Michael, who had stayed back while Mist was greeting the Professor, now pulled Mist just inside the café, out of sight of the others. Pulling her close, he kissed her softly and then repeated the Professor’s greeting. “It’s quite brilliant to see you again,” he whispered in her ear.
Mist couldn’t help but lean back and laugh. “I see your collaboration with A Christmas Carol didn’t serve to master an English accent.”
“It was worth a try.” Michael grinned. “You look beautiful,” he added, his voice gentle.
“Thank you,” Mist replied. She’d changed into a soft burgundy dress that reached just below her knees. Two long strands of Peruvian beads complimented light embroidery around the neckline and sleeves. Not wanting to wear her hair down while serving food, she’d clipped it on top of her head with a hand-painted wooden barrette. Small tendrils trailed down along her neck. The haphazard effect was one that some might pay a substantial price for a stylist to create.
“Come say hi to the other guests.” Mist tugged on Michael’s hand to encourage him out of the private corner of the café. “Wait until you see Clara. She has news she’ll want to share with you. We have some interesting new guests this year too. It’s always fascinating to see the various personalities that show up for the holidays.”
“Right…,” Michael said as he followed Mist into the foyer. “Like the guy on the front porch? Talking on his cell phone?”
Mist smiled, took Michael’s jacket, hung it on the coat rack, and leaned closer. “We’re all works in progress,” she whispered.
Clive had just finished adding another log to the fire when Mist and Michael joined the group in the front parlor. He crossed the room quickly and offered Michael an enthusiastic greeting. “Great to see you. And you brought that rascal Nigel with you too, right?”
“Righty-oh,” Nigel said as he popped into the room. “Yes, right it is. Indeed, I’m here. And very glad to be here too.” He handed Mist a package. “Something from England for everyone,” he said. She thanked him and left just long enough to place it behind the registration counter.
A series of greetings followed—Betty to Nigel as Betty entered from the kitchen, Michael to Clara and Andrew, who were sitting together on the sofa near the fireplace, Nina, Allison, and Kinsley to both Michael and Nigel, and even Max Hartman to Michael and the Professor as Max returned from his latest phone call. After the exuberant salutations calmed down, Mist served dessert and guests settled in to visit.
“I understand you’re visiting from Brazil,” the Professor said to Nina, who stood near the Christmas tree. Her silver hair accented the green-and-gray-floral-print dress she wore. Jade earrings and a matching bracelet pulled the look together exquisitely “It is a fascinating country,” the Professor continued. “I’ve always wanted to visit.”
“You must come sometime,” Nina said. “We are a large country, so many places to see.” She took a sip of tea, having declined the tart for the lighter beverage. “I am from Manaus.”
“Oh!” the Professor gasped. “How I would love to visit your opera house.”
Nina smiled. “Teatro Amazonas. Yes, it is belo… so beautiful. I go to hear the Amazonas Philharmonic whenever I am able.”
“I have been there,” a voice said.
Mist, catching the unexpected comment, watched as Max put his phone away and stepped closer to Nina and Nigel.
“I saw Bizet’s Carmen there in 2014,” Max said. “A magnificent theater, built by rubber barons at the end of the nineteenth century.”
“That is correct,” Nina said.
“And right there in the rainforest,” Max said.
“Really? You live in the rainforest?” Kinsley spoke up now, earning a cautious look from her mother. “We’ve been studying the rainforest in school. You have over thirty million species of plants and animals.”
“Not in my house,” Nina said, smiling. “At least I hope not.”
Kinsley grinned. “No, but in the forest.”
“Yes, I believe that’s correct,” the Professor said.
“And you’re from England.” Kinsley turned toward Nigel.
“Quite right, my dear.”
“I love learning about other countries,” Kinsley said. “It’s one of my favorite hobbies. And ice skating. And reading, of course.”
The Professor nodded with approval. “All excellent. I like a good game of chess myself. I find it a challenging way to pass the time.”
“Knitting for me,” Nina said. “Especially shawls in bright colors. We have beautiful wool yarn in South America.”
“What about you?” Kinsley said, directing her question to Max. “What kind of hobbies do you have?”
“Hobbies?” Max repeated, as if puzzled by the word. “I’d have to think about it.”
“Well, you should,” Kinsley said matter-of-factly. “Hobbies are fun.”
As conversation continued, Mist’s heart filled with joy. One of the delights of the holiday season was watching the buzz of camaraderie as guests shared stories with each other.
Mist smiled as she saw Michael in an animated discussion with Clara and Andrew, Clara’s face beaming as she held out her left hand as proof of their newlywed status. Michael and Clara had grown close after the death of Clara’s former husband. His warm grin showed his delight at seeing her discover new love.
“And to think that it started with a plate of cookies,” Betty said as she stood next to Mist. “Well, I’ll clarify that. Technically, it started as a flirtation at their church. But I bet those cookies she took him from the cookie exchange a few years ago didn’t hurt.”
“Now that you mention it,” Mist said, “do you need help preparing for the event tomorrow? It seems more people join in every year, although I know you always have everything under control.” The traditional cookie exchange had been established long before Mist came to Timberton.
Betty tapped Mist’s arm in a gesture of appreciation. “Marge and Millie will both be here early.” I imagine we can handle it even if we get some unexpected participants.”
“I made several extra papier-mâché baskets in case more people show up than you expect,” Mist said. “I’ll have them all on the kitchen counter for you to distribute as needed.”
“Maybe you can help by keeping Clive out of the room,” Betty said, laughing.
“I heard that,” Clive said as he passed by with more firewood.
“Add Clayton to that list!” Maisie had just approached, carrying a sleepy Clay Jr. in her arms. “I’m heading home. It’s time to put this little guy to bed. Plus Clayton’s parents arrive on Christmas Eve day, so I only have tomorrow to get ready for their visit. I’ll be at the cookie exchange though. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Did I hear something about cookies?” Andrew said.
Betty laughed. “Don’t worry. We always make a large plate for guests. You’ll find the assorted goodies in the lobby tomorrow evening.”
One by one, Mist watched the guests bid each other good night. When all had retired to their rooms, she took a place across from Michael, who now sat in his favorite reading chair near the lowering flames of the evening’s fire.
“It’s wonderful to see Clara so happy,” Michael said. “She deserves it.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Mist said.
“You know, she’s possibly the second sweetest person I know,” Michael said, reaching for Mist’s hand.
“Really? Is the Professor first?” Mist laughed as Michael pulled her into his lap.
“I think you know the answer to that,” Michael said.
Mist relaxed into his arms and let her head rest lightly against his chest. She remained there a few minutes and then lifted her head. “I have to be up early tomorrow. There’s breakfast to be served plus projects to work on for Christmas Eve. I’ll leave you to read by the fire. You know where the books are, in the bookcase on the far wall.” She stood up and turned to leave, then paused by the Christmas tree to glance out the front w
indow. “Look, Michael. Snow flurries have started to fall.”
Michael stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and brushing his lips against her neck. “So I see.”
“The guests will be delighted,” Mist said.” Especially Nina, who has never seen snow before.”
“Ever?” Michael said. “It seems she would have had an opportunity before now.”
“She hasn’t traveled, aside from one trip to Portugal as a child, to visit her grandparents. She’s cared for family in Brazil her whole life.”
“Then this holiday will be a treat for her,” Michael said. “Just like it’s a treat for all of us every year. Thanks to you, Mist.” He snuck another kiss on her neck, this one around the side.
Mist turned to face him. “Thanks to all of us, Michael. It’s in coming together that we feel the real joy of the season.”
Michael smiled. “I know better than to argue with you.”
“Smart man.” Mist teased him. “See you in the morning.” After another sweet kiss, Mist headed for her room, leaving Michael to his reading.
CHAPTER NINE
A light but steady snowfall developed overnight, greeting guests as they emerged from their rooms and followed the aroma of freshly baked blueberry scones to the café. The wind had died down overnight, letting snowflakes float down softly. A light layer blanketed the ground, with promises of increasing thickness over the course of the day.
Meals were always simple on the few days leading up to Christmas. Now, one day before Christmas Eve, locals and guests came to the buffet to find what appeared to be a basic, everyday breakfast.
“Ham and eggs!” Clayton cheered as he eyed the morning buffet spread.
“Yes,” Maisie said as she set Clay Jr. on a bumper seat. “A simple breakfast will allow quick cleanup before Betty’s cookie exchange.”
“At least it’s not green eggs and ham,” Clayton said, referring to the Dr. Seuss book that Maisie had been reading to their toddler lately.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Clive said, laughing. “Maybe you’d better take a closer look.” He’d been the first to serve up a full plate, joined shortly after that by William Guthrie. The two sat together at a table not far from the buffet.
Clayton leaned forward and inspected the scrambled eggs. “Well, what do you know? I guess I spoke too soon.” Tiny green specks dotted the eggs.
Mist overheard the conversation as she brought the freshly baked scones out of the kitchen. “It’s thyme,” she said, smiling at the confused look on Clayton’s face.
“Time for what?” Clayton said, still considering the eggs as if unsure whether or not to add them to the slab of ham he’d already placed on his plate.
“Thyme, the herb,” Mist said softly. “It doesn’t bite, I promise.”
“Go on, Clayton,” Clive urged. “The whole breakfast is delicious, and it’s fun to have something similar to a breakfast at your place, only edible.”
“Hey!” William Guthrie said, defending his greasy-spoon eatery in spite of his hesitance to eat there himself.
Michael and the Professor, sitting one table away, both laughed. “I’ve never eaten at your place, Bill,” Michael said. “But from everything I’ve heard it’s a fair statement.”
“We’ll go eat there sometime,” Clive said to Michael. “Sometime when you’re feeling brave, that is.” Even Wild Bill laughed this time.
Clara and Andrew entered, with Allison and Kinsley just behind them. The mother and daughter eyed the buffet and politely moved on to pour glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. The four took seats together at the room’s larger table.
“I’ll have plates for the two of you in just a few minutes,” Mist said, having been watching for Allison and Kinsley’s arrival. “But you might try a scone with your juice,” she suggested. After receiving a nod of approval from her mother, Kinsley jumped up and took a trip to the buffet, placing four scones on a plate. Returning, she set it down in the center of the table for everyone to enjoy. Mist soon emerged from the kitchen and slid plates in front of both mother and daughter. Allison thanked Mist, recognizing the tofu and thyme scramble. Country potatoes from the buffet accompanied the eggless entrée. “Olive oil,” Mist said softly to let them know the potatoes weren’t prepared with butter.
“These scones are delicious, Mist,” Wild Bill exclaimed. “If you share your secret recipe, I just might make some at my own café.”
“I believe recipes are to be shared,” Mist said. “You might need to add almond milk and flaxseed to your inventory though.”
“Flax what?” Bill asked. A forkful of ham hovered midair.
Mist smiled. “I’ll give you the recipe after breakfast.” She glanced around the room, taking note of the diners. Seeing Nina missing, she followed a hunch and headed for the front parlor. There, as she’d suspected, Nina stood by the Christmas tree, staring out the window at the falling snow.
“It’s like a scene from a dream,” Nina said.
“Yes,” Mist agreed. “I never get tired of watching snow fall. Each snowflake is unique. I like to think of them as tiny miracles floating down from the sky. Or wishes, perhaps.”
“It must be interesting living where you have four seasons,” Nina said.
Mist smiled. “It must be interesting having over thirty million species of plants and animals living in your house.” Both women laughed, thinking back to the conversation about the Amazon rainforest the night before. “Come, have something to eat,” Mist said, and she and Nina walked to the café, where Nina helped herself to a selection at the buffet and then took a seat with the others at the large table.
As breakfast finished up, locals and guests scattered in various directions, and Mist turned her attention to clearing the kitchen and café in preparation for the cookie exchange. Michael offered to help, suggesting the honor of Mist’s company later for a snowy drive in the country as compensation. Charmed by the invitation, she protested at first, claiming he was still a holiday guest in spite of their close relationship but then escorted him to the kitchen.
“We have a new employee,” Mist announced. Betty, already in the process of washing and rinsing the morning’s dishes, caught on quickly and tossed Michael a kitchen towel.
“You’ll have to search for the correct cupboards to put the dishes away after you dry them.” Mist teased.
“No clues?” Michael quipped. “From either one of you?”
“Consider it a treasure hunt,” Mist said as she turned to Betty. “And you don’t need to be doing dishes,” she added. “Go get ready for your event. I’ll take over.”
“Okay,” Betty agreed, stepping away from the sink. “But make sure to keep this new guy in line.” Betty headed for the door. “And I’d keep Clive out of the kitchen right now. He’ll find the hidden cookies faster than Michael will find the right cupboards for the dishes. Millie and Glenda already dropped off their contributions.”
“Hidden cookies?” Michael said, his eyes lighting up. “Maybe you should tell me where they are, Betty, so I can make a point of guarding them.”
“Ha!” Betty said. “That’s for me to know and for you to not find out.”
“You’re quite the comedian,” Mist said after Betty left. She handed Michael a dripping plate and smiled. “Now get to work.”
* * *
An enthusiastic crowd was just beginning to gather when Mist and Michael met in the lobby for their countryside drive. Peeking into the café, they could see Betty standing near the café’s longest table where the baked goods would be collected and divided.
Since hosting the cookie exchange was Betty’s own long-standing tradition, Mist had simply made sure coffee and tea were ready. She’d left decorating the table to Betty. A red linen tablecloth formed the background for a scene running down the middle of the table with reindeer pulling Santa in his sleigh. Clive had cleverly hooked up lights for the display by hiding batteries underneath the sleigh itself. The result was cheerful and
bright, and Betty stood justifiably proud alongside it.
Millie’s peanut butter cookies and Marge’s fudge were the first selections to grace the table, as they had dropped them off during breakfast. Maisie had just arrived with her lemon nut bars, excited that Clayton had offered to watch Clay Jr. at home so she could enjoy the camaraderie without interruption.
Glenda soon followed with ginger bar cookies. “Wunderbar,” she announced. “That’s what we call them in my family, and that’s what they are: wonderful.” Glenda turned as Mist brought one of the papier-mâché baskets out into the lobby. “I love those! Betty said you made them. Do we really get to use these for our cookie assortments? Would you like us to bring them back later?”
“No, please keep them,” Mist said. “They’re sturdy, so you’ll be able to use them again in the future. You might even fill them up as a gift basket for someone else.”
“Wonderful idea,” Glenda said. “That’s exactly what I’ll do.” She returned to the café as a trio of women from a local church entered, a burst of snow following them in. Each held a container of sweet treats to share. Michael held the front door open for them and then slipped outside with Mist. He closed the door securely behind them to prevent a second blast of snow from drifting inside.
“Hat, gloves, winter boots, jacket… I think I’m set,” Michael said as they walked to his car. He dusted a layer of snow off the windshield.
“As am I,” Mist said though her wardrobe was different from Michael’s. She’d grown fond of the cape she’d found at Second Hand Sally’s a month before. The swirling movement of the design reminded her of ocean waves. With a warm sweater underneath, it was enough to hold the cold at bay. Having added gloves and faux-fur hat, she looked like she’d stepped out of a scene from Dr. Zhivago.
“Shall we go then?” Michael opened the passenger door.
“Let’s,” Mist replied. She waited while Michael closed her door, circled the car, and climbed in from the driver side.
“And just where are we going?” Mist asked, tilting her head slightly toward Michael.
Snowfall At Moonglow (The Moonglow Christmas Series Book 5) Page 5
