Home for the Holidays (12 page)

Unfortunately, he was so engrossed in adjusting the dials of his camera and looking through his lens that he didn’t see the table behind him.

“Ted, please, stop!” an alarmed Louise called out as he came too close to the edge.

It was already too late. The table tilted and fell over with a crash.

Chapter Eight

W
hat the … oh no.” Ted whirled around and nearly dropped his camera as he surveyed the mess.

Everyone looked horrified except for Rachel, who came over and put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, wanting to ease his embarrassment.

“It’s all right. See?” She bent and picked up a four-inch-tall wooden nutcracker, which was not broken. “You picked the right table to bump into, young man.”

“Mrs. Holzmann, I am
so
sorry,” he said, blushing as he crouched down to help her pick up the old toys that had been scattered. “I’m afraid I see the perfect shot and the rest of the world vanishes.”

“It’s a beautiful camera you have there.” She righted the table. “Are you a professional photographer?”

“Not yet, but I’m hoping to make it my profession.” He picked up an overturned bowl, set it on top of the table and began placing other nutcrackers in it. “If I could publish photographs of places like your home, Mrs. Holzmann, it would give people all over the country the opportunity to take a tour like this and never leave their armchairs.”

“If you ever want your own home, Venson, you’d better stick to a regular job,” Max said. “You’ll never get a steady income selling pictures, however pretty they are.”

Louise winced at the particularly unpleasant note in Max’s voice and how eager he was to take every opportunity to discourage the younger man from pursuing his ambitions.
He must have sacrificed his own dreams long ago
.

After the table had been rearranged, Louise asked Rachel if Jane had been to her store lately.

The antique dealer frowned. “No, Louise, I can’t say that I’ve seen her since,
hmm
, August I think. Why do you ask?”

“I am trying to find a Christmas gift for her, and I was hoping she might have stopped in and shown some interest in something at your shop.”

“When Jane has come to the store, it’s always to buy gifts for others. She never splurges on anything for herself.” Rachel gave her a sympathetic glance. “I wish I could recommend something, but I’m afraid I don’t know your sister well enough to do so.”

“I’ll think of something,” Louise said. “Thank you anyway, Rachel.”

They finished the tour with a round of thanks from the group and a promise to stop by the Holzmanns’ shop in town.

“Gesegnete Weihnachten und ein glückliches neues Jahr,”
Rachel said as she showed them out the front door. “A blessed Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all.”

As the sun began to set, shoppers hurried to make their final purchases before the shops closed in Acorn Hill. The end-of-the-day bustle was cheerful as the tired but satisfied merchants happily rang up sales and wrapped parcels, and their customers delighted in reducing the number of items left on their shopping lists.

Instead of going home, as they usually did, most of the shoppers and shopkeepers lingered downtown, gathering in a loose crowd in front of and along the sides of Town Hall. To help keep cold hands warm, June Carter had set up a little concession stand selling hot drinks and Clarissa Cottrell’s fresh donuts.

Everyone was waiting for Acorn Hill’s ANGELs to give their Christmas performance.

Inside the Town Hall, Alice handed out caroling booklets and made sure all of her young performers were wrapped up warmly in coats, mittens, scarves and hats. “Now girls, don’t be nervous. Remember what Pastor Ley said about not rushing the songs, and try to smile and make
eye contact with the audience. If you think you can’t smile, just look at me. That should do the trick.” The girls laughed. “I am very proud of all of you for all the hard work you’ve done preparing for this performance. Is everyone ready?”

The girls chorused a resounding “yes,” and Alice chuckled as she led them out to take their positions in front of the audience. Parent volunteers handed out battery-powered electric candles to each girl, and when they were assembled, the tapered bulbs lit up each small face with a lovely, warm glow.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Alice said, “thank you for joining us this evening. The ANGELs of Grace Chapel have a wonderful selection of traditional carols to perform for you. We’ll begin tonight with ‘Go Tell It on the Mountain.’”

Alice stepped to the front of the crowd and turned to face her young charges. She lifted her hands to signal the time to begin and the young girls’ voices blended together in harmony.

All around them, proud parents, townspeople and delighted visitors listened to the time-honored songs of the season. Alice felt a familiar pang in her heart as she watched the girls. They had practiced these songs for weeks, at every meeting, and it showed in the very polished performance.

The ANGELs’ shining eyes and happy expressions were reflected in the faces of the crowd by the time they reached the final stanza of the last carol on their program, “O Holy Night.”

For several moments after the last, sweet voices hushed, everyone was silent. It was then that Alice felt the presence of the Lord so strongly. Lifting up praises to heaven with song was such an integral part of Christian life, but the Christmas season had its own, very solemn significance. There was no better way to honor the birth of Jesus Christ than through the voices of the children He had taken on human form to save.

After the pause, enthusiastic and appreciative applause made the girls’ faces flush. Parents came forward to claim their daughters for hugs, and offered their own heartfelt praise to the children and to Alice. The outpouring of approval, as well as Clarissa Cottrell’s reminder to drop by the bakery for hot chocolate and sugar cookies, made the ANGELs’ smiles widen.

Before the girls left with their parents, Alice distributed
her little gift bags and asked the youngsters to join hands for a short prayer.

“Dear Lord,” Alice said, “In this holy season when we are given so much, do not let us forget the many gifts and blessings You bring into our lives. Help us to remember that Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Remind us to be grateful for our friends and families, whom we so often take for granted. We thank You for the beauty and peace of this holiday, for giving us the voices to reach into each other’s hearts and up to heaven with our praise, and for filling our lives with joy of worship and fellowship. You are the way, the truth and the life, now and forever, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

The ANGELs then surprised Alice by presenting her with their own Christmas gift, a scrapbook that they had made, filled with photographs and handwritten descriptions of what their group had done since the previous Christmas. Each girl had made her own pages, and they had all met after school to work on the book together.

It was the loveliest present Alice had ever received from the girls, and after thanking them and joining in an affectionate group hug, she sent the girls off with their parents to have their treat at the bakery.

Jane, who had come to hear the girls sing, came to her side. “It’s too cold out here for you to be crying,” she said. “The tears will come out like little ice cubes.”

“Heaven forbid.” Alice rubbed a gloved hand over her eyes. “Were you able to finish up your chores?”

Jane nodded. “I want you to know that I am clearing my schedule from here on out. No more marathon baking or house-cleaning sessions. This is our vacation, and I’m going to spend it with you and Louise.”

The note of determination in her sister’s voice puzzled Alice. “If you want to have fun baking things, you go right ahead. This is your vacation too.”

“Don’t encourage me.” She tucked her arm through Alice’s. “In fact, if you could drag me out of the kitchen more often, I’d appreciate it.”

Alice was about to ask why when she saw Louise’s car. “Oh, look, there’s our big sister.” She waved at the car.

They returned home together, and over a late dinner that evening, Alice and Jane listened to Louise’s report on her experience guiding the tour group.

“I must say that Viola and the Holzmanns were extremely helpful by providing so much information about their homes,” Louise said after they cleared the table. “I would not have had as much success without their assistance. Alice, when you take the group to Mayor Tynan’s home tomorrow, you should ask Lloyd if he would do the same.”

“You can ask him now,” Aunt Ethel said as she came through the kitchen door, followed by the mayor. Both were carrying old-fashioned berry baskets filled with various
baked goods wrapped in holiday-patterned cellophane. Their aunt took the basket from her beau and handed both to Jane. “Just put these out of reach before he sneaks something else, like he did on the walk over here.”

“I did not sneak anything,” Lloyd said, looking very self-righteous.

“Crumbs,” Jane murmured as she passed by him and tapped the right side of her lips.

The mayor hastily brushed the betraying bits of pastry from the corner of his mouth, but the damage had been done. “Now, Ethel, you know I can’t resist your cooking.” He patted his ample waistline. “However much I wish I could.”

“You can work it off by helping the girls decorate their tree tonight,” their aunt said firmly, then turned to Alice. “Were you able to bring down the ornament boxes from the attic?”

“Yes, Fred helped me carry them down earlier when he delivered the tree.” She grimaced. “I think some of the glass balls might have been broken when we were moving things around in the attic. I distinctly heard the sound of broken glass rattling about in a few of them.”

The sisters, Ethel and Lloyd adjourned to the reception area, where Fred had set up their impressive Douglas fir in a tree stand. Alice began passing out boxes from the neat stacks in one corner.

“Uh-oh.”
Jane made a mournful sound as she looked
down into the box she held. “Anyone have some instant-bonding glue and a heck of a lot of patience?”

Louise suggested they check through all the boxes first, and to their relief all of the antique ornaments they had inherited from their parents were still intact, thanks to careful wrapping and the old, heavy boxes they had been stored in.

The boxes of the glass ball ornaments they had purchased more recently, however, had not fared as well in their flimsier containers. Most of them had cracked or broken.

“It’s not Christmas unless you break something,” the mayor said, trying to cheer them up.

“Then it’s going to be Christmas for another twenty years,” Jane said, ruefully surveying the damages.

Lloyd helped Jane dispose of the boxes of broken ornaments, while Louise, Alice and Ethel began unwrapping the ones that were still intact.

“I should have ordered a smaller tree,” Alice said, feeling a little intimidated as she looked from the decidedly shorter stack of ornament boxes to the enormous tree. “I don’t think we have enough left to decorate it properly. I won’t be able to use any of these for my wreath, either.”

“We can improvise and make up some ornaments of our own.” Louise described the way Viola had decorated the greenery around her home with ribbons and fruit, and then added, “The tree is only for family this year, so no one
should object.” One side of her mouth curled. “Unless you want to invite Max Ziglar to the house.”

“I hear that man is more depressing than rain on a Sunday,” Ethel put in, “when he’s not harassing that nice young man who has been taking all the photos.”

Louise regarded their aunt. “How
do
you manage to gather your information so quickly?”