Christmas on Honeysuckle Lane Page 25

  Daniel felt tears threaten. “Thank you,” he finally managed to say. “It was a shock with Dad, even though we knew about his heart condition. And with Mom . . .”

  “I know,” Mr. Beaton said with sympathy. “I heard. It’s a great loss to our community. I’m sorry I won’t be able to spend my retirement years in your parents’ company. You know, it’s funny how the people who are your friends in the early years of your life are so often the ones you want most to spend the last years of your life with. I grew up with Cliff. I guess I expected to grow old with him, too.”

  “Thanks,” Daniel managed again. But he couldn’t bring himself to say more.

  “Well, the wife is waiting for me at the candle shop. It was good to see you, Daniel. I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

  Mr. Beaton went off, leaving Daniel experiencing a disturbing mix of emotions—sadness warred with fond nostalgia and pleasant memories.

  “You okay, Uncle Daniel?”

  Daniel startled; he hadn’t been aware that Rumi had joined him. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”

  Rumi looked at him worriedly. “Sure? You look sad all of a sudden.”

  “It’s nothing,” he assured her, with an attempt at a smile. “I just saw a ghost is all.”

  Rumi laughed. “Well, if that’s all it was! Come on. I think you need a hot chocolate.”

  CHAPTER 50

  In spite of the distraction of the streetlamps and the bright lights of the shops, Emma could make out a few stars in the sky. She felt it was a good sign, though why she couldn’t exactly say. Maybe, she thought, I’m just wallowing in nostalgia, seeing good omens and dreaming of a future that was as perfect as the past seems now.

  Emma turned to her sister “Remember that one year—gosh, it must have been when we were still in grammar school—when all the lights on the tree sputtered out just after they were turned on? The collective groan,” she told Anna Maria, “was probably heard in Washington!”

  Andie smiled. “And then the lights came back on, just like magic.”

  Emma grinned. “More likely someone corrected a technical malfunction.”

  “Look.” Anna Maria nodded. “The Shelby Gallery is just ahead. Why don’t we stop in?”

  Emma opened her mouth and then closed it. What had she been going to say? Of course she would like to see Morgan Shelby, but the thought of chatting with him in the company of members of her family struck her as potentially . . . awkward. Would Andie and Anna Maria, both astute women, be able to tell that Emma had feelings for him? Yes, Emma thought. They will be able to tell. I’m a terrible dissembler.

  “You two go on,” she said. “I want to stop in the Eclectic Gourmet. I’ll meet you in about ten minutes?”

  “Okay,” Andie said with a shrug, and she and Anna Maria went into the gallery. Emma made her way into the specialty food store—a store she did in truth like—feeling more than a bit foolish. Really, she thought, what am I hiding? Who am I hiding from? Whatever the answers to those puzzling questions, the fact remained that at the moment Emma felt the need to keep her nascent relationship with Morgan (if that’s even what it was) to herself.

  After a few minutes mindlessly browsing the store’s vast selection of spices and dried herbs and handmade pastas, she rejoined the others on the sidewalk. Andie was wiping her lip with a paper cocktail napkin decorated with an image of a poinsettia. “That was the best brownie I’ve had in an age,” she said. “Emma, you should have come in with us.”

  “The brownies were good, but I was more taken with the nineteenth-century sideboard Morgan just got in,” Anna Maria said with a sigh. “If Savories and Seasonings ever makes it really big I think I’d like to have a sideboard like that at home. Of course, it might not actually fit in the living room, let alone through the front door!”

  “Morgan asked for you,” Andie went on, stuffing the napkin in the pocket of her jacket.

  “Did he?” Emma said. “Oh.”

  “I told him you were around. Maybe we’ll bump into him later. He seems very nice.”

  “Yes,” Emma said, affecting what she hoped was a tone of nonchalance. “Maybe we’ll see him later.”

  “Look, here comes Maureen. Who’s that with her?” Andie asked.

  “It must be her beau,” Emma said. Maureen was wearing a lightweight down vest over a bright red sweater. Emma was glad to see that the awful clay brooch of Santa Claus was nowhere in sight.

  “Emma!” Maureen called, waving to them. “Andie. Anna Maria. Let me introduce you to Jim.”

  The women took turns shaking Jim’s hand. He has a nice face, Emma thought. An honest face.

  “It’s great to meet you all,” Jim told them. “Maureen’s met my friends, and I was beginning to think there was some terrible reason she was keeping me from her oldest buddies.”

  Maureen playfully slapped his arm. “Remember,” she said, “the Reynolds gals don’t live around here. We only get to see each other once or twice a year at best.” Maureen smiled then at Anna Maria. “And Anna Maria is a busy mom and businesswoman. Her schedule isn’t exactly wide open.”

  The others chatted for a few minutes, but Emma found herself not quite able to join in. In the midst of the proverbial crowd she felt a sharp twinge of loneliness. It was difficult not to compare Maureen’s happy situation with her own uncertain relationship status. Not that she begrudged her friend the joy she had so obviously found with Jim. No, Maureen deserved whatever bit of happiness she was able to find for herself.

  “Looks like the whole town is out tonight!” Maureen said with a cheerful laugh that broke through Emma’s melancholy reverie.

  Jim nodded. “All we need is some snow and this would be a perfect night! And speaking of perfect,” he added to Maureen, “didn’t you say you wanted to check out the sales in some dress shop?”

  “I almost forgot! Maybe we’ll see you guys around the tree later.”

  When Maureen and Jim had moved off, arms linked, Andie said, “Well, he’s a huge improvement over that loser she married. I hate to use that term, ‘loser,’ but in Barry’s case I think I’m justified.”

  “And I was her maid of honor,” Emma told Anna Maria. “I cringe when I think of how I didn’t see the truth about him before it was too late.”

  “You might have been able to warn Maureen that she was marrying a bad seed,” Anna Maria pointed out, “but that doesn’t mean she would have heeded you.”

  Emma managed a smile. “You’re right. The mistakes we make for love.”

  “If you have to make a mistake,” Andie said, “and being human, we all do, making the mistake in the name of love isn’t the worst thing.”

  Before Emma could reply—and she had no idea what she would say to Andie’s observation—she spotted Joe Herbert and his family gathered by a young man and woman playing fiddles. She had last seen Jenna at Caro’s funeral, but she hadn’t seen the children in at least three years. The boy, Edward, would be around seven or eight now, she thought. The girl, Alice, must be ten or eleven. They were an attractive family and, if the fact that they were all laughing proved anything, a close family. She remembered Joe telling her that he was working too many hours, and she thought, With a family like that to come home to, who in his right mind would want to spend crazy hours at the office?

  Emma ambled on alongside her sister and sister-in-law, feeling a tiny bit like a fraud. She hadn’t even told Andie that she was considering moving back to Oliver’s Well. Why? Was she afraid that Andie would tell her she was being crazy, abandoning the safe life she had built in Annapolis? No, she thought. Andie was firmly for change and growth. So was the reason she had kept her thoughts from her sister because voicing the idea of coming home to Oliver’s Well to anyone in the family would make it too real?

  A loud burst of laughter and applause caused Emma to look toward a small crowd gathered around a magician—he had to be a magician, what with the black cape and the wand from the end of which was sprouting a bouquet of silk flo
wers. And in that crowd stood Morgan Shelby, a classic Burberry wool scarf wrapped around his neck. He must have closed the gallery early, Emma thought, or have hired someone to man the counter while he took some time to enjoy the festivities.

  “I’m just going to pop into the Hyatt Gallery,” she told her sister and sister-in-law hurriedly. “If I lose you we’ll meet later at the tree.”

  Anna Maria looked slightly suspicious—at least, Emma thought she did—but said only, “Okay.” Andie simply nodded, and Emma went off, wondering if she was becoming paranoid as well as childishly secretive.

  When she was within a few yards of the magician’s audience a very attractive young woman joined Morgan with a cry of greeting. Morgan bent down to let the woman kiss his cheek, and then he kissed hers in return. Emma stopped in her tracks and felt a surge of jealousy that stunned her. It was something she had never once felt in relation to a man. What is happening to me? she thought. It’s as if . . . It’s as if I’m really waking up for the first time in my life....

  She wanted to turn away but couldn’t. Instead she allowed herself to be tortured by the sight of them chatting animatedly, the woman putting her hand on Morgan’s arm in what Emma saw as a gesture of possession. Finally, she could stand no more. Emma abruptly turned away and went in search of her family. She had no claim on Morgan. She knew that. But now she thought that she might want a claim. She thought that she would like to matter to him. She remembered what Andie had said to her at the Pink Rose Café. She had said there was a candle in her heart, waiting to be kindled. Making her way through the throng of revelers in search of her sister, Emma thought that Andie might just be right.

  CHAPTER 51

  Andie looked up at the huge, old-fashioned, round-faced clock mounted on a black post just outside the bank. She and Emma and Anna Maria had been strolling the streets of downtown Oliver’s Well for almost an hour, and if anything, the crowds were even more animated than they had been at the start of the festivities. Wine and sugar and adrenaline, Andie thought. She realized that the sweet treats she had consumed were making her feel a bit twitchy and swore she would indulge no more for the rest of the evening. She needed to keep her wits about her; it was entirely possible that she would run into Mary Bernadette Fitzgibbon this evening, and if she did she hoped to find the courage to explain that the Bullock desk would not be going to the OWHA. But courage was a slippery thing to hold on to these days, Andie thought sadly, let alone to find in the first place.

  “Look, there’s Danny,” Emma said suddenly, pointing across the street. “Oops, I lost him. I’ve never seen so many people out and about.”

  “Did you get to say hello to Rumi earlier?” Anna Maria asked as they walked on in step with the other revelers. “She and Daniel and the kids took off pretty quickly.”

  “Not really,” Andie admitted. “I think she gave me a half smile, but I’m not sure it wasn’t a grimace.”

  Emma sighed. “I’m so sorry that things are at an impasse. It’s such a waste of precious time.”

  “I suppose I could talk to Rumi if you think it might help,” Anna Maria offered. “Maybe I’m at enough of a distance from the family—not a blood relation at least—for her to listen to me.”

  “Thanks, Anna Maria,” Andie said, “but no. Honestly, I don’t know what to do, but the situation is between my daughter and me. We’ll have to figure out a way to peace by ourselves.” And that, Andie thought, might take a miracle.

  “Mom and Dad loved this festival,” Emma was saying. “For Mom I think it was primarily another opportunity to go on parade. She liked the attention she got when displaying a new coat or hat for the first time.”

  “She did at that,” Andie agreed. “And I think Dad just ate up the joyous spirit of the evening. That and the candy apples they used to sell at the bakery before Cookies ’n Crumpets! What was the name of that bakery?”

  “I think it was Pat’s Pastries, wasn’t it?” Emma shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “After Cliff died,” Anna Maria told them, “Daniel and I tried every tactic we could think of to persuade Caro to come with us, but she just wouldn’t budge. Maybe she couldn’t handle being around so much cheer and good spirit, the others not feeling her loss as keenly she did.”

  Andie couldn’t help but wonder what her father would have done if Caro had gone before him—if he would have fared better, continued to find some joy in life, if he would have accompanied his son and family to the Christmas festival and not wasted away so quickly. But that, too, was something no one would ever know.

  “Let’s go in here,” Andie suggested as they reached the Artful Soul. “I’ve never been inside.”

  The three women entered and were greeted by the enticing aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, and orange. “Pomander balls,” Andie said, pointing to the bowls of spice-studded oranges on several counters.

  “How pretty,” Anna Maria cried.

  Indeed, Andie thought, the store did look beautiful, with its array of pine swaths and spindly sprays of branches painted white and sprinkled generously with silver sparkle. She noted but refrained from partaking in the refreshments on offer—classic colorful ribbon candy; candy canes in red, white, and green; and little squares of fudge and caramel.

  “Oh, my gosh, look!” Emma grabbed Andie’s arm and pointed to a section of the display case to their right. “Look at the sign,” she said. “Handcrafted by Rumi C. Dolman!”

  Andie felt her heart speed up, and it wasn’t due to the sugar she had consumed earlier. Carefully she lifted a bracelet from the display. It was made with irregularly shaped labradorite beads—Rumi’s favorite stone, Andie recalled—and the clasp bore the mark of sterling silver. The bracelet was simple and lovely. “I had no idea Rumi was showing her work to the public,” she said. She was surprised—and pleased—that her daughter had chosen to use her first name rather than her second, Caroline, by which she was familiarly known to her peers and much of the community.

  “Neither did I,” Anna Maria admitted. “She’s been so dismissive about it all.”

  Looking at the selection of bracelets and necklaces, fifteen pieces in all, Andie felt a surge of pride. Clearly Rumi’s creative outlet meant more to her than just a hobby, even if she denied its importance to her mother. She was sorely tempted to buy a bracelet or necklace, but then better sense took hold. The shop owner would be sure to tell Rumi who had purchased her work, and the fact that it had been her mother might not sit well with Rumi at the moment.

  “Guys,” Emma said, looking at her watch. “It’s almost seven-thirty. The tree is about to be lit. We’d better get out there.”

  Andie followed Emma and Anna Maria out of the store and together they made their way toward the massive fir tree that stood magnificently at the intersection of Main and Market streets. It was decorated with red, white, green, and blue lights that would soon be switched on to the enthusiastic singing of the crowd. Volunteers were already distributing sheets of lyrics to popular Christmas songs to those people still gathering, and Andie took the one offered to her. She wondered how many present really needed the lyric sheets; a quick glance at the papers in her hand told her that the words she had learned as a child were still firmly with her.

  A little boy standing close by with his parents tugged on his father’s coat. “This is the best night of my life,” he said quite solemnly. Andie smiled. Though she mourned the unhappiness that seemed to have engulfed her daughter in the past few months, she was struggling mightily with her own dark thoughts and the great misdeed of having given away something she’d had no right to give, she couldn’t help but be moved by the general good feeling of the crowd.

  At seven-twenty the master of ceremonies—another member of the Chamber of Commerce, Andie guessed—began to lead the crowd in singing the first carol. At seven-thirty precisely, the tree became a blaze of color and a great cheer interrupted the singing of the much loved standard “O Christmas Tree!”

  Andie felt a flood of e
motion, too intense to sort through. Emma leaned into her and smiled. Anna Maria put her arm through Andie’s and continued to sing in her strong soprano. Andie, tears in her eyes, wished that Bob was there with her. But he wasn’t, and that, she thought, was all right, because the moment—both painful and joyous—was good enough just as it was.

  CHAPTER 52

  “I had so much fun last night,” Emma said when she and her brother and sister were seated at Cookies ’n Crumpets. The only thing that would have made the Christmas festival any better, she thought, was if she had actually worked up the nerve to talk to Morgan Shelby. But she wouldn’t share that regret with Andie or Daniel.

  “Anna Maria and I have a big holiday lunch party at a small office park in Middleton,” Daniel told them, ignoring his sister’s comment. “It’s at least an hour ride, so I have to be out of town by ten. Anna Maria will go on ahead with Bob.”

  “Well, this shouldn’t take long. We don’t have too much to discuss this morning, do we?” Emma asked.

  Daniel shook his head. “There’s always a lot to discuss, but at the moment I want us to come to a decision about hiring an auction house to evaluate the estate and proceed with plans for the sale. I know it’s going to cost us money,” he said. “But honestly, the thought of handling a sale on my own once you two go back to your lives elsewhere gives me a migraine.”

  “Hiring an auction house is fine by me,” Andie said. “We’re not professionals. We don’t know what we’re doing.”

  Emma nodded. “I agree. Maybe we should ask Morgan Shelby to recommend one.”

  “Good idea. Well, that’s a relief. One less thing to worry about.”

  “What about the Bullock desk?” Emma asked her brother. “Are you still determined not to sell it?”