“That was a very nice Thanksgiving, don’t you think?”
Millie’s question jerked Al back to the here and now. With a start he realized they were only a few miles from their exit. Instead of concentrating on steering the car down I-75, his mind had been consumed with thoughts of his Shameful Secret, as he privately referred to it. Tomorrow would mark one full week since he’d been handed his walking papers, and he was no closer to a plan. At least the office was closed for the holiday weekend, so he wouldn’t have to go to the pretense of dressing for work and finding something to occupy his time all day.
“Albert?”
He glanced at his wife, who wore an expectant expression. Oh. He hadn’t replied to her question.
“Yes, it was. Crowded, though.” Though there had been only three children present, in their son’s small house they’d made enough noise for twice that many.
“I offered to have dinner at our house, but Rachel insisted on hosting since we’re doing Christmas.”
“She did a good job on the turkey.” Because he knew his wife well, he was quick to add, “Not as good as you, of course. And the coconut cream pie was your best yet.”
She awarded him a smile. “Everything was terrific. And Sarah and David’s news made the day even more festive.”
Their oldest son and his wife’s announcement that they were expecting twins in the spring had come as a pleasant surprise. The couple’s only child, six-year-old Abby, had walked around with her chest puffed out like the whole thing was her idea, which tickled Al. “They’ll be like us, with one girl and twin boys.”
“Except Abby will be an older sister, not the youngest like Alison.”
A sigh followed the statement, heavy enough to cause Al to peer more closely at his wife. “I’d have thought you’d be jumping for joy at Sarah’s invitation to come up and help with the babies when they arrive.”
“Of course I’m happy.” She didn’t meet his gaze but toyed instead with a button on her coat. Was that a tear glittering in her eye?
“Out with it, Mildred Richardson. What’s bothering you?”
Misery came to the fore, and a drop of salty moisture slid down the cheek closest to him. “It’s at times like this when I miss Alison most. Imagine how Abby would have loved holding Melody, practicing to be a big sister.”
Al said nothing. Every experienced husband knew there were times when silence was the wisest course of action.
After a moment, Millie continued, as he’d known she would. “Whenever we Skype, and I see my little girl holding her little girl and hear those baby coos through a cold computer speaker, I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.” A sniffle. “This Christmas is going to be the saddest ever.”
Truer words were never spoken, but not, perhaps, for the reason Millie intended. Of course he missed Alison, but her move to Italy had been unavoidable. Her husband served as a junior officer in the military. Considering the state of the world, Italy was certainly better than most places he could have been stationed. Besides, infant Melody wouldn’t know whether her grandparents were present or not, and by next Christmas they would be back in the States.
But this Christmas did promise to be the gloomiest of their thirty-eight-year marriage. How could Al pretend a festive mood when his career was over, his productive days at an end?
He thrust the thought from his mind. Plenty of time to dwell on that reality in the days to come. For now, his duty was to lift his wife’s spirits. But how?
Inspiration struck. “I have an idea that’s sure to cheer you up.”
Hope flared in her eyes, and she twisted in the seat. “To fly Alison and the baby here for Christmas?”
Obviously she’d been harboring hopes that weren’t possible to fulfill. “That’s not what I meant,” he told her as gently as he could. “Even if we could afford the plane ticket, do you really think she would leave Nick alone for his daughter’s first Christmas?”
More tears filled her eyes. “Couldn’t he come too?”
“Millie, he’s in the army. Getting that amount of leave over Christmas isn’t easy. If he could, I’m sure they already would have arranged it.”
She acknowledged the truth with a nod and plucked a tissue from the box on the console to blot the moisture from her eyes. “Then what is your idea?”
“Let’s throw a Christmas party.”
Ah, he’d surprised her. The tears evaporated, and she stared at him through ultra-wide eyes. Not that he blamed her. She knew his dislike of having outsiders invade his home, especially in quantities of more than two or three. But Millie adored entertaining, and the bigger the crowd, the better. If planning for a party would make her happy, he would suffer through a few hours’ discomfort.
Besides, if she stayed busy planning a party, she would not have time to wonder at any odd behavior he might exhibit as he continued his search for another job. Or at least a plan of some kind, whatever that might turn out to be.
“We have the perfect party house. For Susan and Justin’s wedding, you turned it into a real showplace. I’m sure when you finish decorating for Christmas, it’ll be amazing.”
Millie gave a slow nod, apparently warming to the idea. “Last year we didn’t have nearly as many rooms finished as we do now. It would be nice to see them all dressed up for the holiday. We only had the one tree in the parlor last Christmas, but I’ve always envisioned a giant tree in the entry hall, and a small one in every guest room.”
Under other circumstances, Al would have balked at the idea of more than a half-dozen Christmas trees. But if it brought the light back to his wife’s eyes and gave him some breathing space to put together a plan for their future, he’d cut down an entire forest and haul it inside.
“I’ve always thought that big blue spruce in the front yard would look good covered in lights,” he said.
She actually smiled. “And white lights on the shrubs by the porch railing.” Then the smile turned upside down. “But no fake fountains or fly-munching frogs. And whatever possessed you to tell Franklin you wanted those lighted deer, anyway?”
The real truth—that he needed to stay on Thacker’s good side—could not be uttered. Instead, he offered a lesser truth. “I thought they were the most tasteful of the bunch. I figured I’d better claim them then or we’d get stuck with the waving snowman.”
“Good point.” Millie faced forward and settled back in her seat, the sadness of a few moments before gone. “Actually, I don’t think we have to worry about that anymore. When I talked to Lulu on Tuesday, she agreed to drop her idea of giving the decorations away to the Main Street business owners, but I had to push pretty hard. She finally admitted that Franklin enjoyed the attention their yard was getting, and they’d probably keep them all.”
Al shook his head. “Do either of them have a clue how tacky people think those decorations are?”
“No, and I’m not going to tell them.” She gave him a stern look. “And neither should you.”
And risk alienating Thacker, who would blow the lid on his Shameful Secret?
“I won’t,” he promised.
The Friday after Thanksgiving turned out to be a perfect day for decorating Main Street. Though unseasonably cold, it seemed half the town showed up to help. Millie, bundled up in her warmest winter parka and fleece scarf, released the last of her sagging spirits as she helped her friends attach new scarlet bows to the silver and gold wreaths the town had used for about a decade.
She held up an artfully crafted bow and smiled at Frieda. “These are beautiful. I can’t believe you did them all in a single day.”
Frieda shrugged. “I couldn’t make the trip to California to see my son, so it gave me something productive to do on Thanksgiving.”
“You should have said something.” Lulu, wearing a Santa hat and blinking elf-shaped earrings, sent Frieda a stern look over the top of the wreath she was working on. “I put on a real spread, and it was just Honey Bun and me. We’re gonna be eating ham for months.” She turned a buck-toothed grin on Violet. “Sorry you had plans yesterday, but we’ve got plenty of leftovers.”
Violet kept her attention focused on her task of wrapping wire around a wreath. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lulu gave Violet’s shoulder a playful, if overly aggressive, shove. “Girl, I’m gonna keep asking until you say yes.” Then she picked up the wreath she’d been working on and headed down the street to turn it over to the hanging crew.
Violet grimaced after her. “She’ll do it too. I’m in a pickle for sure.”
Junior Watson had mounted a stepladder in the bed of his pickup and secured it with ropes. He drove it up and down Main Street, stopping at every light post to allow Little Norm Pilkington to hang a wreath. Norman, Little Norm’s father, followed along on the sidewalk acting as supervisor, advisor, and cranky critic.
Norman pointed a gnarled finger and shouted up at his son. “’At un there’s crooked. Turn it clockwise a smidge.”
Millie glanced toward the south end of Main Street, where Albert worked with Franklin, Mayor Selbo, and a group of their fellow Creekers to wrap lights around a giant Douglas fir. The tree had been planted years before with Christmas in mind, and a grassy clearing surrounded it with iron benches, a perfect place to view Main Street in all its quaint, old-fashioned beauty.
Lulu returned with a new arrival in tow. “I brought us some help.”
Tuesday Love, her mass of curls crowned by a hand-knit hat, picked up a bow. “This is real nice.” She eyed Frieda. “Think you could do a couple purple ones for my front window?”
“Purple?” Frieda frowned. “I thought we were in agreement about the displays in the windows facing Main Street.”
“Oh, we are.” Tuesday nodded with vigor. “Only white lights. But for daytime, when the lights can’t be seen, I went with a purple and silver garland and a nativity set that belonged to my grandma, the one who left me the money to buy my building.” She grinned toward Millie. “It has a herd of sheep and angels and everything. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
Millie glanced at Frieda, who looked resigned. How could one argue with a nativity at Christmas?
“’Course it’s okay.” Lulu’s brash voice left no room for argument. “It’s your building.” She, too, glanced at Frieda, whose bulging cheeks spoke of jaws clenched in an effort to hold her tongue.
“We’d best work faster.” Millie ducked her forehead toward the stack of un-beribboned wreaths. “Otherwise we won’t be done by sunset.”
They picked up the pace and finished in time to help Lucy Cardwell ready the soda fountain in the drug store for the traditional gathering of decorators. By four thirty, huge urns of hot chocolate and coffee rested on the counter beside a stack of Styrofoam cups ready to be filled. Trays of cookies—donated by the female contingent of workers—filled the rest of the counter.
Millie eyed the offerings, a delectable variety of baked goods, and pondered the idea of making her Christmas party a potluck. A moment later she rejected the idea. The fun of having a party was preparing. She had selected the tenth of December as the date, which gave her only two weeks to bake all the goodies that would freeze well.
The decorating team filed in at a quarter to five, stamping frozen feet and reaching for hot beverages to warm their insides. Lucy turned on a CD of Christmas music, and the atmosphere inside the crowded drug store became festive.
At five thirty, Frieda banged a spoon on a metal cookie tray. “The sun has set, and it’s getting crowded out there. I think it’s time.”
“Oh, goodie!” Tuesday clapped her hands like a delighted child. “This is so exciting.”
Millie couldn’t help but share her enthusiasm as she looped her arm through Albert’s and followed the others outside.
Though remnants of sunlight still glowed in the western sky, darkness had triggered the lights on the wreaths. The sight of white lights nestled amid gold and silver lining each side of Main Street stirred excitement in Millie’s chest. Most of the store owners had finished decorating their front windows as well, and the street was crowded with Goose Creek residents walking down the sidewalks on both sides of the railroad tracks, occasionally pausing to admire a display.
Millie and Albert made their way to the tree at the south end of town. They blended in with the throng of Creekers, ten deep in some places in a circle around the tree. Millie edged sideways so she could see around Little Norm, who was not little by anyone’s standards. Up in the front, she spied the Wainright children, all five of them, with Alice standing guard behind them. She turned and spoke to the man beside her, who bent his head close to hear. Very close. Even from this distance, Millie clearly saw the shy smile Alice turned up to him, and Millie made a mental note to include “Feel free to bring a guest” on the party invitation she sent to Alice.
When the sidewalks were empty and everyone had found a place, Jerry and Cindie Selbo stepped into the center of the ring. He projected his voice loud enough to be heard.
“Welcome, everyone. This is one of my favorite duties as mayor of Goose Creek. I get to be the first to officially wish you Merry Christmas.”
A dozen shouts returned the greeting. “Merry Christmas, Mayor!”
He waited until they fell silent. “Before we light the tree, I’d like to say thanks to the decorating team. Haven’t they done a beautiful job?”
Applause, muffled by gloves and mittens, was overshadowed by an ear-splitting whistle. Millie was not surprised to identify the source as Lulu.
The mayor put on a broad grin. “Now let’s welcome the Christmas season into our town.”
After tonight, the tree would illuminate with a light sensor, like the wreaths, but for the official lighting ceremony, the mayor had the honor of performing the task by hand. Jerry bent over and pressed a connector. The Douglas fir erupted with color, a radiant display that dazzled Millie’s eyes. From the lowest branches to the very top, every bow glowed with the flush of Christmas wonder.
A communal gasp rose from the gathering, followed by enthusiastic applause. Millie glanced over her shoulder, where Main Street stretched behind her, resplendent with old-town charm. The wreaths formed a glowing path that stretched from the far end of the street toward the beautiful evergreen. The white lights made the perfect complement to the stunning color of the tree.
Cindie stepped to her husband’s side and began to sing. Soon everyone joined in a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells.” Though Millie had not been blessed with singing talent, she joined in with as much energy as anyone. When the song ended, an expectant hush fell over the assembled.
“This is my favorite part,” Albert whispered, and she nodded.
Cindie began another song. Her beautiful voice rose clearly into the cold night sky. “Silent night, holy night.”
Everyone joined in, and Millie’s eyes were not the only ones that filled with tears as she sang from a full heart, “Sleep in heavenly peace.”
On that joyful note, the crowd began to disperse. With a happy sigh, Millie hugged Albert’s arm close as they headed for their car.
The Thackers fell in beside them.
Franklin grinned at Albert. “Merry Christmas, Bert!”
Millie felt her husband’s muscles tense, but he answered in an easy tone that surprised her. “Merry Christmas, Franklin.”
“Things sure are heating up at work, aren’t they?” The man waggled his eyebrows.
Albert’s arm tightened uncomfortably around hers. “Uh, yeah. Sure are.”
A glance at his face revealed the oddest expression, one Millie recognized immediately as Albert hiding something. He had not mentioned a word about anything unusual at work. She opened her mouth to ask but then closed it when the reason occurred to her. He knew she was fretting over Alison’s absence during the holidays, and he didn’t want to worry her. What a sweet, considerate man she’d married.
Her guess was proven true when he immediately changed the subject. “Since you were on vacation this time last year, this was the first tree-lighting you’ve been to in Goose Creek. What did you think?”
“I gotta admit, that was a good time.” Lulu shoved Millie’s shoulder. “You were right about waiting for the day after Thanksgiving.”
“And now that you see the wreaths in place, don’t you agree that sticking to them was the way to go?”
Lulu turned around and walked backward for a few steps, her gaze stretching down Main Street. “You know what I like most? The red bows. They break up all that boring white with a splash of color. We need something else.” She faced forward again, frustration drawing deep lines on her forehead. “But since nobody wants light sculptures, I’m stumped.”
Millie assumed a stern tone. “Everything is perfect, Lulu. Besides, it’s too late to change now. The town is officially decorated.”
“Baloney.” Lulu blew a raspberry that produced a puff of mist in the cold air. “There’s still thirty days till Christmas.”
They reached the car, and Albert opened the door for Millie. The Thackers said goodbye and continued down the street in the direction of their house.
Settling herself in the seat, Millie watched the couple depart. An uneasy feeling niggled at her. Tomorrow she would call Lulu and reinforce the point that the time for decorating was over. If she had to threaten to involve Frieda, she would.