The week before Christmas, Aunt Märta and Stephie clean the house from top to bottom. They hang handwoven Christmas motifs on the kitchen walls and put an embroidered tablecloth with elves and evergreen boughs on the table in the front room. Aunt Märta bakes bread and prepares a ham.
When it’s time to marinate the herring, Aunt Märta discovers she’s out of vinegar.
“You can go to the shop for me,” she tells Stephie. “Don’t dawdle, I need it right away.”
Stephie leaves, a big canvas bag over her arm, a shopping list and Aunt Märta’s coin purse in the right-hand pocket of her coat. She has her own money, her two coins, in the left-hand pocket. She plans on buying her Christmas presents for Nellie and Uncle Evert.
She’s giving Aunt Märta a pot holder she crocheted in sewing class. It’s a little uneven and has some holes, but after Stephie had undone and redone her work three times, the crafts teacher said it would have to do.
Every time anyone opens or closes the shop door a little bell rings. The shopkeeper is behind the counter, measuring coffee into brown paper bags. The shelves behind him are full of cans, bottles, and boxes. On the floor there’s a wooden barrel of herring, along with huge sacks of flour, sugar, and coffee beans. On the counter stand tempting glass jars full of soft and hard candy.
Stephie’s the only customer.
“Good day,” she greets the shopkeeper politely. He nods curtly and goes on weighing the bags of coffee.
Stephie waits. The shopkeeper pays her no attention until he has filled and closed all the bags in front of him.
“All right. What do you need?”
Stephie pulls out her shopping list and begins to read: “A bottle of vinegar, a pound of coffee, two pounds of oat…”
The shopkeeper takes a bottle of vinegar down from the shelf behind him and sets it on the counter. Next to it he places one of the bags of coffee.
The door opens.
“What can I do for you, ma’am?” the shopkeeper says, turning to the woman who comes in.
“… meal,” Stephie continues. Then she falls silent.
The woman has a long shopping list. She samples several cheeses before deciding, then pinches and pokes at least twenty oranges before choosing four. Stephie shifts from one foot to the other impatiently. She knows Aunt Märta is waiting for the vinegar.
Sylvia comes strolling down the stairs. She leans for-ward, arms on the counter, chin in her hands.
“My Christmas dress is blue,” she says. “What color is yours?”
Stephie doesn’t answer.
“Aren’t you getting a new dress to wear on Christmas?”
“Sure,” Stephie lies. “But it’s going to be a surprise.”
Sylvia smiles her superior smile. “I don’t believe you.”
Finally the lady’s got everything on her list and is paying. Sylvia settles in on a stool in the corner behind the counter, leafing through a magazine.
“Thank you,” the shopkeeper says. “Thanks very much. All the best to you and yours.”
When the woman has left he turns back to Stephie.
“What else?”
Stephie starts reading again: “Two pounds of oatmeal…”
“Let me see,” the shopkeeper says, taking the list out of her hands. “Oats, yeast, peas…”
He takes things down from the shelves and weighs them for her order. There are no more canned peas on the shelf.
“Sylvia, get me some peas from the storeroom.”
Sylvia looks up over the edge of the magazine. “They’re on the top shelf. I can’t reach.”
The shopkeeper sighs. “Well, keep an eye on the candy, then, while I go.”
“Sure.” Sylvia smiles.
Stephie feels a blush rise. As if she might try to steal their candy!
The shopkeeper returns with the peas. Stephie pays and receives her change.
“May I please see the bookmarks?” she asks.
“Are you buying?”
“Yes.”
“They’re not on your list. Are you allowed?”
Stephie would really like to take her canvas bag and walk out. But this is the only shop on the island, and she needs presents for Nellie and Uncle Evert.
“I’ve got money of my own,” she answers brusquely.
“Let me see.”
Stephie takes her two coins out of her left-hand coat pocket. Sylvia stares in curiosity from behind her magazine.
“And where’s the change I just gave you?”
Not until Stephie holds out the coin purse with Aunt Märta’s small change does the shopkeeper agree to take down the box of bookmarks. Stephie chooses two sheets: one with angels resting on puffy clouds, the other with girls carrying baskets of flowers. She buys a pack of razor blades for Uncle Evert.
She still has a little money. She’s tempted to spend it on candy, but decides to save it instead.
When she leaves the shop she notices it has started to snow. It’s getting dark out, too. Aunt Märta’s probably annoyed with her for taking so long.
The heavy bag bangs against her leg with every step, and the handle cuts into her palm. She moves the bag from hand to hand and back again on the way home. She even has to stop and rest.
“Is that you, Stephie?” she hears a man’s voice shout.
It’s Uncle Evert, coming up behind her on the road. He’s soon alongside her, and she realizes he’s on his way home from the fishing boat.
“That’s a big bag for a little girl like you,” he says. “I’ll take it from here.”
Uncle Evert carries the bag as if it were light as a feather.
“Look,” he says. “The snow’s sticking. I think we’re going to have a white Christmas.” He extends a large, warm hand, taking hers. “Don’t worry,” he tells her. “Everything’s going to be all right.”