He could picture the transportation-themed Christmas tree. Bright yellow construction trucks, a multitude of tiny shiny race cars, trains, planes, horses, and scooters could pull double dutyas decorations. Shiny handlebar bells and neon streamers to add some whimsy, and wouldn’t it be fun to rig up small battery-operated spinning tricycle wheels with cards in the spokes for sound?
Tucker felt his excitement build. They might not even need any regular colored balls on this year’s entry. This idea also happened to fit right in with his favorite song, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
Each team created a sign to post next to their tree, and he could use a router to etch the words “99 Ways to Get Home for Christmas” on theirs. Ninety-nine toy vehicles or modes of transportation should be enough to fill the biggest tree in the competition, which was always theirs. Since some of the items were big, if they couldn’t fit all ninety-nine on the tree, a few under the tree would work too.
Ninety-nine gifts for kids in our county.
Public safety in Chestnut Ridge was the most important thing in his life, but knowing there’d be ninety-nine more smiling faces on Christmas morning, thanks to the generosity and kindness of his team of firefighters, was overwhelmingly precious.
Chapter Four
Sheila spent Thanksgiving Day alone. She didn’t have to. Her sister had invited her to come to Virginia Beach to spend the day with her family, but the nursing home had asked that they keep Mom’s visitors to a minimum during the holidays, with Mom being so confused, so Cassie and Sheila had split them up. Cassie got Thanksgiving and Sheila would be there for Christmas.
Being that close to Mom and not seeing her just didn’t feel right, so Sheila declined Cassie’s invitation. Besides, ever since Cassie insisted Mom needed be under twenty-four-hour care, that had been a sore spot between them, and had made Christmas hard for Sheila.
When Sheila told Natalie about declining Cassie’s offer, Natalie begged Sheila to come to the mountains for Thanksgiving too. But Sheila didn’t want to wear out her welcome before her planned visit even started.
And the idea of spending a lazy Thanksgiving at home in her pajamas with a novel had sounded so appealing.
Only the weather had turned dreary. She spent the rainy and windy morning watching the Macy’s parade, then curled up with one of the new novels she’d just bought.
As she got to know the characters in the first few chapters, her interest built, wanting to know what was going to happen next, and cheering on her new friends in their quest for romance.
The novel had her remembering funny things that happened at Thanksgivings past, like the first time she hosted the big family dinner. She’d been so thankful when the turkey came out of the oven, golden brown and juicy, that she’d run to grab her phone to take a picture. When she walked back into the room full of pride, her perfect bird was missing a huge bite from one leg. Under the table, Dan’s dog licked his paws, looking quite pleased with himself as he lapped up the remaining morsels from the floor. She cried. Dan laughed, and together they amputated the one leg the dog had mutilated and told the guests that Dan hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of it. She wondered if he’d ever fessed up to what really happened that day.
For a fleeting moment, she considered calling Dan to wish him Happy Thanksgiving.
That’s a horrible idea.Not only because he didn’t deserve the time of day from her, but because it would make her look pitiful, and likely cause a rift in his otherwise perfect holiday with his new family. Dan had a new wife and new life now. He was just a map dot on her journey. One she was happy to leave in the past.
At three in the morning, she finally turned the last page of the novel. Despite the problems that seemed insurmountable, she found herself filled with hope following the happily-ever-after.
She closed the book, exhausted, with a tear in her eye andjoy in her heart. It was such a satisfying story, but it made her feel lonelier than ever.
She let out a long sigh. Looking at the chair that she’d refused to let Dan take, even though he’d picked it out and she’d always hated it, she regretted being petty about it now.
Cool it with the pity party, Sheila.
Kernels of popcorn fell to the ground as she forced herself to get up from the couch. She’d absently eaten her way through the whole bowl while she read.
I’ll pay for all that salt content tomorrow.
She went to the kitchen and downed a glass of water, hoping to head off some of the bloat, then crawled into bed.
She woke up the next morning in the mood for a little retail therapy, but there was no way she was braving Black Friday shoppers. Not even for a cute new sweater to wear to the mountains.
That was one shopping day that she felt quite comfortable leaving to others to navigate. People fighting for the last electronics bargain or twenty-dollar leather bag was not her idea of a good time.
She spent the day working on lists. Presents to buy. Ideas for the Christmas Tree Stroll. She squandered nearly four hours on Pinterest, just looking for ideas and getting sidetracked by holiday decorations, recipes, how to make bows, and, somehow, a tradition of fruitcake-tossing events.
Sheila couldn’t say for sure if she’d ever tried the holiday cake with the bad reputation, but she knew they were heavy. No doubt you could fling one of those round ones for a good long way. Just the thought of that made her burst into a fit of giggles, and before she knew it she was ordering not only one fruitcake, but threedifferent flavors after reading a whole article about the history of fruitcake and the circle pans it was baked in. Who knew it wasn’t baked in a Bundt pan? It seemed completely logical to her that if it was a cake with a circle cut out of the middle, it would be. Oh no, because Bundt pans are meant to be flipped over to get the cake out, and you don’t do that to a fruitcake.
She grabbed her credit card and set the cakes to ship to Orene’s house the week of the fifteenth. The order would serve double duty. They could eat the cakes for dessert, and if they were terrible, they could fling them like those people in Manitou Springs.
She picked up her phone and dialed Mom’s room at the Hilltop. Two years ago, Sheila and her sister had to make the difficult decision to move Mom to a memory-care unit. Alzheimer’s and balance had been an ongoing concern, but when Mom got confused and wandered away from the house one day, the police called Cassie to tell her they had picked her up. Cassie met the policeman at Mom’s and the real truths began to unravel. Mom lived alone back then, and she’d seemed fine. But the police had been called several times by neighbors, and even by Mom calling to report someone was moving her plants while she slept. But upon investigation, the neighbors said she was as busy as a bee planting and replanting the same plants all over that yard.
It was harder on her and her sister than it was on Mom. The schedule and being surrounded by caring people had helped Mom get into a routine, and most of the time she was in a happy frame of mind. Some days she was sharp, and others she didn’t recognize anyone. The latter were coming more often.
“The Hilltop. Annie speaking.”
