Sheila couldn’t take her eyes off of Tucker, and that was weird because she didn’t remember having any thoughts about him at all the other times they’d met. They were brief interactions. But how had she not noticed his wide shoulders before? Or the kindness in his steely blue eyes?
The last thing I need to feel is attraction for a man, no matter how good-looking or nice he is, who lives this far from home.
“I can’t believe how many people are here.” She hugged her cup for warmth.
“It’s an annual tradition. If someone doesn’t show up, then it’s cause for a wellness check.” Tucker pretended to puff up. “As fire chief of this town, I take that very seriously.”
“Of course you do.” She pointed her spoon at the big Christmas stocking. “Are you going to give that jerky away or just haul it around so you can brag about it all night?”
“I really do need to pass this stuff out. Thanks for joining me for the jambalaya.”
“It was great. Thanks. I’m glad I didn’t miss this.”
“I’ll carry your bowl inside for you.” He took her empty bowl. “You’ll excuse me?”
“Sure thing.” She watched him walk away. His laughter wafted out into the night air as he shouted offers of homemade jerky to the guests. She’d never met such a confident yet humble man. It intrigued her that he’d have gone to the trouble of making mounds of jerky just to give away to people for the holidays. His thoughtfulness touched her.
I should have acted more interested in his jerky instead of just teasing him. I’m out of practice. I don’t even know how to flirt anymore.
She shook off the thought and rocked back, staring off into the thousands of tiny lights in the magnolia tree. You did a good job, Tucker. The hum of joyful chatter coming from the house was comforting. Her thoughts drifted, the lights blurring, as she wondered what living this way must be like for Natalie and Randy. She’d thought for sure Natalie would move back to Richmond to be with him, but instead he’d taken a leave of absence and moved up here to give the relationship a go. They both seemed completely fulfilled.
Sheila sat listening to the others talk. One man was telling someone that he’d been trying to talk Orene into opening up the Mountain Creek Inn as a teahouse a couple of days a week to help defray the cost of upkeep of the older home. It wasn’t a bad idea, and apparently, according to what she was overhearing, it had once been a dream of Orene’s to do that.
She could imagine Orene fussing over couples, and mothers and daughters, for high tea on fancy place settings. Towers of fancy little pastries and dainty sandwiches.
Wouldn’t it be nice to plan a fancy high tea one day while she was in town?
“There you are.” Natalie walked outside and sat in the chair next to her. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Sorry. It’s just so peaceful out here. I didn’t want to be a hanger-onner to you and Randy.”
“You’re not. I want you to meet these people.”
“I guess I’m just feeling a little tired after the drive,” Sheila said.
“I understand. You can go upstairs whenever you like, but I have a feeling it’s going to be loud for quite a while.” Natalie lifted a green baggie and a red baggie up in front of her. “Which do you want? Turkey or venison jerky?”
“Tucker’s homemade jerky,” Sheila said with a smile. Somehow, he’d walked off and not even offered her any.
“It is. How’d you know? Did you already get some?”
“Surprisingly I did not, but he was carrying that huge stocking around like it had money in it.”
“Just jerky, but it tastes like a million bucks.”
“I’ll take the turkey.” She took the green bag from Natalie, opened it, and put a piece in her mouth. “Oh? I thought jerky was supposed to be dry and tough. This is tender.” She chewed, pausing only to say, “And really good.”
“He’s known for making the best around.” Natalie tucked the venison jerky in her pocket. “I’m going to save this one and put it in Randy’s stocking. He could make a meal out of this stuff. I think he’d be fine if it’s all I served for dinner.”
“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” echoed from inside.
“Come on. This is my favorite Christmas song.” Natalie got up and Sheila followed her. They wound their way through the kitchen and dining room and through throngs of people to the living room, where two kids sat side by side on the piano bench, pumping the piano’s pedals with their feet to keep it playing. “The old pianola has been in Orene’s family since the 1920s,” said Natalie. “It plays paper rolls. I’d never seen a player piano before moving here.”
“Me either.” Sheila watched with interest. “The history in this house is amazing. Everything has a story. It’s like a museum.”
“It is.” Natalie and Sheila joined in on the second part of the song.
Orene shouted out to the room, “Trivia time! Who knows how old the song ‘Jingle Bells’ is?”
“A hundred years old,” said one of the kids on the piano bench.
“Written in 1857. It’s over a hundred and fifty years old. Let’s sing that one!” Orene switched out the song roll on the pianola and then grabbed a set of jingle bells from the mantel and shook them while the kids went to work again, pumping the piano until the unmistakable song began to play. Orene led with “‘Dashing through the snow…’”
And everyone joined in, bouncing to the upbeat tempo. Sheila imagined what it might have been like to have lived in a time where a suitor would bring his horse and sleigh over to take his sweetie for a ride through the snowy drifts under the stars. It must have been a romantic time.
The singing continued.
Sheila excused herself. “I’m going to get some air.” She edged herself through the caroling crowd and made her slow way out to the front porch, where she could still hear the words to the song clear as day. Until all of a sudden, alarms were sounding, and the singing stopped.
Tucker swept past her. “Let’s go!”
Confused, she swung around and jumped out of the way as men and women rushed past her out the door and down the sidewalk.
Randy and Natalie came outside.
“What’s going on?” Sheila asked.
“You don’t hear the wail of the siren?” Randy asked.
Sheila listened intently. Yes, just above the volume of everyone scampering and frantic conversations, she could hear the rise and fall of the alarm. “I do now.”
A moment later, the fire truck came down Main Street, diesel engine rumbling, siren blaring, and lights flashing, followed by a line of pickup trucks.
Sheila noticed lettering across the front windshield of the hook and ladder truck. “What’s that say?” she asked Natalie.
“Bull Mountain Boys.”
They walked out into the yard, watching the fire truck rumble down the street.
Randy pointed over Orene’s house into the distance. “You can see the smoke back that way.”
Thick black smoke lifted into the air. Even in the evening sky, it was a dark billowing cloud.
Orene walked outside with a dish towel over her apron strings. “Not exactly how I had this party ending.” She followed everyone else’s gaze toward the sky. “I sure hope it’s not someone’s home.” She pulled her arms tighter. “Doesn’t look good.”
Sheila could smell the smoke in the air already. “Is everyone in this town in the fire department?” It sounded like a stupid statement when she said it out loud, but that fire alarm really emptied the place.
“Just about,” Orene said. “There aren’t too many people who are still capable that don’t volunteer in some way.”
Paul walked outside. “Anyone have any news on what’s up yet?”
“No. We were just talking about that,” said Natalie.
“That being said,” Randy injected, “I’m going to check in with the sheriff to see if he needs my help and see if I can get some details.”
Natalie reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “Let us know.”
He jogged down the sidewalk toward the spot where he’d parked earlier.
“I didn’t realize Tucker was the fire chief until he mentioned it,” Sheila said.
“I never mentioned that?” Natalie shrugged.
“I think I would’ve remembered that. I knew he was Jeremy’s best friend growing up, and helped with the cabin.” Sheila didn’t mean to sound so interested. With a flip of her hand she said, “Not important.”
“Oh, it’s very important, and he’s very good at it,” Orene added.
Sheila felt bad for her comment being taken the wrong way.
“Hopefully, this is just an overzealous husband trying out his new Black Friday sale fryer,” Orene said. “I swear we have more incidents because of people trying to fry turkeys. When did that even become a thing?”
“It’s really tasty,” said Sheila. “I have to say I’m a fan.”
“Well, it’s dangerous. I wish they’d put some kind of training or licensing in place for people to cook like that.” Orene pulled her hands to her hips. “Last year, we had a turkey fryer incident that shot that raw bird twenty feet in the air. It landed in a dry tree, and that sparked another fire. It was a mess. All that was left was the charred carcass hanging from a branch. Horrible.”
“You have to admit that’s a funny image.” Sheila couldn’t contain the giggles.
“It was,” said Natalie. “You should hear Tucker tell that story. He’s a great storyteller, but fire isn’t funny business.”
Natalie wrapped her arm around Paul. The old man, who had turned out to be Natalie’s late husband’s grandfather, had become real family to Natalie.
It made sense that Natalie would want to stay close to the only family she had, now that Sheila thought about it. Natalie and Paul had formed a special bond, and knowing Jeremy had grown up here had to have been some kind of comfort.
“How about I take you on home, Paul?” Natalie suggested. “Nelle and Jesse are going to stay and box up stuff for the seniors.”
“That would be great. I am a little tired. This is a lot of excitement for an old man.” He turned to Orene. “A wonderful evening, Orene. Thank you for having Jesse trick me into coming.”
“Well, since you turned down Natalie, I had no other choice,” Orene said sharply. “You old bird. You aren’t going to be the recluse on that mountain anymore if I have anything to say about it. Natalie’s like family to me, and that makes you family too.”
“Thank you.” He bowed. “Note taken. Shall we?” He hooked his arm for Natalie.
Sheila watched them leave, then turned to Orene. “Let’s get out of this cold. You’re not even wearing a coat. What are we thinking, standing out in the weather like this?”
“Don’t treat me like an old lady. You know better than that.”
“You’re right. I do. I’m cold.”
“Well, then let’s get you out of the cold,” Orene said. “Wouldn’t hurt for us to say a little prayer for our neighbors.”
It had been a long time since Sheila had turned to prayer automatically. She reached over and squeezed Orene’s hand. “Yes, I’m thankful for this warm and welcoming home.”
She and Orene raced inside, where it was still warm and toasty. Orene pulled up an app on her phone, and a moment later they were listening to the online streaming of the fire on the mountain.
“Is that the fire Tucker’s team is working?” Sheila asked.
“Yes. They got a grant for this last year. It’s very interesting.” She leaned in toward her phone, listening. “It sounds like they’ve accepted the other counties’ help. It must be a big fire.” Orene shook her head. “So close to Christmas,” she said. “How awful.”
They prayed for the fire fighters and the situation at hand. Following the Amen, Orene looked to Sheila. “We’ve got all this food. I’ve got an idea.”
“Uh-oh. You’ve got that look in your eye,” Sheila said to her.