Ava drove me to this. This being a department store. An amazingly sedate Macy’s, with all the trimmings. It was Christmastime. I’d told her “Happy Christmas,” and she’d given me a “look.” And then I remembered; “Happy Holidays.” I amended. And then her “look” softened.
I was young postulant then, seeing her favor. I was desperate for it. She watched us as we filed into the order, taking note of our waifish beards and lanky figures. She knew we were kind-hearted. From her window I caught her studying us as we worked. Plumbing, gardening, painting, some of our chores sending up and down the well-worn path until out shirts were soaked with sweat.
It was a path we’d all chosen, to fetch her flowers and even berries. We took turn. When it was my turn her look had hardened. She didn’t like the way I smelled.
I told her I would fix that.
How?
But I didn’t answer. I just smiled. Later that day I went to Macy’s and bought some cologne. Nothing strong. Just enough. And new crisp, linen shirts that helped my skin breathe better.

By then it was Summertime and but I still said to her as she passed in the hall, “Happy Christmastime.”