A Stony Point Christmas

by K. D. McCrite

  “I’m just doing what I was told,” he said. “My boss said clean Grey Gables’s driveway, and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “Gil Landry, of course,” he said in a tone that suggested she should have known.

  “I don’t know him. Why did he tell you to plow my snow?”

  “Ma’am,” he said, “I got a lot of other people’s driveways to clear and a couple of parking lots. Maybe you ought to call Mr. Landry.”

  He put the tractor in gear and raised a hand in farewell.

  “My goodness,” Annie said, shivering as she watched him drive away. “How odd.” Then, she ran after him, yelling, “Wait! Wait!”

  He stopped just as he reached the end of her driveway.

  “Did your boss tell you to clean the driveway to the carriage house?” she asked.

  “Where?”

  She pointed. “There. Right next door.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Would you, please?”

  “Clear it?”

  “Yes,” Annie said.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t told to.”

  “Listen,” she said, shivering harder. “I’ll pay for it. Tell Mr. Landry to send me the bill.”

  “Well …” he said. She could see he was going to turn her down.

  “I’ll include a nice tip for you.”

  “Well, all right,” he said, looking away as if pondering. “And if Mr. Landry gets mad at me, I’m blaming you.”

  “Now why would he get mad at you for making him more money?”

  It was plain to see he had not thought of that. A quick, small smile crossed his face.

  “All right. Good day, ma’am.”

  Annie hurried along her nicely cleared driveway and up the front-porch steps. Alice stood in the door, hands chaffing her crossed arms as if she were the one out in the cold.

  “My goodness, Annie, you look half-frozen. Come in and get some hot coffee in you.”

  “I plan to!” Annie said with as much enthusiasm as her chattering teeth would allow.

  In the warm kitchen, Alice poured Annie a huge mug of steaming coffee and set about to making pancakes.

  “So? What did he say?” she asked a short time later.

  “He said his boss told him to.” Alice raised both eyebrows and Annie shrugged. “That’s what he said. His boss is Gil Landry. Do you know him?”

  “I know who he is,” Alice said, “but don’t know him personally.” She broke eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork. “Maybe,” she said in a sly tone, “he has a crush on you, and this is his way of showing he cares.”

  “Oh, brother. Don’t start that nonsense,” Annie said. “Anyway, it’s hardly the case, I think, especially as your drive is getting plowed too.”

  Alice nearly dropped the bowl of eggs.

  “What? Mine?”

  “Um hmm.” Annie sipped her coffee and did not meet her friend’s gaze. She wasn’t about to reveal her own hand in this situation. Let Alice enjoy her own anonymous gift.

  “Well, my goodness.” Alice stirred vanilla and sugar into the eggs. “Do you suppose Stony Point’s Santa had something to do with it?”

  Annie took another drink of her bracing hot coffee, feeling her insides begin to thaw. “I don’t know, but I have every intention of finding out.”

  Later that day—after Annie drove Alice home to save her friend from tromping through two feet of snow that lay on the ground between their two houses—she made a trip to the market. She had depleted her pantry when she gave food to the old man on the beach. The store was busy with shoppers who seemed to have completely run out of staples in the last two days. Why does that always seem to happen right before and right after a heavy snow? Annie wondered.

  “Hello, Annie,” said a cultured voice behind her as she worked her way through the dairy section. “How are you on such a crisp morning?”

  She turned and looked into the smiling face of Gwen Palmer.

  “Oh hi, Gwen. I’m doing great. Looks like we’ve had our first major snow of the season, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh yes,” the other woman agreed, reaching for a gallon of skim milk. “And John is still up in Albany. I hope he gets home today.” She laughed lightly. “You know, it gets rather lonely in the house when he’s not there.”

  Annie smiled. “I’m sure it does.”

  “Does it ever bother you?” Gwen asked. “Being home alone all the time, I mean?”

  “I still miss Wayne terribly,” Annie admitted, wistfully thinking of her late husband. Wayne was taken much too soon over three years earlier. “I guess being alone is just something a person finally grows accustomed to. The funny thing is, the stormy days, or the snowy ones, are the days I miss him the most. We didn’t have a lot of winter weather in Texas, so I’m not sure why the Maine winters affect me more than normal.”

  “Maybe it’s the change, reminding you that you’re truly in a different place now.”

  Annie considered it. “You know, you may have a point,” she said. “But at least this storm was tolerable. Alice spent the last couple of days and nights at Grey Gables. It was actually fun being snowbound together.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Gwen said. “Alice can be a lot of fun.” She glanced around at the shoppers. “I’m surprised so many people were able to get out today.”

  Annie followed her gaze. “Me too. I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for someone having my driveway cleared.” Gwen raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I woke up this morning, and a snow plow was clearing my driveway for me,” Annie explained. “Someone sent a service to do it.”

  “Really? Why, how wonderful for you. We have a service that does ours, so it’s really something I never think much about. I’m so glad you got yours cleared, Annie.”

  “I was just thinking … I wonder if whoever did that for me also did it for others.”

  “It’s certainly possible,” Gwen said as she picked up a carton of eggs. “Good deeds seem to be the order of the day lately.”

  “Yes. I heard about Reverend Wallace finding an envelope of money at church yesterday.”

  Gwen nodded. “Wasn’t that marvelous?”

  “Yes. It’s amazing that someone has been so generous,” Annie said. She paused, and then asked, “Gwen, do you happen to know anything about these recent gifts, or who might have been plowing snow for people today?”

  “No, I haven’t a clue.” Gwen looked a little surprised, and she lowered her voice a little. “Have you heard something?”

  “Not really. Except that some people suspect that I’ve been doing it—which is ridiculous, of course. But I thought that you might know something.”

  “I don’t know what gave you that idea.” A tiny frown flickered across Gwen’s smooth brow. “Why would you think that, Annie?”

  Annie sensed Gwen raising a barrier. She did not want to pry further and risk offending her friend.

  “Only that you’re involved in so many activities in the community, much more so than I am, and I thought you may have gotten wind of something.”

  “Well, I haven’t,” Gwen said, “and now I need to finish my shopping and get back home. If John returns today, he’ll want a nice dinner. See you at the Hook and Needle Club meeting tomorrow.”

  She hurried away, and Annie couldn’t help but feel that she’d blundered across Gwen’s invisible barrier. She sighed as she returned to her own shopping list. Gwen did not seem at all surprised when Annie mentioned that others suspected her—Annie Dawson—of being Stony Point’s Santa.

  6

  When she got home, Annie packed yet another bundle of food. This time she included candles and matches, and a few paperback books. She wrapped up against the cold and once more made the trek to the old man’s shack. If she kept him supplied with food, he’d not have to brave the cold to fish for his meals.

  Smoke rising from his chimney assured her he was inside, and this time, she left her offering on his stoop without
knocking. Given time, perhaps he’d understand she was only concerned for his welfare and had no other intentions than to be a good neighbor. As she walked away, Annie had the strong sensation that he watched her leave the cove.

  That night, after she went to bed, Annie lay in the dark and thought about what Alice had said about Sara Downs needing some help. Maybe Alice was right; Sara might need help more than the old man. At the Hook and Needle Club meeting the next day—if Sara was there—Annie would pay closer attention to the woman. If Sara needed help, Annie wanted to help her. But maybe all Sara needed was a job, a place to stay, and some friends. Right now, it seemed as if she was well on her way to having all those. One thing about it, however: Annie would not dismiss the old man from her thoughts and prayers—or her deeds.

  ****

  The next day, Annie was one of the first women to arrive at A Stitch in Time.

  “Good morning, Annie,” Kate called, almost before Annie had stepped into the place. “Isn’t the snow lovely? All my life, I’ve seen lots of snow, but it’s still one of my favorite sights. If you get a storm that has sleet mixed in, it creates such beautiful, vivid sparkles. Of course, the ice makes roads and sidewalks treacherous, but with time, you learn how to deal with it.”

  They both stared out the large front window for a moment. On a day that was as frigid and sunny as the day before, the drifted snow looked like thousands of diamonds strewn atop mounds of white velvet.

  “We never had snow like this in Brookfield,” Annie said, removing her wraps. “If we got any, it melted quickly. I have to say, as much as I love the weather down South, I think the snow is gorgeous!”

  Kate smiled at her. “I’m so glad you’re here today, Annie. I’m afraid some of our group won’t show up. Stella, for instance. She needs to stay safely inside when we have ice.”

  “It would be a shame if she slipped and fell,” Annie agreed.

  “Yes it would—” Kate broke off, staring outside almost in disbelief. “Well, there she is! Let’s hope Jason keeps her from falling.”

  They watched as Jason, her driver, carefully parked Stella’s white Lincoln and then got out and opened the door for her. The car was at least ten years old, but it looked as if it had just been driven off the showroom floor.

  “I love Stella, and I think Jason is just wonderful,” Kate said in a slight undertone, “but I have to admit the music from Driving Miss Daisy plays through my mind every time I see them getting in or out of that car.”

  The two women watched in silence as Jason held out his hand and helped Stella from the backseat. He hung on to her right hand with his own and cupped her elbow with his free hand. If she slipped and fell, he’d either catch her or go down with her.

  “She always looks so elegant,” Annie said.

  “Yes,” Kate sighed. “I hope I look half that good when I’m in my eighties.”

  Just as the pair stepped cautiously onto the sidewalk, the store door opened and Sara Downs entered. She brought with her a strong gust of cold air and the distinct odor of diner cooking.

  “Good morning, Sara!” Annie and Kate said warmly, almost in unison.

  She gave them a warm, shy smile.

  “Hi.” She held up a wrinkled plastic sack with the logo of a large discount store. “I brought my crocheting, but I can only stay an hour. If it weren’t for Peggy, I wouldn’t be able to come at all. But she talked to Jeff yesterday, and he agreed to one hour.”

  The door opened right behind her, and she moved aside quickly, as if she were accustomed to getting out of the way. Stella stepped in, casting an annoyed glance at Sara, as if she were indeed in Stella’s path.

  “My stars,” Stella grumbled, “why would anyone get out to attend a meeting on a day as cold as this?”

  “Umm,” Annie said, eyeing the woman. “Why don’t you tell us, Stella?” she asked with a smile.

  Jason slid a sideways glance at Annie and another at Stella, who stopped in her tracks and studied Annie’s face.

  “If you weren’t smiling, one might think you were serious, Annie Dawson,” she said.

  Annie laughed. “But I’m smiling, Stella, and merely giving you a gentle ribbing. We were wondering if you’d venture out today.”

  “I never let a little thing like snow or bad weather keep me home. We do live in Maine, after all.”

  Sara was sidling away, but Annie stopped her.

  “Stella, have you met Sara Downs? She was here last week, but I wasn’t sure you had the opportunity to speak with her. Let’s all sit down and get acquainted.”

  She hoped that putting the women together on a level playing field, such as the Hook and Needle Club meetings, would draw out Sara, loosen up Stella, and make the meetings even more pleasant.

  The three of them sat down together as Kate went to answer the phone. Kate and Mary Beth rarely got the chance to sit and work with the other ladies for long stretches because the store remained open during meeting time. Walk-in customers and those on the telephone were always attended to—promptly and with great courtesy. A moment later, Peggy breezed in with a cheerful greeting, and right behind her came Alice. Gwen entered before the other two had hung up their coats.

  “Annie,” Alice said as she settled, “I left the Mustang at the garage for its regular maintenance, but the mechanic said it would be later this afternoon before it would be ready. May I ride home with you, and then ask you to run me to the garage when they call?”

  “No problem,” Annie said. She turned to Sara. “Alice lives next door to me.”

  “Oh, that’s nice you have a friend so close,” the woman said, smiling.

  “It is.” Annie wondered if Sara had a good friend somewhere, but she said nothing.

  “So,” Stella said after everyone settled and as she plucked a half-finished blue slipper out of her tote bag, “where do you live, Sara?”

  Sara looked at her, smiled tentatively and said, “In the Atlantic Jewel for now. Maybe I can find a nice apartment soon.”

  Stella stiffened almost imperceptibly. The Atlantic Jewel was a rundown motel on the outskirts of town. It provided inexpensive lodging but little else. There had been talk a year or so ago of tearing it down or refurbishing it, but no one had made a move one way or another.

  “Are you … comfortable there?” Stella asked. Annie could tell the older woman was trying to be courteous, even caring.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sara said as she began to crocheting with thin, delicate thread. “It’s kinda drab and depressing, but it’s warm and comfortable. And clean.”

  “Do you have kids?” Annie asked as she took out her finished quilt block.

  “A grown daughter.” Sara drew her lips tight and seemed totally focused on the piece of lace in her hand. Of course, that look of concentration might also be interpreted as evasive or even closed off.

  “Where does she live?” Kate asked from her place at a nearby counter.

  Sara stitched faster than ever, and Annie knew then that talk of the woman’s daughter agitated her. Annie quickly changed the subject. “Sara, what lovely work you do! What’s this going to be?”

  Sara gave her a look of relief and gratitude. “I thought I’d make bookmarks to sell,” she said. “I’ve got several to choose from.” Uncertainty crossed her face. “Do you think anyone would want to buy one?” She rummaged in her plastic sack. “I brought a few with me … just in case.”

  “I certainly will buy some! I always need bookmarks.” Annie said stoutly. She looked over Sara’s bent head at Stella. “You will too, won’t you, Stella?”

  Stella gave her a startled look, as if Annie had shouted at her. Annie was fairly certain she had not shouted. She may have spoken rather forcefully, but she had not been loud.

  Stella cleared her throat and sat even straighter. “Of course,” she said, her knitting needles clicking rapidly. I’m happy to support others’ endeavors.”

  “I need bookmarks too,” Alice said. “I’m always misplacing mine and resorting to a t
issue, or a piece of thread, or whatever is handy. Once I used a candy wrapper.” She made a face. “That was a mistake.”

  Sara retrieved a fistful of limp, lacy bookmarks from the sack.

  “I’ll have to mix a stiffener for them, of course. Maybe I’ll attach ribbons to some of them. What do you think, Annie?” she asked eagerly.

  Annie put aside her own work and smoothed several of Sara’s ecru-thread bookmarks in her lap. They were incredibly beautiful and delicate, with patterns of roses, birds, and butterflies.

  “These are absolutely gorgeous!” she said. “Did you create these designs?”

  The woman smiled, ducking her head. “Well, once I had made a few of them with a pattern, I just sort of started making up my own.”

  “Let me see one of those, please!” Kate said, eagerly snatching a couple from Annie’s lap.

  “Kate’s a killer-diller crocheter too,” Annie explained to Sara. “She often creates her own patterns.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” Sara said softly, smiling.

  Kate examined the lacy bookmarks. At last she looked at Sara with genuine admiration shining in her eyes. “Oh, Sara! You are a gifted artist! I’ll surely buy some of these, and I’ll talk to Mary Beth about putting some at the sales counter in the shop.”

  Before the meeting had even begun, every bookmark Sara brought with her had been spoken for.

  “I’ll block and stiffen them before the meeting next week,” she said. “Thank you so much!”

  When she left to go back to work, the women were surprised not to see Peggy hustling out the door at the same time. “Nope,” Peggy told the ladies, “I asked Jeff for the day off. I’m planning on a little ‘me time’ this afternoon.”

  That being said, the topic turned once again to Sara’s lovely workmanship.

  “Well, I hardly see how she’s going to sell those things to anyone but us,” Stella said. “Who buys bookmarks these days when you can get them for free at the library?”

  Alice laughed at that. “Stella,” she said, “you’re so funny sometimes! Have you ever actually looked at the bookmarks they give away at the library? Most of them are advertisements for some business or another. I saw a stack on the circulation desk the other day from a funeral home Down East. I mean, really!” She looked around at the others who nodded and laughed with her.