by Nancy Naigle
“Good. I can’t wait.”
“Right. Take care.” Joy ended the call, feeling disconnected from everything she’d thought mattered. And the fact that Margie had let her team off work for the afternoon still nagged at her. Why did that bother her so much? She had a job to do. Was it so wrong to stay focused on the goals? To be ahead of the game when things weren’t busy?
Joy’s appetite had suddenly disappeared. She toyed with the phone in her lap. Nothing was going to change between now and Monday. She still had high hopes that she’d make the gala, but there was no way she’d be back in the office on Monday. At least she wouldn’t have to go to Margie’s kids’ Christmas pageant. Now, that was a true Christmas gift!
She pressed the button to Margie’s direct line. She’d readied herself to leave the message, but to her surprise, Margie had been in the office. On a Saturday afternoon? That had to be a first. The conversation was short and amicable, but why was it that Margie’s overly enthusiastic support for Joy to take time off was unsettling?
Joy hung up the phone feeling a little off balance without the normal chaos of her schedule. And with things going so swimmingly without her at the office, it was hard not to take it a little personally.
A waitress walked by, carrying a stack of at least eight boxes in a tall, cakelike stack. She stopped at Joy’s table and let the bottom box from the pile drop to the table.
“What’s this?”
“Christmas ornaments. Tradition,” she said. “Everyone joins in. Come on. It makes fast work of a huge project.”
The tree stood in the corner of the restaurant, blocking the glass window that gave customers a view into the beer vats. Hundreds and hundreds of multicolored lights twinkled as couples and individuals made their way to the tree to do their part, starting to fill the green branches with pretty and colorful ornaments.
Joy watched as the others took their turn. It couldn’t have been more well paced if they’d had a choreographer for the activity. She pulled the weathered-looking box of ornaments toward her. The cellophane was yellowed and torn from years of storage. Inside, six golden glass gingerbread men lay in wait for their chance to dance among the tree limbs.
With a shiver of vivid recollection, she could see herself standing at her mother’s side, trying to decide where to place the next ornament. It had taken hours to decorate their tree. Something they’d always accomplished alone. Dad had never done anything but set up the tree and string the lights. That was a long time ago. She pushed the sad memories aside and carried the box to the tree. Her hands shook as she carefully hung the six merry gingerbread men around the tree, spreading them out among the colorful array of candy canes, mittens, and colored glass balls.
“Joy? Is that you?” someone called from near the front door.
She spun around to see Shirley with a basket over her arm.
“Hi. Good to see you,” Joy said, stepping back from the tree.
“Are you here for dinner?”
“Yes, ma’am. I remembered Ruby talking about this place. I thought I’d give it a try on my way home.”
“How’s our gal doing? I’ve been so busy, I haven’t caught up with her.”
“Good. Settled in at the rehab center, although she’s not too happy about it.”
“Well, would you be? I certainly wouldn’t be either. It’s the holidays, for goodness’ sake.”
She wouldn’t much like it any time of year. “Would you care to join me for dinner?”
“I’d love to, but can’t. I’m just dropping off tickets. The restaurant is one of our sponsors of the Crystal Christmas Cookie Crawl. They sell tickets for us.” Shirley fanned a handful of shiny foil tickets.
Joy plucked one from the middle and examined it closely. “This is beautiful. As pretty as a Christmas card.”
“I spend months coming up with new ways to improve this event. I try my best to make this event better and better every single year so it remains a tradition that no family would dare skip.”
What wasn’t a tradition in Crystal Falls? They seemed to serve up tradition like they did sugar in their tea around here.
“Once I realized people were keeping their tickets as mementos, I started fancying them up. It didn’t cost that much more, and sales have gone up every single year.”
“Nice.” Joy ran her finger over the raised ink. The front of a house filled the shiny cardstock. A red door in bright foil, the green wreath adorning the center raised. “Is this—?”
“You noticed.” Shirley smiled. “It’s the door at the farmhouse. Ruby makes gorgeous wreaths every year, you know. People talk about them for months.” Her face went still. “Oh dear, I wonder if she can do that from the rehab center? No way you could do that.”
That comment rustled her feathers. “I’m crafty. I’m sure I could pull something lovely together.”
“No offense, but I’m not sure you realize how important this event is.”
“I’m beginning to.”
“Good. Because I count on Ruby’s place as the premier stop every year.”
“I won’t let Aunt Ruby down.”
“I would hope not, because this is very important to her. Well, to the whole town, really. We might be a small town, but this is a big deal to us. We earn a lot of money for good causes through this event.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“It’s very tasteful. Not tacky.”
Tacky? Do I look like I’d bring tacky to the table? This woman is beginning to annoy me. I know Ruby and Shirley are best friends, but I never noticed how pushy she was.
“We’re very proud of it,” Shirley said. “You have started getting Ruby’s place ready, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” The lie didn’t settle well on her lips. She’d never been a good liar, but she could sense the lecture if she’d answered with anything less.
Shirley looked like she’d prefer to scold Joy, but instead a motherly comment with that level of disappointment came out. “People will expect it to be spectacular. Please do let me know if I need to take this over.”
She shuddered, but smiled. “I’ve got it all under control. Ruby and I were just talking about that this morning.”
Shirley patted Joy on the shoulder. “I’ve got to get these tickets out. You check in with me this week, okay?”
“Wait a second.” She dug into her purse and pulled out her wallet. “I need some of those.”
“You don’t need a ticket, dear.”
“They’re for a friend.” She took her wallet out. “How much are they?”
“Twenty dollars each.”
“That’s perfect, and it’s a good cause. You said so yourself.” Joy handed Shirley a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.
“Thank you so much. Everyone raves about this event. I’m sure your friends will enjoy it.” She counted out the five tickets on the table in front of Joy.
Joy walked back over to her small corner table. The waitress had dropped off her meal at some point. She sat down and pushed her fork into a smoked pork chop, feeling even more pressure than before. The waitress had been right. They were so tender, she could cut them with her fork.
Even with the pressure of the decorations for the big event, Joy felt an unusual tingle of excitement about Christmas that she hadn’t felt in years. That moment, that memory, of her and her mother at the tree had sparked something. For the first time in years, she’d pictured Mom in a happy moment rather than in the hospital.
She ate one of the pork chops, then pushed her plate to the center of the table. That was a lot of food. If she ate like this the whole time she was in Crystal Falls, she wouldn’t fit into that perfectly altered gown on gala night.
She pulled a piece of paper from her purse. With the tickets in front of her for inspiration, she started a list of ideas.
Ruby’s place was not only going to be the star of the Crystal Christmas Cookie Crawl this year … this would be the most memorable year of all years to come.
�
�I need a theme.” She bounced the tip of her pen against the page.
Silver bells?
Frosty the snowman?
Something they wouldn’t expect. Turquoise, purple, and pink. She quickly scratched through those ideas. No way would folks around here appreciate something like that. And Ruby would certainly not be a fan of it. No, it had to be more traditional … with a twist.
With the brainstorming list in her hand, she walked up to the register and paid her tab. As she walked to her car, she realized she was smiling. For no reason. Somehow unfamiliar … and welcome.
The holiday tunes that she’d tried to soothe Ruby with earlier poured through the speakers with a realistic whinny of horses and galloping hooves in an old version of “Jingle Bells.”
Horses. Horses. Horses.
And she suddenly felt like Meg Ryan, cruising the highway in Sleepless in Seattle. She moistened her lips and began whistling an almost recognizable version of the carol.
Chapter Thirteen
Joy drove straight back to the farmhouse. Seeing the place through a whole new lens, she put her key in the brass knob, noting the color of the red on the door. Shirley’s comments about Ruby’s magnificent wreaths echoed. Whatever Joy came up with for the wreath, it would have to accent that color. Really pop. So nothing too dark. Oh, and it needed to be absolutely awesome. Game on, Shirley!
Color palettes played in her mind as she pushed the door open. Just inside in the entry hall stood a table, a repurposed old bank of card-catalog drawers that Ruby had gotten when the library upgraded its system. She’d whitewashed them, but the yellowed Dewey decimal ranges still marked each drawer. Joy dropped her things on top of it and kicked off her shoes. Rummaging through the drawers, she found exactly what she was looking for. A pad of paper.
She had half a mind to write “buy some red paint” at the top of the list. That door could use a little freshen-up, but the last thing she wanted to do was further upset things. Too much change could be uncomfortable for older people. She’d learned that during market research for a magazine a few years back.
The next morning, Joy got right down to work. After feeding the animals she found the information she needed right where Ruby had said it’d be. The journals lined nearly the whole bottom right-hand shelf of the built-in bookcase in the living room. Uncle George had worked for weeks cutting, planning, sanding, and installing them for Aunt Ruby. She remembered him working tirelessly out in the workshop on them. Thinking back, she wondered if the project had been a way for him to get some peace and quiet away from Aunt Ruby, Mom, and herself that summer.
Joy stacked the notebooks into her arms and carried them to the couch. Ruby had already dictated a list of things to get started on, but she liked to have the full picture in front of her before she made a plan. That reduced the opportunity for rework, and she didn’t have time for any do-overs. Besides, now she was curious to see what all the fuss was about with this decorating. Shirley had made it sound like an Olympic effort.
Her competitive nature was in overdrive. She was going to show Shirley that Ruby wasn’t the only one in this family who could fashion up some holiday craft goodness. Besides, focusing on this would make being away from work easier.
With just over a week before the MacDonald-Webber gala, chances were good she’d have all this decorating done and Ruby might even be back home by then.
Joy began flipping through the journals. Faded Polaroids captured years gone by. Ruby dressed in holiday attire, wearing her hundred-watt smile in front of gorgeous Christmas trees. Old shopping lists for supplies to decorate the wreaths were stapled into each journal. Joy tugged at a paper clip that held a recipe for homemade ginger cookies. A rusty loop stained where the papers had been attached for so many years. It had been years since she’d had those cookies. She could almost taste them now.
Thumbing through journal after journal, Joy found it remarkable how Ruby came up with something different to highlight every single year. Sometimes the theme was whimsical … other years elegant … one year she made wreaths from peacock feathers and decorated one whole tree in birds and feathers. A snapshot of that Christmas tree boasted garlands with peacock feathers placed along a twisting ribbon like delicate angel wings.
Joy had forgotten about the albino peacock that lived here with Uncle George and Aunt Ruby. That bird would squawk—no, make that scream—in the middle of the night. Used to scare her to death. His calls were so loud and humanlike that they could wake the dead! He’d woken her out of a deep sleep so many times that she would have enjoyed being the one to pluck his feathers, although she was quite certain Ruby simply gathered the ones he chose to leave behind as he strutted around the yard. That wreath had to have been gorgeous, with the white-feathered fronds and silver bells tucked into the fresh greenery.
Funny. She couldn’t remember a single thing about the last Christmas she spent in this house. Or the first one without Mom. Had Ruby decorated at all that year?
Somewhere in all these journals, there was an answer to that question. She was sure of that.
As Joy got lost in the details recorded in the journals, she noticed that Ruby’s sketches had become less intricate over the past two years. Even her handwriting was a little less steady. Ruby had always had an artistic flair. Painting, sketching, any kind of craft. Joy’s heart ached, knowing she’d missed these moments with Ruby. Moments she could never get back. Especially after Uncle George died.
Ruby had asked her to come for the holidays every year since, but Joy had opted to keep the holiday and Mom’s memories at a safely comfortable distance.
Maybe Joy had kept everything at a distance, except for work.
She swept the books into a stack and picked them up.
It wasn’t going to be easy topping the displays that Ruby had put together. Her heart was in every one of those designs. There were hundreds of tiny details. Not just decorations, but also the music, the food, the lights, and even the scents … peppermint, cocoa, pine, and cinnamon mixed with tangy orange. There was careful purpose put into each element that made it all work, and guaranteed that every sense would be touched. What guests couldn’t see, they’d smell. What they couldn’t touch, they’d hear. And the tastes would tease childhood memories.
“I can do this.” She stood, clinging to the journals, hugging them like memories she wished were her own, and crossed the room. As she glanced upstairs, her dress, which still hung from the door at the top of the stairway, glimmered in the afternoon sun.
Chapter Fourteen
Ben was happy to wrap up his day at work. He’d experienced his share of bad Mondays, but now his grandmother, Shirley, was adding to it. She was convinced that her Crystal Christmas Cookie Crawl was going to be doomed unless he did some sort of intervention.
He’d been on his way out when she walked right in and plopped into the chair in his office. “Ruby’s niece hasn’t been here to visit her aunt even one single Christmas that I can remember, and now she thinks she can handle the whole house decoration by herself. My Crystal Christmas Cookie Crawl is doomed.”
“It can’t be that bad.” Ben sat back down behind his desk. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, if his grandmother’s mood was any indicator.
“That young woman insists she doesn’t need any help. She has no idea how big a deal this is.”
“Maybe she knows what she’s doing. Ruby will give her some advice.” It wouldn’t be a bad thing if he didn’t have to help out decorating Ruby’s house this year. He enjoyed it, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a hundred other things on his plate. He opened the folder on his desk. If he was going to be here, he may as well get more paperwork done. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was if his grandmother stopped in to rant, she wasn’t going to be quick about it. He signed an authorization and flipped to the next paper, listening as he multitasked through the backlog of paperwork that had come in over the weekend.
“Well, little Miss Joy Holbrook is
just a little too big for her britches, if you ask me.”
Joy? He slapped the folder closed and put his forearms on his desk. “Now, what would make you say that?”
“What kind of person refuses help from friends? Seriously. She might be a successful big-city somebody-or-other, but she has that big-city attitude to go along with it. A suit-wearing, hybrid-driving, city girl.”
That didn’t make it hard to put two and two together on who the drop-in niece was. There was only one Prius-driving girl named Joy in Crystal Falls that he knew of. And he had to admit something about that pistol of a girl had been taunting him since they’d met. He’d spent more than a minute or two hoping he might run into her again.
“Is she staying at Ruby’s?” he asked.
“Supposed to be.”
“I have to deliver her trees. I’ll stop by there tonight and see how things are going.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “Thank you.”
“Can’t promise anything, but I can at least offer my help.” It didn’t surprise him that Joy had refused help. She hadn’t been all that receptive to him helping her out in the parking lot the other night, and it wasn’t like she’d had a lot of choices then. She seemed like the type that wanted to do everything her own way—even if it was the hard way.
Shirley got up and came around his desk, giving him a big red lipstick kiss on the cheek. “You are my favorite grandson.”
“That’s only because Jim and Bobby don’t live in Crystal Falls anymore.”
She smudged the lipstick off his cheek with her thumb. “Well, they don’t really need to know, do they? Could you stop over there before dark tonight? I hate to lose another day.”
“Of course.”
He watched his grandmother scurry out the door, wishing his staff a cheerful day as she made it down the hall.