Thread the Halls

by Lea Wait

“A real moose?” Blaze asked, finally showing some interest.

  “No, someone dressed up as a moose. Sometimes Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph and Jack Frost are also with him.” I smiled. “Santa will walk up to the Town Hall, on the Green, accompanied by the Haven Harbor High School band and representatives of local groups—Scouts, 4-H, the YMCA, and so forth. There’ll be a Carol Sing on the Green, and children can have their pictures taken with Santa.”

  We were already down the hill, passing Pocket Cove Beach, and were beginning to see groups of people walking through the streets. Most smiled, and some waved. Seth waved his Santa hat at them, and Skye and Blaze waved back.

  The car of photographers following us hadn’t disappeared.

  “Seth, after we go around the harbor, why don’t you cut up to go around the Green and then head back to Main Street. I’m not sure where you can park downtown.”

  “What about in the parking lot behind my gallery?” suggested Patrick. “It’s sheltered.”

  “Don’t want to leave the horses alone,” Seth pointed out.

  “Maybe Patrick can open the gallery so you can stay warm inside there and watch them?” I suggested.

  “Sure. Can do,” said Patrick.

  Thomas took another swig from his flask and passed it around. This time Marie sipped from it, too, despite her clear disapproval.

  “It’s a charming little town,” said Marie as we passed the wharves, where several fishermen were decorating their boats. “You’ve been telling us the official history. But what about the stories? Mrs. Clifford told me there might even be a ghost at Aurora.”

  Skye didn’t answer immediately, so I did. “No ghosts. Although a young woman was murdered there in 1970. Any town this old has seen a lot.”

  “What a terrific set this would make for a movie,” Marv said as we left the Harbor waterfront and headed for the town Green, ringed with Christmas trees and old houses wreathed and lit for the holidays. The Congregational Church, where Reverend Tom ministered, was a classic New England design with a center aisle, clear glass windows, and a steeple at the end of the Green farthest from the Harbor.

  “That’s my house,” I volunteered, pointing it out as we passed.

  “Who’s that on your porch?” Patrick asked.

  “Darn. That’s Carly Tremont,” I said. “She’s in town for the holidays. She’s a major fan of your mother’s—has seen every movie she’s been in, she says—and she commissioned a large order from Mainely Needlepoint. She’s stopped to see me a couple of times.”

  What did Carly want now?

  “Seth, stop! I want to meet her,” Skye said, to my surprise. “It will make a great picture for the media. Famous actress meets fan.” Seth pulled up the horses just past my house and Skye climbed out of the wagon and headed for my porch, waving to the photographers following us.

  Chapter 32

  “May I govern my passions with absolute sway And grow wiser and better as life wears away.”

  —Eliza Ann Cummings of Plymouth, New Hampshire, stitched this verse on her sampler when she was fifteen. She surrounded her words and alphabets with embroidered wildflowers. Eliza married, moved to Vermont, had one child, and lived to be eighty-three.

  I climbed down after Skye, considerably less gracefully than she had. Carly might be a pain, but she was a good customer, and I didn’t want her to be a nuisance to Skye.

  Carly watched in amazement as Skye headed for my house.

  So did the photographers who’d stopped their cars and followed Skye.

  “Hello,” said Skye, putting out her hand. “I’m Skye West. Angie tells me you enjoy my movies.”

  Carly looked as though she’d faint at any moment. “I love your movies. I don’t believe I’m actually talking to you! This is a dream come true!”

  “I was passing by with some friends, and Angie mentioned you were a big fan, and I was inspired to jump off and meet you.”

  “I can’t believe this. I don’t.” Carly dug out her phone. “Please, Angie, would you take a picture of Ms. West and I? My hands are shaking too much right now. I’m so excited!”

  I snapped a couple of pictures of them together.

  Skye was doing a great job of being utterly charming. “I understand you’re from Texas, Carly. I have good memories of Texas. One of my earliest movies was filmed in Houston. What brings you to Maine this Christmas season?”

  “I wanted to see a white Christmas, and then I read that you owned a home here, and I decided Haven Harbor was the place to come. It must be meant! I never dreamed we’d meet!”

  “You’re in town by yourself, Carly?”

  “I am. Staying in one of the B and Bs in the harbor.”

  “No one should be alone for the holidays. I’m having a little dinner for a few friends Christmas Eve at six at my home. I’d love for you to join us if you’re free.”

  “Me? To your house? Christmas Eve?” Carly started to cry. “I’d be thrilled!”

  “Then I’ll count on seeing you there,” said Skye, turning toward the wagon. “Angie can give you directions.”

  Carly looked as though she was in shock. “This is the best Christmas present ever. And you don’t have to give me directions, Angie. I know where Ms. West lives.”

  “See you in a couple of days, then,” I told her. “Were you looking for me?”

  “It was nothing important. I hardly remember why I came here. I can’t believe it!”

  I handed her phone back to her.

  “I can’t wait to look at those pictures and post one on Facebook! My friends in Texas will never believe this!”

  “I’m glad,” I said, heading back to the wagon and waving. “See you Christmas Eve!”

  “Look at all these old houses,” Thomas was saying as Patrick helped me back into the wagon. “I’ll bet they’ve been here a hundred years.”

  “Some more than that,” I said. “My house was built in 1809.”

  “When did you buy it?”

  I tried not to laugh. “I was born in Haven Harbor. My house hasn’t been out of my family since it was built.” I gestured toward the other houses around the Green. “A lot of these homes are owned by the original families.”

  “They must all have stories connected with them,” put in Marie. “Secrets.”

  “I suppose so,” I agreed. “Everyone has secrets. Every town is full of them. And, you’re right. These houses have seen a lot over the years.”

  Marv and Thomas had pulled out cameras and started taking pictures.

  Why not? Haven Harbor was a scenic village.

  “Seth’s going to take the wagon downtown. We’ll have an hour or so before dusk so you can check out Main Street. There’s a great bookstore there, and a patisserie. I’d especially recommend From Here and There, an antique shop owned by my friend Sarah. Several stores sell souvenirs of Maine, or heavy sweatshirts or sweaters.” I glanced at Blaze. “Hubbel Clothing has warm clothes and boots, too.”

  “This would be a perfect location for a film,” Marv interrupted me as he snapped away. “Maine. Dark secrets behind wreathed doors.”

  “What do you think, Marie?” Tom asked.

  “I love it! Remember how successful all the Stephen King movies are. People love Maine! And wasn’t Peyton Place set here?”

  “It was filmed in Camden,” I said. Were they kidding? Was this serious?

  “A remake!” said Marv. “Bring the story up to date. More sex, more violence, and a more diverse cast.” He looked at me. “How diverse is Maine?”

  “More diverse than it used to be,” I said honestly. “We’ve welcomed refugees from all over the world, and people have moved to Maine from other parts of the United States. It’s always been a place that respected individuals. People who lived life a little differently.”

  “Perfect!” said Thomas. “As usual, a brilliant idea, Marv. I’m going to start taking notes and pictures as we walk around town. We wouldn’t have to bring a lot of cast members. Just the crew and major
actors. We could hire local people as extras.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Skye put in, as the wagon circled the Green and headed for Main Street. “It would interrupt the town. Besides—we still need to figure out a new ending for the film we’re working on now.”

  “We will, Skye, don’t worry. But you told us what a perfect place this was. I’ll admit I doubted it. But now I’m sure—it’s a perfect place for a movie!” Thomas pulled out a small notebook and a pencil.

  Were they serious? The Chamber of Commerce would no doubt be delighted. Filming here would bring money and fame to our little town.

  Money and jobs, even temporary ones, would be important. But fame?

  I had a feeling Haven Harbor would be divided about that prospect.

  All afternoon, no one had mentioned Paul Carmichael’s death.

  If he’d been a friend or colleague of mine, I wouldn’t have been able to forget what happened so easily.

  Were these people acting? Or didn’t they care?

  I sighed as the wagon negotiated narrow Main Street, where sidewalks were filled with holiday shoppers carrying bags, taking pictures, and waiting for Santa to arrive.

  Patrick squeezed my hand. “One day at a time, Angie. Don’t worry. Just take one day at a time.”

  A minute later Sergeant Pete Lambert stood in the middle of the street and stopped our wagon from continuing down Main Street.

  Chapter 33

  “Joy and gladness banish sighs

  Perfect love dispel our fears

  And forever from our eyes

  God shall wipe away our tears.”

  —Mary McClave completed her sampler on Christmas Eve of 1835. She was fifteen. Her work was surrounded on three sides with a framework of vines and flowers, and, at the bottom, a rural scene with houses near a river and tall trees. She used very long satin stitches, adding luminescence to her work.

  “Stop right there!” Sergeant Pete Lambert called as Seth tried more or less successfully to slow his horses. Pete walked over to us, shaking his head. “This is no place for a hay wagon and horses, Seth. Too many people are on the sidewalks and in the streets for the celebration. Not to mention that the parade’ll be coming along here soon, and we don’t need horse shit on the road.”

  “Sorry, Pete. I didn’t think.”

  “I guess not. When I saw you I thought the parade had started early.”

  “Where should I go, then?”

  Pete scratched his head. “There may be space on Water Street, by the town wharf. A few of the groups in the parade are already gathering there.”

  I stood up. “Who’s in charge of the parade this year, Pete?”

  “Hi, Angie. Didn’t expect to see you up there,” he called back. “Chamber of Commerce puts on the whole shebang. This year Ed Campbell’s organized it.”

  Two children, a boy and a girl, ran out into the street and started petting the stopped horses.

  “Hey, kids, this is no place to be. Main Street’s no petting zoo.” Pete tried to shoo them away, but they didn’t pay attention to anything but the horses.

  “Do you know where Ed is now?” I asked.

  “Last time I saw him he was down by the town wharf with a clipboard.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Let’s head for Water Street.”

  “Slow the whole way,” he cautioned. “Kids, get back to the sidewalk!” He waved the children away from the horses. “Just get off Main Street, Seth!”

  “Will do,” said Seth, winking at me.

  The horses were glad to be on the move again. Seth guided them through a narrow side street from Main Street down to the harbor.

  Shoppers moved to the side of the street as we went by. Some smiled and waved when they saw the wreaths and red bows.

  “See what a friendly place this is?” Marv said. “It would be perfect as a movie set.”

  “But . . . Peyton Place? Isn’t that old-fashioned?” Blaze asked.

  “Didn’t someone say there was a murder at Aurora back in 1970?” said Thomas. “Maybe we could use that as a basis for a movie. “Dead teenager, townspeople divided . . .”

  “Don’t even think about it,” said Skye. “Nothing related to Aurora. That’s definite.”

  Seth pulled the wagon into a line of spaces reserved for yacht club members. Marie and Patrick stood, looking over the dark blue harbor at the fishing boats with white twinkling lights in their rigging. It would be dark enough for the parade of boats in about an hour. Then Santa would arrive and the parade through the town would begin.

  Blaze started to get off the wagon.

  “Hold it, everyone!” I instructed.

  “You said we could go shopping,” said Blaze.

  “You can. But first let me check with the head of the local Chamber of Commerce to make sure we can leave the horse and wagon here.” It was a little fib. I didn’t know if my idea would work. But I’d seen Ed Campbell, Chairman of the Haven Harbor Chamber of Commerce, and, according to his television ads, king of the local used car dealerships, talking to someone near the town wharf.

  That’s where I was headed.

  “Ed!” I said when I got close enough. “Guess what Skye West brought to add to the parade!”

  He looked up from the clipboard he was holding. “What? Oh, it’s you, Angie.” He looked beyond me. “And what is that?”

  “That’s Seth Harlow’s hay wagon, decorated for the holidays. Skye West asked him to do it to entertain some of the Hollywood celebrities she’s hosting this Christmas. Maybe you could use it in the parade.”

  “Celebrities?” he asked.

  I’d dealt with Ed Campbell before. He was in favor of any publicity for Haven Harbor, good or bad. And, of course, the best publicity was for Ed Campbell himself.

  “Heard you were all palsy with Skye West and her son. Patrick, that’s his name. Owns the old Ted Lawrence art gallery now. Made a point of meeting him when he opened up a couple of months ago. Seemed a reasonable enough fellow.” Ed was now being his most charming.

  “He is. And so is his mother. Skye’s here. And Marv Mason, the famous Oscar-winning director, and screenwriters Thomas and Marie O’Day. And you’ve heard of Blaze Buchanan?”

  “Can’t say as I have,” he said. I’d turned and was heading back to the wagon. Ed came with me.

  “I’m sure you’ll recognize her,” I said. “She’s been in a lot of big films recently.”

  Maybe she had been. I wasn’t sure. But I figured Ed would believe that when he saw her. “I was wondering whether you’d like the wagon to take Santa and his elves and the moose from the dock up to the Town Hall? There’d be room for Cub Scouts and Brownies, too.” I’d seen several children wearing uniforms under their warm jackets.

  “Great idea,” he said. “Hi, Seth!”

  Seth nodded down at him.

  “Seth, you know Ed Campbell. He’s an important person around here.” I could feel Ed puffing up next to me. “Head of the Chamber of Commerce. He was wondering whether you and the horses would mind being a part of the parade? Maybe take Santa from the wharf to the Town Hall. Everyone lining the streets could see Santa and his friends better if they were on your wagon.”

  “High school band going to play, Ed?” asked Seth.

  “Sure is.”

  “My horses aren’t fond of music.”

  “What if the band was a couple of blocks ahead of the wagon?” Ed looked at his clipboard again. “We could put the fire department and the cheerleaders and the Lions Club between you and the band. Maybe even the YMCA—they have a float.”

  “That would work,” Seth agreed. “Wicked smart idea, having the wagon in the parade. Never been in a parade myself.”

  I gestured that everyone should get off the wagon. “You two can work that out, Seth. We’ll meet you and the wagon at the Town Hall after the parade so you can take us back to Aurora.”

  “Sure thing, Angie!”

  “Ed, I’d like you to meet Skye West. You know she bough
t the old Gardener place.”

  “Aurora. Of course. Pleased to meet you,” said Ed. “I’ve had the pleasure of welcoming your son to town already. Merry Christmas, Patrick.”

  “And these are their guests for the holidays,” I said, introducing Blaze, Marv, Thomas, and Marie. “I’m afraid some photographers have been following us all day. I hope you won’t mind if they take your picture.”

  Two of the photographers who’d been following us in their car had parked and were stealthily approaching us from the other side of the street. I waved at them, and they came over at once. “You might want a picture of Skye and her friends here at the harbor, talking to the head of the Chamber of Commerce.”

  They were more excited about taking pictures of Skye and Blaze than of Ed, but they took advantage of the invitation.

  “You know, Ed, I’m glad we got a chance to meet,” I heard Marv saying as the photographers snapped their pictures. “Just now we were all talking about the possibility of making a film here in Haven Harbor.”

  “Here? A movie?” said Ed. “Seriously?”

  “Such handsome old homes and a beautiful harbor. Of course, we’d need your permission, and we’d want to hire a few local people as extras.” Marv put his arm around Ed and they headed back to the town wharf. Marv was a politician, too.

  “Everyone? The parade of lights on the harbor will start in a little under an hour, and then Santa will arrive. Make yourselves at home in town. We’ll meet Seth at the Town Hall after the parade. You can’t miss it. Everyone in town will be walking there for the Carol Sing and pictures with Santa.” I grabbed Patrick’s hand and pulled him away from the others. “Let’s get out of here. The Harbor Haunts will be packed, but if her store isn’t busy Sarah could make us some instant cocoa. I’m frozen. And tired of talking!”

  “Lead on,” Patrick agreed. “This crew can find their way around town. As you pointed out on your tour, it’s a small town.”

  We headed back toward Main Street, leaving the others taking pictures at the harbor.

  “Are they serious about making a movie in Haven Harbor?” I asked.