Sheila wished she’d trusted her instincts and planned to go to Chestnut Ridge on Thursday. She knew Friday the thirteenth was not worth tempting. First, she hadn’t made it halfway down the block before she had to stop and put the seat belt across her purse and laptop in the passenger seat to stop the insistent warning sound. Apparently, anything over a certain number of pounds, whether it had a heartbeat or not, required a seat belt. And now it wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning yet and she was in standstill traffic on a two-lane road with nothing but open fields around her. Stuck.
She craned her neck, trying to figure out what the holdup was, but she was behind one of those big eighteen-wheelers and couldn’t see a thing.
The minutes clicked off on the clock.
Sheila glanced in her rearview at the piled luggage and gifts for her two-week trip. Shiny foil wrapping paper gleamed in the sunlight from the Jenga-stacked gifts.
She affectionately tapped the steering wheel of the fire-engine-red Tesla Model X. Thank you, Dr. Tanning. She still couldn’t believe the deal. Extravagant? Absolutely. Impulse buy? Definitely. But as it turned out, the sweet ride had also been the ticket to soothe the what’s-missing-in-my-life mood she’d been battling lately.
Frustrated, sitting there behind the big rig in traffic, she tried to call Natalie. Unfortunately, there was no phone service.
Finally, after another four minutes, the cars started moving.
It took some time for the truck in front of her to shift through gears and get up some speed, but as she slowly moved forward, she saw the culprit of the gridlock.
She was thankful it hadn’t been an accident, but what were the odds of seeing a farmer wearing a bright orange hat following a Border collie herding goats across the street?
That’s a first.
The animals meandered along the side of the road nibbling and exploring, proving the whole grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side thing. The farmer calmly ushered his herd toward a red pole gate, while the dog did his job running behind them, nipping and barking, to get them to move. One big white goat with a red head wasn’t ready to give up the brushy foliage so easily, though. Instead of moving, she lowered her head and then rose up on her hind feet. The Border collie didn’t seem concerned, making a wider circle and coming back around until the goat finally moved on with a big hunk of greenery hanging from her mouth.
As Sheila got closer, she noticed that one of the other goats was wearing a Christmas sweater.
She chuckled to herself and gave the farmer a wave as she drove by. The image of the goat wearing the red and green Christmas sweater stuck with her all day, bringing a smile to her face every time it popped into her mind.
The rest of the drive to Chestnut Ridge was pleasant enough, and although the trees had shed their leaves weeks ago, it was pretty. The lazy bluish haze hung over the mountains like a water- color. She could see why Natalie appreciated these views.
Sheila pulled into the driveway at Orene’s house at four o’clock, only an hour and a half after she’d planned to be there. The Mountain Creek Inn, which wasn’t an inn at all, truly was a grand old house, and a lot of it. The Colonial Revival–style country farmhouse with its wraparound porch was inviting. Even on these cold days, she could imagine sitting in one of those rocking chairs. The last time she was here, the hanging baskets were overflowing with vivid raspberry-colored bougainvillea.
Today each basket had red and white poinsettias, variegated ivy, and a big candy-striped bow that matched the one on the door wreath, which also sported a single white ice skate in the center of the circle of pine. Colored balls and pine cones gave the wreath a playful beauty that had her imagining an afternoon on the ice spinning like an ice skater in a flowing short skirt.
Before she could get the ice dancing out of her mind and get out of the car, Orene stepped out on the porch.
Natalie came out behind Orene, and jogged past her and down the driveway as Sheila got out of the car. “It’s so good to see you. I was starting to worry,” she said as she pulled Sheila into a hug. “Let me help you with something.”
“I was going to call, but I didn’t have a signal half the drive. I even got stuck in traffic for a goat crossing. Don’t even ask.” Sheila lifted her hand. “I can hardly believe those words came out of my mouth.”
“Well, forget about the goats. Tell me how the car drove. Did you let it do the driving for you?”
“Heck no. I’m not trusting a car to be smarter than I am.”
“We’re going to try that hands-free driving while you’re here. I can’t wait.”
“Fair warning. This car is pretty cool, but enjoy it now, because I plan to sell it for a healthy profit to treat myself to something else, like a fun trip somewhere.”
“You always say that but you never go anywhere. You’re a workaholic. Admit it.”
“Until they create a twelve-step program for that, I’m not considering it a problem.”
“Fair enough,” Natalie said. “Come on.”
Sheila got her bags from the passenger seat, and she and Natalie walked up to the house.
“Hey, darlin’. Welcome!” Orene spread her arms and hugged Sheila tight. “It’s good to see you. Thank you for staying with me. You have no idea how happy I am about this visit.”
“I appreciate you letting me stay with you in the real house.” Sheila shot a look in the direction of Natalie, who knew full well she was teasing. “Natalie offered me the cabin, but I’d rather hang out with you.”
“Honey, you are welcome here any time you like,” said Orene. “I might even put your name right on that door.”
“I’d be okay with that,” Sheila said.
“Come in and relax. We can get the boys to bring in your stuff later,” Orene said. “Some say chivalry is dead. I say not as long as Orene Fischer is around. I make sure those men remember where the term ‘gentleman’ came from. They need to know how to act. I tell ’em so.”
“Excellent. Who am I to argue?” Sheila said.
Natalie led the way into Orene’s kitchen. “We were just setting out the food for tonight.”
“It smells like heaven in here.” Sheila closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Sweets. Savory. Citrus?”
“Yes,” Orene said. “Made my famous orange sherbet punch. It’s a favorite. Careful now, sometimes those boys spike theirs with a little moonshine.”
“Do they really still make that stuff?”
Orene’s hands hooked to her hips. “You better believe it. Moonshine started up here in these mountains, and some of those families are busy as ever. Some of them are even pretty good at it.”
“Don’t tell me you drink it. Doesn’t it taste like kerosene?” Sheila’s face twisted in disgust.
Orene nudged Natalie. “One would think, but no ma’am. When it’s done right, it’s very smooth.”
“She’s telling the truth.” Natalie shrugged.
“Really? You tried it?” Sheila couldn’t believe it. “You don’t even drink, Nat.”
“Hey, I had a cold a few months back, and Orene hooked me up. I swear it kicked that cold to Colorado.” Natalie smiled broadly. “Can’t deny good old-fashioned hometown cures.”
“That might’ve been a coincidence.”
“Could’ve been, but I wasn’t complaining at the time,” Natalie said. “I’d been miserable for a week by the time Orene came over to see me. I slept for two days and woke up feeling ready to roll.”
“Laugh all you want,” Orene said. “Everything in moderation has its place. It’s overindulgence that becomes a problem.”
They walked into the dining room, where the entire length of the table was filled with appetizers.
Sheila stopped, thinking about how much time and effort her little office party had taken. “You didn’t make all of this food by yourself, did you?”
Orene grinned. “Most of it.”
“I made the sugared pecans,” Natalie said. “Of course, Orene taught me how to make them. And she helped.”
“You must have started weeks ago.”
“No,” Orene said. “I’ve done this for as many years as I can remember. Helped my momma and grandma host too. It’s fun, and it really doesn’t take as long as you’d think. I enjoy it.”
“Well, tell me what all this stuff is,” Sheila said. “Can I taste any of it?”
“Sure. There’s plenty.”
Sheila picked up a triangle of toasted bread and took a bite. “Pimento cheese?”
“My family recipe. It’s good, isn’t it?”
“It is. Oh my goodness.” She picked up a deviled egg. “These are my favorite picnic treats.”
“Mine too,” Natalie said. “She adds bacon and chives. Are they to die for?”
“Yes.” Sheila rolled her eyes. “This food goes on forever.”
“And this is just the appetizer stuff. The sweets are all on the sideboard. Go look.” Orene was about as relentless as that Border collie trying to move her along toward the other room.
Colorful cookies were piled high on raised Christmas plates. A coconut cake—at least four layers tall, with pretty red-and-green-frosting holly piped on top—was as professionally done as one in a bakery. “Even a bûche de Noël?”
“Don’t be so surprised. We do get the Food Network on satellite TV here, you know,” Orene said. “I just call it a Yule Log. It’s easier to say.”
“Sheila thinks we’re using rabbit ears and talking through tin cans and strings,” Natalie quipped.
Orene’s laugh was contagious.
“I don’t think it’s that bad, but there’s no high-speed internet. I checked the last time I was here. I was willing to buy it for y’all if it was available,” said Sheila.
“It’s not. We barely get decent cell service,” Natalie said as Sheila’s phone rang.
Sheila glanced at the screen. “Sorry, I need to take this.”
She answered, turning her back on Orene and lowering her voice to talk to her associate. When the call had concluded, she apologized again and said, “Just something quick they needed me to confirm.”
“I hope you’re not going to be getting calls the whole time you’re here.” Orene pursed her lips. “Bad cell service and slow internet may test your patience while you’re here, but I promise you … slowing down is good for the soul if you give it a chance.”
“I don’t think I’ll be here that long.” Sheila sat in one of the chairs next to the table. “It would take months for me to actually slow down.”
Orene gently squeezed Sheila’s neck muscles as she walked by. “You are as tight as a slingshot. I’m not going to give up on you, though. I’ve taken a liking to you this past year.”
“Thank you. I think the world of you too. In fact, I have a wonderful Christmas gift for you. I’m going to go get it from my car. I can’t wait for you to open it.” She got to her feet.
“No, ma’am.” Orene wagged her finger. “You can sit right back down. No presents will be opened until Christmas Day. I have a strict rule about that.”
“Oh come on,” Sheila complained. “I can’t wait that long.”
Orene looked over at Natalie. “Is she always like this?”
“Ever since I’ve known her. She always insists I open my present early. Then I end up getting two presents, because she wants me to have something to open on Christmas Day too. She’s festive like that.”
“We’ll work on that, Sheila,” Orene said. Then, with a click of her fingers, she waved her hand for them to follow. “You can put my gift under my tree. You’ve got to see it. I’m so proud of it. Come look.” Orene darted toward the living room, her pint-sized figure swishing with each step. She turned and reached her arm in the air in a flourish in front of her Christmas tree.
Natalie and Sheila stopped dead in their tracks.
“I can smell the fresh-cut evergreen from here,” Sheila said from the hallway.
“That’s because it’s a balsam fir. My favorite.”
The extravagant tree filled the whole corner of the room. “I think we have a winner. We may as well not enter the contest, Natalie.”
“Orene!” A shocked Natalie walked over for a closer look. “You have been holding out on me. I’ve been here all day, and you didn’t show me this? You did this all by yourself?”
Orene cocked her head and grinned, pride pouring from her tip-to-toe. “Always do.”
“How did you put the topper on? And the tinsel. How tall is that tree?”
“I have no idea. The ceilings are eleven foot. I make sure Jesse has his brother, Joe, cut me a tree just the right height for it to be on the stand and have room for the angel. I don’t care if he has to prune it six ways to Sunday. He knows what I need, and he always comes through.”
“Okay, that explains where you got the tree, but were you up on a ladder?”
“I was. I’m quite capable.”
“But…”
“Oh, quit fussing. I’ve been doing this forever. My sweet husband, God rest his soul, built me a ladder with railings on it like those librarians use for the tall shelves. It’s big and heavy, but the firemen come over and bring it in for me. It beats rescuing kittens from trees. They really don’t mind.”
“Amazing. Well, this is the most elegant tree I’ve ever seen,” said Sheila. “And the most tinsel I’ve ever seen. Where did you even buy all of that? You hardly see silver tinsel in the stores anymore.”
“I put each strand on the limbs one piece at a time, and take it down the same way. Some of that tinsel is older than you are.”
“Tell me you’re kidding,” Sheila insisted.
“No. Cross my heart. My daddy did it that way, and I’ve carried on the tradition.”
“I can’t believe you did all this by yourself.”
“Tucker helped me with the lights and the topper. It’s been our tradition for years. The chief assigned him to help me when he was first a volunteer. The joke was on them, though, because Tucker and I hit it off and he’s helped me every year since.” Orene seemed quite tickled over that.
“I still don’t think you need to be on a ladder,” Sheila said.
“I come from hardy stock,” Orene insisted. “As long as you continue to do what you do, you’ll do what you do until you don’t.”
“I haven’t started decorating and my cabin isn’t even the size of this room,” said Natalie.
“Absolutely stunning.” Sheila walked closer. “Some of these ornaments look like Fabergé eggs.”
“You have a good eye.” Orene’s chin tipped with a mischievous tick.
“Really?” Sheila spun around, but Orene wasn’t joking. “You have Fabergé eggs on your tree? Do you know what they are worth?”
“Well, not worth anything if you don’t enjoy them. They were gifts to my family from someone who once stayed here in the house. Years ago. They do look pretty, don’t they?”
“Gorgeous.”
“Wait a minute,” Sheila said. “Natalie, please tell me Orene is on our team for this contest.”
Orene giggled. “Sorry, but I am not. Everyone wanted me on their team, and I’m too impartial to be a judge. We finally just had to make it a rule that I’d be on everyone and no one’s team.”
“Well, that should work in our favor,” Sheila said. “So, who all is coming tonight? It looks like you have enough food to feed the whole city of Richmond here.”
“Darn near everyone who lives in Chestnut Ridge will probably stop in even if just for a quick nibble. You’ll have to represent Richmond on your own. This Holiday Warmup is as big a tradition around here as that glittery ball drop in Times Square is to New York City. When the day comes I’m too old to pull this off you better start kissing me goodbye, but there’s no need to worry about that yet.”
Orene would be ninety next year. Sheila knew because even in the short time she’d known her, she was well aware of Orene constantly reminding everyone that she expected a big surprise party to celebrate her ninetieth and planned to live to see a hundred.
Sheila prayed she and Natalie would age as well as Orene did.
“Excuse me.” Sheila left Natalie and Orene talking by the Christmas tree, and walked out to her car and got the rest of her things. Balancing the large bag of Christmas gifts in one hand and suitcase in the other, she climbed the stairs to the second floor. She’d stayed here only four times since Natalie moved to Chestnut Ridge, but she felt at home here. Then she carried the carefully wrapped gifts for Orene downstairs.
Orene’s eyes lit up when she saw it. “Is that my Christmas present?”
“One of them is! Want to open it?” Sheila couldn’t wait for her to. She wondered where Orene would place the teapot in her huge collection.
“Did you hear a word I said earlier?” Orene pursed her lips.
“Fine. I’ll just shove it under your Christmas tree. But if you change your mind—”
“I won’t, but thank you, and the box is so pretty. Set it right in front of the tree. It’s as if you knew exactly how to match my decor.”
Sheila tucked the gift under the tree. Somehow all that tinsel made it look as if it could sway like a ballerina.
Silver tinsel dripped from every single tiny needle on the tree, yet somehow it didn’t look overdone. Like jewelry, blown-glass ornaments and old mercury-glass ones in vibrant gem tones accessorized it perfectly. She reached out to touch one of the Fabergé eggs. “I’ve only seen these in magazines before. This brilliant blue is eye-catching.”
“There are three eggs on the tree. That one there is the Theo. Inside there is a silver and gold Neptune, King of the Oceans. See the rubies in the seahorse eyes. It’s five of a Limited Edition of 250. That’s not my favorite one, though. Look over to the left.”
Sheila scanned the tree. “Here we are at Christmas doing an Easter egg hunt.”
“Why yes. Sort of.”
Sheila spotted the other egg, which was a rusty red that the gold had dulled to over the years.
“That’s the Springtime Lily egg. Can you find the secret?”
Sheila gently took it from the tree to see if she could open it, and finally realized that the crown-shaped knob at the top pulled up to reveal three small black-and-white pictures. “Who are these people?”
“That’s my baby picture, my mother, and my grandmother.”
“How special. I hope you keep this displayed somewhere year-round.”
“I do. It usually sits on the piano.”
“You are full of surprises,” Sheila said.
“Every visit is like a field trip,” Natalie said.
“When you’ve lived as many years as I have, you’ve done a lot of things, met a lot of people, and can remember only about half of it.”
Orene grabbed Natalie’s hand and marched over toward the tree. “Come on, you two. Let’s take some pictures of everything before we get started so we can put them on the town’s website.”
With a clunky digital camera, Orene took a picture of Natalie and Sheila together.
“Let’s get a couple with all of us,” Natalie said, taking out her phone and getting one of Sheila and Orene together.
Sheila lifted her phone. “I’m an expert with selfies. I’ve got longer arms than you. We can all be in this one.” She stretched her arm way in front of her, then dipped down a little, with Orene tucked right between her and Natalie, and hit the button.
“Let’s see it,” Orene said.
Sheila turned her phone around for them. “Oh my goodness. If I were ever blessed with two daughters, I’d have wanted them to be just like you two!”
A rush of joy flowed through Sheila. How was it that this woman she barely knew could suddenly give her the feeling of home? Maybe there was something special about Chestnut Ridge. She glanced at Natalie and Orene, arm in arm, smiling at the picture. She was so grateful for these ladies. Sadness cloaked her in an odd tangle; she was grateful for this moment, but missing the moments like these with her own mother.