I wouldn’t have been happy with new overpriced items from a major manufacturer or department store. That had been my original plan, but it was one of many in my life that I was thankful, in hindsight, hadn’t worked out. My newfound décor was unique to my shop, filled with history and charm, like the barn and the orchard. That the items had once belonged to a family from our community made them all the more special. I just wished I knew where I was going to put them.
Dot arranged the final box under one of my new tables and looked to me for instructions. “Is that everything that goes in here?”
“Yeah. I’ll come back and decorate after we take the rest of the supplies over to the house.”
“Let’s do it.” Dot smacked her gloved hands together and headed for Sally’s passenger side.
A few minutes later, we’d finished hauling the remaining bags and boxes into Granny’s kitchen, and Dot was back to work rolling apples in caramel and cookie bits. I headed to my place to get the kittens and change.
Kenny and Dolly met me at the door, mewling as if they hadn’t seen me in a week instead of earlier that morning. “Hello, pumpkins,” I cooed, scooping them into my arms. “What’s the matter, huh? Did you miss me?”
I refilled their food and water bowls, then set them on the floor while I went to change.
I couldn’t wait to see Granny at the hospital tonight and tell her about the overwhelming response to our festival. Thankfully her floor didn’t have official visiting hours, and I knew the nurse on shift tonight, because I had a feeling it would be late by the time I got there. She still hadn’t opened her eyes, but maybe details from Smythe Orchard’s debut Winterfest and my, hopefully successful, meeting with Mr. Sherman would be the motivation she needed to wake up.
I slid into my softest jeans, warmer socks and boots, then layered a flannel button-up and hooded sweatshirt over my T-shirt. I pulled my coat on over that. It would be cold inside the barn until I got my blood pumping. I made a mental note to get some space heaters out there before Mr. Sherman arrived.
I shooed Kenny and Dolly out the door and locked up behind us. Silly as it was, the idea of visiting the barn with Mr. Sherman after dark again had plagued me with chills all day, and having the kittens with me lightened the frightening thoughts.
The sky was a bright brilliant blue as we made the trip across the orchard. Kenny and Dolly dove and rolled over one another on the snowy dirt path before me. I did my best not to step on them or slip on icy stones beneath the snow. People called out to us in greeting as we passed. I waved enthusiastically back, yelling, “Thank you so much!” and “Merry Christmas!” a dozen times before reaching my destination. I hadn’t seen so many people on the farm since before Grampy died, and my heart was warm with the possibilities of a comeback.
Inside, I set my phone to play my favorite Christmas tunes and hummed along as I surveyed the work ahead. It came down to two distinct jobs. First, I needed to find somewhere to store all the things I couldn’t use tonight, like the flooring and light fixtures I’d picked up at the hardware store, then I could decorate with all the beautiful pieces I’d collected from the estate sale. The second job would be fun and easy. The first would require some serious creative thinking because we were fresh out of storage on the orchard. Twenty-five acres and every nook, cubby, and outbuilding was already bursting with forty plus years of accumulated treasures. Granny’s home was so full that the attic and basement had run out of space long ago, and newer items were being stored in her former sewing room and my old bedroom. My little house had the same problem on a smaller scale. I’d only lived there three years, but the few semi-adequate closets were already crammed full of very important things.
I pulled the string on the light bulb dangling at the room’s center, then let the doors fall shut behind me. No need to let half the town see me struggling to hide a bunch of purchases I had no room for. Folks might start thinking I had a problem.
Since I had no idea where to put the boxes, I pushed them into a corner and got busy arranging the new dinette sets instead. I dropped gorgeous evergreen and scarlet cloths over each table to give the sets an inviting and festive feel. Then, I filled an antique porcelain pitcher with red poinsettias as a centerpiece for the first table and arranged a wreath of pine green with a flameless candle at the center of the second. Golden place mats with mismatched bone china place settings and modern silverware finished out the look. Next, I posed one half sheet of cardstock on each tabletop. The pages had a holly leaf border and scarlet curlicue lettering that listed a few potential Christmas menu selections.
Menu
Tomato and onion tartlet
Diced brie and apple ribbon sandwich
Orange cranberry biscuits with assorted Smythe
Orchard preserves
Frosted cranberries
Gingerbread cake with fresh whipped nutmeg
cream
Seasonal Ciders
Mulled Christmas cider
Honeyed vanilla cider
Cinnamon stick cider
Apple, cranberry, and ginger punch
I’d mocked up a number of possible menus weeks ago while daydreaming about the future, and I’d been thrilled to come across them again last night.
I lined the makeshift service counter with clear glass bowls and jars, then filled them with piles of holiday candies. Gumdrops and peppermints, candy canes, and butter mints. I ripped open a four-pack of vanilla and apple pie scented room diffusers and tucked them out of sight for good measure. The space was delightful to behold, but there was no reason it had to smell like dust and wood.
I turned in a slow circle to evaluate and prioritize the remaining work. The kittens tumbled past in a blur of orange fur and low adorable growls. I suspected they believed themselves to be dangerous jungle cats instead of what they were. Fluffy ginger cuddle bugs.
“Now, where to stow the boxes?” I asked them, but they weren’t any help.
There weren’t any hiding places in the barn. No closets or storage rooms. Not even a horse stall to block the boxes from view. I tried to think of something brilliant and innovative before Mr. Sherman arrived and decided I was either a hoarder or a shopaholic. Neither would make a great impression.
I spotted a row of plywood boards overhead. Grampy had suspended them between the rafters years ago for storage. He’d wanted Granny to keep her bins of seasonal décor up there during the off seasons, but she’d said it was too inconvenient. I hadn’t disagreed. We rarely came to this barn for anything back then. Eventually, he’d switched gears and suggested the space be used for long-term storage, like the things in their attic, but Granny panicked. The attic things were important, irreplaceable keepsakes. What if the barn collapsed, was vandalized, or washed away in a flood? Where would her memories be then? Granny liked her things where she could get to them anytime and without a ladder. I shared the sentiment about the ladder, and I preferred both feet on the ground whenever possible. Today, however, it looked like I’d have to put on my big girl pants and climb.
I dragged a ladder from the supply barn halfway across the property and positioned it under the suspended platforms. Once I’d recovered physically from hauling the ladder, I said a prayer I wouldn’t fall off and break anything, like my head. I took my time moving all the storage I’d piled against the wall and restacking it around the base of the ladder, avoiding the actual climbing portion as long as possible. Finally, I chose a box and headed up.
I wrestled the first box to the top on sheer determination. It was heavy, large, and hard to maneuver with my short, weakling arms, but I couldn’t leave storage on the floor looking like clutter. My muscles screamed in protest of the weight with every step, and the ladder rocked slightly as I moved rung to rung. My tummy twisted and ached as I imagined my imminent fall. Eventually, I got the box in place with only a handful of painful scrapes and bruises to show for it. I found a few boxes of Granny’s knickknacks, figurines, and collectibles already seated at the back of the
board. Grampy must’ve ferried some of Granny’s attic storage away when she wasn’t looking. I smiled as I picked through the memories she’d kept, feeling inexplicably close to her despite our current geographical distance. Then, I pushed myself back to work and repeated the moving process until my muscles felt like wet noodles and I took a seat three rungs up to rest. The next box, only halfway to its destination, balanced precariously in my grip.
Above me, the plywood sagged alarmingly toward the floor.
“Uh-oh,” I said, eyes trained upward. The tilt of my head caused a moment of vertigo and my fingers slipped.
The box crashed to the floor, and I screamed as its contents spilled everywhere. It wasn’t a word I said often, and I was thankful not to have had an audience.
“Winnie!” The barn doors sprang open and a blast of icy wind shot through me, blowing my long-discarded coat across the floor. Colton stood, frozen in a shaft of midday sun. His chest rose and fell in sharp sprinter’s breaths. His gaze darted over me, then the scene before him. “You’re okay?”
“I dropped a box,” I said lamely, turning on the ladder to make my way down. “I hate heights, and I don’t normally talk like a trucker.”
Colton pressed the doors shut behind him and grinned. “You screamed, ‘horse spit.’ Why were you on a ladder?”
I hadn’t actually screamed horse spit, but I wasn’t going to correct him. Instead, I explained my dire storage and time limit situation, and he stripped off his sheriff’s jacket and hat to help. “I’ll climb,” he said. “You pass the boxes.”
I gathered the spilled items and checked for damage before arranging them back inside the box. “I appreciate the muscle, but I didn’t expect you until the sun set.”
“Just checking in,” he said. “It’s been a crazy day at work, but this place looks fantastic.”
“Thanks,” I wiped my forearm over my brow. “I’m glad you’re here,” I said, passing him the refilled box.
“It’s no trouble. Besides, I wouldn’t want you cussing again.” He winked. “The property looks amazing out there.”
“It wasn’t me. I’ve barely done anything except shop.” Though, I did generously tip the man delivering my tables, and I considered it my second act of kindness. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to sell my family’s things, and I knew the memories they carried were priceless. Worth far more than any of the little price stickers on the boxes. So I’d promised to give the things a place where they could live on together.
Colton hefted the box overhead with ease and arranged it neatly with the others as if it had been filled with pillows instead of metal serving trays, horseshoes, and historic West Virginia license plates. “Not according to everyone I spoke to on my way over here. To hear them tell it, you planned all of this on your own while helping at the orchard and working at the diner. Not to mention the risky and unnecessary amateur sleuthing.” He shot me a pointed look for emphasis on the last part. “Those folks are proud of you. They said all they had to do was follow the plans you’d already set. I think most of those folks would support you and your granny on just about anything. In fact,” he continued, “several of them wanted to know when I was going to catch the man who’s been harassing you. Turns out they all know what’s been going on, and they don’t like it. Apparently when a criminal is at large and putting a beloved member of the community in danger, it tends to make someone very specific look shamefully bad at his job.”
“The sheriff?” I guessed with a grin.
He opened his palms for the next box. “Keep them coming.”
I complied. “Have you gotten any new leads?”
“What’d you hear?”
“I was just asking, but do you?”
“Maybe. I’ll let you know when I know.”
I let it go at that. There was plenty of other things to keep me busy today.
A few boxes later, we were done.
I stared up at the dipping support boards. “Does that look safe to you?” I asked.
“Nope.”
Dolly rushed my leg and leaped against my calf, clinging by her tiny talons.
“Ah!” I hopped back, falling over my feet and trying not to step on her as she leaped off. “Jeez!”
Colton chuckled. “Looks like you’ve got an attack kitty there.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed a heavy palm over the site of my injury. “I just wish she’d stop attacking me.”
Colton turned and climbed into the rafters.
“What are you doing?”
He fed a two-by-four down to me. “There’s quite a bit of lumber and building supplies up here. We can probably use this as a support beam for the storage platform.”
“Good idea.” I hadn’t thought of using the extra lumber for anything at all. I wasn’t even sure why Grampy had bought it, but I’d have to keep those supplies in mind when it came time for renovations. Using them first could save me a lot of money down the road.
Colton returned to the floor and positioned the beam beneath the storage. With a little elbow grease, he managed to wedge one end against the sagging plywood and the other against the floorboards to stop the scary droop. “That ought to do it.”
I smiled. “My hero.”
“I’d better get back to work and leave you to it,” he said, scooping his coat off the floor and threading his arms through the sleeves. “Need anything else, give me a call.”
My ridiculous mind slid to the mistletoe I’d hung above the door as decoration, and I forced my gaze not to follow. “Thanks again for letting me borrow a little of that brawn,” I said. Then, casting a look at the impromptu support beam beside me. “And brains,” I added.
He pulled his gaze off the mistletoe he’d stopped beneath and nodded. “I’ll see you later.”
I flopped onto a chair when the doors shut behind him and considered taking the mistletoe down to avoid any future embarrassments.
Ultimately, I decided against it. In the name of Christmas.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I didn’t love the look of a random piece of lumber in the center of my holiday scene, but I wasn’t willing to bring the boxes down and try to re-hide them either. So, I decided to hide the pole instead, or at least disguise it.
The familiar zing of creativity began to stir, and I was back on my feet with a shot of adrenaline. I wrapped the makeshift support post in twinkle lights and pine green, then arranged fresh pine cones and branches on the interior and exterior windowsills. I fetched a mess of icicle lights and draped them from the exposed rafters and repurposed a pair of potted poinsettias from the fruit stand to either side of the doorway. The finalized look was a Christmas miracle after all I’d been through in a week.
I locked up at the barn at three and went to help wherever I could until it was time to cross my fingers for the big show.
My tummy growled around four thirty as I emerged fresh and clean from my second shower of the day, sporting a serious blowout and peppermint lip gloss. I scooted over to Granny’s house for a bite to eat, desperate to feel near her even if I couldn’t be with her just yet. The orchard was eerily silent as I crossed the field between houses. The lights and decorations felt ominous against the backdrop of a fast-setting sun. Shades of crimson bled over the snow and crept around the Mail Pouch barn in the distance. I hurried my pace, shaken by the tangible feeling of foreboding as I took Granny’s steps two at a time.
Everyone had gone home to change and make dinner around four, and now, all there was to do was wait. Thirty minutes until the gates opened. Thirty minutes until I knew if my hope had been misplaced. Then two long hours until the meeting with Mr. Sherman that could change my life forever.
I let myself inside and took a minute to breathe. The house smelled like Granny; apples, cinnamon, and black coffee. The scents clung to the curtains and upholstery, burrowed deep in the carpets and walls. I flipped the lights on and swallowed the pain of knowing she wasn’t there because she was hurt. Probably because of me.
My appetite waned with the thought. Still, I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and I didn’t want to collapse from nerves and hunger when Mr. Sherman finally arrived. I poured a tall glass of apple cranberry cider and fixed a toasted cheese sandwich. I heated a cup of tomato soup for dunking and felt my nerves settle with my first bite.
Fifteen minutes until I opened the gates.
I munched and thought about the events of the past week, desperate not to wonder what would happen if no one came tonight and Mr. Sherman saw the decked-out orchard without a single soul but me. I thought about who I was now and who I’d been before I found Mrs. Cooper in the cider press. The week had changed me, I realized, or maybe just helped me get to know myself a little better. Yes, I was a hard worker. A waitress, a dreamer, a student. An unwavering friend, granddaughter, and member of my community. But beneath all the characteristics I worked on, I’d discovered some things that came naturally, like my curiosity and thirst for knowledge. My fierce loyalty and near-debilitating empathy. Mostly, I felt the need for answers deep in my bones, and I hadn’t known that before. I’d also realized that dreaming of the cider shop wasn’t enough anymore. I’d been making excuses about getting started on it for far too long, and it had taken a crisis for me to make it happen. I’d probably dragged out college graduation, at least partially, for the same reason. Not to avoid student loan debt, though that was certainly a benefit, but to avoid having to move forward when I finished because what if I failed?
Maybe fear of failure even had a hand in my breakup with Hank. What if I’d taken a leap, married a man and moved to Ohio, only to wind up divorced like my mother? It was a silly, childish fear, but it was real nonetheless. And, I thought remorsefully, what if Hank was never who he’d seemed.
I checked the time and pulled in a steadying breath.
Photos of my life were everywhere inside Granny’s kitchen, on the walls and shelves, stuck to the refrigerator with magnets and taped to the window above the sink. A chronicle of my life. After all my grandparents had done for me, it was my turn to do something for them. I would make tonight a success if I had to go door to door hauling people to the party. I’d turn the financial situation around here if it killed me, and I would save their orchard.
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