“Someone must ensure they have a merry Christmas,” she replied, her voice tinged with resolve. “Can you imagine? Little faces lighting up at the sight of new clothes?”
“I can. And I reckon they’d light up even brighter with even more toys to accompany those fine frocks and trousers,” Thomas mused. A thought struck him then. “What say I contribute to this yuletide cheer?”
Joy’s eyes widened. “Would you? That would be wonderful, Thomas!”
“Very well. Operation ‘Cheerful Orphanage’ is underway,” he declared. “I shall procure the necessary…what do boys fancy these days? Rocking horses and… bicycles?”
“Those sound perfect!” Joy exclaimed. “They would love them.”
“Then it’s settled.” He donned his coat with a flourish. “I’ll venture into the wilds of Boston toy stores. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, my brave knight,” she teased, waving him off with a grin.
The bell above the toy store door jangled merrily as Thomas stepped inside. The place was crammed with wonders—a veritable treasure trove for any child.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked the shopkeeper, emerging from behind a fortress of teddy bears.
“Yes,” Thomas replied, adjusting his cufflinks. “I need…let’s start with bicycles and rocking horses.”
“Right away, sir!” The shopkeeper seemed delighted by the idea of a sizable order, rubbing his hands together.
“And add anything else that might cause a boy’s heart to race with excitement,” Thomas added.
“Of course, sir. We’ve got spinning tops, cricket bats, and train sets that would do just the trick!”
“Perfect,” Thomas agreed.
“Will there be anything else?” the shopkeeper inquired as he tallied up the order.
“Let’s not forget the marbles. No boy should be without a proper set of marbles,” he decided on a whim.
“Marbles it is,” the man echoed, adding them to the list. “Will that be all?”
“Of course not!” Thomas said. “We must have toys for the girls as well.”
“Just tell me what you’d like to spend, sir. We’ll have it all delivered before Christmas Eve.”
“That will be perfect,” Thomas said, naming a figure that had the shopkeeper’s jaw dropping. As he exited the shop, he couldn’t help but feel that this may very well be the most satisfying investment of his career.
Thomas strolled through the garden, a path he had walked countless times, yet this time with a spring in his step and an idea blossoming in his mind. The greenhouse stood proudly, its glass catching the early morning sun—a beacon of Joy’s passion for nurturing life from the earth.
As he approached the back door, he could already hear the clatter and commotion coming from the kitchen. It was music to his ears—the sound of Joy humming along to the rhythm of her baking.
“Thomas, is that you?” Joy called out, her voice rising over the din of pots and pans.
“Of course,” he replied, leaning on the doorway and watching her dust flour off her apron. “I see the bakery has come to us.”
“Three days of baking,” she stated matter-of-factly, a smudge of frosting highlighting her cheek like a badge of her dedication. “These treats won’t make themselves! And I couldn’t ask dear Margaret to do extra work for Christmas!”
Thomas couldn’t disagree with her. “And speaking of making…there’s something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Does it involve more sugar? Because we’re running dangerously low,” she said.
“Something far sweeter,” Thomas said. “I want you to choose an orphan from the home—someone to bring into our lives permanently. For Christmas.”
Joy’s hand froze mid-whisk. Then, just as quickly, her face softened into a smile so warm it rivaled the oven’s heat.
“Thomas, are you certain?”
