Christmas at Grey Sage

by Phyllis Clark Nichols

  Maude recognized the mannerism from decades ago—Lily’s way of signaling her desire to escape reality. “Sounds lovely, and if we hadn’t booked a cruise, perhaps Silas and I would have joined you. But . . . this group. How did this peculiar party ever come together?”

  “That’s quite a long story, but the short of it is three of them were in my pottery class back in the early fall—Beatrice, Reba, and Iris. When someone mentioned my summer study tour in class one evening, Beatrice—whose mind connects dots quite differently than most, as I told you—immediately told us she was spending Christmas at the Broadmoor. She was planning to meet her grown children there, but she was looking for transportation and someone to accompany her.”

  “Couldn’t she just fly?”

  “I suppose so, but after she mentioned the Broadmoor, I checked it out. Why couldn’t I—the single, childless woman that I am—get Beatrice to Colorado Springs for Christmas? I volunteered to accompany her, and then Henry said he’d go too. Then came Reba. Her husband died a few months ago, and she and her daughter didn’t want to spend Christmas at home. Then Iris said she had always wanted to spend Christmas in a mountain chalet, and she thought it would be good to get Kent out of the city, since his physical therapy had been so grueling. He’s recovering from injuries in Iraq. One conversation led to another, and so here we are—a most unlikely Christmas party. And that’s what I told them we were: an Unlikely Christmas Party on Wheels.”

  “But, what about the Suttons? Didn’t I see on the register they’re from Ann Arbor?”

  “Yes. Both are professors at the University of Michigan. He’s in pharmacy and she teaches music theory. I’ve known them from other study tours they’ve done with me. They’re quiet and easy, so on a whim, I called them to see if they might be interested. Ted may have hesitated long enough to clear this throat. They never had children and have spent their free time traveling and collecting.”

  “Collecting? What?”

  “Art. He comes from old—no, ancient—money.”

  “Oh, lovely. You have the most interesting friends, Lily. They sound safe, so I have no need to watch the silver, right?” Maude hugged Lily, thankful that her friend always brought life and fun and unexpected pleasures that made for good stories ten years later.

  As Lily shuffled her papers, Maude pondered the situation. I do wonder what stories will come out of this visit. Far too many interesting characters for there not to be a tale or two.

  “Won’t you come with us into town, Maude? We’re walking the Plaza and going by the Loretto Chapel late in the afternoon before we come back to Grey Sage for dinner. I was hoping they’d have a vespers service in the chapel.”

  “You should have done your homework, Lily. The Loretto is a museum now—no more masses or services, only elegant weddings.”

  “Well, then, we’ll be back early for dinner. But won’t you come? Please.”

  Maude knew Lita had already prepared lunch, which could now become dinner since Lily had changed the schedule. So Lita wouldn’t need her help. “Of course, I’ll come with you. Don’t know about Silas, though. He may use this quiet time to continue working on an article he’s writing.”

  “That’s even better, my friend. Not that I don’t dearly love Silas, but this way I’ll have you all to myself.” Lily stood up and walked over to the fireplace. “By the way, can you suggest a hotel in town for Gordy?”

  “You mean your van driver? And what kind of name is Gordy?”

  “I don’t know, but the name suits him. I had a near disastrous time finding a driver for the holidays.” Lily pulled up her poncho to warm her backside again.

  “Why don’t you have him stay here? We have room.” Maude shuffled the papers she’d put on the coffee table.

  “Because he’s charging us twice as much as he should, and I’m having to fly him back to Chicago from Colorado Springs to be with his impossible mother on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and then back to Denver to drive us home after New Year’s. He can find his own hotel,” she huffed. “Besides he’s no fun, and I mean no fun. He finds gauges more interesting than people—the gas gauge, the tire gauge . . .” Lily looked at her watch.

  Maude heard Silas and the colonel chatting as they entered the gathering room and turned to Lily. “Yes, I’ll go with you. And I’ll find a room for Gordy in town, even though I still think it’s easier if he just stays here.” She stood up. “Let me speak with Lita and get my coat and gloves.”

  She started out, then paused and pointed her finger at Lily. “I’m warning you: if you blow that whistle, I’ll be getting you an adjoining room next to Gordy in town.”

  Lily picked up the whistle and dropped it safely underneath her poncho, hidden from sight.

  With a grin, Maude left the room and met Lita in the kitchen. Lita stood at the pantry door and motioned for Maude to join her. When Maude put her papers down and walked toward the pantry, Lita took Maude’s arm and practically dragged her inside before shutting the door.

  “Maude, you’ve known me for a long time. You know that I’m a kind, generous, and jolly person, right?”

  “I do. But could you let go of my arm and turn on the light? You’re pinching me.”

  Lita let go of Maude’s arm. “We don’t need the light on for me to tell you that Lily’s only been here an hour and she’s already stretching my nerve endings. At Grey Sage, we serve breakfast and only occasional dinners for special events. Three days ago, Lily requested lunch on Tuesday, and we agreed. So I shopped yesterday and rose early this morning to prepare lunch for their arrival around eleven. Then she shows up two hours before she’s supposed to, after lunch prep is well underway, and cancels lunch and orders dinner instead.”

  “I know, I know. But it will be fine, Lita. Could we turn on the light to have this conversation?”

  Lita kept talking. “Now I must prepare dinner and put lunch in the refrigerator.”

  “Weren’t you having chili and salad and pudding for lunch? Why not serve that for dinner?”

  “I’ll not have these fine folks returning to Chicago telling their friends that we don’t know how to serve a proper dinner. But I can tell you this: I know it’s Christmas, and the Christmas spirit is supposed to bring out the best in us. But if I prepare a proper dinner and Lily Mayfield cancels at the last minute, well . . . well . . .” Lita took a slow, deep breath. “Well, I’m planning to set her red hair on fire.”

  Without another word, Lita opened the pantry door and walked out.

  Maude followed, trying not to laugh. “I guess this means you’re finished with this conversation.”

  “Yes, I am completely finished with this conversation. But don’t say I didn’t warn you about her hair.”

  “Got it. I was planning to go in to Santa Fe with them, but if you need me here, I’ll be glad to stay and help you.”

  “No, thank you. The best thing you can do is to make sure this Christmas party is back and seated at the dinner table at six thirty, or we’ll be smelling flaming red hair right next to the uneaten roasted pork loin.”

  “Understood.” Maude headed for the mudroom to get her coat and boots. When she returned to the gathering room suited up for the cold weather, the party had assembled for Lily’s announcements about their plans for the day.

  Colonel Walton spoke up. “Sounds like quite an excursion you have planned for us, Lily. I’m certain you’ll be keeping your eyes and ears on the weather.”

  Before Lily could respond, Beatrice stepped out of the group and stood front and center. “I’d really like to know where the Christmas decorations are around here. I’ve seen absolutely nothing that looks like Christmas.” She twirled around, extending her arms to point out the entire room. “My daughter sent me pictures and said this place would be spectacular with Christmas trees and life-sized nutcrackers. So where are they?”

  Lily cleared her throat. “Beatrice, I think your daughter was describing the Broadmoor Hotel in Colorado Springs.”


  “Yes, she was.”

  “Well, this is the Grey Sage Inn just outside Santa Fe.”

  “Oh. I see. This isn’t the hotel where we’ll spend Christmas?”

  Colonel Walton joined Beatrice and put his arm around her narrow shoulders. “No, but we’ll be here for a couple of days, and then we’ll head to the Broadmoor, Bea. And your daughter will meet you there, and there’ll be Christmas trees and nutcrackers and maybe even a sugarplum fairy.”

  “I’ve had my fill of sugarplum fairies in my day, and I can’t wait to see my daughter and my grandchildren. But this is an inn, and I expected a bit of Christmas. My room is just fine, and Degas’s painting of me is quite lovely.” Beatrice perked up and turned her head like a prima donna waiting to be photographed. “Although I don’t remember being quite that heavy. Anyway, without a Christmas tree anywhere in this place, how are we supposed to know it’s even Christmas?”

  Lily looked at Maude and rescued her before Maude had to speak. “Now, Beatrice, remember Maude is my friend, and she only opened Grey Sage to us because I asked her to host us. Normally, Grey Sage is closed during this season because she and Silas always take a Christmas trip. I told her there would be no need for decorations if she would just allow us to stay here.”

  Beatrice stood resolute in first position as she often did out of her habit from decades as a ballerina. “Well, I’m just not certain you should have agreed to that. I can only imagine this place would be quite lovely if decorated for Christmas.”

  Lily responded, “You’re right, Beatrice, but it’s also lovely like it is. And our rolling Christmas party of folks is all the decoration this place needs. Wouldn’t you agree, friends?”

  The group applauded.

  Maude felt a bit of relief in this awkward moment, but she also felt the sting of embarrassment and regret for not having even put up a Christmas tree or one of the nativity scenes in her collection.

  She surveyed the room, remembering other Christmases at Grey Sage when handmade stockings for the five Thornhill cousins had hung from the mantle. A tall fresh pine, cut from the property and dressed in an assortment of hand-blown glass bulbs and other ornaments made by local artists, filled the corner between the fireplace and the window right next to the grand piano. Red velvet draped the table behind the sofa. On it was displayed Maude’s favorite nativity scene—the one Silas had bought for her in Italy.

  In her memories, fresh pine boughs secured with red ribbons swagged every doorway in and out of this room. And red candles—only red candles—of all sizes were scattered about, some inside crystal globes and votives and others held by rustic candlesticks Elan had made for her from limbs of hardwoods trees they cut down for firewood. An Advent wreath and an assortment of books from her Christmas book collection covered the rough-hewn pine coffee table in the middle of the room. Christmas pillows and knitted throws covered the leather chairs and sofas.

  But the dining room was something else. Decorated in white and silver, it could have been mistaken for a showroom of silver mercury glass—shimmering silver trees of varying sizes on the mantle and a classy display of silver candlesticks with white candles—only white candles—on the sideboard. The massive table in the dining room, never covered in a cloth, was set with white damask placemats and white napkins. Additional silver and crystal candlesticks with white candles meandered down the center of the table like a cascade of watery light through a bed of pine and cedar. Fresh greenery in a variety of small crystal containers identified each place setting.

  More rooms—some rustic, some with bold color, and others seemingly sprinkled with Christmas fairy dust—had become Maude’s palette for the Christmas season years ago. Those scenes scrolled through her memory like an old movie reel. A bit of sorrow tugged at her—sorrow that the rooms seemed bare and sorrow that her guests would not leave with memories of Grey Sage at Christmas.

  Beatrice might have been surprised to find there was a ten-by-fourteen-foot storage room down the east hall that housed nothing but Christmas decorations—and that its door had been locked for twenty-two years. Beatrice and the other guests would never know that once upon a time, this gathering room had overflowed with Christmas in every way . . . that there was a time when both Christmas and Maude’s life were quite enchanting.

  But those days were no longer.

  Citing the need for a hat, Maude excused herself from the room.

  The snow had stopped, but the air was fiercely cold, and the sky was thick and gray. Maude was the last one in the van, tugging at her knitted wool hat and still getting the I’m-warning-you-if-Lily-cancels-dinner eye from Lita. She waved goodbye to Lita and Silas and took the front aisle seat next to Lily, across from Colonel Walton and Beatrice.

  Gordy had driven no more than a hundred yards down the lane when Lily got up and crawled over Maude to get into the aisle. Maude knew the ride down the lane to Bishops Lodge Road was bumpy, bordering on treacherous with all the snow and ice. She warned Lily. “You might want to grab hold of that post behind the driver’s seat. This is not Chicago, you know.”

  Lily took an uncertain step toward the driver, reached for the microphone on the dashboard, and nearly fell. Gordy grinned and handed it to her as she clung to the metal pole behind him.

  Lily forced a smile to hide her disdain for Gordy and held her gloved finger to the microphone’s button. “We should thank Gordy for keeping our van so toasty warm on such a frigid day.”

  The travelers responded with a chorus of thank yous.

  “For today, or for what is left of it, I’ve made a change in plans to accommodate the weather. I’m aware that it’s cold, but tomorrow may be worse, so we need to do our outside walking today. Gordy will drop us off at the historic Palace of the Governors right downtown, where perhaps there’ll be some local Native American artists with their wares. You’ll be on your own to walk the Plaza before we gather for lunch. After lunch, we’ll have the afternoon to walk Canyon Road and visit the galleries and shops. Then more free time to look around at your own pace. Be kind to the local economy, people. I’ve been a starving artist. So show some Christmas spirit.”

  Beatrice, whose voice was heavier and huskier than her diminutive frame, spoke up. “I intend to buy some Christmas spirit and take it back to Grey Sage. I’ll get that place looking like Christmas. Laura told me earlier there’s a famous Christmas shop right downtown, and it will be my first stop.” She looped her arm in the colonel’s and looked up at him. “And Carl has agreed to carry all my packages.”

  Lily lowered the microphone to her side and whispered to Maude, “Don’t mind her, Maude. She sometimes thinks Henry’s her husband, Carl, and she’s lost all lines of discretion. Should have asked you earlier, but would you mind being the guide down Canyon Road this afternoon?”

  Maude smiled and shook her head. “Of course not. It would be my pleasure.”

  Lily straightened and nodded to Beatrice. “Thank you for your announcement, Beatrice. Next time, I’ll hand you the microphone. Now, all of you will be pleased to know that Maude has agreed to lead a walking tour through the galleries and shops on Canyon Road for those who would like to walk with her this afternoon. She is an art patron and a friend to all the gallery owners and has so much knowledge to share about the local culture and art scene. That’s a treat you didn’t pay for.”

  There was a sudden buzz down the aisle of the van. All of the travelers with the exception of Ted and Laura Sutton planned to follow Maude. Ted explained they had been here several times and had particular galleries they wished to visit, so they would strike out on their own.

  Lily continued. “Tomorrow, we will have more inside activities since the forecast is for increased precipitation. Wednesday’s tours will include El Museo Cultural de Santa Fe in the Railyard Arts District, then lunch and the Georgia O’Keefe Museum, and our last stops will be the St. Francis Cathedral and the Loretto Chapel, where we’ll see the mysterious staircase said to have been built by Saint Joseph himse
lf. Christmas seems a most appropriate time of year to see the work of this famous carpenter.”

  The van jarred through a pothole in the lane, and Lily clutched the pole with both hands. “I think I’ll sit down while I can still do it of my own accord. Enjoy the scenery through the mountains on this drive. One last thing: I’ll stay in touch with Gregarious Gordy here so that he can pick us up after lunch. He’ll be spending his day looking for accommodations and trying to stay warm.”

  Lily handed Gordy the microphone and crawled back over Maude to the seat by the window.

  Twenty minutes later, they were in town. When the van was safely stopped, Lily announced, “It’s eleven thirty. We’ll meet at one o’clock right here and walk the short distance down Lincoln Avenue for lunch at the historic and famous Plaza Café. Their menu includes something for everyone, but Maude says to skip the pork because that’s what we’re having for dinner.”

  Beatrice was standing by then, and she began to move slowly into the aisle. She had finally stopped her incessant humming of the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” from The Nutcracker Suite. “When did we get to New York? I adore the Plaza, especially High Tea at The Palm Court there. Oh my, their clotted cream is like this heavenly cloud of buttery goodness, just like I was served in London.” She paused. “But Lily, you need to check your plans. They don’t even serve lunch at The Palm Court. Why are you taking me there?”

  Lily responded with forced politeness. “Beatrice, we’re having lunch at the Plaza Café in Santa Fe. We’ll go to New York the next time, if that would please you.”

  Lily moved so that Beatrice and the colonel could make their way down the steps. She whispered to Maude, “I told you how she connects the dots. But thank goodness, she’s deliriously happy and easily diverted.”

  When all of the travelers were off the van, Lily dismissed Gordy and instructed him to keep his cell phone near. Then she and Maude went straightaway to the Plaza Café to see if it was possible to set up a table for eleven for lunch. Maude thought it best to have them all at one table where she could give them a bit of information about Canyon Road.