The Christmas Tree Keeper: A Novel Page 15

  “Cut it out.” He set down his glass and grabbed a dishtowel. “I still remember how to use this,” he joked.

  “So what do you like about this Angela?” she asked.

  “Forget it. I’m not saying anything else.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re tougher than that.” She grabbed another dishtowel. They began snapping them at each other and playing harder with every hit and miss. “You must be smitten if you’re not talking.”

  “Nice try,” he said. “She’s amazing. How’s that?”

  “Ouch.” She laughed and shot back. “And you know this from what, one date? You’re such a guy!”

  “First of all, she’s the kind of person who doesn’t put up with any nonsense.”

  “Ha—then what does she see in you?”

  “Thanks. Hey, watch it.” A glass pitcher wobbled on the counter. Kate got in another hit, they both laughed. Papa walked into the kitchen.

  They stopped and tried to compose themselves, like they were kids again and caught with their hand in the candy jar.

  “Sorry, Papa,” Mark muttered.

  “For what? Looks like I found the party. Donna would have joined you in here and been whipping the both of you,” he said. “Now settle down and come say good-bye to the guests.”

  Mark stood near the front door and shook hands and offered hugs. Donna’s daughter, Jill, walked over with a short, older woman.

  “Mark, this is someone I’d like you to meet.” She motioned to the woman. “This is Mrs. Shaw.”

  “So you’re the famous Mrs. Shaw. Your crafts are some of our bestsellers,” he said. “I’m glad to finally meet you. Donna loved working with you.”

  “I just can’t believe it. I’m so sorry,” she said. “I came as soon as I heard, as soon as Jill called.”

  “That’s right. You were in Oregon?”

  “Yes. I want to help any way I can. Jill said I should talk to you about the craft barn.”

  “If you’re still looking for someone to help run it,” Jill said to Mark, “look no further than Mrs. Shaw.”

  “Well, no one can take Donna’s place. But I will do what I can,” she said.

  Mark scanned the room for Kate. “Let me find my sister. If you have some time, we can talk about this.”

  He found Papa and Kate and visited with them for a few minutes. They both agreed that Mrs. Shaw would be a great fit.

  “While you’re at it, see if she’d like to come for Christmas dinner,” Papa said.

  “Are you sure?” Mark asked. “I’ve already invited Angela and her family. Without Donna here—no offense to you, Kate—can we handle it?”

  “She left her family in Oregon to be here,” Papa said. “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

  More people filed out of the farmhouse. Mark and Mrs. Shaw sat by the fireplace and talked about the craft barn and Donna. Toward the end, he invited her over for Christmas dinner.

  “I’m honored,” she said.

  “I can’t say it will be as nice as it usually is, but we’d love to have you join us, unless you have other plans.”

  “No, I don’t. What can I bring?

  “That’s not necessary,” Mark started to explain, but he didn’t get very far.

  “Now, listen here, I’m not to be entertained like a child. I’ll come so long as I can cook something. I’m no match for Donna, but I’ll bring a little bit of England with me.”

  “That’s generous of you.” Mark said.

  “Pshaw. No trouble. It’s a privilege. How many will be eating?

  “I—” Mark stammered, and Kate arrived.

  “Mark, have you arm-wrestled this poor woman into cooking for us?” she teased.

  “No, I ... she offered.” He held up his hands in innocence.

  “He’s right. I insisted,” Mrs. Shaw said.

  “There will be six—seven, including you,” Mark said.

  Kate continued, “We’ll be here cooking too.”

  Once Mrs. Shaw left and the door closed, the finality of the day settled around Mark. He and Kate and Papa milled around the kitchen, cleaning up. No one spoke. Kate put the last of the utensils in the dishwasher. She’ll return to California soon enough. And Papa, he swept the kitchen floor slowly, with bent shoulders. Was he tired?

  How are we going to celebrate Christmas—let alone run the farm—without Donna?

  Mark wrestled the last trash bag closed. “Well, Papa, I’m thankful you suggested we invite Mrs. Shaw for dinner,” Mark said. “Otherwise, we’d be eating Kate’s Tofurkey on Christmas Day.”

  “And you’d love it,” she shot back.

  Chapter 23

  What use was a date if you couldn’t talk about it with girlfriends? Angela’s choices were a highly opinionated mother and a much-too-young daughter—even if she was too smart for her own good. But she had to say something to answer their wide, expectant eyes.

  For Caroline’s explanation, she’d been to the Enchanted Village with a friend, and yes, Angela would take her there. Her mother’s curiosity would have to wait until Caroline was asleep. That would give her some time to think through the narrative for potential points that would disclose too much information.

  Anything you say can and will be used against you. What, am I still sixteen? I can tell her what I did, how it went. We’re both adults. I just won’t name names. At least, not last names. We have Christmas dinner to get through.

  No, her mother would not know that they would be spending part of Christmas Day with the same man who had taken her to dinner.

  “What does he do for work?” Cathy asked.

  Angela answered quickly. “He’s in the agriculture business.”

  “That’s a departure from Todd,” she said. “How did you say you met him?”

  “Sutton is small place. We kind of kept running into each other,” Angela said as she poured hot water into two mugs.

  “Do I get to hear what else you did on your date?” her mother asked.

  “We went to see some Christmas lights after dinner.”

  “How nice, did he hold your hand?”

  “Mom, seriously. What kind of a question is that?” Angela got up from the table and put her drink on the counter. She began loading the few dishes from the sink into the dishwasher.

  “A reasonable one. I’m trying to figure out what kind of a man he is,” she said. “Besides, I don’t know what kids do these days.”

  “I’m almost thirty.” Angela laughed. “And no, he didn’t hold my hand. It wasn’t that kind of date.”

  “What does that mean? What kind of a date was it?” Cathy carried her mug to the sink and waited.

  Okay, so it was the almost-kissed-me kind.

  “Um, it was a first date, that’s all.” But the heat rose in her cheeks as she thought of the way he leaned in, how close he felt…

  “He asked to see me again,” she said out loud.

  “And?”

  “That’s when I saw you and Caroline at the door.” And missed the kiss.

  Angela closed the dishwasher and walked toward the living room. She looked at the decorated Christmas tree and shook her head.

  A new apartment, a date with Mark, and my mother and I talking about it, together.

  Angela changed the subject. “Do you ever see Florinda?” She walked over to the nativity set across the room where Caroline had put it up, still missing the little lamb.

  “Florinda, your piano teacher? Let’s see, it’s been years and years.” Her mother picked up her coat and paused before she put it on.

  “The last I knew, she returned to Portugal to be with her mother for a time. I’m not sure if or when she came back,” she said. “You were fond of her, weren’t you?”

  Angela checked her mother’s face for signs of jealousy, but she couldn’t detect any.

  “She was a good teacher, you know, she cared.”

  “I could ask around if you’d like. I’d better go now. Providence is a long—.”

  “Drive.” Ang
ela finished the well-worn sentence. “I know Mom. Thanks, for coming tonight and taking Caroline.” She walked over to the door. “I’m glad you two had some time together.”

  “Me too,” Cathy said. “Maybe next time I come, I can meet—what was his name?”

  “It’s Mark.” Mark Shafer. But you don’t need to know that.

  The last day of school before Christmas break, Angela arranged for a long lunch so she could shop for Caroline. She headed to the mall in Millbury unsure if she would have enough time and money to find what was on her list.

  She browsed the sweaters first and then looked at backpacks. On her way to the toy department, she walked by the jewelry counter, and a gem-studded necklace caught her eye. Expensive, no doubt, but a necklace Caroline would love. The saleslady appeared and mentioned they were running a fifty-percent-off sale.

  “Great. I’ll take it.”

  She checked the time and made her way out of the mall. There was a specialty gift shop with assorted Christmas decorations in the display window. Angela stopped and looked. So many elaborate nativity sets.

  Oh, that’s right. The lamb!

  She walked into the store, and the pine smell filled her senses. Real pine, not artificial, like walking through the trees at the Shafer farm.

  She admired each of the nativity sets. One was ornate and painted, with oversized pieces. Another set was hand-carved olive wood—both were expensive. Of all the options, none matched the size or style of hers.

  I’m sure Florinda brought it from Portugal.

  She picked up a lamb from a set. Could it pass as a match? She was sure it was too big, and when she saw the price, she decided she’d keep looking for a better fit, and a less expensive one.

  The necklace will have to do, and I still need to find an Easy Bake Oven.

  Angela had promised Caroline they would shop for presents for Cathy on Thursday after work. That was before she was worn out from a very long day at the rental office. The woman in apartment six called to report that someone had broken her kitchen window. Angela spent half the day coordinating the replacement. For all the perks of the job, there were a few headaches.

  They searched several stores looking for something Caroline could give her grandmother. Angela said no to the apron with the words “I love my grandma’s cooking” on it, and then had to spend the next ten minutes explaining to her daughter what it meant to have a personal chef.

  Shopping for a woman who could buy whatever she pleased was quickly draining the fun out of the whole ‘joy of giving’ plan. Angela brought Caroline to the specialty shop as a last resort.

  “What about this music box?” Caroline asked. She opened it, and “Joy to the World” began playing. There was a small figurine arrangement of Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus inside. “I love it. Can we give it to her?” Caroline begged.

  My mother and “Joy to the World?”

  Angela looked at the price and then her watch. She bit her lip instead of protesting. Yes, she could get it. It was pricy but they wouldn’t have to visit another store.

  While waiting to check out, Angela kept an eye on Caroline as she wandered to the back corner of the store. She returned with a vase full of artificial flowers.

  “Where did you find that?”

  Caroline pointed to a shelf in the corner.

  “On the clearance rack?”

  Angela knew her mother wouldn’t even be able to pretend she liked it. She’d start by naming each room in her house and get that puzzled look on her face. She’d declare how impossible it would be for them to coordinate with any of her artwork, or pillows or latest wall texture.

  “The music box is all we can afford.”

  “Not for Grandma—for the Shafer family. We can’t show up empty-handed, can we?”

  She has a point.

  “You’re right, but it isn’t very Christmas-ey,” Angela said.

  “But I like it. Besides, that’s probably all they ever get is holiday stuff. I’m sure they don’t have anything like this.”

  I’m sure they don’t.

  Chapter 24

  On Christmas morning Angela woke up to Caroline’s whisper-singing a medley—more like a mash-up—of her favorite carols and holiday songs.

  “You’re a pretty clever alarm clock, you know that?” Angela sat up and motioned for her daughter to come over for a hug.

  “Let’s go. I’ve put the baby Jesus in the manger with the rest of the pieces,” Caroline said. “And the stockings Mrs. Shaw gave us are full.”

  Angela grabbed a quilt from the end of her bed. They sat together on the carpet near the tree, with the quilt wrapped around their shoulders. The tree lights glowed gently in the pre-dawn darkness.

  “Here, open mine first,” Caroline said as she handed her mother a small, soft present.

  Angela didn’t recognize the wrapping paper. She uncovered a white hand-knit scarf. “When did you do this?” she asked.

  “Mrs. Shaw has been teaching me how to knit. She helped me make this one. Do you like the yarn? It has glitter in it!”

  “I do. It shimmers like the snow. Thank you. It must have taken you hours. Oh, thank you.” Angela said, looking at her daughter with love and making a mental note to thank Mrs. Shaw later. “Here. I have a few things for you.”

  Caroline unwrapped the first present from her mother. It was the Easy Bake Oven she had asked for. Next, she held up a small present and shook it gently by her ear.

  “What is this?” She discovered a small jewelry box with a necklace inside. “It’s beautiful,” she exclaimed, holding it up. “It’s a Christmas tree! With gems! Thank you, Mom, I love it.” She hugged her mother.

  Angela held onto Caroline for a minute. “You asked me a while ago, if I did, you know, believe in miracles.” Angela paused to stay composed. “And I wanted to make sure you knew.” Her words caught in her throat.

  “That you believed? Of course I knew. You’re the best, mom.” Caroline hugged her again, smiling and self-assured. Like she never doubted it. Like she’d never been worried about it at all.

  “We better get ready.” Caroline said after the hug.

  “Right, your grandmother does like to show up early.”

  Caroline ran to the door and opened it wide, allowing a gust of bitter cold air into the room. Her grandmother stood with her purse on one arm and a bag of gifts in her other hand. She wore a long, red wool coat.

  “I like your dressy boots,” Caroline said as she stared in awe.

  “Please come in, Mom.” Angela hurried to the door.

  Caroline still needs to learn a few things about her grandmother, like she’d stand there for an hour waiting for an invitation.

  “I’ll put your coat on my bed. We don’t have a place to hang it yet.” Angela quickly made her bed and laid the coat on it. When she returned to the family room, Caroline had already given her grandmother their presents.

  “We picked these out for you.” She beamed.

  Angela noticed the mild surprise on her mother’s face.

  Cathy opened the smaller package first and held up an ornament. It was a small figure of a Christmas caroler that sang when the string was pulled.

  “That’s from my mom,” Caroline said. “She says the music ones are hard to find.”

  “She’s right. Thank you—it’s lovely.” Their eyes met, and Angela saw for the briefest moment—something like peace, or was it acceptance?

  Next, she opened the square, colorfully painted music box, and the distinct notes of the carol spilled out. Cathy looked up at Caroline and then back to Angela.

  Please, Mom, don’t find fault with her gift.

  “How did you know I collect these?” she asked, astonished.

  “I didn’t,” Angela said. “Caroline picked it out.”

  “You collect music boxes that play ‘Joy to the World?’” Caroline asked. Angela and her mother both laughed.

  “I collect music boxes, but I don’t have one like this. Thank you. It’s
perfect,” Cathy declared and looked at the box for a few more moments. “What’s gotten into me? I have your gifts right here.” She pulled out the packages and handed them over, and then settled into the sofa.

  Caroline was on the floor and Angela sat nervously in the old chair she couldn’t bear to throw away. They looked at each other, not sure who should open their gifts first.

  “Go ahead,” Angela told her daughter. She could see the anticipation in her eyes.

  There were three gifts for Caroline. The first was a set of leather-bound books, a deluxe collection of the Anne of Green Gables series.

  “You like to read, I hope,” her grandmother said.

  “Yep, love to. Thank you.”

  Next was a charm bracelet.

  Angela almost asked if those were real gemstones in the charms.

  Yeah, if they’re from Cathy, they’re real!

  “I love it!” Caroline exclaimed. She put it on her wrist and began opening the last gift.

  Cathy sat forward on the edge of her seat. “I’m not sure about this one,” she said to Angela under her breath.

  Caroline opened a square gift box and pulled out some tissue paper. Under it all was the figure of a small lamb. She grabbed it and dropped everything else. She stood up and held it so her mother could see.

  “A lamb, a little lamb!” She ran to the table where the nativity was set up. “We’re missing one just like this. Come look, Mom. It fits.”

  Angela walked over in shock, picked up the piece, and examined it.

  “I didn’t know you were missing one.” Cathy said. “Your mother used to carry around a lamb like that. Maybe it’s a strange gift, but when I saw it, I thought of you. I hoped you would like it,” she told Caroline.

  Angela stared at her. How could she remember that? And how could she find a lamb so similar?

  “Where did you buy this?” She had to ask.

  “That’s not the most polite question.” Cathy fiddled with the collar on her blouse.

  “But I looked. I couldn’t find anything that even remotely matched this set.”

  “I didn’t buy it, if you must know. I found it on the ground the night of the fire. I don’t know how I saw it, to be honest. I nearly stepped on it. It was filthy—there was so much soot.”