Snowfall at Moonglow

by Deborah Garner

  “I have no idea,” Clara said. “Andrew and I have been playing cards. I haven’t looked outside since early morning when I came downstairs for coffee. But these weren’t here then.”

  “Like I said, pods from aliens.” Andrew grinned.

  “This cannot be natural,” Nina said, joining the other women. A twinkle in her eye told the others she knew it wasn’t.

  Mist looked out from the café window, unable to hear the guest conversations but imagining them all the same. Clive, along with Clayton and his fire crew, had done an excellent job, especially in a short amount of time since the snow had been too powdery the day before for the task. Giant balls of snow now dotted the ground like scattered marbles. She watched as Andrew, Max, and the Professor walked around the yard, wondering how soon they would figure out that the number of balls matched the number of guests.

  “Should we take everything outside now?” Betty said. She indicated the plastic tubs, which were still sitting in the corner of the café.

  “Are the others here yet?” Mist asked.

  “Millie and Glenda are in the kitchen. Marge just closed up the candy shop, so she’s on her way. And Sally ran back to get something from the thrift shop.”

  “Then it’s time,” Mist said. Choosing one of the plastic bins, she took it outside through the kitchen in order to not disrupt those on the front porch. Betty followed with another tub, as did Millie and Glenda. Lining up on the sidewalk, they set each bin down but kept the lids on. Mist moved to the front walk and addressed the baffled crowd of guests.

  “Your mission,” Mist began, “should you choose to accept it, is to pick one large snowball and add a medium one above it. After that, you’ll need to add one more, even smaller. If you complete these tasks, you’ll be allowed to see inside these bins.”

  “We’re building snowmen!” Kinsley said, clapping her hands.

  “Or maybe snow women,” Clara mused.

  “Snow people?” Allison said.

  “It can be any type of snow person you’d like,” Mist offered.

  Just as excited as Kinsley, Nina clapped her hands as well. “I’ve seen pictures of them, but I’ve never had a chance to build one.”

  “Really? Never?” Kinsley exclaimed.

  “I’ve never even seen snow until this visit,” Nina whispered.

  Kinsley clasped a mittened hand over her mouth and turned her attention back to Mist.

  “There is no time limit,” Mist said. “Your only requirement is to have fun. We’ll be serving hot chocolate on the front porch to keep you warm and energized. You may begin anytime.” She spread her arms wide to indicate the snowman bases were up for grabs.

  “Let’s go!” Kinsley led the parade down from the porch, choosing one of the rounded bases closest to a side fence. Allison followed and started to claim the base closest to Kinsley, but Mist called her over on the pretext of asking questions about the dinner menu for that night. By the time Mist had finished, guests had chosen their positions. Allison had no choice but to take the base farthest from Kinsley, not knowing that Betty had been standing at it until the other spots were all taken before stepping away.

  As guests began rolling and patting snow into medium-sized snowballs, Mist and Betty retreated to the kitchen. Betty set up a hot beverage dispenser while Mist prepared hot chocolate. Once everything was ready, they placed a folding table on the front porch, along with recyclable paper cups and lids. Peppermint sticks and tiny marshmallows gave guests options to add to their hot beverages.

  “It seems to be going well,” Betty said, looking around the yard. “And look, we’re drawing a crowd.” She indicated the sidewalk where locals were gathering to watch the activity. Several of the townsfolk waved.

  “We have plenty of hot chocolate,” Mist said. “And more in the kitchen to refill the container. Let’s move this out to the sidewalk.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Betty exclaimed. “Why put on a show without offering refreshments for the audience? And look who’s here just in time to help,” she added.

  “What have I gotten myself into this time?” Clive said, having overheard the last statement as he joined the two women.

  “A moveable feast,” Mist said as she lifted the containers of peppermint sticks and marshmallows and handed them to Betty. “If you would hold that beverage container, I’ll move the folding table to the sidewalk.” She set the tray of cups aside on a porch chair.

  Clive placed his hands on each side of the metal container and lifted it in the air. “Whoa! What have you got in this thing?”

  “About fifty cups of hot chocolate,” Betty said, laughing. “And I have a hunch we’ll be refilling it soon too.”

  “If you’re putting it out there, you will, that’s for sure.” Clive nodded to the growing crowd in front.

  “Let me help with that.” Michael hurried up the front steps and took the table from Mist. “Where do you want this to go?”

  “Let’s put it over here. Follow me.” Mist picked up the tray of cups and carried it out to the front sidewalk. Michael, Clive, and Betty all followed, and soon the hot chocolate street party was in full swing. Mist nudged Michael back to the snowman project and then began filling cup after chocolaty cup for the townsfolk.

  “I have plenty of peppermint sticks in the shop,” Marge said, noticing the sweet addition to the hot cocoa was a hit with the crowd. She headed off to the candy store to bring more over.

  “This is fabulous!” Maisie said as she took a partially filled cup for Clay Jr. and blew across the top to cool it off before handing it to the young boy. “They’re almost done with the snowmen already.”

  “Only the bodies,” Mist said, seeing that most guests were finishing the third and smallest ball of packed snow. “The personalities are yet to come.”

  “Those bins?” Maisie said, eyeing the plastic tubs alongside the sidewalk.

  Mist nodded. “Yes. And we’re just about ready for them.”

  Those who had finished their tasks had already come over for hot chocolate while waiting for the others. Once the yard was filled with completed snowmen, Mist turned the hot chocolate dispensing duties over to Maisie and walked over to the bins.

  “You’ve all created wonderful snowmen, snow women, and snow people,” Mist said. A round of applause and cheers followed. “Now it’s time to let their individuality shine.”

  Murmurs of agreement circled the crowd. In spite of not knowing what they were agreeing with, most knew if Mist was in charge, it was likely to be a good idea.

  With Betty’s help, Mist took the lids off each plastic bin, set them aside, and motioned the hotel guests closer. She pointed to the contents. “Now it’s up to you.” She stepped back as curious faces looked into the tubs, and arms began holding up items.

  “What fun,” Clara exclaimed as she pulled several knitted scarves out of the first bin. She debated between them, finally choosing one with red and blue stripes, along with a matching cap.

  “A boa!” Kinsley shouted, draping the flouncing purple string of feathers around her own neck before racing off with it.

  Andrew debated his own choices, as did the other guests, all delighted to draw unique accessories from the containers. The Professor was thrilled to find a baseball cap, having become enchanted with the American sport. Even Max seemed enthused when he pulled out a top hat and found a magician’s wand beneath it.

  Clive and Clayton brought out a collection of branches designed to serve as arms. Millie provided carrots—some straight, some crooked—to use for noses. Sally placed the thrift shop’s coat rack, already draped with strands of beads, bright scarves, and other accessories, alongside the bins. Nina perused some of the glittery selections, resulting in a secretive discussion with Sally that sent the thrift shop owner hustling back to her shop to retrieve something else.

  Mist, having spent weeks stocking the bins, watched as guests dug through the selections as if searching for buried treasure, their expressions carefree a
s they ran back and forth. Betty and Maisie kept the hot chocolate flowing, and townsfolk took to cheering the participants on.

  By early afternoon, the front yard of the Timberton Hotel looked nothing short of a snow person fantasyland. Guests stood proudly next to their snow people as Maisie took photos with her compact digital camera, promising to send copies to each person’s email. Cheerfully they congratulated each other as they made the rounds to view each creation.

  “I’d say that was successful,” Betty said as the guests retired inside the hotel to warm up and the townsfolk headed home to relax before they returned for the Christmas Eve dinner.

  “That may be the understatement of the season,” Michael said. He stood next to Mist, his arm around her waist.

  “It’s a good thing we got some snow,” Clive said as he passed by with the empty hot chocolate dispenser.

  Mist simply smiled. “I knew the snow would come.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mist moved from table to table, turning on the tiny lights under the white chiffon surrounding the centerpieces. The last-minute addition of Queen Anne’s Lace to the living trees had the exact snowy branch effect she’d hoped for. Soft melodies flowed down from speakers in the corners of the café. The combination of sparkling lights and classic Christmas music set a mood of otherworldliness. As always, Mist reserved the moments before the traditional Christmas Eve dinner for herself, allowing time for reflection before the more boisterous—and very welcome—activity to come. As much as she delighted in helping form holiday memories for the guests, she also cherished this time alone.

  And so she stood quietly after the tables were determined to be just right, looking across the empty room. If not for the tantalizing aromas wafting from the kitchen and murmur of voices coming from the front parlor, she might have thought herself alone in the hotel.

  She’d changed into the bohemian-style red-and-black dress that she’d chosen for the evening. That alone, with its form-fitting bodice and loose, flowing skirt, was an exception to her usual casual attire. The bold floral print and slightly off-shoulder neckline made for a more elegant look than her past Christmas Eve choices. A simple black velvet choker and garnet earrings neither matched nor clashed with the silver filigree barrette that clasped her hair at the nape of her neck. On a last-minute whim of rebellion, she’d opted to wear her everyday work boots instead of the black ballet slippers she’d planned.

  Each place setting had been kept simple: a hunter green placemat, white linen napkin, and silverware. Only the favor the Professor had brought from England for each person added a lovely touch of red to the otherwise snowy forest theme.

  The sound of laughter from the front room pulled Mist from her meditation, and she moved to the kitchen, where Betty, Maisie, and Clive were waiting. Mist smiled as Maisie nodded to the camera she’d placed on a counter after the snow activity, a gesture that Betty noticed but didn’t question.

  “How is everything?” Mist asked, her voice casual, just as it might be any other night.

  “All ready to go,” Betty said. “The rosemary Dijon prime rib is resting, and the other dishes you prepared are warm in the oven.”

  “Ready to go here too,” Clive said. One hand held a carving knife and the other pointed to the words on the front of his apron: Kiss the Cook. “And Betty knows how to read!” he chuckled.

  “Everything is great,” Mist said. “The pecan pie cobbler can go in the oven as soon as we move the food to the buffet.”

  “I served the bacon-wrapped dates out in the front parlor as people were gathering,” Betty said. “Most of the townsfolk are already here.”

  Maisie laughed, adding, “And you’d think the guests were celebrities after this afternoon. Their snow people are the highlight of conversation. Nina’s Carmen Miranda snow person is especially popular.”

  “Oh yes,” Betty said. “That one is wonderful. Nina said she loved Carmen Miranda when she was growing up. I could hardly believe it when Sally ran back to the thrift shop and returned with plastic fruit for the headpiece.”

  “Then it’s time to open the doors,” Mist said. In spite of her calm nature, a rush of excitement flowed through her. Hotel guests and local residents were growing closer each year. Even first-time guests could feel the warm camaraderie. This was her ultimate desire: that all would feel the Timberton Hotel was their home away from home.

  As Betty and Maisie moved the dishes to the buffet, Mist opened the café doors to an eager crowd. One by one, hotel guests and townsfolk entered the winter wonderland that had been created for their Christmas Eve meal. Oohs and aahs floated about as the hungry crowd chose seats and admired the snowy scenes displayed in the center of their tables. Many retrieved their plates and headed quickly to the spread on the buffet.

  “Look!” Kinsley exclaimed, pointing to one of the silver sleighs. “It’s filled with snowflakes! And I think they’re…” She leaned closer, noticing their creamy texture.

  “White chocolate,” Mist whispered as she passed by, filling water goblets at each table. “Nondairy,” she added, directing the comment to Allison. “And you’ll find a chestnut-and-cashew-nut loaf on the buffet, right between the wild rice, quinoa and cranberry pilaf, and the butter lettuce and avocado salad.”

  “The dressing?” Allison asked.

  “Lemon-shallot vinaigrette,” Mist said before moving to the next table where Michael, the Professor, and Max were seated. An empty chair waited for Clive, who stood at the buffet, carving and serving the prime rib.

  “You look very handsome tonight,” Mist whispered to Michael. She leaned a bit closer to him than others as she filled his water goblet.

  “Why, thank you!” the Professor said, having overheard the comment. He adjusted his bow tie with dramatic flair as laughter circled the group.

  “What is this?” Nina asked. She held up a twisted paper cylinder at the top of her place setting, waving the bright red favor in the air.

  “That, my dear, is a Christmas cracker,” the Professor announced proudly. “I brought them back from England on this last trip. Usually we would open them before dinner, but Mist and I have negotiated a plan to open them later.”

  Clara, Andrew, and several townsfolk also sat with Nina. Mist smiled as Andrew reached out and squeezed Clara’s hand. The newlywed status of the two seniors was a reminder that life was full of surprises.

  “This meatloaf is delicious!” Wild Bill exclaimed from a nearby table, his plate piled high with every possible selection. “I never tasted anything quite like it.” Mist glanced at Allison and Kinsley, who both giggled.

  “I’m surprised you can taste anything with all that horseradish on it.” Clayton smirked as he cut Clay Jr.’s food into toddler-sized bites.

  “It was right up there between the roast and the meatloaf,” Bill protested. “I figured it should go on both.” This resulted in smiles around the room. Everyone in town knew Wild Bill was an all-or-nothing personality.

  Excusing herself from multiple offers to join tables—after all, she’d taste-tested everything while preparing the meal—Mist returned to the kitchen where she found Betty and Maisie at the counter.

  “You should be sitting with the others,” Mist said. “I can take care of dessert.”

  “It’s packed out there,” Maisie said. “Better to leave room for others.”

  “I’m keeping an eye on that cobbler,” Betty said. “It’ll be ready to come out in a few minutes, ready to cool a bit before serving.”

  “The fresh whipped cream is in the fridge,” Maisie added.

  Mist had to admit it was true: the café was full. Each year the Christmas Eve dinner drew a larger crowd than the year before. She already saw the possible need for two sittings in the future and hoped to find a way to keep everyone together.

  Betty checked the oven and removed the large pans of cobbler, setting them out to cool. She and Maisie then began a revolving kitchen door pattern of retrieving plates from those finished with the ma
in meal. Mist lined up ramekins and placed small portions of the cobbler in each. When they were filled, she added a dollop of whipped cream on most, leaving it off for those who chose to go without.

  Serving the pecan pie cobbler set up a new round of enthusiastic comments, some enjoying the name of the dessert itself. “It’s a pie!” It’s a cobbler!” “It’s supercobbler!” Eagerly emptied ramekins soon preceded admissions that not even one more bite of anything would be possible. With satisfied stomachs, the crowd moved into the front parlor.

  “And now the Christmas crackers!” the Professor announced. He held his up for others to see and turned to Kinsley. “Would you care to help me demonstrate, my dear?”

  “Of course!” Kinsley said.

  “Brilliant!” The Professor counted to three as Kinsley held one end of the cylindrical favor. “Now pull!” he said. With a sharp snap, the cracker burst open and trinkets fell to the floor. The other guests and townsfolk followed suit, and soon the floor was covered with tissue-paper hats, slips of paper with riddles and jokes, and small novelty toys.

  “Does anyone here play piano?” Mist asked as a flurry of activity surrounded the gathering of cracker contents from the floor.

  “‘Chopsticks,’” Clive volunteered, resulting in a ripple of laughter.

  Betty patted him on the back. “Maybe another night, Clive.”

  “How about the first seven notes of ‘Jingle Bells’?” Andrew suggested. “I could do that.”

  “Those are all the same note,” the Professor pointed out.

  Mist moved to the closet at the back of the parlor where the sound system stood ready to add proper ambiance. She reached to start a playlist of Christmas carols as the crowd quieted down behind her but paused as a few soft notes began before she pushed the Start button. So puzzling was the sudden melody that she wondered for a second if she had started the music without realizing it. But, turning toward the room, she had her answer. Max sat at the piano, four bars into Carol of the Bells. Guests and townsfolk alike sat enchanted.

  Clara, who was standing next to Betty, waved Mist over. “I knew he would do this,” she whispered as Mist approached. “We started talking this afternoon, outside.” Mist nodded as she recalled seeing Clara and Max decorating side-by-side snow people. “He used to be a classical pianist,” Clara said. “Before Wall Street seduced him, that is. His words, not mine.”