by Elena Graf
THE MORE THE MERRIER
A Hobbs Christmas Story
Elena Graf
Purple Hand Press
Copyright
Purple Hand Press
www.purplehandpress.com
© 2019 by Elena Graf
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, institutions, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Kindle Edition
ISBN 978-0-9836960-9-4
1
The snow began as flurries while Maggie and Liz searched for their perfect tree. Should it be skinny to take up less floor space? Or bushy to hold the ornaments each of them had acquired over six-decades?
Since combining their collections five years ago, they had rotated the ornaments so that all of them would eventually grace their tree. Every year, they bought a single ornament, and Maggie carefully painted the date on it. Liz wasn’t usually a fan of romantic traditions, but she liked this one. It reminded her that they had logged some time together after being separated for forty years. More importantly, it marked another year that Maggie had been cancer-free.
The line to bag the trees snaked down into the parking area. No one seemed to be in a hurry. The people of Hobbs took any opportunity to catch up with their neighbors, whether at the post office, the supermarket, or waiting for their Christmas trees. Liz and Maggie had company coming, so they paid cash, and Liz tossed their tree into the back of her pickup truck.
They had decided to set up the tree on the enclosed porch because it was cooler there. Working together was not their strong point, each being the kind of woman who liked to run the show, but Liz tried to be patient as she lay beneath the tree, tightening or loosening the screws in response to Maggie’s directions. Not completely trusting her wife’s ability to eyeball ninety degrees, Liz got up to inspect the progress.
“I guess that’s pretty straight,” she grudgingly admitted.
“I’m more competent than you think.”
“Yes, you are.” Another grudging admission.
Maggie pinched Liz gently. “Thank you. Now, how about some mulled wine while you put on the lights?”
As Maggie waited for the wine to heat, she watched the snow fall outside the kitchen window and wondered if their guests would brave the weather. She reminded herself they were Mainers, and a little snow wouldn’t keep them away. When the wine began to steam. Maggie stirred it gently, strained it into two mugs, and headed to the porch.
“It smells wonderful out here,” she said, inhaling the comforting scent of pine. “Nothing smells quite like a fresh tree. I think it’s our best ever.”
“You say that every year.”
“That’s because every year it gets better.” When Liz gave her a skeptical look, Maggie knew the double meaning had gone right over her head. “For you, Dr. Stolz,” she said, handing a mug to Liz.
“Thank you, Dr. Fitzgerald.”
Maggie took a seat on the wicker settee. “Do you ever wish you hadn’t talked me out of taking your name?”
Liz stopped fussing with the bottom string of lights and turned around to look at her. “No. ”
“We’re a family. Shouldn’t we have the same name?”
“It would be too confusing for the townspeople to have two Drs. Stolz. How would they know who to ask about a sore throat?”
“Everyone knows you’re the one for sore throats.”
“I really didn’t care what name you took. I just didn’t want you to have his name.”
“You’ll never forgive me for marrying Barry, will you?”
“I forgave you, or we wouldn’t be here talking about it.”
Maggie nodded and took a sip of wine. “It’s good,” she decided. “Better with a cinnamon stick than powdered cinnamon.”
“We probably shouldn’t get too deep into our cups. Soon, we’ll have dozens of people here.”
Maggie shrugged. “Everything’s ready. The stew and the chili are cooking. The snacks are prepared. You have most of the lights on the tree. Sit down for a minute and drink your wine.”
Liz looked doubtful, but she sat down beside Maggie. “The snow is coming down harder,” she said, glancing out the window. “What does the weather report say?”
“We could have ten inches or more. Do you think everyone will show up?”
“Oh, they’ll come. People look forward to our tree-trimming party. It’s a tradition. Just think. After this, we’ll be done with our holiday entertaining.”
“Maybe this year we’ll finally be able to have a quiet Christmas alone…sitting by the fire, watching old Christmas movies, making love…” She suggestively raised a brow.
Liz sighed. “Wouldn’t that be nice? It’s been such a busy year. My mother in the hospital…twice. Your promotion to chairman. Restructuring the practice. I thought we were supposed to be retired. We’re busier than ever.”
“We’re not really retired. Only doing something different from our old day jobs.” Maggie gave Liz’s ratty Yale sweatshirt and threadbare mom jeans a disapproving frown. “I hope you plan to change into something decent for the party. It’s a special occasion.”
“It’s supposed to be casual.”
“Casual, yes, but you look like you’re ready to go out and paint the house!”
“You can’t paint a house in winter. The paint won’t cure correctly. The minimum temperature for exterior painting is fifty-eight degrees. Otherwise, the paint scales off.”
Maggie wasn’t distracted by the home improvement lesson. She knew that pedantic lectures were one of Liz’s favorite ways to deflect. “You know what I mean.”
“All right,” Liz grumbled. “After I finish putting on the lights, I’ll shovel the front steps. Then, I’ll change.”
Maggie gave Liz a quick kiss. “Thank you.”
“That’s not a kiss,” said Liz, setting down her mug. She tried to wrestle the mug out of Maggie’s hand.
“No, you don’t, or we’ll be in bed when our guests arrive. Now, drink your wine and finish the lights.”
With a sound between a growl and a groan, Liz got up to resume stringing the lights.
As Maggie set out wine and beer glasses for their guests, she heard the scrape of the shovel on the front steps. Not long after, the garage door slammed, followed by the sound of Liz’s stocking feet running up the stairs to the third floor. Her wife soon returned, looking much more presentable in a red sweater, black dress pants and heels. She’d even put on some makeup.
“Better?” Liz asked.
“Much.”
“Now do I get a real kiss?” asked Liz, trying to steal one.
“Stop. You’ll wreck your lipstick and mine. You’re such a tease!” Maggie gently fended her off. “Our guests will be arriving any minute.” The ship’s bell on the front porch rang. “See? Go answer the door.” She gave Liz a little shove.
“I’ll get you later,” said Liz, shaking her finger over her head as she headed to the front door.
Maggie heard Tony Roselli’s booming baritone in the entrance hall. “We have come bearing gifts!” A moment later, Tony was in the kitchen, giving Maggie a kiss on each cheek. “How are you, Sweetie? You look fantastic!” He held up a gold-tone blouse. “Look what I found for you. Isn’t it perfect for the holidays? Second hand, of course. But feel the quality!”
Tony’s husband, Fred elbowed his way in. “Hello, Maggie,” he said, giving her a kiss. “You know he can’t resist picking out clothes for you. He wishes he could wear them. But alas, he’s lost his girlish figure.” Fred set a foil-wrapped tray on the island. “The stuffed mushrooms that Liz likes so much.”
“Oh, I love them too!” declared Tony. “Can’t you see?” He patted his belly. His protests were an exaggeration. He was still slim, although a little weight had settled around his waist since he’d finally married Fred.
Liz came into the kitchen. “Drinks? How about an elderberry martini? Nathan’s chef gave me the recipe.”
“How did you wring it out him?” asked Fred.
“He told me during his annual checkup, when I mentioned how much I liked them.”
Fred stared at her dramatically. “Aren’t you breaching patient confidentiality?”
“Not exactly. It doesn’t apply to martini recipes.”
Tony cornered Maggie near the refrigerator. “I hear you’re teaching twentieth century drama at UNE next term.”
“You heard correctly.”
“Would you consider directing Anouilh’s Antigone at State?”
Maggie and Liz exchanged a smile. “Maybe,” said Maggie with sly look. “I played Ismene in a college production.”
“You could play the nurse,” Tony suggested. “Not a big part, but a good one.”
“That’s an old lady’s role!” Maggie replied, making a face.
“Well, you are old enough for Medicare,” said Liz, pouring martinis for Tony and Fred.
“Liz, it’s considered a faux pas to talk about a lady’s age,” chided Fred, shaking his bald head. “Even I know that.”
“Just yanking her chain. She hates to be reminded that I’m younger.”
“Hah! In two years, you’ll be old enough for Medicare too,” Maggie said.
The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” said Maggie. “You finish making the drinks.”
Maggie opened the door to find Alyson Gagnon and her fiancée, “the dentist,” which Liz insisted on calling Lynne Bates, although she was a perfectly lovely woman, whom Maggie liked very much. Maggie suspected there was a smidgen of jealousy over the fact that Liz’s ex had finally found someone to accept her marriage proposal.
Alyson shook the snowflakes out of her strawberry blond hair. The new arrivals added their boots to the others on the rack.
“How are the roads?” Maggie asked, taking their coats.
“Getting a bit slick.” Lynne slipped on a pair of flats. “Thank heavens for four-wheel drive.”
Alyson held out two bottles of wine. “Give them to Liz,” said Maggie. “She’s in the kitchen making drinks.”
After stowing their coats on the bed in the downstairs guest room, Maggie returned to the kitchen in time to see Alyson’s face light up when she saw Liz. She was relieved to see Liz’s response was no more than a quick, friendly kiss.
“And here’s the dentist!” said Liz with a big grin as she hugged Lynne.
The bell rang again. After Maggie greeted Liz’s friends from the hiking club, she found a note pad in the kitchen drawer and made a sign that said, “COME ON IN!” She taped it to the storm door and left the front door open. Soon, more people crowded into the kitchen to greet their hosts and find drinks—faculty from University of New England, surgeons from Seacoast Women’s health, and Liz’s partners at Hobbs Family Practice—Cathy Pelletier and Jim Bowden and their spouses. The noise level rose by a factor of ten. The officers of the Hobbs Fish and Game arrived, followed by Brenda Harrison, the Hobbs police chief. Liz moved the slow cookers with Maggie’s savory stew and spicy chili to a counter and set up a bar on the island.
“You’re pretty good with that cocktail mixer,” said Brenda, “not training for a second career, are you?”
“Well, I suppose that would count as my third career, if I were.”
Brenda looked thoughtful, “Yes, I guess that’s right. First, a big shot surgeon, now just a humble family doc.”
“I don’t know how humble I am, but I try,” replied Liz with a quick laugh. “What can I get you, Brenda? You’re not on duty tonight, are you?”
“Nope, but with this snow coming down, I don’t want to get too buzzed in case there’s an emergency.”
“How about some hot cider? It’s not spiked, I promise.”
“Perfect.”
“Liz, I’m going to get the guests started on trimming the tree,” said Maggie, “before they get too inebriated and all the ornaments end up in one place.”
Maggie went out to the porch and turned the music down. “May I have your attention, please,” she announced in her actress voice, which easily projected over the buzz of conversation. Everyone fell silent. “The bins for the ornaments are over there against the window. Before you have your next drink, I want each of you to put up at least five ornaments. Try to keep the heavy ones for the strong branches on the bottom.” She scrolled through the playlist on her phone to find something more festive and noticed she’d missed two phone calls. There was also a text message.
She opened the message first. It was from her daughter, Alina. “MOM ARE YOU THERE?”
She checked the voicemails. Both were from Alina: “Mom, I’m calling from Tampa airport. I know I said I wasn’t coming for Christmas, but I changed my mind. Just me and the girls. I’ll explain everything when I get there.” Maggie tapped on the next voicemail. “Mom, I really need to talk to you. We’re boarding now, and I need to know someone can meet me in Boston. Please call or text me right away. It’s really important.” Maggie checked the time of the calls. They had come in over an hour ago. Why hadn’t she heard them? She checked the ringer switch and found it had been turned off since the faculty meeting the previous afternoon.
Maggie went into the kitchen. “Liz, you need to listen to this.” She held her phone up to Liz’s ear as she finished pouring wine for their latest guests.
Liz put down the wine bottle and took the phone. She checked the time of the messages. “She must be in the air now. It would have been nice of her to leave her flight information.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Maggie. “We can’t leave with all these people here.”
Liz frowned as she thought. “Maybe she can get a limo when she gets to the airport. Or she could take the bus into Dover.”
“You know that will be hard with the baby.”
Liz sighed. “Can you manage the gang without me? I’ll go pick her up.”
“Oh, Liz. The weather is terrible.”
Liz made a face. “I know, but we can’t leave her there.”
“Maybe she could go to a hotel, and we could pick her up tomorrow.”
“If we tell her that, she’ll have a panic attack on the spot. Plus, she has two small children traveling with her. That will never work.”
Liz went out to the porch. The laughter and silliness, and Tony’s booming voice audible above all the conversation, was proof the guests were enjoying the tree trimming. Despite Maggie’s instructions, the tree looked a little bottom-heavy. Most of the ornaments were clustered near the front, leaving the back and sides bare. They’d have to fill in later.
“Listen up, everyone!” said Liz. “Unfortunately, I have to leave. We have some surprise guests arriving at Logan. Maggie’s daughter and her kids are flying in, and I have to leave to pick them up.” She gestured toward Maggie. “My wife is in charge, so try to behave.”
Everyone laughed. Brenda raised her glass. “Don’t worry, Liz. I’ll keep everyone in line.”
“Thanks, Chief. I appreciate it.”
“I wish I could go with you,” said Brenda, “but with this weather, I need to stick close to home…in case there are accidents.”
Maggie and Liz went into the kitchen. “Get your lunch cooler,” said Maggie,
“I’ll pack you something to eat.” Maggie wrapped tea sandwiches and arranged hors d’oeuvres on an aluminum pie plate. She filled a travel mug with hot coffee while Liz changed into clothes better suited for a long drive on a snowy night. Although Liz lacked a sweet tooth, Maggie packed some cookies in a zip lock bag. They would provide energy if she got tired.
Liz came down wearing jeans, a hoodie, a polar fleece vest, and heavy socks. She sat on the stairs to put on her boots. Maggie handed over her parka, hat and gloves. “Stay warm.”
“I have a quilt in the truck just in case. Good thing I had the cap put on last week. I can put the luggage back there.”
Maggie gave Liz a fierce hug. “Please be safe. I would die if anything happened to you.”
Liz bent to kiss her. “I know you’re an actress, but a little less drama would be good at a time like this.”
“Oh, get out of here,” said Maggie, giving her a little shove. “And be careful!”
“I will,” promised Liz. “If you get any more information from Alina, call me right away.”
From the front door, Maggie watched the taillights of the truck until they disappeared down the driveway.
***
The local roads hadn’t been plowed. Liz grumbled as she switched on the four-wheel drive. This mission was completely irrational. No one in their right mind would drive to Boston with it snowing so hard. In clear weather, with no traffic, it was, at least, an hour and a half drive. Never mind that it was a Friday night less than a week before Christmas, and there would be drunk drivers coming from holiday parties.
Liz pulled herself up short. She knew from many years as a surgeon that, in a stressful situation, confidence and attitude could make the difference between success and disaster. Besides, she needed to keep her energy level high. From the looks of the weather, this could turn out to be a very long trip.
She was relieved to see that Route 9 had been plowed, and when she reached the interstate, that was clear too. She allowed herself to relax a little and asked Siri to open her opera play list.
She hadn’t gotten far when a telephone call broke into the drinking song from La Traviata.