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.
Chapter Six
“I’m headed to Orene’s. Anyone want to pile on?” Tucker’s truck had a flatbed, one of those diamond-plate jobs, making it easier to throw stuff on the back and get on the move when timing mattered most. Which was often in his line of work.
Half a dozen guys ran out and hopped on.
“Shotgun,” yelled Doris, as she lagged behind. The rest of the guys squished into the back seat of the crew cab.
Tucker rolled down the window. “Hang on!”
It wasn’t but a couple of blocks to Orene’s, but just in case there was a call, Tucker never walked anywhere he could drive.
When Tucker pulled to a stop at the curb in front of Orene’s, the guys tumbled out of his truck like elves on too much eggnog, laughing and bantering all the way inside.
Tucker followed along behind the rest of them, carrying a four-foot-tall red stocking that he’d filled with individually wrapped portions of homemade turkey and venison jerky. Green bags contained turkey jerky, and red ones, the color of Rudolph’s shiny nose, were for the venison.
On the white band at the top of the stocking, Tucker had glued a gift tag:
TAKE ONE—NAUGHTY OR NICE
Homemade Jerky by Tucker
Orene’s place was already teeming with activity when he walked in.
Kids raced around the yard, in and out of the colorfully lit shrubbery, in a rambunctious game of tag. Amped up because it was the last day of school until the new year, they were probably supercharged on cookies and cupcakes too if he had to guess.
The huge magnolia tree looked nice. Tucker and his guys had brought over the ladder truck to string thousands of white lights all the way to the tippity top, then spread big red, green, and silver balls nearly the size of soccer balls on it for Orene.
Inside, the house smelled of savory and sweets.
Stretch, owner of the Trout & Snout down the block, carried in a towering stack of to-go boxes and placed them on the entry table.
