by Donna Ball
Carl glanced at the couple at the other end of the seat and said, “There’s a thermos in the basket here. Can I pour you folks a drink?”
Angela Phipps replied with a pleasant smile, “None for me, thanks.” She glanced at her husband. “Darling?”
He said, “No thanks, I’m good.” He adjusted the fur throw across his wife’s knees with a tender smile.
Leona whispered, “The love birds. It’s really a little disgusting, the way they fawn over each other.” But she was smiling as she said it.
Carl closed the lid of the hamper and said to his wife, quietly, “Has the trip really been that bad?”
“Oh, please.” She slipped her arm through his and leaned into his warmth. “You’re not going to pretend you enjoyed Florida. The best thing about this family vacation is that it’s almost over. I would have rather spent the last two weeks in the pit of hell than in the so-called happiest place on earth with those two demon spawn we’re raising as our daughters. And if that phone I ordered for Pammie doesn’t get here tomorrow, we’re all done for.”
“It won’t,” he assured her. “I canceled the order.”
She pulled away from him, staring. “Are you insane?”
He sighed. “I was hoping that without that damn thing glued to her hand she might actually start talking again. Or at least listening.”
Leona’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? How’s that working out for you?” Then she shrugged and snuggled up to him again. “Anyway, today was nice, wasn’t it? The massage was out of this world, and the girls seemed to enjoy horseback riding—well, as much as they enjoy anything that is. And,” she added, lowering her voice and squeezing his arm, “they’re both sure to say this is the best Christmas ever as soon as they see the diamond watches you got them.”
He looked at her, surprised. “How did you know?”
She smiled secretly and pressed her face to his shoulder. “The same way I know you got me that emerald necklace I made such a fuss over when I saw it in the jewelry store window last month. You are the most adorable man. How could I not love you?”
He looked down at her slowly in the dark. “What if …”
She tilted her head to him. “What?”
“I just sometimes wonder what would happen if it all went away. The money, the success. The job.”
She studied his face. “What an odd thing to say. Do you think we take you for granted?”
“No, of course not.”
“Carl?” Her expression grew mildly concerned. “Is something wrong?”
Carl smiled, faintly. “Nothing. Not a thing. Just don’t say anything to the girls about the watches, okay? You told me once that a girl never forgets the first man who gives her diamonds, and I wanted that man to be me. So let me surprise them.”
“Adorable,” she repeated, and laid her head on his shoulder again.
Bryce Phipps said, “Are you warm enough, sweetheart?”
“Umm.” Angela leaned into the circle of his arm. “Look at those stars. Gorgeous, aren’t they?”
“Reminds me of that camping trip we took in Colorado.”
She smiled. “The dude ranch. We were a lot younger then.”
“Let’s just say I’m glad to be riding in the back of a sleigh, rather than on the back of a horse,” he agreed, and she chuckled.
“This has been lovely, Bryce,” Angela said. “I’m glad you thought of it.”
“Yes, it has been.”
“So much better than the same old round of banquets and parties and concerts we do every year.”
“It gets old,” he said. “It’s nice to do something different for the holidays.”
They listened to the jingle of bells and clop of hooves for a while, the murmur of the voices of their fellow occupants of the sleigh and the occasional burst of laughter from the sleigh in front of theirs.
“It’s all really just charming,” Angela said.
“Exactly as advertised,” said her husband.
She glanced up at him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something hot to drink?”
“No, I’m fine. You?”
She settled against his shoulder again. “Just fine.”
But she wasn’t, of course.
Neither was he.
Paul and Derrick stood a little away from the others, contentedly surveying the evidence of yet another successful evening. The bonfire crackled, champagne sparkled, and voices were raised in laughter and conversation. The dinner had been magnificent, and was even served hot. Truffles were passed around with bowls of Bridget’s peppermint cream to exclamations and feigned protests and moans of utter delight. The chatter had been lively, sparked by the champagne and the magic of the crisp night air. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.
“We,” declared Paul, “are brilliant.” He lifted his glass to his partner in salute.
Derrick returned the salute with his own glass. “We’re lucky,” he corrected. “What if it had rained? Or been too windy to dine outside? Or too cold?”
“Well, it wasn’t. Everything was perfect.”
“We were lucky,” reiterated Derrick.
“You know,” Paul said, “we really are. When I think about poor Lindsay … well, Cici and Bridget too. They’re having a horrible Christmas.”
“We’ll have them over for Christmas dinner,” Derrick decided.
“Of course.”
“And we got them each a lovely spa basket.”
“We always give them spa baskets.”
“And they always love them.”
“You know,” Paul said thoughtfully, sipping his champagne, “Purline may have a point. Not much of one, mind you, but still, for the people we really love maybe an expensive gift isn’t enough. We should try to do something more meaningful.”
Derrick seemed perplexed. “More meaningful than spa baskets?”
“I know!” Paul exclaimed suddenly. “We’ll call Senator Tarkington!”
“Why?”
“You remember how disappointed Lindsay was that Noah could only have a couple of hours off on Christmas afternoon? Well, what if we could surprise her by getting him leave for the whole weekend?”
Enlightenment dawned, and Derrick grinned. “Whoever would have guessed that we’d one day be glad to know someone on the Armed Services Committee?”
Paul nodded in pleased satisfaction. “Brilliant,” he said.
Derrick clinked his glass against Paul’s. “Brilliant.”
Someone cried, “Oh, look! There’s one!” And they turned to watch the shooting star.
Carl Bartlett came up behind his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her own hand and entwined her fingers through his, nodding toward where their two daughters still sat at Mrs. Hildebrand’s table listening to her talk with rapt expressions on their faces. “Darling, hold me,” she murmured. “I think I’m about to fall into a parallel universe. Those two are actually having a conversation. With an adult.”
He smiled. “The only stars those girls are interested in are the ones Mrs. Hildebrand knows.”
“I’m serious. You may have ruptured the time-space continuum. They seem to be on the verge of discovering that there are other people in the world besides themselves.” She finished off her glass. “I need more champagne.”
Carl handed her his glass. She leaned back against him and sipped contentedly. Another meteor shot across the sky and a spattering of applause broke out.
Carl said softly, “I love you.”
She smiled up at him. “I know.”
“It’s just that …” He hesitated. “I might not get another chance to tell you that.” He saw the flicker of alarm in her eyes and corrected himself quickly. “A better chance, I mean, with the stars and all … and in all the confusion of Christmas I just wanted you to know that I love you, and the girls, and that it has nothing to do with diamonds and emeralds.”
She looked slightly puzzled. “You’re acting awfully strange tonight, honey. Are you sure
everything is okay?”
He closed his eyes and kissed her hair, and there was a moment when he almost told her everything, right then, right there. But it was just a moment.
He smiled, and told her, “Everything is perfect.”
He did not notice that when his wife turned away to watch the next burst of shooting stars, she looked far from convinced.
A few feet away Angela and Bryce Phipps stood with their backs to the crackling fire, cradling champagne glasses in their hands, watching as the streaks of light moved faster and faster across the sky. Bryce said quietly, “There’s more for us out there, Angie. More life, more love, more everything. We’re both still young. We can start over.”
She smiled and lifted her glass as another chorus of oohs and ahhs went up from the gathered watchers. “I can never start over,” she said. “There isn’t any more for me.”
Someone started singing “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Another voice joined in, and another. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep/the silent stars go by …
Bryce said, “When we get home, I’m filing for divorce.”
The hopes and fears of all the years/are met in thee tonight …
She said, with no change in her expression whatsoever, “Okay.”
She smiled fleetingly at someone who glanced her way, and he put an arm around her waist. They stood together on the top of the hill and watched in silence as the stars fell down.
~*~
December 23
Good morning! Just a reminder that for those last minute gifts for those at home, we do offer express shipping service. Leave your properly addressed packages at the desk before 10:00 a.m. and the charges will be added to your bill at checkout. Today is the last day we can guarantee Christmas delivery. Have you done the tour of local antique shops yet? Ask for a list, or see us about arranging transportation. Have a wonderful day in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley!
Your hosts,
Paul and Derrick
6:00–10:00 a.m. Coffee and pastries available in the dining room
8:30 a.m. Country breakfast is served in the dining room
1:00 p.m. A light buffet lunch will be available in the dining room
2:30 p.m. Shuttle departs for the tour of the Ladybug Farm winery and cooking class at the Tasting Table
5:30 Shuttle returns to the Hummingbird House
6:00 p.m. Cocktails served in the front parlor around the Christmas tree
7:30 p.m. Dinner is served in the dining room with a selection of Ladybug Farm wines. Dessert courtesy of Chef Bridget Tindale, your culinary instructor
9:00 p.m. Vans depart for a tour of the spectacular holiday lights of nearby Evergreen Park
~*~
THIRTEEN
Change of Plans
“Well, will you look at me?” Mick grinned as he admired himself in the cheval mirror that stood against the office wall, turning in profile and then back again. “Wouldn’t recognize myself on the street, would you?”
That was perhaps a slight exaggeration. Derrick’s old tuxedo, which was too small at the shoulders and too big at the waist—not to mention the trousers that were tucked into Mick’s motorcycle boots as a way of dealing with the fact that the cuffs landed about two inches above the ankles—made him look more like the ringmaster of a very strange circus than the respectable chauffeur Derrick had in mind. Derrick stepped back, eyeing his creation critically.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Something’s not quite right. Perhaps different headgear?” He indicated the bandanna that was tied around Mick’s head above the long braid—blue, today, covered in white snowmen wearing green holly wreaths.
Paul came into the room, stopped a foot or so inside the door, and did a double take. Mick spun on his heel and swept a bow. “What do you think, then? Magnificent, eh?”
Paul replied, “Um.”
Mick turned back to the mirror and adjusted his bow tie. “I was a stranger and you took me in,” he said, grinning at them both in the reflection of the mirror. “I was hungry and you fed me, I was naked and you clothed me … You, my brothers, are the genuine article, aren’t you?”
“Well,” said Paul, still staring at him with an expression of stunned disbelief.
Derrick met Paul’s gaze and returned a helpless shrug.
“Well then, I’d best go polish up the van if I’m going to be driving those fine ladies and gents to cooking class today, yes? And the perfect chance to show off my new togs!” He slapped Paul on the shoulder in passing and was whistling “Jingle Bells” in perfect counterpoint to Manheim Steamroller’s “Carol of the Bells” that came through the wall speakers as he left the office.
Paul looked at Derrick and said simply, “Seriously?”
“I did the best I could,” replied Derrick defensively. He plucked the dressmaker’s pincushion off his wrist and tucked it, along with the tape measure he had draped around his neck, into his desk drawer. “And I still think a change of headdress would make all the difference. By the way,” he added, “thank you for returning the children’s video console. I was going to package it up for today’s UPS pickup, but you’d already done it.”
Paul said, “I didn’t return it. You know I leave that sort of thing to you.”
Derrick frowned, confused. “How odd. Do you suppose Purline …”
There was a tap on the door and Geoffery Windsor looked in. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
“Mr. Windsor,” Paul greeted him warmly. “How are you enjoying your stay? Do you have everything you need?”
Geoffery came in the room and said, “Everything has been fine, just fine. However, I wanted you to know I’ve decided to cut my stay short.”
“Oh, no.” Derrick’s crestfallen expression was somewhere between anxiety and deep concern. “Is everything all right? There hasn’t been bad news, has there?”
“Is it something we’ve done?” offered Paul. “Something we didn’t do? Because believe me, our only desire is to make every guest at the Hummingbird House feel pampered and at home.”
Geoffery raised both hands in protest. “No, no, believe me, my stay as been wonderful. I have every intention of giving the Hummingbird House the highest recommendation to all my friends.”
Paul relaxed marginally, though he still seemed confused. “It’s just that no one has ever left the Hummingbird House early before.”
And Derrick added, “Won’t you reconsider? The weekend package was part of your compensation for the reading yesterday, which as you know was a grand success, and I’ll feel just awful to think we’ve shorted you in any way.”
Geoffery smiled. “You really are nice,” he said, “both of you. And I appreciate your generosity, I do. It’s just that it’s Christmas, you understand, and I’d like to be at home. I can get a train from Charlottesville tomorrow afternoon that will have me home by dinnertime, so I was wondering if you could arrange transportation into town sometime in the morning.”
“Well, of course,” Paul said, still a bit uncertain. “No problem at all.”
“In fact, the van is taking Christmas shoppers into Staunton in the morning,” Derrick added. “If you don’t mind a brief stop, our driver will happy to take you right to the station afterwards.”
“Thank you,” Geoffery said, “that sounds fine.” He turned to go.
“But,” insisted Derrick, “you’ll at least enjoy the rest of your stay with us, won’t you? The winery tour is fascinating. and you’ll adore Bridget’s cooking class. Even if you can’t boil an egg, she’ll make you feel like a pro. And,” he added with a grin, “you get to eat the proceeds!”
Geoffery said, “I’m sure it’ll be lovely, but I prefer to stay here this afternoon and pack.”
Paul said, “We’ll be sorry to lose you, Mr. Windsor. Please let us know if you change your mind.”
When he was gone, Derrick looked at Paul with a resigned quirk of his lips. “Well,” he said.
“Indeed,” agreed Paul. Then, frowning a little, “Did
you hear what he called us?”
“Nice?”
“Exactly.”
Derrick frowned as well. “I never thought of either one of us as nice, did you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Erudite, interesting, sophisticated …”
“Brilliant,” supplied Paul, “witty, charming, urbane …”
“Well spoken, compassionate, even generous,” added Derrick.
“But not nice,” Paul concluded, wrinkling his nose slightly in distaste.
“Definitely not,” agreed Derrick.
“At any rate,” Paul said, flinging himself onto the leather settee beside the window, “there’s more bad news. The president has canceled his holiday trip to Camp David.”
Derrick lifted an eyebrow, obviously confused. “I’m so sorry for him. But we seem to have an open room at the Hummingbird House if he needs a place to stay.”
Paul deliberately ignored the witticism. “That means all leave in Noah’s unit has been canceled,” he explained. “Apparently when the president is in town, the Marines are in town, or some such nonsense. Even the senator can’t do anything about it.”
“Oh, no!” Derrick said, dismayed. “I already told Noah our plans!”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now. Not only does that mean Noah can’t have the weekend off, he won’t even have Christmas afternoon off like he’d planned.”
“Oh, poor Lindsay.”
Paul sighed. “Well, maybe you can soften the blow for her. You’re still going with the group to Ladybug Farm, right?”
“I am,” agreed Derrick unhappily. “But I’m somehow not looking forward to it as much as I once was.”
Six hours later Derrick returned with a report that lived up to his expectations.
“Oh, the class was fine,” he said, “despite the fact that Bridget almost mixed up the sugar with the salt and preheated the oven to 530 degrees instead of 350.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like Bridget.”