The time for dispensing Easter cheer had to begin today. Allie drug herself out of bed and glared out the window. A clean, crisp day stared back with plenty of blue sky thrown in to shove away any suggestion of snow predicted by the weatherman.

She had no excuse not to go on her annual Easter shopping date with her mother-in-law. A silly tradition Marion instituted long ago, claiming gift giving at Easter more important than Christmas. With invisible armor stitched in place she hoped it would withstand Marion’s critical comments and sharp tongue.

Allie opened the door to Marion’s solid knock.

“That green blouse sure washes out your face doesn’t it.” Marion’s smile framed in red lipstick matched the width of the doorway.

Allie bit her lip and jammed her arms into her coat with exaggerated firmness.

On their walk to the car Marion prattled on about her neighbor’s dog sticking its nose through her fence every time she stepped outside. They buckled their seat belts and Marion moved onto the awful brown color another neighbor had painted their house.

Allie zoomed down the road.

Marion settled on complaining about her churches upcoming Easter service. “The music we’ve had in the past has been sufficient. I don’t know why Mr. Kelp, the new music director, wants to add some modern pieces.”

At the mall Allie swung into a parking space.

“Heavens, you’ve parked us in the south forty. Pull out and find a closer spot,” Marion said.

The car shifted into gear with a stubborn jerk.

Marion gasped and clutched her chest.

“Sorry. It does that once in awhile.” Allie wore a sympathetic expression on the outside and a broad smile on the inside.

“Take that spot up front between those two vans,” Marion ordered, pointing.

“It’s tight. I don’t think we’ll be able to open our doors to get out.”

“Park your side on the line. You can crawl across the seat and get out over here.”

Allie inched into the narrow spot, climbed over the stick shift, and squeezed out the door behind Marion.

“Here’s your list.” Marion waved the paper in her face. “We’ll meet at the Chateau Café in two hours for a leisurely lunch. Let’s synchronize our watches.”

Marion pattered across the parking lot in a dress of pride and a coat of effrontery. Allie studied her list, containing her least favorite shops, scribbled in Marion’s tiny handwriting. She sauntered into South Mall drenched in anger and dusted with hurt.

Minutes later, a slip of fuzzy blue representing Marion’s wool coat disappeared through the double doors of Allie’s favorite store. Would it be a forbidden sin if she should enter too? She slowed her steps, casting hungry glances through the windows painted with Easter bunnies and pastel eggs.

The gaudy Bath and Bubbles Store decked in shades of pink and purple marked the first place on her list. Allie didn’t take baths, a steamy shower fit her style. She pushed through the pink garland framed door, an ambush of strong, overbearing scents added fuel to her burnt emotions. She plucked bars of purple soap, matching bottles of bubble bath and hand creams, from pink shelves dotted with green and yellow plastic eggs. Gifts Aunt Jen and Aunt Kaye would both enjoy.

With a heavy sigh Allie headed for Tobacco Haven. Her hand grabbed the iron latch of the old Celtic wooden door. She froze. I can’t stomach this, she told herself. Besides, the doctor told uncle Karl to stop smoking his pipe.

Where had her Easter spirit gone this year? Had it been the flu she suffered last month, drowning in the long, wet winter, or maybe her best friend’s move out of state? Her shoulders slumped with the weight of choosing a reason.

Two doors down the sweet scent of fresh baked cinnamon rolls pulled her hand free and carried her feet inside the bakeshop. She eyed the huge, gooey spirals, dripping with cream cheese frosting. Too fattening she decided and settled for a plain cake doughnut. The last empty space on a bench in the mall became her retreat. People rushed past bringing as much entertainment as her favorite old black and white movies. She leaned back, enjoyed the show, and nibbled her doughnut.

A couple near her age sat at the other end of the bench. Their conversation sailed her direction.

“Lets buy one.” The man licked his ice cream cone.

“It’s frivolous.” The woman held an untouched drippy cone.

“Most things are, but you’ve talked about one for two years.”

“It’s silly to buy a computer when I don’t know how to use one and I don’t type.”

“You taught yourself to play the piano at forty. You’ll teach yourself to type and use a computer at fifty.” He popped the last bit of cone in his mouth.

“Dr. Atley said I may only have six months until I’m home with the Lord.”

“Then you’ll learn in six months.” He pat her free hand. “You should get a laptop. You can take them anywhere.”

“That would be nice.” Excitement grew in her voice.

Her cone made a bull’s-eye into the nearest trash can. Arm-in-arm they entered the computer store.

The last bite of doughnut lodged in Allie’s throat like a lump of coal. Shoppers rushed by fading into a dark haze.

A blue coat pushed through the crowd, sweeping away her fog. Marion eyed the pink bag hanging from Allie’s arm, a stark contrast to the bags dangling from her arms. “You seem to lack the talent to get things done. We better trade lists. I have two stores left. Quit gawking at that computer store and tackle them.”

Marion hustled to Tobacco Haven, her bags slapping shoppers along the way, while Allie prayed for the couple entering the computer store, adding praise and thanks for the true celebration of Easter.