“We are not going to have animals in church!” shouted Olive. “And the sooner you get that into your thick head, the better!”
“What makes you think that
you
get to make all the decisions?” demanded Myrtle with her feet spread apart and hands on hips.
“Because I’m the one in charge.”
“Says who?”
Olive let out an exasperated groan and turned to Edith. “Please, Edith, do something! Or do I need to call Pastor Charles? This is really your fault, you know. Myrtle is your guest, and you’ve allowed her to help.”
“So, she’s been helping you?” asked Edith weakly.
“Helping me?” Olive practically shrieked. “With help like this, I might as well go out and hang myself.”
“Oh, Olive . . .” Edith sighed. “There must be some way to resolve this.”
“Yes!” said Olive. “And that’s to tell her
no
farm animals.” Then she turned and marched into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.
“Are the children around?” asked Edith in a quiet voice.
“No,” said Myrtle, still clearly unhappy. “They won’t be here for another twenty minutes.” Now she looked at Edith. “And how do you think the children would react to having live animals?” she asked. “Do you think they would enjoy feeling the nose of a fuzzy donkey or rubbing their hands through the thick curly wool of a sheep?”
Edith considered this. “Well, yes, I’d have to agree with you there, Myrtle. Kids love animals.”
Myrtle smiled as if she had the upper hand now. “And if having animals around was good enough for the baby Jesus, I can’t see how they could do much harm to a church, can you?”
“Well, no. Not actually . . . but then there’s Olive . . . and she’s dead set against it, Myrtle. And, really, she’s the one who’s supposed to be in charge. You’re only supposed to be helping her.” Edith was actually wringing her hands, something she hadn’t done since childhood. “Please, Myrtle, can’t you try to get along with her – for the sake of the children?”
Myrtle nodded. “This whole pageant is for the children, Edith. I won’t do anything to ruin it for them.”
“You won’t?” Edith felt a smidgen of hope.
“Of course not. I want them to enjoy this time – and to remember it always.”
“Oh, good.” Edith glanced back to the inn just in time to see a small pickup parking in front. “I think my handyman is here now. I better go.”
11
Within minutes, Peter had repaired the loose step and then headed off to the kitchen in search of Edith.
“All done,” he announced.
Edith had just put in the last ingredients for tomorrow’s shower cake. She’d decided to make it lemon with cream cheese frosting. And she would decorate it with pink and blue. Not terribly clever, but this was fairly last minute, and sometimes one just had to make do.
“Already?” she said as she turned on her big mixer and moved toward her little desk. “What do I owe you?”
Peter glanced around the kitchen, then grinned as his eyes spied something. “Are those cinnamon rolls?”
“Want one?” she offered.
“Got any coffee?”
“I do for you,” she said. “Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfy.”
“I can’t believe that none of your kids came home for the holidays,” said Peter. “If my parents’ place was as great as this, I’d sure make the effort to go see them.”
“How are your folks doing?” she asked as she set not one but two cinnamon rolls before him. “Do they like Arizona?”
“I guess. But I don’t get it.”
“Well, your mom said the winters here were getting to her. And then there was your dad’s bypass surgery. You can’t really blame them, Peter.” She filled the coffeemaker with water.
“Maybe not. But when I get old, I don’t plan on leaving. Christmas Valley is my home.”
She smiled to herself as she imagined Peter old and gray but still tromping around town. “But you have to admit, it’s not easy.”
“Easy isn’t always best,” he said.
She turned on the coffeemaker and turned off the mixer, glad to be rid of the extra noise. “Speaking of best, when are you going to start dating again, young man?”
He groaned. “You sound just like my mom.”
“Well, it’s a pitiful waste if you ask me, Peter. Just because your first wife didn’t have the good sense to see that she got a great guy doesn’t mean there’s not someone else out there who would appreciate you.”
“Not a whole lot of single women to pick from around here.”
She considered this. At one time, she’d even tried to match Peter up with Krista, but that had turned into a disaster. “It was like going out with my own brother,” Krista had told Edith afterward.
“Christmas Valley has its share of single women,” she told Peter, trying to think of a single one that might appeal to him. “But perhaps none that are right for you.”
“You got that right.”
“How about some of those online matchmaking services? I get pop-ups and email ads from things like that all the time. Not that I need anything like that.”
He laughed. “Somehow I just don’t see myself as an online dating kind of guy.”
She sneaked the still-brewing pot out and filled a mug, then set it down in front of him. “Well, maybe you should give it a try.” She sat down across from him. “You’re not getting any younger, you know, and it’s awfully nice, as one gets older, to have someone beside you.”
He nodded wistfully. “Can’t disagree with you on that.”
“Look, Mommy!” called a child’s voice in the dining room. Edith was certain it was Megan. “Everything’s all ready!”
“Let me put our stuff away first,” called Leslie. “And you go wash your hands.”
“Cookie day?” said Peter.
“Yes. Remember when you used to come over and help?”
“Those were good times.”
“And sledding,” she said with a sigh. “You kids had such fun at One Tree Hill.”
“Yeah, and if your kids had had the good sense to come home, we’d be out there doing it again.”
“Plenty of snow for it too.” She stood up and went back to her desk now. “Seriously, Peter, what do I owe you for that stair?”
“You already paid me.” He grinned at her. “And then some.”
“Well, you take your time and finish up in here. I need to go out there and help them get all set. They’re really doing me a big favor since I’m so busy just now. Those poor cookies probably never would’ve gotten decorated at all.”
“And Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without Mrs. Ryan’s famous Christmas cookies.”
She laughed and went out to the dining room. Before long, she had Leslie and Megan all set, and it looked as if Leslie really knew what she was doing too. “I’ve got to go put a cake in the oven,” she told them, “for the shower tomorrow.” But before she could get back to the kitchen, she heard voices in the foyer, one that was definitely Myrtle’s, and worried that Myrtle might be stirring up more trouble or getting into a flap with poor Mr. Benson, Edith decided to go see.
“Come on,” Myrtle was saying, as it turned out, to Michael Thomas. “You won’t be sorry.”
“But I, uh . . .” Michael looked slightly helpless.
“Myrtle?” said Edith with a bit of a warning tone in her voice. “What are you doing?”
Myrtle turned around and gave Edith a sheepish expression. “Nothing . . .”
“Are you pestering Michael about – ”
“She’s fine,” he said quickly, tossing Edith an assuring smile. “She’s just trying to talk me into taking her somewhere in my car.”
“Myrtle, please, don’t be bothering the other guests.”
“This is between me and Michael.”
“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” he said now. “Lauren walked to town and won’t be back for a while. I was just going to read and maybe catch a nap.”
“You can nap anytime,” said Myrtle.
Michael laughed. “I guess you’re right.”
Edith frowned. She didn’t like the idea of Myrtle bullying the guests around. And she suspected that Myrtle had seen Michael’s sporty little Porsche and just wanted to get him to take her for a joyride. Although how Myrtle was going to get her portly self in and out of that little car was a bit of a mystery.
“Have fun,” said Edith, imagining Michael using a giant shoehorn to pry Myrtle from his car after they were done.
When Edith came back through the dining room, she was surprised to see that Peter had joined Leslie and Megan. He was bent over a toy soldier cookie and frosting him in what Edith could only imagine must be camouflage.
“Decided to help out?” she said.
“Do you mind?” he asked without looking up.
“Not at all. Did you introduce yourself to the ladies?”
He looked up now. “Of course. I told them that your kids and I used to do this every year, and Megan invited me to join them.”
“And he’s making G.I. Joe,” said Megan, giggling.
“An untraditional Christmas cookie,” he admitted, “but in honor of our armed forces.”
“I think it’s nice,” said Leslie as she admired his work. “And it looks like real camouflage too.”
“Peter is our local artist,” Edith informed them.
“A real artist?” said Megan with big eyes.
“That’s right,” said Edith. “And he usually decorated the most interesting cookies too.” Then she went into the kitchen to finish her cake making. Hopefully, the batter hadn’t set too long. But it looked okay when she put the pans into the oven and even better when she took them out. Nice golden brown.
She set them on the counter to cool, then went upstairs to search for something. At least, she hoped she still had it. It was a baby quilt that she’d sewn for Tom and Alicia’s last baby. Made from an adorable fabric that was covered with farm animals, the colors had 95 been bright and bold. But then she’d heard that Alicia had chosen pastels for the nursery, and so Edith had put together a completely different quilt. She figured she’d have this one on hand for the next baby, and wasn’t there always a next?
As far as she could remember, she hadn’t given it away yet. After several minutes of intense hunting, she finally unearthed it in a plastic crate, along with a few other baby items. Things she’d probably gotten on sale for her own grandchildren, thinking that she would send them, or have them on hand when they came to visit her . . . and then, of course, she forgot all about them. Oh, well.
Since all seemed calm and quiet, for a refreshing change, Edith decided to take the time to wrap the baby gift, as well as to put up her feet. Already it seemed to have been a long day, or maybe the years were starting to catch up with her. Before she knew it, she had dozed off.
She awoke to what sounded like an urgent knocking on her door. “Edith?” called a female voice. “Are you in there?”
Thinking perhaps the inn was on fire, or worse, she stumbled to the door and opened it to see Lauren, Michael’s wife, standing there. And she was clearly upset. “What’s wrong?” asked Edith with a racing heart.
“It’s Michael!” said Lauren breathlessly. “I went to town to get a gift for the baby shower, and he was going to have a nap while I was out, but now I get back and he’s not in our room. And then I went downstairs and he’s not down there, and his car’s not here, and I’m just so – ”
“It’s okay,” said Edith soothingly. “Michael simply took Myrtle for a little drive.”
Lauren blinked. “A little drive?”
“That’s right. Of course, it was all Myrtle’s idea, but somehow she talked him into going. I’m sure she just wanted to have a ride in that pretty little car – ”
Now Lauren burst into tears.
“It’s okay,” said Edith again. “Really, you don’t need to be worried.”
But Lauren just continued to sob, until Edith didn’t know what to do, other than to guide her into the bedroom, something she had
never
done with a guest before. She sat Lauren down in the rocker, then sat herself down in Charles’s recliner and waited for Lauren to recover. At first impression, Lauren had seemed a very together and controlled sort of person. A career woman, Edith had imagined, due to the classy business suit and leather briefcase. And certainly not the sort of woman who was given over to hysterics. Why should Lauren be so upset over Michael having gone somewhere with Myrtle – surely she couldn’t be jealous of the heavyset woman who was old enough to be Lauren’s grandmother? Finally, Lauren’s sobs softened some, and Edith handed her a box of Kleenex.
“I’m so sorry,” Lauren said as she blotted her face with a tissue. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. It’s just that I got so scared – it’s like I knew that I’d lost him.”
“You’re a beautiful young woman,” said Edith, still feeling confused. “I’m sure your husband would never leave you, and especially for someone, well, like Myrtle.”
Lauren looked directly at Edith now, first with a shocked expression, but then she began to smile, and finally she actually laughed. Edith wondered what the joke was, but she didn’t ask. She was just relieved to see Lauren happy.
“No, no . . .” said Lauren. “I didn’t think that Michael had run off with – ” she chuckled, “
Myrtle
, of all people. But, well, you see, the reason we came here for Christmas, rather than being with our families . . . oh, it’s a long story.”
“Well, you’ve aroused my curiosity,” said Edith. “And I have time.”
“And after all I’ve subjected you to, you probably deserve an explanation. Let me give you the short version. You see, Michael was diagnosed with and treated for cancer not long after we got married, about five years ago. And after all that time in remission and no symptoms, we believed that he was cancer free. We were even beginning to think about starting a family – ” Her voice broke, and she looked down at her lap.
“But it came back?”
She nodded without speaking.
“And it’s serious?”
She looked up. “Yes. They said there’s no point in doing surgery and that they could try doing chemo, but it might just subject him to a lot of discomfort for no good reason. We just found this out a couple weeks ago, and we couldn’t bear to be around family just yet. We didn’t want to ruin everyone’s Christmas, you know?”
“That was very selfless of you,” said Edith. “But to be honest, if one of my children were sick, I would rather know.”
“And we will tell them. We just wanted to wait until after Christmas. We also wanted to have this time together, just the two of us, to talk and think and sort it all out, you know?”