … a delay in the shipment and more people buying early for Christmas. It couldn't be helped, but I'm due to get in my order tomorrow or the day after. Plenty of time for Christmas shopping, though I wouldn't dare tell her that just in case something went wrong. She was displeased with me enough already."

"She's young and waiting a day can feel like a lifetime. Don't worry. We'll get it sorted tomorrow, and I'll explain everything. Until then, do you think you'd mind doing me a favor to help me convince her that all will be well?"

"Happy to help, Mr. Carson. Just let me ring up the cost of your candles and flour, and you can tell me what you need from me."

The following morning, before any of the family had started to ring the bells for assistance, Sybbie was downstairs in the servant's hall … just in time for breakfast.

"You're up and about very early this morning," Mr. Carson remarked, pulling her onto his lap at the head of the table.

"You'll never believe it. Guess what I got last night while I was sleeping!" Her excitement had captured the attention of everyone at the table, all eyes watching her intently and waiting to hear about her surprise. "It's a letter from Father Christmas! He sent me a little note while I was sleeping last night."

"Oh, my! What on earth does it say? I hope he's doing well and making preparations for his midnight flight, assuming the weather is good, of course."

"Here, you can read it. I can't believe he actually took the time to write me a letter. I know he's terribly busy but he wanted to let me know about the peppermint."

"My goodness. Mr. Carson told me about the dilemma at Mr. Bakewell's yesterday. I couldn't believe it when he told me," Mrs. Hughes replied.

"Father Christmas isn't too worried about it, according to his letter." She waved the paper in front of Mr. Carson's nose until he took it and began reading.

My dearest Sybbie,

I couldn't help but overhear about the lack of sweets in Mr. Bakewell's shop when you visited today. I have it on good authority that things will be replenished soon. And, if by some chance, he doesn't get in a new supply, please don't be cross with him. I'd be more than happy to have a slice of apple pie, an orange, or even a few carrots for my reindeer. We will be pleased with whatever is left out for us, and we thank you in advance.

Kindest regards and remember to always be good,

Father Christmas

"You are an incredibly lucky lady! I bet it's not every day that someone gets a letter from Father Christmas."

"I can't believe he heard me talking about it in the store. When you see Mr. Bakewell, please tell him I'm not cross with him anymore, and I hope he has a good Christmas."

"I'm sure he'll be relieved to hear it. We should get you back upstairs before breakfast. You can come back later, and we'll choose a few pieces of candy from our drawer to share with Father Christmas. We'll set those aside just in case Mr. Bakewell has trouble restocking. We can give the sweets to Mrs. Hughes for safe keeping."

"I promise to guard them and protect them from being eaten," she teased, reaching over and tickling Sybbie's tummy. "Off you two go, and I'll have Mrs. Patmore send up your breakfast tray in a few minutes."

True to his word, Mr. Bakewell did get in his new shipment of candies and confectionaries, just in time for the holidays. He'd sent word with his delivery boy that his supplies had been replenished in case anyone needed to have some sent up to the house or, by chance, someone wanted to visit the store.

"Elsie, I'm going into the village. I'll be back before it's time for luncheon to be served."

"Why are you going now? Can't it wait?"

"No. I need to visit the store for a bundle of peppermint sticks and a bag of sweets."

"Surely, you aren't serious. You and Miss Sybbie have gone through that entire stash of candies? It's no wonder she loves visiting your office if you ply her with candy all the time."

"Says the woman who holds tea parties and feeds her biscuits! And, for your information, we haven't eaten all those things. I was going into the village to get the peppermint sticks so we could leave them out for her with another little note on Christmas morning."

"What on earth are you cooking up now? She's getting more letters from Father Christmas than I've ever written to the jolly old man."

"He's going to leave her some peppermint sticks from the North Pole. I thought that would be a nice little touch this year, since she was so upset about the shortage."

"I wasn't going to tell you this, but I'm the reason there was the problem in the first place. I placed the large order for the household, not realizing that Mr. Bakewell's supplies were low. I had wanted to get a little something for everyone, but I never imagined the turn of events it created."

"I believe this falls under one of those secrets we take to the grave, Elsie. If you'd seen how upset she was that day at the grocer … breaks my sweet tooth just thinking about it."

"Yes, all right! No need to rub salt into the wound. All's right in the end since she's getting extra sweets from you, some shortbreads from me, and no telling what else will be in her stocking on Christmas morning."

Charlie kissed his wife on the lips then headed to the village. He would wait until Christmas morning to confess that he'd been the reason she was two chocolate bars short in her order. He'd had Bakewell put aside two of the best bars … one for Elsie and one for Sybbie.

When all was said and done, Charles Carson felt he might just owe Mr. Bakewell a basket of baked goods for all the trouble they'd put him through over a few chocolates, candies, and a bundle of peppermints.

A/N: Heck at this rate, Sybbie's getting more letters from the jolly old man than I've ever written, too, Elsie! I'm so happy you're still loving these moments with Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie. I worried, when I started this adventure, that they might all sound the same. I trust that's not the case … bites bottom lip with worry. Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews. I hope you all have peppermint sticks and chocolates in your stockings on Christmas morning. lol