Six

T. J. and Madison followed the judge up the wide front steps, past the large, white columns on the porch, and into the house.

“Oh, what a lovely house you have,” Madison said. “It is absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Judge Ragsdale said. “It has been in the family for a long time.”

“I can see that it is a classic. Is this your home, or do you just use it as a bed-and-breakfast?”

“This is my home, and we have our bed and take our breakfast here.”

Madison smiled. “Touché,” she said. “I know I’m sometimes too curious. I’m sure it’s the reporter in me.”

“You are a court reporter?”

“No, I’m on tele—” Madison started, then she interrupted herself with a little laugh. “Judge Ragsdale, I do believe you are having fun at my expense.”

They entered through a foyer where a wide, curving staircase beckoned them to the second floor. To the right of the foyer was a great room, dominated by a large Christmas tree, as yet undecorated. Several people in the great room sat on sofas or in chairs, or stood around in little conversational groups. All of them wore period costume.

“This is our keeping room,” Judge Ragsdale said. “Please come join the others when you are settled in.”

To the left of the foyer was a very long dining room table with twelve chairs on each side, plus one chair on either end. The table was already set with shining china, glistening silver, and sparkling crystal.

T. J. stopped and took a deep whiff. “Oh, Madison, smell that! Cinnamon, cloves, fresh-baked bread . . . oh, what a wonderful aroma!”

Madison took a deep whiff, then smiled.

“I remember these smells from when I was a small boy, visiting my grandmother,” he said.

“Your room is just at the head of the stairs, on the second floor,” Judge Ragsdale said. “If you’ll follow me.”

The polished hardwood floor of the upstairs hallway shone along each edge of the crimson runner that covered the entire length of the hall. The walls were lined with tables, chairs, and a series of potted trees. Oversized paintings hung from the picture rail, including one of a much younger Ragsdale wearing the uniform of a Confederate colonel.

“I see you are into Civil War reenacting as well,” T. J. said, pointing to the painting.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s you in a Confederate colonel’s uniform, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is. Colonel of Cavalry.”

“I must say, you look very striking as a Confederate Colonel,” Madison said.

“Sylvia likes that portrait,” Judge Ragsdale replied. “But of course she didn’t know me when I had that portrait done. She was quite young then.”

Judge Ragsdale pulled a watch from his pocket and, like MacLeod before him, opened the cover to look at the face. “According to my watch, it lacks fifteen minutes of twelve. You will just have time to see to your room before coming down for luncheon.” He opened a door, then stepped into the room, holding out his hand in invitation. “This is our finest room. I do hope you enjoy it.”

The Carmichaels stared into a room filled with beautifully preserved antiques: a dresser with a large, beveled mirror; a chifforobe; and a washstand upon which sat a porcelain basin and pitcher. At the far end of the room, a blue velvet settee and two matching chairs formed a cozy seating area in front of a fireplace. Though there was no fire at the moment, the wood had been laid, and there was a wood basket alongside with a generous supply of fuel to feed any fire they might build.

The centerpiece of the room was the bed, a beautiful canopied four-poster, which sat so high from the floor that steps were set alongside to enable one to climb in. In one corner of the room stood a tall, painted screen.

“Oh, that screen is lovely.” Madison pointed. “Is it hiding something? What’s behind it?”

“Come, I will show you,” Judge Ragsdale replied. They followed him over to the screen and watched as he pulled it to one side to expose a large brass tub.

“It’s beautiful. Where on earth did you find such a beautiful piece?”

“It was brought in from Cincinnati,” Judge Ragsdale said.

“It’s lovely.”

“When you are ready for your bath, let me know, and I shall see to it that you have hot water.”

“Wait a minute,” Madison said. “You mean this is functional? Not only functional, it is actually how you expect your guests to take their baths?”

“What about a bathroom?” T. J. asked.

“Oh, yes, well, I know that some establishments have a separate room set aside for bathing, but, as we so frequently have guests, I believe it is better to allow for some privacy.”

“No, I mean, uh .. .”He looked at Madison, searching for some word that would stay in character.

“The necessary room,” she suggested. “A privy.”

“We have two privies out back,” Judge Ragsdale conceded. “One for men and one for women.”

“Outdoor privies,” T. J. said.

“Yes, but they are quite comfortable, well-chinked against the cold wind. Oh, I see there is no water in the pitcher.” Judge Ragsdale picked it up. “I’ll get some; you’ll want to wash up for lunch.” He stepped out of the room.

“No bathroom,” T. J. said quietly.

“And the bed,” Madison replied. “It’s not a king. It isn’t even a queen. It’s just a double.”

“Well, I guess a king- or queen-sized bed just doesn’t fit their historical motif,” he said. “But to tell you the truth, if we had the car with us, I think I would just drive away.”

“Yes, but we don’t have the car, so we’re just going to have to make the best of it.

Ragsdale returned, carrying the pitcher filled with water. “Let me know if you need more,” he said.

“Thanks, Judge,” T. J. said. “Oh, what about the children? Do you have roll-away beds we can put in here for them?”

“Oh, no. We’ll put pallets on the floor in the keeping room, and all the children will sleep there tonight,” Judge Ragsdale said. “It’s great fun for them. They all enjoy it.”

“Timmy might. I don’t know about Christine.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will like it as well. I’ll tell Emma to look out for her.”

“All right for now; we can play that by ear,” T. J. said. “By the way, where do we go to check in?”

“Check in?”

“Yes, I called and made our reservation, but I didn’t want to leave a credit card number with the answering machine. I haven’t paid yet.”

“Paid for what?”

“Why, for our reservations here.”

Judge Ragsdale spoke plainly. “Nonsense, you are our guests. I don’t charge a fare for my guests. My payment will be if you and Mrs. Carmichael enjoy your stay with us. We’ll see you at luncheon.” Ragsdale exited and closed the door behind him.

T. J. stared at the door for a moment, then turned to Madison. “Well, I don’t understand that. What does he mean, his pay will be if we enjoy our stay?”

“It’s obvious if you stop to think about it,” Madison said.

“What?”

“He wants me to do a feature about Gracehall on my show. I mean, do you have any idea how many thousands of dollars’ worth of advertising that would be?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think about that.”

“It was the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Well, what do you think? Could you do a show about Gracehall?”

“I don’t like being suckered in like this. But, yes, I think I could do it.” She ran her hand across the cold, smooth fireplace mantle, then smiled. “In fact, I think it might make a very good show.”

“Wow, you know what just occurred to me?” T. J. said.

“What’s that?”

“Music videos. I wish I had known about this place a month ago. Corey could’ve done ‘Christmas Past’ out here.”

“Well, if you really think ‘Christmas Past’ will survive for another year—”

“I know it will,” T. J. interrupted.

“Then you could still do it, and release it next year.”

“Yeah, that would give it just the bump we’d need to put it back on the charts. And in the meantime we get a free Christmas vacation.” He looked over at the brass bathtub. “Such as it is.”

When T. J. and Madison joined the others in the keeping room, all conversation suddenly halted. Everyone looked pointedly at Madison. Their gaze was so intense that she looked down to see if she had spilled something on herself. She saw nothing on her crimson sweater and blue jeans that warranted such scrutiny.

“Look at that woman. My word, she’s wearing trousers,” someone whispered.

“She’s from the city,” another answered. The looks of curiosity changed to smiles as everyone welcomed the new guests warmly.

At lunchtime the fourteen adults ate at the dining room table while the children ate in the kitchen. Although they all introduced themselves to T. J. and Madison, there were too many names to remember all at once.

Angus and Cora MacLeod, they had already met. And Thomas Duncan was the one to whom they had waved as they passed his farm. Thomas introduced his wife, Cynthia.

Jim and Laura Anderson sat closest to them. Two of the children belonged to them, including Betty, who at four was the youngest.

T. J. and Madison were the only ones from Nashville; in fact, they were the only ones from outside Morgan County. That surprised T. J., who had thought the attractive advertising flyer would have brought in more outsiders.

He looked at the array of down-home food: fried chicken, creamed potatoes, butter beans, and freshly baked bread. “I’ve been eating at too many burger joints. This is wonderful,” he said.

“It is good, isn’t it?” Madison affirmed.

“Would you care for some more potatoes, Mrs. Carmichael?” Sylvia asked, picking up one of the bowls and holding it toward her.

“Oh, no, thank you. Everything is delicious, and I’ve already eaten too much. Why, if I eat every meal like this for the whole time we’re are here, I’ll gain so much weight the folks at HeartNet will have a stroke. They’ll be looking for someone else to do my show,” she teased.

“Your show? Are you on stage?” Cora asked.

“I’m Madison Bain,” Madison said.

The others looked at her in surprise.

“See here, this is rather embarrassing,” Judge Ragsdale said.

“Don’t be embarrassed. If you don’t have cable, which you obviously don’t, then there’s no reason for you to have heard of me.”

“ I thought the two of you were married,” Judge Ragsdale said.

Madison laughed. “What? We are married. What makes you think that we aren’t?”

“His name is Carmichael, your name is Bain.”

Madison laughed. “Oh, that’s just the name I use for the show. Do you really not know who I am? Do none of you recognize me?”

“I’m afraid we don’t see many shows here in Morgan County,” Angus said.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m in show business, exactly,” Madison started.

“Sure you are,” T. J. said.

“What do you mean by that?” Madison challenged.

“Your show is entertainment, isn’t it? In fact, you have one of the highest-rated shows in the country right now.”

“Well, yes, I guess if you put it that way,” Madison said.

“We plan to have entertainment tonight,” Judge Ragsdale said. “We’ll tell stories and sing carols. Perhaps you would honor us by reading to us from the Scripture?”

“You want me to read from the Bible?” Madison asked.

“Yes,” Judge Ragsdale said. “Oh, I know that many think women have no place in worship services, but I disagree with that. After all, look at the importance women played in the life of our Savior. It was a woman who brought our Lord into the world. And it was a woman who discovered the empty tomb, then spoke to the risen Christ. If women played such a role when Jesus was among us, then why should they not play an equally important role today?”

“Mama,” a young girl said, coming into the dining room at that moment. “You said we were going to decorate the tree after lunch.”

“Indeed I did,” Sylvia said. “Have all the children finished eating? Are they ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emma said.

“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t heard from them. Children,” she called. “Are you ready to decorate the tree?”

“Yes, ma’am!” a dozen young voices answered.

“Well, then, I suppose we should get started. Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael, would you like to join us?”

All the adults moved into the keeping room and took seats in order to watch the children decorate the tree.

“Oh, popcorn. I smell popcorn,” Timmy said.

“Yes, we’ll use popcorn on the tree.”

“Popcorn on the tree?” Christine laughed. “That’s funny. I never heard of that.”

“Well, we’ll just have to show you what to do, won’t we?” Sylvia said.

Cora MacLeod and Cynthia Duncan came into the room then, carrying two large bowls of popcorn. As soon as the bowls were put down, several small hands dipped down into the popcorn.

“Now, don’t eat it all,” Sylvia cautioned. “Save some for the decorations.”

Sylvia presented several of the children with needle and thread, then showed them how to string popcorn and holly berries to make a long, colorful rope. Then, the other half began dipping pinecones in whitewash. In the meantime, Sylvia opened a large box that was filled with cloth ornaments.

“Oh, Mrs. Ragsdale,” Madison said as she saw the ornaments. “These are beautiful! Did you make them yourself?”

“Yes, over a period of several years,” Sylvia said. She picked up a little calico horse. “This was the first one I ever made. I did this when I was a little girl, no older than my Emma.”

“You do beautiful work,” Madison said.

“Well, gents,” Ragsdale said, “while the children and womenfolk are trimming the tree, suppose we go into the woods to gather some greenery and cut a Yule log.”

“Oh, and John, don’t forget to pick up some chestnuts,” Sylvia said.

“Chestnuts, is it? All right, and while we’re at it we might also collect some mistletoe.” He looked at the other men and smiled. “That is, if you think we can get the ladies to stand under it long enough for a bit of sparking.”

“Oh, John, how you do carry on!” Sylvia said, embarrassed. The others laughed.

“Bundle up, gents. It’s a mite cold in the woods,” Judge Ragsdale cautioned.

As T. J. donned his bright-yellow jacket, he felt the others looking at him.

“That’s some coat you’re wearing, Mr. Carmichael,” one of the men said.

“Uh, yeah. I ordered it on-line about a month ago.”

“You don’t say,” Thomas Duncan said. “Well, what will Sears and Roebuck come up with next?”