Nutcracker Sweets at Moonglow

by Deborah Garner

  Mist pulled more jars out and arranged them on one table, spreading the greenery from Maisie’s Daisie’s around the fanciful glass decorations “Yes, I think this will work.” She removed others from the carton and offered one to Betty. “We just need to add more to the other tables, plus several on the buffet.”

  As the two women decorated the tables and buffet, voices filtered in from the lobby, and Keira, Maria, and Olga soon appeared in the café doorway.

  "We're going to the library," Keira announced. She wore a warm jacket, as did the others. Maria had an additional shawl covering her lap and legs.

  “Yes,” Maria said, beaming. “Mother said I could go on my own as long as I have an adult with me. And Ms. Savinova is an adult.”

  Olga nodded and tapped her cane on the floor. “Yes, I believe I am.”

  "The library?" Betty said, eyebrows raised. "I don't think it's open today, girls. But we have plenty of books in the front parlor bookshelves."

  “Although that room isn’t available right now,” Mist pointed out.

  "Don’t worry,” Olga said. “The library visit is already arranged. I ran into your town librarian at the candy store earlier and she offered us a private tour.”

  "How nice of her!" Betty exclaimed. "It's a lovely library. It’s not large, but it has a good selection of books, plus a new community room for town meetings and local events. There’s artwork by local schoolchildren on display, too. You’ll enjoy it."

  “I’m sure we will,” Keira said. She and Maria exchanged glances, giggling.

  “I’m going that way, too,” Liam said as he bounded down the stairs. “Let me help.” He grasped Maria’s wheelchair handles and cautiously escorted the group out the door.

  “Well, what do you know,” Betty said after the front door closed. “The guests are finding all kinds of ways to stay busy this afternoon.”

  “Yes, they are,” Mist said as she interspersed votive candles with the decorations. Betty watched Mist’s placement of the candles and arranged other tables in similar fashion. Once the decorated candy jars, ribbons, greenery, and candles graced both tables and buffet, Betty and Mist moved to the kitchen.

  “What can I do to help?” Betty said. She poured a mug of coffee, sat down at the center island, and waited for instructions.

  “Does stuffing squash sound exciting?” Mist watched with amusement as Betty pondered the question. “I’m kidding, Betty. Just keeping me company is helping.” She pulled a large bowl of mushroom, pecan, cranberry and farro stuffing out of the refrigerator, along with two large trays of sweet dumpling squash, already cut in half and partially roasted.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Mist,” Betty said. “When did you prepare all that?”

  Mist smiled. “There’s a reason we don’t serve breakfast on Christmas Eve, remember? The squash baked while I set up coffee, tea, croissants, and juice in the lobby. The stuffing took very little time to sauté. Now we’ll stuff each squash half and put them in the oven about thirty minutes before the roasted tarragon lamb is done.”

  “Salad? Bread? Dessert? Do tell,” Betty said.

  “Very simple this year,” Mist said. “We’ll have mixed greens with toasted almonds and champagne vinaigrette dressing, asiago-olive dinner rolls, and vanilla bean gelato, with or without a dash of peppermint schnapps on top.”

  “Ah,” Betty said. “Now I know what’s under the towels on the counter.”

  “Yes,” Mist teased. “It’s the gelato. I set it out so the yeast could rise.”

  “Well, on that silly note, I’m off to help Clive spruce up his gallery,” Betty said. She pulled a bucket from under the kitchen sink and dropped a few supplies inside. “I have a feeling his idea of cleaning is a quick sweep with the broom.”

  “He’ll need to clear one of his display tables to make room for the relish plate, hot cider carafes, and Christmas punch,” Mist said. “Speaking of which, take these with you.” She placed several oranges in a cloth bag and added a package of fresh cranberries from the refrigerator. “To float on top of the punch,” she added, anticipating Betty’s question.

  “What will the punch go in?” Betty asked. “I suspect you’re using our large crystal bowl for the salad tonight.”

  “Maisie’s taking one over. Clayton’s parents gave them a beautiful punch bowl as a wedding present.” Mist handed Betty the bag of fruit, a mischievous look following. “And Pop’s Parlor is donating a bit of Bacardi for those who wish to spice things up.”

  Betty laughed. “Timberton will be a festive town tonight, no doubt! Between Clive’s gallery reception, your Christmas Eve dinner, and the sweet performance Keira, Matthew and Liam have planned, there’ll be no lack of holiday spirit.”

  Mist watched as Betty headed out the door, fruit bag in one hand, bucket of cleaning supplies in the other. Yes, she mused, enough holiday spirit to fill the hotel, the town, the guests’ hearts, and a little extra to float out into the universe beyond.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Maisie swept into the kitchen, Clay Jr. in her arms. “You really should go down to the gallery for a few minutes. It’s such a joyous gathering.”

  Mist looked at Maisie as if she’d lost her mind. “You do realize I have just a few people coming to dinner an hour and a half from now?”

  “No more than thirty,” Maisie said, and then paused as Mist raised her eyebrows. “Okay, maybe forty or fifty,” she admitted. “But, knowing you, you’ve been ready for a week.”

  Mist pointed across the kitchen, her arm as graceful as a sugar-plum fairy. “You see those large ovens that Clive installed for us a few years ago? I have three bone-in lamb roasts in there, as well as a seven-rib standing roast for those who prefer beef.”

  Maisie crossed the kitchen and looked through the glass doors to the ovens, keeping Clay Jr. safely off to the side. “One shelf is empty,” she said.

  “That’s for the portobello mushroom wellington, for those who don’t eat meat at all,” Mist said. “It goes in the oven later, along with the stuffed squash and rolls.”

  “And your salad?” Maisie quipped.

  Mist sighed, knowing where Maisie was heading with her line of questioning. “Prepared, in the refrigerator downstairs.”

  “I thought so.” Maisie walked to the coat rack by the back door and removed a wool cape that Mist was known to wear on cold evenings. “The café is set. I saw the tables when I came in. And I will watch the roasts, in case they decide to hop around the kitchen or something while you’re away. Clive’s place is just a block away. Go for ten minutes.”

  Giving in, Mist took the cape, threw it over her shoulders, and grabbed a scarf and mittens from a shelf. In truth, she was curious to see how things were going at the gallery, and she had no justified argument against Maisie’s valid points. The roasts would cook themselves, the café only needed candles lit just before guests arrived, and the front parlor was set for the after-dinner performance. In addition, she’d dressed early for the evening, donning a forest green velvet dress, ivory vest, and vintage rhinestone earrings. Bundled up, she thanked Maisie and headed out.

  Mist could hear the cheerful camaraderie halfway to Clive’s place. A light snow had begun falling, enough to give the gallery a snow globe appearance from outside. Windows outlined with twinkling lights framed silhouettes of guests inside, cups of punch or mugs of cider in their hands. Christmas music mixed with happy voices as she approached the doorway. She paused and smiled before opening the door. Maisie had been right. Even if she didn’t step inside, it would have been worth the walk just to observe the scene from outside.

  “You’re here!” Keira crossed the gallery quickly and took Mist’s hand, pulling her over by Maria’s wheelchair. “We’re so excited!” Keira said.

  Maria nodded her head enthusiastically, agreeing with her new friend. “I can hardly wait to see Keira dance!” Mist smiled as both girls covered their mouths, an unsuccessful attempt to hide a new batch of giggles.

  Luisa and
Rafael stood nearby, each holding a cup of punch. Luisa leaned toward Mist and whispered, “I haven’t seen Maria this excited in years.”

  “I’m glad,” Mist said. “Christmas does have a way of warming the heart.”

  “It’s wonderful to see her so happy,” Rafael added, his face exhibiting fatherly pride.

  Mist felt her cape being lifted off her shoulders. Turning, she was not surprised to see Michael by her side. She placed her hand lightly on his arm to stop him from moving away. “I can only stay a few minutes,” she said. Understanding, Michael draped the cape over his arm, rather than take it to the coat rack near the gallery door.

  “You look beautiful,” Michael whispered. His lips brushed against her skin just below one ear, causing a rhinestone earring to sway and sparkle under the gallery lights.

  “And you look quite dapper yourself, Mr. Blanton,” Mist said, admiring the way his cashmere sweater brought out the soft green in his eyes. “As do you, Professor,” Mist said as Nigel joined them. The professor’s argyle vest and bow tie combined with his wire-rimmed glasses to create a statement of intellectual persuasion.

  “A splendid reception,” Nigel said. “I don’t believe I’ve come down to Clive’s gallery on other visits. I must make a point of visiting from now on. Your miniature paintings are delightful, for one thing. And Clive’s jewelry is magnificent.”

  Mist thanked Nigel for his kind words, agreeing with his assessment of the jewelry. The designs Clive came up with to showcase the area’s Yogo Sapphires were elegant and unique.

  “I wonder what ornament he’s created for Betty this year,” Michael said, looking at Mist to see if she knew the answer.

  “I have no idea,” Mist said. “He doesn’t tell anyone until he pulls it from behind the tree to present to her. That’s his tradition.” She reconsidered her words. “Their tradition is more accurate,” she rephrased.

  Hearty laughter caught Mist’s attention, and she looked across the room to see Matthew, Liam and Clayton together near the refreshment table. Olga sat nearby, sporting an amused but demure look as she listened to whatever the three men were discussing.

  “I’m pleased to see quite a few townsfolk here, especially considering this was a last-minute plan.” Mist glanced around the room, spotting at least a dozen locals gathered in groups. “But,” she said, turning to Michael. “I do have to get back to the hotel. Unless that relish tray on the refreshment table will satisfy everyone’s appetites for the evening.”

  “No chance of that!” Clive said, stepping into the conversation. He wore a headband with reindeer antlers, a bright red shirt, and a bolo tie. Betty stood beside him, dressed almost identically. Instead of a bolo tie, she wore a brooch shaped like a Christmas stocking. The pair looked like they’d stepped straight out of a holiday movie.

  “You heard the man,” Mist said to Michael, reaching for her cape. “I’m under direct orders from Clive to make sure no one goes hungry tonight.”

  “Let me escort you back to the hotel,” Michael offered as he helped place Mist’s cape around her shoulders.

  “She’s going to say no,” Betty said. She and Mist exchanged smiles. Betty had simply offered the answer she was about to give, anyway.

  “Now that I think about it,” Michael said, “we never see you right before dinner on Christmas Eve, do we?” He tilted his head to the side and regarded Mist with curiosity, as if realizing another mysterious facet of her personality.

  “I don’t believe you do,” Mist said. She smiled as she slipped her gloves back on. Without another word, she left the gallery and headed back to the hotel.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mist moved from table to table in the café, lighting candles and checking place settings. Maisie had left temporarily when Mist returned to the hotel, but would return to help serve dinner. Betty had stayed at the gallery to co-host the gathering with Clive. Those close to Mist knew she had a tradition of standing alone in the café before opening the doors for the Christmas Eve meal. The quiet moments before the festive activity allowed Mist to breathe in the spirit of the evening. Without sound, without music, without so much as a whisper to break the spell, the silence moved her in a way she couldn’t put into words if she tried. It was a kind of magic that she only understood by the way it spoke to her soul. Surrounded by the candlelight, the elegant decorations, and the anticipation of the shared joy to come, peace descended upon her like the soft snow falling outside.

  The sound of approaching footsteps broke the spell gently. Mist smiled, charmed at the thought of the approaching guests. With the front parlor off-limits this year for those waiting to dine, something new had been created: a wintery parade along Timberton’s main street as the dinner guests approached.

  Hearing feet shuffling on the front porch, followed by voices flowing into the hotel’s front lobby, Mist opened the café doors and gestured for those arriving to enter. As the café filled with cheerful laughter, Mist retreated to the kitchen. With help from Betty and Maisie, the procession of culinary delights began, platter after platter filling the buffet until it nearly overflowed with mouth-watering goodness.

  A sudden shyness passed over the crowd, no one wanting to be the first to rush to the festive spread. It only took a quick tease from Mist about removing the food to send guests jumping to their feet. One by one, group by group, they moved along the buffet, loading plates with the exquisite Christmas Eve meal that the Moonglow Café and Timberton Hotel had become known for.

  “It just gets better every year,” Nigel said as he took a seat at a table with Luisa and Rafael. He looked up to see Michael approaching. “Isn’t that right, Michael?”

  “I must say I agree,” Michael said, sliding into an empty seat, a full plate in his hands. He set the plate down and reached for a basket of rolls, offering them to others before taking one for himself. “Maybe you’ll return next year,” he said to Luisa and Rafael. “Several of us do.”

  “I can see why,” Rafael said. “This meal itself would bring me back.”

  “It’s different every year,” Nigel noted. “You should have seen the buche de noel we had for dessert one year. It was magnificent.”

  “I love the decorations,” Luisa said. “I wouldn’t have thought to fill jars with candy for a centerpiece, but with the candlelight reflecting off the glass, it’s delightful.”

  “Plus later you can eat the candy,” Maria said. “It’s a decoration and a dessert!” She sat one table away from her mother, Keira by her side.

  “You can only eat the candy inside,” Keira said, inspecting a jar closely. “The outside has glitter on it, so we can’t eat the candy on top by the ribbons.”

  “A wise decision,” Mist said as she passed by with a pitcher of water.

  Heather, seated not far away with Liam, Matthew and Olga, looked at Mist and smiled. The girls had been whispering back and forth all day, and Mist had suggested letting them have their own table. It had made sense for them to eat together, and the two-top was situated perfectly to accommodate Maria’s wheelchair.

  Most townsfolk sat together, but mingled verbally with hotel guests nearby, as well as during trips to the buffet, of which there were many. Although the café featured multiple tables of varying sizes, it was as if the room became one large seating area with no division at all.

  As plates were cleared, red crystal goblets of gelato began to emerge, each garnished with mint leaves and a miniature candy cane. Matthew and Liam declined, excusing themselves to prepare for the show. Matthew patted his stomach, citing the need to keep his youthful figure, which brought a round of laughter. Liam did the same, resulting in more eye-rolling than snickers. Keira stood as well, beckoning to Maria.

  “I’m going with Keira,” Maria said to her mother as she positioning her hands to turn her chair’s wheels.”

  “I don’t know,” Luisa said. “Keira needs to get ready for her performance. Why don’t you stay with us and have dessert?”

  Mist watched from th
e kitchen doorway, concerned as Maria’s face started to cloud over. Fortunately, Rafael spoke up just as Mist was about to intercede.

  “Maybe we should let her go, Luisa,” Rafael said. “Who knows when she’ll have another chance to be backstage at a show?”

  “Please?” Maria begged.

  Betty, gelato-laden crystal in each hand, leaned toward Mist. “My, the poor girl really looks worried,” she whispered.

  “It will be fine,” Mist said, reassured now that Maria’s father had spoken up. Sure enough, Luisa responded as she trusted she would.

  “You’re right,” Luisa said to Rafael. She then turned to Maria. “Go ahead, Maria. I’ll bet being backstage with Keira will be exciting.

  “Thanks!” Maria, looking both, relieved and excited, quickly rolled herself back from the table and out of the café. Keira skipped alongside her, and the two disappeared down the hall.

  Mist sent a look of gratitude to Rafael and resumed serving dessert. “With or without peppermint schnapps?” she asked each guest as she graced each place setting with the festive crystal. Betty followed with a decanter of the sweet liqueur for those who chose to add it.

  “How about peppermint schnapps without gelato?” Clive asked, much to the amusement of those around him.

  “Why not?” Betty said. “It’s Christmas Eve, after all.” She took a cordial glass from a china cabinet in the corner of the room, filled it a quarter full and set it in front of Clive. Several other guests followed Clive’s suggestion, most stayed with the planned gelato, and a few opted for only coffee, instead. Clayton, who’d been sitting with Maisie, his parents, and Clay Jr., turned down dessert and coffee altogether and excused himself to go set the lights for the performance.

  After twenty minutes sharing stories over dessert and coffee, Clayton passed through the room, whispered to Mist, and then left again. In turn, Mist invited the crowd to move to the front parlor, cautioning them to watch their steps, as the lights would be low. She stood back and watched as guests made their way out of the café and through the entry hall. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and exhaled. Here we go...