Nutcracker Sweets At Moonglow (The Moonglow Christmas Series Book 4)

by Deborah Garner

  Matthew Brooks wasn’t elderly, but wasn’t as young as Liam Gallagher. He exhibited the same regal posture that Mist had noted when Liam arrived, yet boasted a few more pounds and closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair. More outgoing initially than the younger of the two men, Matthew shook Mist’s hand enthusiastically and introduced himself before she said a word.

  “Welcome to The Timberton Hotel,” Mist said. “You’ve arrived right behind two other cast members, and another arrived this morning. We’re so sorry to hear of your misfortune, but delighted to have you here with us. Let us know if we can help with anything during your stay.”

  “Thank you,” Matthew said. “I’ll admit it’s been a tough few days, but we’re happy that you had room for us. We’re looking forward to spending Christmas at your hotel.”

  Mist led Matthew to the counter, gave him a registration card to sign, and handed him the key to his room, explaining its upstairs location. She offered to escort him to the room, but he assured her he could find it.

  “Matt! You’re here!”

  Mist and Matthew both turned to see Keira racing down the stairs. Her approach resembled a tomboy running to climb a tree more than a ballet dancer hurrying to meet another cast member.

  “Pardon me, dear Clara,” Matthew said solemnly. “But I believe that is Herr Drosselmeyer to you.” He crossed his arms dramatically, but opened them just in time for Keira to hug him. Their affection for each other was clear.

  “Is Liam here?” Keira asked, turning to Mist, wide-eyed.

  “Yes, he arrived this morning.” Mist marveled at Keira’s enthusiasm. Knowing how many young girls aspired to the role of Clara in The Nutcracker, it couldn’t have been easy to have the last performances cancelled, especially under such dire circumstances. “I think you’ll find him in the front parlor with some of the other guests.”

  “The Cavalier!” Keira shouted and then blushed. “Oops, sorry, Matt,” she added apologetically before running off to join the other guests.

  Mist and Matthew laughed, both amused by Keira’s antics.

  “Is she always this cheerful? Energetic?” Mist asked. “It’s charming - inspiring, really.”

  “She seems to be,” Matthew said.

  “Unless she has to do the dishes,” a female voice chimed in. “In which case that lovely energy seems to disappear quickly.”

  Mist turned to see Keira’s mother coming down the stairs. “I was never very fond of household chores myself growing up,” Mist said, laughing. “So I understand.”

  “Good to see you, Heather,” Matthew said, grasping his suitcase. “I’m off to get settled in, but will be back down to visit later.” Mist reminded him to let her know if he needed anything, and then turned her attention back to Heather as he headed up the stairs.

  “There is another guest here who is the same age as your daughter,” Mist said.

  Heather smiled. “Perfect. Keira was sad to see the other children in the show leave. She’ll be glad to know she’s not stuck with a bunch of boring adults for the holidays.”

  Betty entered in time to hear the comment on her way to look out the front window. “I’m not sure you’ll find any of the adults here boring,” she laughed. “But I know children like to be around others their own age.”

  The sound of pre-teen giggles floated out from the front parlor. Mist and Heather exchanged knowing looks. “It sounds like the two have already hit it off,” Heather said.

  “It does, indeed,” Mist said, stepping back as the front door opened, and two women from the church ladies’ guild entered, large platters of baked goods in hand.

  “Cookie exchange,” Mist explained.

  “A yearly tradition,” Betty added as she ushered the women through to the café.

  “Let’s go see where that youthful laughter came from,” Mist suggested. She and Heather moved to the front parlor, where they found most of the hotel guests gathered in various groupings. Luisa and Rafael stood by the Christmas tree, admiring the hotel’s old-fashioned ornaments. Michael, Olga and the professor sat near the fireplace, the two men in discussion, Olga listening intently. Keira and Maria sat side by side, Keira on a small stool, Maria in her wheelchair. The giggles turned out to be a result of animated storytelling on the part of Liam, who had both girls under his spell.

  Mist introduced Heather to Keira’s parents, knowing that having the children in common would provide for easy conversation. She passed by Michael, Olga and the professor, amused to find the tea discussion had resumed. Maria waved her over to hear a portion of Liam’s current tale – something about an iridescent dragon who gave children rides around the moon in exchange for red licorice. Pleased to see the guests enjoying each other’s company, she turned on some light Christmas music and excused herself to see if Betty needed any assistance.

  In the short time Mist had spent with guests in the front parlor, a dozen additional townsfolk had shown up for the cookie exchange. Sally, who owned Second Hand Sally’s, the local thrift shop, had made peanut butter fudge that closely rivaled the white Christmas fudge that Marge brought from her own candy store. Millie had shown up with a variety of date treats, including date nut bars, date balls, and a powdered date concoction with a half walnut hidden inside. Glenda, from the Curl ‘N Cue Salon, whose kitchen was being remodeled, proved that sweets could be just as delicious without the luxury of a working oven. Her no-bake healthy apple bites and peanut butter oatmeal cookies were both hits.

  “Can you believe the variety this year?” Betty sidled over near Mist and offering her some mocha candied nuts. “Clayton’s mother brought peanut brittle that cooks in a microwave. Imagine that! And I don’t know how Maisie managed to pull off Minty Chocolate Macarons with little Clay Jr. crawling around, but she did.”

  “I may have gained five pounds just walking into this room,” Mist said, eyeing a basket of assorted cookies on its way in.

  “Marge brought wire baskets lined with parchment paper for everyone to fill,” Betty said. “She’s been using those for gift baskets this year. I’ve seen a few of them displayed in her store. It’s nice she had enough to share with everyone here today.”

  “Christmas brings generosity out in people,” Mist said. Seeing Betty’s non-committal look, she whispered, “not always, I know, but often enough that we can believe in little miracles.”

  “You simply must try this,” Maisie said, one arm securing Clay Jr. on her hip, the other balancing a chocolate-toffee concoction. “Millie’s niece Kim brought it over. It’s called Christmas Crack.”

  Betty and Mist both leaned forward to inspect the goods. “Looks like it would go well with a cup of tea later,” Mist said. “Maybe you could hide a couple pieces in the kitchen?”

  “And hide them well, where Clive won’t find them” Betty added, laughing. “He’ll be looking for sure.”

  “Will do,” Maisie said. She winked, hoisted Clay Jr. higher on her hip, and headed for the kitchen.

  Betty turned to Mist. “Why don’t you put together a selection for the guests to enjoy in the front parlor? We have plenty this year, more than enough. I just won’t make a basket myself. We always have the glazed cinnamon nuts, plus I made extra molasses sugar cookies.”

  Not one to turn down a suggestion that would please the guests, Mist selected a variety of everything and returned to the front parlor, where Matthew had now joined the group. The two girls were now huddled together, exchanging what Mist assumed to be secrets by the whispering and cupped hands. Liam had joined Olga, who had moved to a table in the back of the room. The two were engaged in a discussion that seemed serious, yet light, based on the smiles accompanying their conversation. Luisa and Rafael now sat near the fire, quietly enjoying the music. Michael and Nigel – Mist could still not bring herself to call him anything but “the professor” – had gone for a walk down to Clive’s gallery. Everyone appeared content, especially when the basket of sweets passed around the room.

  Mist took a position near the tree,
observing the scene. The colored canvas squares in her room were already taking on vague forms, though not yet defined clearly. Yet her mind swayed toward the evening meal she would prepare after the cookie exchange participants departed, baskets brimming with treats for their families. Juggling the energy of a full hotel required balance. For Mist, that meant some time alone to recharge. With artwork, cooking, and continued hospitality in mind, she retired to her room.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Did you see the girls outside?” Betty asked. “I’m glad it’s not a cold winter this year. We do have some snow, but it’s comfortable with the sun out. They’re both wearing coats, anyway. Luisa made sure before helping Maria out and leaving the two together. You should look. It’s wonderful the way they’ve become friends so quickly.”

  Mist set aside the rosemary and garlic she was using to prepare roasted root vegetables and peeked out the window. She smiled. “I remember that.”

  “Remember what?” Betty moved to stand by Mist and popped a powdered walnut date in her mouth. “These are very good, by the way.”

  “Those arm positions that Keira is showing Maria,” Mist said. “I took ballet lessons when I was young. I recognize the progression: first, second, third, fourth, and high fifth.”

  “And then she places her arms in a circle in her lap,” Betty observed.

  “That would be a low fifth, or as close as it’s possible for Maria, since she can’t stand.”

  Betty sighed. “It’s a shame she isn’t able to dance. I’ll bet those two would be dancing through the snow together.”

  “She is dancing,” Mist said. “Any one of us can dance with our arms, or even with our imaginations.”

  “Anyone?” Betty murmured. She held her arms in a circle over the sink. “I’m not sure this would apply to Clive,” she snickered.

  Mist laughed. “You may have a point there, but I still believe he could. I bet he could mimic that position just by reaching around you for a hug.”

  “I may have to test that theory,” Betty said. A giggle escaped her lips that almost matched those of the girls earlier in the afternoon. Mist noted that the girls’ arm movements had stopped and they were now engaged in what looked like a serious discussion.

  The kitchen door opened, and Michael stuck his head in. “Can I help with anything?”

  “You know you’re a guest,” Mist pointed out, though grinning. “You don’t need to help with anything.”

  “But I’m a special guest,” Michael quipped, stepping into the kitchen.

  “How are your ballet arms?” Betty asked, resulting in a baffled look on Michael’s face. “You could practice over the sink. Or …” She took her coat off a hook by the back door and started to put it on. Michael crossed the kitchen and helped her. “I think I’ll go visit Clive for a bit.” She grinned and slipped out the door.

  “What was that about?” Michael asked, looking more confused than ever.

  “Come over to the sink. I’ll show you.” Mist moved to the window that looked out into the yard, seeing that the girls had resumed the arm movements. Michael, dubious, followed.

  “I see what you’re talking about now,” Michael said, watching the girls. “I had a chance to chat with Luisa in the front room earlier. She said Maria always dreamed of becoming a ballerina. She had just started lessons before the accident that cost her the use of her legs. She’s thrilled to meet Keira.”

  “Sometimes we can live our dreams through others,” Mist said. “It’s one of life’s many miracles.” She looked out the window again, noting Olga had joined the girls. Keira raised her arms to first position, and Olga reached out and touched one of Keira’s wrists while tapping her cane in the snow. Both girls appeared to be completely entranced.

  Michael turned to Mist. “Now what was Betty saying about practicing over the sink?”

  Mist lifted her arms, forming a circle without her fingers touching. “You try it.”

  “Like this?” Michael copied Mist’s movement, though far less gracefully.

  “Close enough,” Mist said, smiling. She moved back to the tray of vegetables and placed several sprigs of rosemary around the assortment of beets, carrots and potatoes.

  “But why was she …” Michael followed Mist, but glanced toward the back door, as if Betty were still there. “I dare say she was giggling when she left.”

  “Oh, that.” Mist sprinkled freshly chopped garlic around the rosemary. “I told her Clive could mimic a ballet arm position by hugging her.” She purposely left out the fact that Betty’s plump figure would help his arms form a similar circle to that which the girls were practicing.

  Predictably, Michael walked around and stood behind Mist, circling his arms around her waist. “Like this?”

  “Mist laughed. “No, your arms need to be looser, so your fingers don’t touch.”

  “Really? I disagree,” Michael said. “I think they need to be tighter, so that the hands cross over each other.”

  Mist could hear the smile in his voice as he crossed his arms, one over the other, and brought her closer to him. She set the garlic down and turned around to face him, still wrapped in his embrace. “I’m glad you took the teaching job up in Missoula. It will be nice to have you closer to Timberton.”

  “I had hoped to get in for the spring semester,” Michael admitted. “But the current spot in the literature department didn’t open up until fall. It’s a better fit for my background than the few earlier openings. Philosophy, for example. That might suit you better. Though I dare say some of your philosophical twists might not fit in with the usual curriculum.”

  “Then the students would have to look at everything with an open mind,” Mist said. “That is always a good thing.” She coyly extricated herself from Michael’s arms, covered the tray of vegetables, and set them aside to bake at the appropriate time.

  A knock on the kitchen door preceded another head popping in from behind the door.

  “Is this the afternoon meeting place?” Matthew asked. His cheerful expression and missing body reminded Mist of a cartoon character peeking around a tree. “Front parlor in the evening, and kitchen in the afternoon?”

  “It appears to be today,” Mist said. “And why not?” She waved Matthew in and offered him a seat at the center island. “I can offer you coffee or tea, but no dinner previews.”

  “Clive gets to do all the taste-testing around here,” Michael pointed out.

  “Only because he’s developed sneaky skills over the last few years,” Mist added.

  Matthew accepted a mug of coffee and looked around. “So this is where the magic happens. I’ve heard about your legendary cooking, Mist.”

  “Magic happens everywhere,” Mist said. “A kitchen, a hotel, a park, a stage …” She left the sentence open-ended, knowing Matthew would pick up on it.

  “True,” Matthew said. “There’s something special about what occurs on stage, and between the stage and the audience. We never know quite what it will be from one show to the next, but there’s definitely something magical there. Speaking of which, I was hoping that Betty might be here.” He glanced around and then looked back at Mist. “But I think I could ask you.” We never know quite what it will be from one show to the next, but there’s definitely something magical there. Speaking of which, I was hoping that Betty might be here.” He glanced around and then looked back at Mist. “But I think I could ask you.”

  “Well, you have me quite curious now,” Mist said. “So I hope you’ll go ahead. Maybe there’s something we could do to make your stay more comfortable?”

  Matthew shook his head. “Oh, golly, no. I can’t imagine being more comfortable than I am here. But I was talking with Liam and we thought your other guests might enjoy a small holiday presentation after your Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow night.”

  “That sounds intriguing,” Mist said. “We usually gather in the front parlor after the meal, but not with anything in particular planned - just listening to Christmas music, sometimes sin
ging, always enjoying each other’s company. What did you have in mind?”

  “We thought we might give a very miniature version of The Nutcracker. Obviously the space is tiny compared to a stage, and most of our cast members are missing, but we could do a simple fifteen-to-twenty minute version, almost like a skit.”

  “A wonderful idea!” Michael exclaimed, and then looked at Mist, who was staring at him with amusement. “Of course,” Michael added quickly, “This would be up to Betty and Mist.”

  “It’s only a suggestion,” Matthew continued. “And it would involve moving furniture, which might be something you’d prefer not to do. But Keira would be delighted to show off a bit of her Clara role, and Liam and I could act out a few parts.” He took a sip of coffee. “Just something to think about.”

  Mist placed both hands on the counter and closed her eyes, envisioning the possibility. A space could easily be cleared, still leaving enough chairs around the room for an audience. She would run it by Betty, but was sure her response would be the same.

  “That would be amazing,” Mist said after she opened her eyes. “It would make for lovely Christmas Eve entertainment. Also nice for Keira after having the shows cancelled. I’ll make sure, but I’m certain Betty will like the idea.”

  “What idea will I like?” Conveniently, Betty stepped in through the kitchen’s side door in time to hear the last sentence. She took off her coat and hat, and then joined the others.

  “Matthew has proposed a short Nutcracker presentation after dinner tomorrow night,” Mist said. She watched Betty for her reaction, but already knew what it would be.

  “Oh, my! What a treat that would be!” Betty’s face lit up. “But how …”

  “It could work quite easily,” Mist said. “We’ll rearrange the furniture a bit, and I might be able to pull together some type of costumes.”