Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Maeve sprawled out beneath the lighted tree in the family room writing out her Christmas wish list. Although in her opinion, she was too old to have a list for Santa, her mom insisted. And she wanted to make her mom happy. When her mom smiled all the way to her eyes, it warmed Maeve’s heart. And, in Maeve’s view, her mom did not smile enough. How could she, what with taking care of Maeve, two cats, and a frisky gerbil, working full time, mowing the lawn in summer, and shoveling the steps in winter?

She could hear her mom humming “White Christmas” while she folded the laundry. To the bottom of her wish list, she added, Send Mom on a date.  

Santa wasn’t going to be able to help with this one. It would be 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 Mauve’s short 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. This seemed like one of Maeve’s more tame surprises.

“So all you have to do is sing a song. The music teacher said he could help you.”

Lynn slammed her hands over her mouth to keep the spaghetti from flying out. She swallowed hard before choking out, “What? I haven’t sung on stage in years.”

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

Lynn took a calming breath. No way. 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 that her daughter would have to give this up.

Maeve played her trump card. “But it’s on my Christmas 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 to a room down a hallway near the gym. 

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

The kids scrambled to leave, plopping instruments back into cases and nearly knocking Lynn over on their way out the door. She cleared her throat. The man swung around. His brown eyes, wide with surprise, darted to the large clock on the wall. “Ah, you must be Maeve’s mom. She told me all about you. Come on in.”

Maeve had neglected to tell her mom that the music teacher was handsome. Lynn made a mental note to talk with her daughter, even as she admired the teacher’s rangy build. 

Lynn started. “This wasn’t my idea. I’m not sure I can even sing anymore, Mr…”

“Call me Frank. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I love having Maeve in class. She’s a bundle of energy.”

Lynn noticed his eyes focus on her with a warm intensity. She wished she’d worn something besides her bulky fleece. Her lips attempted a wobbly smile. 

He continued. “It’s an easy piece, I promise. 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 handed her the sheet music from his giant pile. “It’s a classic. I am sure you’ve heard it.”

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 we change them a little. This year I’m bestowing a prize on the student who finds the most substitutions.”

As Lynn scanned the sheet music, her heart beat faster. She imagined singing the song and standing in the spotlight. “You know I haven’t sung on stage in a long time, right?” 

He whispered, “I hear Broadway is sending scouts to this performance.”

She noticed his eyes crinkle with humor in the corners. She barked a short laugh. “Right. Harwood, not Carnegie Hall.” Mischief flashed in her eyes. “And I think Maeve should get a grade for my performance.”

“Deal.” Frank stuck out his hand, and they shook for a few seconds more than they needed to.

Lynn pushed all thoughts of work, chores, and holiday shopping out of her head. “How many rehearsals do you think we need, Frank?”

He smiled. “In my professional opinion? Lots.”

***

The night of the production arrived. All performers were supposed to wear red tops. Lynn pulled out her sweaters from the bureau: 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.” Meave’s voice floated up from downstairs.

Lynn ran to the washer and opened it. Nothing. She opened the dryer 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. She stared at the tiny garment. “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.”

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

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

They dressed. “You do look great, Mom,” Maeve said.

Lynn adjusted the top of the silk wrap dress and pulled the bow tighter. She nodded at Maeve, and into the Subaru they went.

***

The parking lot was filling up with cars. Inside the auditorium, the squeaks of instruments filtered through the closed stage curtain. Parents, grandparents, and guests greeted each other and settled into their seats.

The program began with remarks from the principal. The chorus scrambled onto the risers and sang a melody of holiday carols. The theater kids acted in a skit with elves and toys. The band struggled through “The First Noel,” followed by a solid rendition of “Jingle Bells.” It was time for the final number.

The curtain parted, and a light smattering of applause washed over Frank and Lynn. The roving spotlight found them, and the crowd hushed. 

After a few bars of introduction, Frank sang the first line. Then Lynn. Back and forth with the classic verses. It’s cold outside..I can’t stay…It’s cold…don’t leave...I have to go.... Lynn glanced at Frank, and he urged her on with a raised eyebrow and crinkled eyes. 

Lynn slipped in the first two 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 cat will be pacing the floor.

Frank added another.  I'll put some J Lo on while I pour. 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. 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.

Her performing skills came back to her, and her energy pulled them together. She impulsively reached for Frank’s hand. He spun her around so her dress flared in the stage spotlight. 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 could tell a special moment when they saw it. They stood and clapped wildly. Maeve noticed her mom smile all the way to her eyes and winked at her. A few wolf whistles rang out, as did a “Way to go, Mr. Loe.”

As they bowed, Frank leaned close and whispered, “There's bound to be talk tomorrow.”

She murmured back, “At least there will be plenty implied.”

“Well, maybe this can be our song? Dinner tomorrow?”

Lynn’s eyes sparkled as she nodded yes.

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

***

To learn more about the origins of this song, which was initially written as a song to make guests leave a party, click here.