Sheila stuck to yoga these days, and her lungs were reminding her that she might need to add a little aerobic activity to her days too. Almost afraid to ask, she said, “Are we going to race all the way down too? I feel like I need fair warning, or at least a head start.”
“No racing down.” He stretched out his hand and helped her to her feet.
She was thankful they took the easy way down by way of the stairs and handrail at a reasonable pace, instead of bouncing off each bleacher from seat to seat.
It was hard to imagine this stadium without the field full of trees. From here she could smell the mix of sweet hot chocolate and cookies with the sticky pine sap. It smelled of Christmas joy.
A flicker of light caught her eye. At first, she thought it was a bug catching a glow from the stadium lights, but it wasn’t. Not a hundred of them.
She lifted her hands out in front of her. “Do you see that?” They were tiny flakes of snow floating to the ground. “It’s snowing!” She grabbed the back of Tucker’s jacket. “Look! It’s so pretty.” Her hands splayed wide, as if she might actually catch one of the tiny flakes, so light that they were drifting like bubbles. “Were they calling for snow?”
“No.” He brushed a tiny white pellet from the shoulder of her coat. “How about that? I guess we just got lucky.”
She couldn’t agree more. “Very lucky.”
He seemed amused by her excitement.
With nothing but the twinkling lights and the warmth of their shared company, they walked down the bleachers, then out into the parking lot to his truck.
He opened the passenger door for her, and waited until she climbed up into the passenger seat to go around to the other side.
Tucker got in and started the truck. In the stream of light from the headlights, the snowflakes seemed to fall faster.
“I wanted to see snow so badly,” she admitted. “You have no idea. I hope it snows a foot!”
“Careful what you wish for.” He drove the short distance to Orene’s house and parked out front.
“You made tonight so much fun. Thank you.” Christmas seemed more Christmassy this year. Orene had left the front porch light on, but the rest of the house was dark.
“Looks like Miss Orene already called it a night,” Tucker said.
“Probably. She was up at the crack of dawn helping get everything set up and ready for the Christmas Tree Stroll to begin.”
He shook his head. “I hope I’m half as active as she is when I’m her age.”
“Me too,” Sheila mused. “I’ve always thought of myself as a real go-getter. I work long hours, and never take much of a break, but when I’m around her, I feel like she’s running circles around me.”
“I’m glad you’re staying with her for the holidays. I worry about her being in this big old house alone. She says she doesn’t get lonely, but it just doesn’t seem right.”
“People are coming and going like it’s the bus station, and no matter what the hour, she’s always so welcoming.”
“Orene is the heartbeat of this town. Sort of everyone’s bonus grandmother. Her family has been a huge part of this town for generations. They were very prominent at one time.”
“I can see that from the history just around the house. Letters from presidents. Pictures from fancy parties. So impressive for that time period.”
“It was.”
“She insists she plans to live to a hundred,” Sheila said.
“I have no doubt she will,” Tucker said. “And her reputation will live on way longer than that in Chestnut Ridge.”
Sheila wasn’t ready for the evening to end. “Would you like to sit on the front porch? Maybe have some cocoa or coffee?”
“I could do a cup of chamomile with you.”
Her insides danced. “Tea? Really? That is not what I expected from a big, strong fireman.”
“Well, when you grow up with Orene influencing you, it’s hard to resist a good cup of tea.”
“I’ll get us some.” They climbed out of his truck and walked to the porch.
“I’ll be out here counting snowflakes.” Tucker sat in one of the rockers.
“Better yet, catch one for me.” Sheila went inside and put the teakettle on the stove. As the water heated, she looked through the cute teapots and matching cups Orene had displayed in the glass-front cabinets in the kitchen.
She wouldn’t dare help herself to any of the ones in Orene’s treasured displays in the other room, but Orene used these all the time.
Behind a red teapot, she spotted a fun set with snowball-fighting reindeer wearing Santa hats. Perfect. She set it on the counter and then found the tea tray she’d seen Orene use for front-porch serving.
It seemed to take forever for the water to come to a boil. She looked through the cabinet for chamomile. Turned out Orene had four flavors of chamomile. Who knew there were that many?
She filled a tea ball, placed it in the pot, and waited for the water to boil.
Worried that Tucker might wonder what was taking so long, she went out to the porch. “It’ll be just a minute. If you’re chilly, you can wait inside with me.”
“No. It’s nice. Take your time. I’ll be here when you get back.”
It was as if he’d read her mind. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
The kettle was just beginning to whistle when she walked back into the kitchen. She swept it off the stove so as not to awaken Orene.
Tucker had his feet up on the railing, and hands behind his neck, rocking under the twinkle lights of the porch.
He sat forward as she walked up and handed him a cup of tea. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes and inhaled. “Nice.”
She sat in the chair next to him. “This probably won’t surprise you, but she had four kinds of chamomile tea.” She counted them off on her fingers. “Chamomile Mango, Honey Vanilla Chamomile, Cinnamon Apple Chamomile, and Chamomile Lavender. I don’t know about you, but spraying lavender on my sheets helps me sleep, and I even like it in my bath salt, but in a drink it tastes like soap. So I picked the mango.”
“Good choice. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to have my mouth washed out with soap.”
“My mom used to always threaten me with that too.”
“I never tempted mine. I think she might’ve really done it.” He sipped the tea. “This is nice.”
“It is. The snowflakes are almost gone.”
He pointed toward the light. “There are still a few. I caught you a couple, but they melted.”
“I’m hoping for a white Christmas.”
“I hope you get your wish. What’s on your Santa list this year? Assuming you’ve been good, of course.”
“I’m quite certain I made the nice list, but since I’m not home, he won’t know where to deliver anything.”
“Santa knows where all the good kids are.”
“Too bad I’m not a kid anymore.” She imagined what it might be like waking up on Christmas morning with children tearing through wrapping paper. Something she’d dreamed of for so long. She pushed the feeling aside, not wanting to lose the joy she was feeling at the moment.
“Will you be here on Christmas Day?”
“Yes.” Sheila felt compelled to explain, though. “I’m driving to Virginia Beach to visit my mother. She’s in a full-care facility there. That’s where my sister lives, but I’m coming right back for a few more days.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mom. Has she been there long?”
“A long while.” She wasn’t even sure why she’d mentioned the specifics; she rarely spoke about Mom to others. But for some reason she felt comfortable with Tucker. It seemed okay. “She’s been battling Alzheimer’s for years. She had early onset that we’d all joked about as forgetfulness for years. Then it got to the point, well … she doesn’t know me or my sister most days.”
“That’s got to be hard.”
She nodded. “It’s a devastating disease. Mom used to have a bubbly personality. The disease has stripped so much from her. Some days it’s as if she’s not even in there.”
“It’s hard on the family.”
“I never miss the family days, even though Mom might not know the difference. If for no other reason, I get the chance to thank those that are there for the day-to-day. They are truly angels, and they take such good care of her.”
“It takes a special person to provide that kind of care,” he said. “It’s nice you can get away from work so long. I guess this would be a slower time for real estate.”
“Mm-hmm. It can be seasonal for sure. I own my own real estate firm. I’m a broker, have a team of agents working out of my office now. Things are good.”
“Do you like living in the city?”
“It’s all I know. I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
“I can’t imagine living where I don’t know everyone. I wouldn’t trade the quiet for all the hustle and noise of the city.”
“Have you ever spent time in a city?”
“Sure. I’ve been to Chicago, Vegas, D.C., for training and conventions. Spent a vacation in New York City once. I was supposed to be there a week, but I was ready to come home after three days.”
“I’ve often wondered what makes people change their mind about where they live. In my business, I see it all the time. City folks wanting to move to quieter areas and vice versa. It’s awful when couples have different mindsets. It’s nearly impossible to find a place that meets both needs. That makes me nuts.”
“Yeah, you can’t fake the closeness of a small community.”
“It’s like one big family here. I only know a couple of my neighbors, and that’s only because I sold them their houses. It’s nice feeling like a part of the community here.”
“Folks seem to like you being a part of it. They aren’t always so welcoming to outsiders.”
“Really? Well, then I’m flattered.”
“You should be.” He set his nearly empty teacup on the table. “I’m looking forward to cooking for you on Thursday.”
“What can I bring?” she asked.
“How about salad?”
She liked that he didn’t tell her to come empty-handed. It wasn’t her style. “I can handle that. What time should I come over?”
“I’ll pick you up,” he said. “I’m kind of old-fashioned that way.”
“I’ll drive. I’m kind of not-so-old-fashioned. I like to be in control of my entrance and exits.”
“I understand, but you could walk home if you wanted to leave. My house is just around the block from Orene’s.”
Suddenly, the Christmas lights along the porch and in the trees all went dark.
Sheila gasped. “I think our quarter ran out.”
Laughing, he said, “They’re on a timer.”
“Oh. Right. It is getting late.” She hated for the evening to end.
“Yes, and I should leave.” He stood. “I’ll see you on Thursday, and since it’s just around the block, would you let me pick you up? A lady deserves to be treated like one.” He took both of her hands in his and gave them a simple squeeze that sent an epic zing through her.
“Yes. I’m comfortable with that. I’ll be waiting on the porch.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He walked from the porch to his truck in a confident stride that struck her. He was self-assured, and assertive, in a very pleasant way.
She whispered into the night, “I can’t wait.”
When she crawled beneath the cool cotton sheets that night, she was still smiling. As she lay there, reliving the evening, the moonlight flickered between the tree branches like a good-night wink.