“Sorry, honey,” Greg said to Rebecca as he followed the dogs in. “They got away from me. We'll be out of your way in a minute. Come here, boys.” Greg stooped to gather up the pups. After he'd snapped on their leashes, he set them down and led them toward the front door. I was sure they were headed across the street to the park, where Belle and I had first met Greg when we were all walking our dogs.
“They're so cute!” Mary, one of the choir members, said.
“They keep us on our toes; that's for sure,” Rebecca commented.
We drifted into the dining room and helped ourselves while Rebecca served the hot chocolate and coffee. A nice cup of hot chocolate sounded good to me. I sipped it and turned to Rebecca to tell her how much I liked it.
“I'm glad Greg decided to take Skippy and Tucker to the park. Maybe some fresh air will cheer him up a bit. He's been in a terrible mood ever since he read the paper this morning.”
“I must have missed something. I don't remember reading any distressing news in this morning's paper.”
“Oh, it wasn't the Sunday paper. Greg sometimes doesn't read the news right away. The legal notice that upset him ran a few days ago. Someone he loaned quite a bit of money to has filed for bankruptcy.”
“You don't mean Eric Thompson, by any chance?”
“Yes, that's the guy. He's Greg's distant cousin.”
“I just met him yesterday when he came into the gallery. My friend Susan told me Eric's wife was killed in a horrible helicopter crash a couple of years ago.”
“Yes, it was awful. The pilot died, too. They were on one of those aerial tours of the Grand Canyon at the time, and Natalie was going to write a travel article about it. Greg told Eric not to worry about repaying the loan right away, but I know he expected to get our money back eventually. It doesn't look like that's going to happen now. Oh, well, what can you do?”
“You don't seem too upset about it.”
Rebecca shrugged. “It's not as though we're hurting for money. Greg says it's the principle of the thing, but, in this case, it just seems better to let it go. I kind of figured the loan was going to end up a gift, because Eric may be a nice guy, but he's never been much of a businessman. Then, when he lost Natalie, he pretty much fell apart.”
“Rebecca,” one of the other women interrupted, “wherever did you find your cute Santa mugs? I'd love to get some. I know my grandkids would adore them.”
“Oh, they're vintage, actually. I've had them forever, but you're welcome to borrow them for your holiday celebration if you like.”
“You're sure you don't mind?”
“Not at all. We won't be home for Christmas this year, anyway. We're going to spend the holidays with the kids in Houston. Well, I guess it's about time to get this show on the road.” She produced envelopes for us to put our recipes in and passed around the recipe cards that we'd all filled out.
“You should have eight recipes, counting your own,” she told us. “We each brought two dozen cookies, so take three of each, and you'll have a nice variety. I set up everything on the kitchen counter. I have some extra plastic trays and wrap there, too, if you need them.”
We all trooped into the kitchen and began putting our cookies into the containers we'd brought. Rebecca had placed little antique tongs beside each platter or tin of cookies, making it easy to transfer the cookies into our own containers. As I'd hoped, there were no duplicates. Besides the pinwheels I'd brought and Belle's bourbon balls, Rebecca and her other guests had all made enticing contributions.
“I never met a cookie I didn't like,” Mary enthused.
I felt the same way. If my cookie collection stayed within my reach, I wouldn't have any left to share when my family visited.
“Uh, Belle, do you have room in your freezer for my cookies?” I asked. “I'm afraid they'll never make it to Christmas if I take them home with me.”
“Sure, no problem. Since we're not going to be here for Christmas, I haven't stocked up.”
“Oops, I almost forgot,” Rebecca said, grabbing a large basket from the counter opposite the cookie display. “Please help yourself to some fudge.” The basket was full of small red tins, each decorated with a felt snowman on top.
“How cute!” one of Rebecca's neighbors exclaimed. “Did you make the snowman?”
“Yes. I was in the craft store the other day, and the felt was calling my name, I guess.”
“Are you going to decorate some of these for our booth at the craft fair Saturday?” Tammy, one of the choir members, asked. “We can charge more since the tin will be decorated.”
“Well, I hadn't thought about it, but, sure, I can put some of the fudge in tins.”
“Is that the Winter Craft Fair at the high school you're talking about?” Belle asked.
“Yes. The choir always sells candy and baked goods. It's one of our best fundraisers.”
“I'm going to be there, too,” Belle noted, “for the Library Auxiliary.”
“Me, too,” I chimed in. “The Roadrunner has a booth reserved in the gym.”
“I always go to the high school fair,” Carmen, one of Rebecca's neighbors, said. “I buy a lot of unique Christmas gifts there. I guess I'll see you all on Saturday. I should get going now. I promised to be home in time to help put the Christmas lights around our hedges.”
For a moment, I felt a wave of painful emotion wash over me as I remembered Christmases past and decorating the house with Emma and Dustin. Ned, who hadn't normally taken much interest in family activities, would even climb a ladder to hang lights on the house. I let the memories fade and pulled myself back to reality. My family was different now, but they would be with me for Christmas, and I felt thankful we'd be together.
“Amanda, are you OK?” Belle looked at me with concern.
“Oh, sure. Just thinking. Every once in a while, the past comes back to haunt me.”
Belle knew exactly what I meant. “Your first Christmas in Lonesome Valley is going to be wonderful, and I just know you'll have a happy new year, too!”