Christmas at Barncastle Inn: Four-in-One Collection

by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Janelle Mowery, Lynette Sowell

“That’s easy. I realized my freshman year of college in Biology 101, how fascinating the design of the human body is. I honestly didn’t think I had the resources or the patience to go through more than ten years of training to become an MD, so for me, backing up a doctor by working as a physician assistant was a logical choice.”

  He recalled more often than he wanted to, working in a hospital in the Middle East. Helping his wounded brothers made him realize that once he left the military, he didn’t want to stop. The memories plucked at him now, bittersweet. The draining heat seemed a lifetime away from the cold of Vermont.

  “Good answer. I think it’s amazing. And you knew justwhat to do to help Pepé. I know a lot of that was basic first-aid training, but you made me feel like it was going to be all right. Even if Pepé’s ankle was broken. Which, I’m glad it’s not.”

  They reached the pond. “Guess we’d better turn back now.”

  “Two more questions for the way back.”

  “Yes, Miss Goudreau,” Sean couldn’t resist saying.

  “Ha. I’m not Miss Goudreau for this week and next. I’m just Marcella.” She shivered, and Sean slipped his arm around her.

  “Better?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. Hmm … What else can I ask you? And no, that’s not my second question.” What did he want to know about her? Everything. However, he was opening doors of his heart he thought he’d kept tightly locked for everyone’s safety. “All right. What’s the best thing you’ve ever read?”

  “I read all kinds of books, when I can find the time. Lots of fiction. I always come back to the book of Psalms, though. Besides some of the psalms being originally written as songs, I find them really encouraging. Especially if I’m having a bad day.”

  The house grew closer. Maybe they’d reach it before Marcella had the chance to ask him another question. The question about being a PA wasn’t a hard one to answer. She’d asked before about his mom, and he knew she hadn’t been satisfied with the answer he gave her.

  “Good answer,” he said. “I like to read. Don’t have a lot of time, though. But give me a good suspense or legal thriller. Ilike those a lot. Right now I’m going to a men’s Bible study at church on Thursday mornings, so most of my reading is for that at the moment.” Now they were rounding the curve behind the inn.

  “My turn again. Guess it’ll just be two questions instead of three. But that’s enough for now.” She stopped, and he did, too. “One thing I do want to know. Your mother. Why didn’t you seem happy to see her? I mean, I don’t mind her being here. Especially since I heard she would be alone at Christmas. That wouldn’t be right. But I get the feeling you really don’t want her here.”

  He knew she asked not because of nosiness, but because she cared. He looked across the parking lot to the barn. They were due to rehearse at ten.

  He tried to choose his words carefully. “Marcella, my mother’s an alcoholic. I’ve learned to deal with that over the last many years as best I can.” What else to say? He wasn’t sure how to explain broken promises, disappointment, learning to lower his expectations from a woman who he once desperately wanted to love him more than she loved herself.

  “I–I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I wanted to warn all of you. She figured out somehow that I was here, and Jayne said there was room, and the whole thing turned into an avalanche. I have no idea what she’s going to do or say. When she’s not drinking, she’s the most friendly, charming person you’d like to meet. But when she’s … like I said, you never know.” Now that he’d spoken the words, it didn’t seem so horrible. In fact, Marcella might be an ally, now that she knew. He only prayed nothinghappened to ruin the beautiful week they’d all been having.

  Sean’s words followed Marcella around the rest of the day, and stayed on her mind during the second evening of performances. Thankfully, no incidents with Heather McSweeney. Marcella awoke the next morning to the memory of Sean’s goodnight kiss from the evening before, in the shadow of the barn. She gave a happy sigh, too, realizing that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She listened to the sound of the shower running. Amity had dragged herself out of bed first.

  The sound of running water stopped, and eventually Amity emerged, clad in a robe and her hair wrapped in a towel. “You getting up?”

  “Eventually.” Marcella sat up and fluffed the pillows behind her so she could lean on the headboard. “I’m making an executive decision, since I’m the baby of the family. No rehearsal this morning. We need a break. I want to make cookies with you guys since I missed out yesterday. We know the songs well enough.” Maybe if Sean had some time with his mother, things would turn around for them both as well.

  “Good. It’s Christmas, remember? And Jayne is thrilled with the performances.” Amity removed the towel from her head and started rubbing her wet hair. “And I’m glad you’re finally realizing it’s okay to relax.”

  “Ha. I guess I am.” Marcella could hardly wait to roll out some cookies.

  When they found their way downstairs, Sean and his mother were absent from the breakfast table.

  “They’re having breakfast in the village, and Heatherwanted to shop,” Mom explained. “I must say, her showing up here was a surprise. Did you know she was coming?”

  “No, Mom,” said Marcella. “Sean didn’t either. They’ve been a little … estranged during the holidays. I’m glad they’re here. Christmas is a good time to reconcile.” She glanced at her grandparents, actually seated side by side this morning.

  “What?” asked Pepé. “I think it is, too.” But he wouldn’t glance at Memé. Okay, so there was still a little bit of work to do in that department. At least there weren’t any flying gravy boats.

  “I saw presents with my name on them,” chimed in five-year-old Jeremy.

  “Where?” Dad asked.

  “Under the big tree in the parlor. I only shook one.”

  Everyone around the table erupted with laughter. “Very good show of restraint, Jeremy.” Marcella’s dad chuckled. Marcella grinned, grateful that the conversation had steered away from Sean’s mother.

  “Okay, gang. Let’s finish up breakfast,” Mom announced. “We have a gingerbread house to construct, plus gingerbread men who need decorating.”

  “We’re helping today, too, kids,” Amity said. “Aunt Cellie and I are taking the morning off.”

  “Hooray!” Jade hugged her mother. “I miss you when you’re not having fun with us.”

  Amity leaned closer to Jade. Her glance at Marcella told her that they’d made the right decision to scrap their practice plans.

  Not long after the breakfast dishes were cleared away, they set to gluing the gingerbread house together with whiteroyal icing. Marcella didn’t think her efforts would win them any prizes, but she basked in her niece and nephew’s laughter.

  The front door of the inn opened.

  “Hello, hello!” a female voice rang out. Sean’s mother. The sound of rustling drifted into the dining room as well. The door closed, and footsteps grew closer.

  Sean and his mother entered the dining room. Marcella wanted to give him a hug, but ever since the morning they’d asked each other questions, he’d seemed to distance himself. If he wanted a little space, that was okay. All she knew is she wanted to keep spending time with him, long after Christmas.

  “Look at that gingerbread house,” Heather exclaimed over the four walls, now held together with icing. “I’ve never seen that done before.”

  Marcella’s heart went out to the woman. She looked lonely, just like Sean had when he first arrived. “It’s not as hard as I thought it would be. Do you want to join us?”

  Surprise flashed across Sean’s face, followed by a furrowed brow.

  “No, no,” said Heather. “I’ll just visit in the parlor with Mr. Goudreau.”

  “Uncle Sean, will you help us?” Jade piped up.

  “Sweetie, he’s not really your uncle. How about calling him Mister Sean instead?” Amity said.


  “But I want an uncle.” Jade frowned.

  “Me, too,” said Jeremy. Marcella smiled at that. Of course he’d want what his big sister did. Just like she did.

  “I’ll help, kids. Don’t know how much good I’ll be atthis.” He stepped closer to Marcella. Suddenly, she really liked cookie baking. If his mother didn’t want to participate, they couldn’t force her.

  The barn’s audience swelled tonight. After this evening’s performance, followed by their final one on Christmas Eve, Marcella knew it would be a Christmas to remember.

  They made it through all the sets of songs, until just before the finale. While Sean spoke the words this time, giving Marcella’s voice a break, the barn door slid open.

  “Shawnie!” Heather called out as she stepped through the door. “Sing it again. That’s my boy, everyone! I am so proud of you.” With each word, she stepped down the main aisle and closer to the stage.

  Normally Heather’s big personality filled the room. Tonight, it crowded everything and everyone else out. People turned to face her and murmur. Maybe this was a new part of the routine. Or Marcella hoped that’s what they were thinking.

  She glanced at Sean. The old adage, “the show must go on” applied here, but how would they do that without Sean stopping to quiet his mother?

  As if knowing what Marcella was thinking, Amity began to play the “White Christmas” introduction.

  “You two take it from here,” Sean said. Lower, he added, “I’m sorry, Marcella.” He stepped from the stage and headed straight for his mother.

  “My son, my only son that counts, anyway.” Heather’s voice rose above the music. She stood by the front row, near Mom, Dad, Memé, and Pepé. “He takes care of people. He takes care of you, Mr. Goudreau.”

  “Mom, let’s get some coffee.” He reached for her elbow.

  “I don’t want coffee. Lemme finish.” Heather yanked her arm away from Sean’s reach. “In fact, he’s been so good to you, Mr. Goudreau, better than your family.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dad asked.

  “Pepé Goudreau has changed his will. He’s giving everything to Shawnie here. Cutting all of you out. All of you.” Heather sliced her hand through the air horizontally.

  “Pepé?” Marcella asked from the stage. “Is that true?”

  “Mom, we’re going. Now.” This time Sean reached for her elbow and didn’t let go. “We’ll talk about that later. Now isn’t the best time.”

  Sean knew about this? If something happened to Pepé, Sean was set to receive what was left of her grandfather’s nest egg? It wasn’t like Pepé was Donald Trump or anything, but Pepé had invested carefully over the years. His and Memé’s modest home had skyrocketed in value since they’d built it in 1960. Being family, though, was never about the money, or keeping yourself in the inheritance.

  The notes for “White Christmas” still chimed out as Amity continued to play.

  Sean wouldn’t even look at the stage as he marched Heather out of the barn.

  Sing, Marcella. She opened her mouth, and the words came out just fine. But inside, her heart started to splinter.

  Chapter 8

  In less than thirty minutes, they were in Mom’s car, on the highway headed south, back to Massachusetts. “I’m taking you home, Mom.” He’d left their room keys on the Barncastles’ front desk.

  “Fine, go ahead.” She’d quieted from her earlier boasting and ranting. She fell silent and glared out the window at the darkness. “I’m your mother, and you’re being disrespectful.”

  He didn’t know what he was going to do. This latest humiliation had done it for him. He had no idea where his mother had gotten the idea about Pepé changing his will. Armand had mentioned it a few times, but Sean knew nothing specific.

  Something beautiful had been put in front of him, the idea of his life with Marcella in it, and then snatched away by this latest catastrophe.

  “I talked to that Pepé today,” Mom finally said as they took the exit for Easthampton, heading toward his mother’s apartment. “He told me he wanted to give you everything. He did. He was going to tell everyone this week.”

  “Whatever you talked about, it wasn’t your place to tell everyone.”

  “But I’m so proud of you, Sean. You turned into a good man despite me and your deadbeat father.”

  Never argue with someone who’s drunk, he remindedhimself. He bit back a retort about his father. He’d get her settled in back at her place and then what? His own vehicle was still in Vermont. Somehow, he’d go back for it. After Christmas.

  “Okay, Dad, what’s going on?” Marcella’s father asked as they all sat around the dining room table after the performance had ended and the town guests had left. “What was Heather talking about? Did you change your will?”

  “Yes. Sort of.”

  Marcella could barely taste the spiced cider or the buttery, cakey doughnut. She couldn’t believe it. Pepé, leaving everything to Sean? Had Sean been using them all, just as Memé suspected? She’d heard of scam artists, playing up to the elderly and swindling them out of their nest eggs.

  If that were so, then she didn’t know him after all. How could you fall in love in less than a week? But that’s where she’d been headed. After the first shocking moment of realizing that Sean McSweeney wasn’t as old as her grandfather, she’d cruised along from distrust and anger to feelings that now sliced into her heart. Love, trust, expectancy.

  “I was mad at everyone.” Pepé sucked down a sip of coffee. “So I went to my lawyer and changed everything.”

  “Of all the stupid, witless—” Memé said. “I oughta be glad I kicked you out. Should I have gotten my own lawyer, too?” She stood, ignoring the warm doughnut on the plate in front of her.

  “Mother, let Dad explain. Please.” Marcella’s dad had a tone in his voice that reminded her of a young boy.

  “I may be old, but I don’t want to live old. You are all so busy with your lives, that people didn’t have time for me. What if I wanted to go to the weekend at Cape Cod, too? Nobody asked us.” Pepé glared around the table. “And Ruby. Every time I asked if you wanted to do something with me, you never wanted to. I want to try new things.”

  “You’re cutting us out of the will because I didn’t want to go to a gym and work out?” Memé sounded incredulous. “Unbelievable.”

  “Dad, you could always come with us. But all we’ve heard for a while is how much your back hurts if you have to walk or ride in a car for any long distance. You complain about the prices everywhere, and slow service, and how the food just isn’t good enough for you.” Dad sighed. “So when we went to the Cape last June, we didn’t ask you because we didn’t think you’d have a good time.”

  Thankfully, Jade and Jeremy were with Andy, the Gilberts’ little boy, so they could all have their family meeting. But maybe the kids should have been here, to see the grown-ups trying to work out their issues with each other. Marcella nursed her own stinging feelings. Pepé felt left out?

  “No, Ruby.” Pepé addressed Memé. “I want you to meet me halfway. You assumed I wanted you to come to the gym. Did you know we could go to a pool and do water aerobics? It’s fun and it would help your hip. Sean told me about it.”

  “I—I didn’t know that.” Memé stared down at the table.

  Pepé chomped a bite from his doughnut. “Maybe we’ve all been wrong about a lot of things, is all I can say. I’ll talk to the lawyer as soon as we get home.”

  Marcella knew she should be rejoicing that they weregetting all the drama between Memé and Pepé cleared up at last. This is what she wanted, by coming to Barncastle Inn for Christmas. Feelings were still sore, but finally, both Memé and Pepé were admitting hurts on both sides.

  Somehow, though, she knew that someone was missing from the table. And she didn’t know at the moment if she wanted him back or not.

  Sean slept on his mother’s beat-up old couch, something he never did. He woke early on Christmas Eve day, and s
et to cleaning the house while she slept. Where did you draw the line between helping and enabling? How could he at least try to have a halfway normal relationship with his mother, without her spoiling everything?

  He found cheese slices and bread, and prepared some grilled cheese sandwiches for them. Not much else to eat. But he noted an empty liquor shelf and a trash bag full of empty bottles.

  “I got fired from Quinlan’s, Sean,” Mom said after she dragged herself into the kitchen and they sat down to eat their sandwiches. Her attitude had done a complete 180-degree shift from the disastrous night before.

  “All those gifts you bought? Where’d you get the money?” Unbelievable.

  “I cashed my last check.” Her eyes were shadowed with dark circles, her normally swishy hairdo looked matted, unkempt.

  “Mom, you can’t live like this. Do you remember when your lights were turned off last month? I wouldn’t pay the bill and made you wait until your next check came around?”

  She nodded. “I was so angry at you.”

  “You need to get back with your support system. They can’t do it for you; I can’t do it either. You have to want to make the change and get the help you need. Above all, let God help you, too.” Anytime he’d mentioned God in the past, Mom would either shut down or blow up. “I finally, finally meet someone special, really special, and now I don’t know where we’ll be. Know this, Mom. I’ll be here for you. But I won’t be cleaning up your messes.” How tough must tough love get?

  “I know, I know.” She stood, went over to the kitchen window above the sink and looked at the frozen world outside. “I wish it would snow again, cover up all that gray slush outside. Snow makes things so fresh and new looking.” Her sigh reminded him of Memé, far older than her forty-six years.

  Love covers a multitude of sins—just like snow, covering up all the slush and winter mess outside. God, what do I do?

  “I didn’t mean to get drunk last night.” She turned to face him. “I poured everything out of the bottles before I left for the Barncastle. I thought I’d make one effort to get something right.”