She went up to the room that she and Charles shared. They had remodeled this space for themselves before transforming their home into the Shepherd’s Inn. By combining two smaller bedrooms and a bath, they had created a large and comfortable suite that provided a tranquil getaway, a private retreat. And since Charles was visiting a parishioner who was in the hospital in a nearby town, the orderly room was quiet and peaceful now. Edith went inside and closed the door behind her. Then, sitting down in her padded rocking chair, she began to cry. Tears from long ago poured down her cheeks, and she let them. She wasn’t quite sure what she was specifically crying for – oh, it had to do with her grandparents, of course, her childhood, their passing . . . but it was all rather vague. Perhaps she was simply grieving.
She wasn’t sure just how long she actually cried, but after she’d blown her nose and splashed cold water on her face, it was nearly two o’clock. And she knew it was only a matter of time until the new guests would begin arriving. She
must
pull herself together.
The house was quiet when Edith went back downstairs. She figured that Myrtle was over at the church either helping or harassing Olive. But at least it gave Edith a chance to regroup and get a few things done. To her relief, the cookies looked okay. Perhaps a bit thinner than she would’ve made them, but at least they hadn’t burned. She picked up a lopsided star and took a bite. To be perfectly honest, the anise did make them taste more interesting. She wished there was time to brew a pot of tea, but Edith figured she’d better get busy before the guests started coming. She still needed to put fresh linens in the Good Shepherd Room, where she planned to put Albert Benson, since he was alone and the room was a bit smaller than the others. She also wanted to put the special Christmas mints on the pillows. She’d just picked them up at the Candy Cane Shoppe yesterday afternoon.
“You’re going to have your hands full with your new guest,” Betty Gordon had told her in a conspirator’s tone. Betty was the owner of the candy shop as well as a member of their congregation.
“So you heard her this morning?” ventured Edith.
Betty laughed. “I can imagine she’ll really spice things up at the inn.”
Edith nodded without commenting.
“Between you and me, I heard that she made a similar scene at Mrs. Santa’s Diner.”
“Oh, dear . . .”
Betty slipped the package of specialty mints into a red-and-white-striped bag. “It’s not my place to say this, but the less time that woman spends in town, the better it will be for everyone, Edith.”
“Well, she’s helping Olive with the Christmas pageant,” said Edith as she put her change into her purse. “That should keep her busy.”
“Poor Olive.”
Edith nodded. She had been tempted to apologize, but then it wasn’t really her fault if a guest behaved badly. Was it?
Edith placed the final mint on the pillow in the Cool Water Room. This room was one of her favorites. All in shades of blue, it was so soothing and peaceful. This was where she planned to put the Thomases. Something the wife had said suggested in her email that the couple had been under a lot of stress lately. Hopefully, this would help.
Edith was just going down the stairs when she heard voices below.
“Hello,” she called as she spied a couple standing in the foyer. They looked to be about her age, or maybe younger. “You must be the Fieldses,” she said as she shook their hands and introduced herself.
“I’m Carmen,” said the woman, then with a slight frown, “and this is Jim.”
Jim didn’t look too happy.
“We would’ve been here sooner, but Jim got lost. I begged him to stop and ask directions . . . but you know how men can be.”
Edith smiled. “Christmas Valley is a bit off the beaten path.”
Then she gave them a brief tour, explained how things worked, gave them some brochures from town, and finally showed them to their room.
“Staff and Rod?” questioned Jim.
“All the rooms are named after portions of the twenty-third psalm,” she explained quickly. But still they didn’t seem to get it.
“Because this is the Shepherd Inn,” she continued. “And the shepherd uses a staff and rod to keep his sheep safe.”
“It sounds more like something he’d use to beat them with,” said Carmen.
Edith laughed. “No, no,” she said. “A good shepherd would never do that.”
She was only a couple steps away when she heard the couple starting to argue. She couldn’t discern the words, but she could hear the anger in their voices. Surely they would resolve their differences over their trip and start enjoying their visit before long. At least she hoped so.
Edith was just cleaning up the cookie-making mess when Myrtle came into the kitchen. Tempted to point at the sign above the door, Edith decided it was useless. This woman, not unlike her grandmother, would do just as she pleased.
“I thought I’d find you in here,” said Myrtle. “I’m just going to town to get something to eat.”
Edith nodded. “That’s nice.”
“Yes, I thought I should let someone know just in case I have a heart attack on the way.” Myrtle frowned.
“Are you feeling unwell?” inquired Edith with a bit of concern.
“No, but it is a bit of a walk, and I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Just then Charles came in through the back door. Edith knew he was surprised to see Myrtle in the kitchen, but you couldn’t tell by his expression. Of course, this was a trick he’d learned after all his years of pastoring.
“Hello, Myrtle,” he said pleasantly. “How are you today?”
She scowled. “I was just telling Edith that having to walk to town for meals is inconvenient for someone like me.”
“Can I offer you a ride?” he said with a smile.
She brightened. “Well, now, that’d be just fine.”
“Can I pick up anything for you while I’m out?” he asked Edith.
So she gave him a short list, then thanked him. Of course, she was thanking him for transporting Myrtle and getting her out of the inn for a bit.
They had barely left before another guest arrived. This time it was Albert Benson, an elderly man who said very little. Edith tried to be friendly as she guided him to his room, but he kept the conversation short and curt.
Edith couldn’t help but feel dismayed as she went back downstairs. So far her Christmas guests consisted of a cantankerous old woman, a couple who didn’t seem to get along too well, and now a moody old man. Oh, she knew that these were probably people who just needed to be loved. But she had so hoped that Christmas would be fun and fulfilling for everyone, and now she was worried that it was going to be stressful and difficult at best.
So Edith did what she usually did whenever she felt worried about something. She sat down at her little desk, bowed her head, and prayed. She asked God to help her and Charles to help each one of her guests, specifically laying their problems out in the same way that she might arrange bath linens, and finally she imagined herself putting all this into God’s capable hands as she said “amen.”
Then Edith arranged a tempting selection of breads, cookies, and goodies on the dining room table. She also made fresh pots of tea and coffee, then turned on the Christmas music and watered the tall evergreen tree that stood in the corner of the living room. She paused for a moment to savor the comforting ambience of Christmas – the sights and sounds and smells. Yes, she told herself, this Christmas would indeed be different, but it would also be good. And perhaps next year her children would be gathered around her again.
7
By Tuesday afternoon, the Shepherd’s Inn was full. Lauren and Michael Thomas, a pleasant thirtysomething couple from Seattle, had arrived just past noon and were settled nicely into the Cool Water Room. And Leslie, the young and recently divorced mother, and her adorable daughter, Megan, had shown up in time for tea.
“Ooh,” said Megan with wide eyes when she gazed up at the twelve-foot tree. “Look how big it is, Mommy!”
“This is beautiful,” said Leslie as she looked at the various Christmas decorations and admired the setup for afternoon tea. “Much nicer than I expected.”
Edith had to admit to herself that it was a great relief to have some guests who truly seemed to appreciate the inn’s humble offerings. Perhaps the week wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Would you like to get situated in your room?” suggested Edith. “Then come back down for tea.”
“That sounds great,” said Leslie as she removed her thick down coat and hung it over her arm. “You know, the forecast said there was no chance of snow, but it’s getting so cold outside that I’m not so sure now.”
“Snow!” exclaimed Megan, looking at Edith hopefully. “Do you think it could snow in time for Christmas?”
Edith laughed. “Well, you just never know. And it wouldn’t be the first time the weatherman was wrong.”
As they walked through the foyer, Megan stopped to look at a delicate porcelain sculpture that was situated on a side table, something Edith had had for years. “Ooh, Mommy, look,” she said, tugging on her mother’s arm. “
An angel.
” She reached for it.
“Don’t touch, Megan.” Leslie gently pulled her back. “It looks very breakable.”
“It’s managed to survive all my grandchildren so far,” said Edith as she escorted them upstairs. She smiled to herself as she opened the door to their room, the Lamb’s Room, pausing long enough to hear Megan exclaiming over the small collection of pictures and statues that depicted lambs throughout the room. Clearly, the little girl was pleased. Well, that was something! Edith was feeling more and more hopeful.
After going back downstairs, she poured herself a cup of tea and gazed out the front window as she sipped. It was definitely getting colder out, but the sky was still crisp and clear with not a single cloud in sight. Of course, that could all change quickly enough. That’s how it was here in the mountains. In fact, according to the town’s historians, that’s exactly how it happened back when the original trappers got stuck here so long ago. The weather had started out mild and unseasonably warm before it snapped and turned into one of the biggest blizzards in recorded history. Not that Edith cared to see a snowstorm of that proportion this year, but a nice layer of white for little Megan . . . well, that would be lovely.
The phone in the kitchen rang, jarring Edith back to the present. And when she answered it, the male voice on the other end sounded rather angry. “We have a little problem down here at the North Pole Coffee Shop.”
“Who is this calling?”
“This is Mayor Drummel, Edith. And you have a rather eccentric guest who is making a bit of a scene down here,” he told her. “Seems she has a problem with Santa Claus.”
“Oh, dear.” Edith took in a quick breath. “That must be Myrtle . . . and I’m guessing you must be playing Santa today?”
“You got that right. Can you please come down here and get this woman, or do I have to call in the police?”
“Of course,” said Edith. “I’ll be right there.”
Lauren and Michael were just coming in to get tea as Edith was leaving. “I’m terribly sorry,” she told them, “but I have to run to town to pick up a guest. Do you mind helping yourselves?”
“Not at all,” said Lauren. “This looks yummy.”
Edith nodded. “Thank you. I should be right back.”
As usual during the week preceding Christmas, Mayor Drummel was outfitted in a very authentic-looking Santa suit, and a line of young children were waiting to sit on his lap. However, Santa was not seated, and the children looked rather unhappy.
“She’s in the coffee shop,” said the mayor when he spotted Edith. “I told her to either go in there and shut up, or risk going to jail.”
“I’m so sorry,” began Edith.
“Just take her away,” demanded the mayor in a hushed voice. “She’s ruining everything. Do you know that she actually told the children that I was a fake and that there is no such thing as Santa Claus?”
Edith just shook her head. “I am so terribly sorry.”
“Just get her out of here,” he said as he turned and headed back to his big velvet-covered chair. “Everything’s going to be okay now, children,” he said in a big, dramatic Santa-style voice. “
Ho-ho-ho!
That poor old woman was very naughty when she was a little girl, and all I ever put in her stocking was lumps of coal and switches.”
The children’s eyes grew wide with worry, as if they too might’ve been naughty a time or two.
“But don’t fret,” he told them in a reassuring tone. “You’re all good children, and I’m sure that I’ll be bringing you something much better.”
Edith hurried into the North Pole Coffee Shop, unsure as to what she might find. Perhaps Myrtle would be standing on a chair and telling the customers to repent of all Christmas folly lest they be doomed forever.
Fortunately, that was not the case. Myrtle was quietly sitting at the counter, sipping a cup of coffee.
“I heard there was a problem . . .” Edith spoke in a quiet voice as she took the empty stool next to Myrtle. She was well aware of the eyes that were watching her now. And she felt certain that they wanted her to get the crazy woman out of here, the sooner the better. Still, she didn’t want to do anything to rock Myrtle’s boat. That would probably just make things worse.
“Wasn’t much of a problem,” said Myrtle in a matter-of-fact voice. “I just wanted to set the children straight. Grown-ups shouldn’t be lying to children.”
“It’s just for fun,” explained Edith.
“Well, I told those kids that they should come to church and see the Christmas pageant if they wanted to know what Christmas was really about.”
“
You didn’t?
” Edith was horrified. What a terrible way to invite people to their church! Good grief, Myrtle might as well have been carrying a gun. No wonder Mayor Drummel was so upset. As far as Edith knew, that poor man had never set foot in church in his entire life. And this would probably set him back light-years.
“I did,” retorted Myrtle. “And I’d do it again if necessary.”
“Please, don’t.”
“Well, it’s a shame letting children think that Christmas is nothing but Santa Claus and ho-ho-ho. Someone should tell them the truth.”