Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Maeve lay on her stomach, writing her Christmas wish list, sprawled beneath the lighted tree in the family room. In Maeve’s opinion, she was too old to have a list for Santa. But, her mom insisted, and she wanted to make her mom happy. It warmed Maeve’s heart when her mom smiled all the way to her eyes. And, in Maeve’s view, her mom did not smile enough what with taking care of Maeve, two lazy cats, and a frisky gerbil, while working at her job, and mowing the lawn in summer, and shoveling the steps in winter.

Maeve thought of presents that might make her mom smile. Flannel pajamas? New silver earrings? A puppy? 

Her eyes sparkled with delight when she thought of the perfect gift. To the bottom of her wish list, she added, Get Mom a night out.  

She knew Santa wasn’t going to deliver this in his sack. This gift was up to Maeve.

***

At dinner the next night, Maeve announced she had a surprise. A wonderful surprise. Her mom, Lynn, narrowed her eyes. Lynn had learned over the course of Maeve’s thirteen years that surprises usually meant work for her. But she smiled and asked Maeve to share.

“I signed you up for the Christmas pageant at school.”

Lynn breathed a sigh of relief. She could pick up cookies or sodas on her way home from work. For once, Maeve’s request wasn’t too involved.

“They needed volunteers and you always tell me that’s a good thing to do…”

Lynn took another bite of spaghetti and nodded while listing in her head all the chores she had to finish that evening: the laundry, cleaning up after dinner, feeding the gerbil, paying the gas bill…

“So all you have to do is sing a song on stage. The music teacher said he could help you. And, you have to wear red.”

Lynn slammed her hands over her mouth to keep the spaghetti from flying out. She swallowed hard before choking out, “What? Did you say sing? On stage?”

“I hear you in the shower, and I saw those pictures of you performing when I was little,” Maeve said. “I KNOW you can sing. And Aunt Carol is always asking when you are going to perform again.”

Lynn took a calming breath. She explained to Maeve that her musical career had been a long time ago, and she was older now, and didn’t do that anymore, and besides, her voice would be rusty and it would embarrass both of them. She layered on enough excuses to put an end to this foolishness.

Maeve played her trump card. “But it’s on my Christmas wish list.”

Lynn sighed. 

***

A few days later, Lynn drove to Harwood Middle School for her first after-school rehearsal. She followed the honking noise of brass instruments down a hallway to a room near the gym and peered in. 

“OK, guys, work on Jingle Bells. Every night,” said a lanky man with a ponytail fastened with a red holiday ribbon. “It sounds like geese in a snowstorm right now, and we only have two more weeks before the performance.” 

Lynn contemplated the music teacher as the band kids plopped their instruments back into their cases, and scrambled to leave, a few of them high-fiving the teacher on the way out. Maeve’s music man was tall with rangy, athletic outdoor looks. Like he could jump on a mountain bike or step into skis with ease. Dark hair and eyes, tan skin. Dark eyes always seemed so soulful to her. And, clearly he had a great rapport with the middle-schoolers, a hard task. Funny how Maeve didn’t mention any of this.

Lynn watched as he picked up a few pieces of sheet music left on the floor, a forgotten scarf, and one empty trombone case while humming a musically better version of Jingle Bells. 

Lynn cleared her throat, and the man swung around to face her. His brown eyes, wide with surprise, darted to the large clock on the wall. “Ah, you must be Maeve’s mom. Lynn, right? She told me all about you. Come on in.” He waved her into the room and held out his hand in greeting.

“This wasn’t my idea. I’m not sure I can even sing anymore, Mr…,” Lynn started. Her lips attempted a wobbly smile. 

“Mr. Loe,” he said. “But please call me Frank. You have quite the daughter. I love having Maeve in class. She’s a bundle of energy.” His eyes focused on her with a warm intensity.

Her heart skipped a beat. “That and enthusiasm for signing me up for this crazy idea,” Lynn said as she raised her eyes to match his and they shook hands for a few seconds more than they needed to. A foreign surge of vanity registered in her mind and Lynn wished she’d worn something besides this bulky fleece top. 

“It’s an easy piece, I promise,” Frank said. “And, we will be 100% more in sync than the trumpets that just left.” 

“We?”

“Yes, it’s a duet. Didn’t Maeve tell you?” He shuffled through the giant pile of sheet music on his stand and handed her a page. “It’s a classic. I’m sure you’ve heard it many times.”

Lynn glanced at the title. “‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside?’ Isn’t this a little dated?”

His resonant laugh vibrated into her body. “Oh, yes. Complaints about the lyrics started popping up about five years ago. So every year I change them a little and bestow a prize on the student who catches the most substitutions.”

Lynn scanned the sheet music. The key worked for her, the range was limited, she could sing this. Her heart beat faster as she envisioned standing in the spotlight next to tall Frank and feeling the eyes of the audience on her. “You know I haven’t sung on stage in a long time, right?” 

His eyes crinkled with humor. “I hear Broadway is sending scouts to this performance,” he whispered.

She barked a short laugh. “Right. Harwood, not Carnegie Hall.”  Lynn pushed all thoughts of work, chores, and holiday shopping out of her head. “How many rehearsals do you think we need, Frank?”

His eyes locked onto hers, and he smiled. “In my professional opinion? Lots. Definitely lots.”

***

The night of the Christmas pageant arrived. Lynn pulled out her sweaters from the bureau drawer: gold, green, cream. No red. Her eyes scanned the room. Nothing. “Maeve, have you seen my red sweater?” she yelled.

“I put it in the wash for you.” Maeve’s voice floated up from downstairs.

Lynn skipped down the stairs to the basement washer and opened the lid. Nothing. She opened the dryer and peered inside. There it was. She reached in and pulled out a tiny sweater. One that she would have to paint on, and it still would not cover her belly button. “Maeve, get down here. Now.”

Maeve clomped down the stairs to see her mom holding the shrunken sweater. “Oh, mom. I’m sorry, I thought I was being helpful.”

“Now what am I going to wear? I don’t have another red top.”

“You have that red dress from cousin Julie’s wedding last year, right? Wear that,” Maeve answered a little too quickly. 

Lynn narrowed her eyes, but Maeve looked innocent. “I guess there’s no choice. We’ve got to leave in ten minutes.”

Back in the bedroom, Lynn pulled the dry cleaning plastic bag off the red taffeta dress and stepped into it. Maeve zipped up the back and Lynn smoothed the top of the wrap dress and pulled the belt tighter.

They stood side by side, peering into the mirror. “You look beautiful, Mom,” Maeve said.

***

The Harwood school parking lot filled with cars. Inside the auditorium, the squeaks of instruments filtered through the closed stage curtains. Parents, grandparents, and guests greeted each other as they settled into their seats.

The holiday program began with remarks from the principal. Then the student chorus scrambled onto the risers to sing a melody of holiday carols. The theater kids followed, acting a skit involving elves and toys in a snowball fight. The band struggled through “The First Noel,” followed by a solid rendition of “Jingle Bells.” 

Lynn paced offstage behind the curtains, alternately watching the show, peering into the audience, and trying not to hyper-ventilate. She prayed for a power outage to happen before her number.

She and Frank had rehearsed in the Harwood music room several times over the past two weeks, working on their timing, the harmonies, and the changes to the lyrics. Lynn had shared details about her daughter, job and pets. Frank had shared about his job, church choir, and carbon fiber bike addiction. They had an easy rhythm together. They agreed on the family-friendly lyric changes, while chuckling at the ones that were too risque for a middle-school audience.

As the sessions went on, Lynn had hoped that Frank would have suggested something besides rehearsals. Maybe a drink? Or walk outside? But, maybe they’d both been content to focus on the song and then return to their separate lives.

As the band kids clambered off stage, the curtain closed, cueing the final number. Lynn walked to the middle of the stage and Frank entered from the other wing, shedding his conductor coat and smoothing his red sweater vest. He smiled at her and they grasped hands briefly. 

“Showtime,” he whispered. She gulped and nodded. 

The curtain parted. The white lights on the stage Christmas trees glowed softly behind them. The roving spotlight found them, and a smattering of applause washed over Frank and Lynn. 

The musical introduction filled the gym, and Lynn felt the surge of adrenaline that accompanied every performance. She took a big breath, faced Frank and sang the first lyric, “I really can’t stay.”

He responded, “Baby, it’s cold outside.”

“I’ve got to go away.”

“Baby, it’s cold outside.”

Back and forth with the classic verses. “This evening has been..so very nice…I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice....” Lynn and Frank locked eyes and he urged her on with a quick wink. 

Lynn slipped in the first changes. “My daughter will start to worry.” Lynn winked at Maeve in the second row and enjoyed seeing a blush creep over her cheeks. “The gerbil will be pacing the floor.”

“That’s two!” a young voice shouted from the audience.

“I'll put some J Lo on while I pour,” Frank added. A whoop from his trumpet players rang out.

And so forth they sang, tweaking the song to align with modern norms for dating during a blizzard. Lynn beamed, and so did Frank. Her performing skills flooded her veins. She gestured to the windows where fat snowflakes were falling into the beams of the parking lot lights. “Look out the window at that storm.”

She impulsively reached for Frank’s hand. He spun her around so her red dress flared. “The PTA will be suspicious.”

“Gosh the snacks look delicious.” He pointed to the dessert buffet at the back of the auditorium.

Frank brought the song to a close, and in a final flourish swept Lynn into a deep dip. The audience stood and clapped wildly at the special moment. A few wolf whistles rang out, as did a “Way to go, Mr. Loe.”

The rain of applause pleased Lynn, but it was bittersweet. She was glad to be back on stage, newly confident in her old skills, but this performance meant the end of the partnership with Frank. She beamed at him, channeling her happiness for his support. 

The applause swelled, and they bowed again. This time, Frank leaned close and sang a line from the song softly. “There's bound to be talk tomorrow.”

Lynn leaned toward him. “At least there will be plenty implied,” she murmured back the response line from the song. 

“Let’s give the audience what they want. Dinner tomorrow?” he whispered.

Lynn nodded yes with a smile that went all the way to her sparkling eyes. 

***

In the second row, Maeve mentally crossed the last line off her Christmas list. 

***

SSSH — For people playing the MRV Finding Romance treasure hunt … The secret phrase to write on your answer sheet is “Libraries Make My Heart Race”

While the lyrics of this song have become controversial in the last few years, it was actually written by a husband and wife duo to encourage guests to leave a party. To read on and learn more, click here.