“Did either one of you get in touch with Espinosa or Abner? Where do they think you are?” Kathryn asked.
Alexis shook her head. “I didn’t tell Joseph anything. We do not have the kind of relationship where we have to check in and announce our whereabouts. I don’t ask him where he goes or what he does, and he tries—I say tries—not to ask me. I’m good. When we get to your place, I’ll send him a text to say good night.”
Isabelle laughed. “That works for you because you aren’t married. Yet. Abner always wants to know where I am and what I’m doing. Today I told him I was going out with you two and didn’t know when I’d be back. He was okay with that, but I always go home at night. Meaning I don’t spend the night away from home. He’ll be okay with it. He is so into trying to find Alma Roland, he can’t think of anything else. When he gets like that, I could set the place on fire, and he would never notice till he started to choke from the smoke.”
Ten minutes later, they were on the road and headed for Kathryn’s house. It took them almost an hour with the slow-moving traffic, but they finally made it.
Kathryn unlocked the door and led the girls into her toasty, comfortable cottage, which was just big enough for her and her dog, Murphy, who came on the run, barking happily at his mistress’s return, together with friends who did belly rubs in the bargain.
“You all know where everything is. Turn up the heat a few notches, lay a fire, and get some food ready while I walk Murphy.”
Noticeably absent in the tiny cottage was any sign of the upcoming holidays. Isabelle commented on it. Alexis just shrugged.
Outside in the frigid night air, Kathryn said, “Make it quick, boy, and you get some real bacon for dinner. And eggs. You know how you like scrambled eggs. It’s your reward for having to stay alone all day. Quick! Quick! Murphy.”
Understanding the words bacon and eggs, the shepherd did what he had to do, then barked to say he was ready to go back. The dog sprinted ahead, but Kathryn limped. Her leg ached fiercely from sitting so long on the plane. The cold weather didn’t help, either. She longed for a steaming hot bath and the liniment she rubbed on her leg to ease the ache. She felt tears forming in her eyes. She knew her leg was never going to be the same, no matter what the therapists and surgeons said. It was her leg, and she knew. She had serious doubts that she would ever be able to take to the highway in her eighteen-wheeler. Well, maybe she could prove them all right. If she worked at it—and no one could say she wasn’t determined—maybe she could make it happen. “And they get ice water in hell, too,” she muttered under her breath.
Back home, Kathryn adjusted her attitude for her friends. She complimented them on the fire, on the way the little cottage had warmed up, and for frying extra bacon for Murphy, who sat next to the stove, where Alexis was scrambling eggs while Isabelle made thick slices of sourdough toast and spread them with butter and blackberry jam.
“Aah, a feast fit for three queens and one hungry dog.” Kathryn laughed. “I cannot tell you how hungry I am.”
“Well, eat up, girlfriend. I scrambled a dozen and a half eggs, knowing how Murphy loves them. I made hot chocolate instead of coffee.”
“Same amount of caffeine,” Isabelle said, giggling.
“Yes, but the coffee doesn’t come with all these little marshmallows. Eat up, girls!”
And eat up they did. So did Murphy.
“So when are we going to tell Maggie?” Alexis asked.
“We probably should call her now, but I think we should wait till morning. It’s late, and she might be sleeping. By the way, has anyone said how much money we pooled?” Isabelle asked.
Kathryn and Alexis shook their heads, meaning they had no clue.
“We’re going to need to know that ASAP. Should we call a meeting out at the farm for tomorrow, or should we call Maggie first, then call the meeting?” Kathryn asked as the girls set about cleaning up the tiny kitchen.
“I think we should call Maggie as soon as we get up, and take her out to breakfast and tell her. At which point we’ll call the others and head out to the farm. Maggie is so unhappy and miserable, I hate to keep her in suspense one minute longer than we need to. She is going to go over the moon,” Isabelle said as she clapped her hands. “We did it! We found her old teacher. How cool is that? And all thanks go to Kathryn, with her phenomenal memory. Maggie will love you forever, Kathryn.”
“I’m thinking there are going to be a lot of sourpusses tomorrow morning, when we deliver our news. You know how Abner, Jack, and the others like to think they are the be-all and end-all to every mission. No offense, Isabelle, in regard to Abner.”
“None taken.” Isabelle laughed. “I’m all for woman power. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready for bed.”
“It’s the floor in the living room. All the blankets and pillows are in the hall closet. If we huddle, we’ll stay warm as long as we keep the fire stoked,” Kathryn said.
“Have you given any thought to maybe finding a bigger place? Don’t you get tired of pulling out that sofa to sleep on?” Alexis asked.
“Nope. This is my place. I bought it for me and Murphy. No one else. At the time, it was all I could afford, and it was my first very own house. I own it free and clear. It’s not like I spend a lot of time here. It’s my home base. Everyone needs a home base, no matter what. It’s where I come to enjoy my victories and where I come to nurse my miseries. It’s my home.”
“We hear you,” Isabelle said as she spread out the blankets and pillows.
“You said you had some flannel nightgowns. Where are they?” Alexis asked.
“In the linen closet.”
Ten minutes later, the girls were nestled in their blankets. One minute after that, they were all sleeping peacefully while Murphy prowled the cottage until he decided it was safe to go to sleep. He cuddled next to his mistress and licked at the lone tear at the corner of her eye.
Kathryn, Alexis, and Isabelle could barely contain themselves as they waited at the House of Pancakes for Maggie to appear. She was late, which was most unusual. The girls were all on their second cup of coffee and hadn’t ordered yet.
Alexis waved away the waitress for another coffee refill when Maggie entered the restaurant and looked around. Kathryn waved, and Maggie literally sprinted to the far left and flopped down.
“I hope whatever this meeting is about is good, because it is cold out there. I hate going to breakfast at six thirty in the morning.” She held up the empty cup at her place setting for the waitress who had just been waved away. The waitress hurried back to the table to fill Maggie’s cup with coffee.
Even before Maggie could get the cup to her lips, Alexis said, “We found her, Maggie! We found Alma Roland! All thanks to Kathryn and her memory.”
Isabelle took the lead. “We flew to North Carolina yesterday morning and went to where Kathryn thought Miss Roland might be, and she was right. We didn’t see her in person, but we met her husband. He said his wife was home with bronchitis. Later on, he called her by name and told us how she appeared one day and never left. We found her, Maggie!”
Maggie started to shake, the coffee cup in her hand dropping to the floor. She barely noticed. Coffee splashed all over her shoes. She started to jabber and ended with, “Honest, you found her? You aren’t making this up? Why didn’t you call me right away?”
“It was late when we got back, and to be honest, Maggie, we wanted to tell you in person. Please don’t fault us for that,” Isabelle said.
“I won’t, I won’t. Tell me everything, and don’t leave anything out. I want to hear all the little details.” She looked around for her coffee cup in a daze. The waitress appeared with a frown and filled a fresh cup.
The girls obliged.
“Now we’re going out to the farm. We called everyone. We need a plan. The good news is Miss Roland, now Mrs. Donald Tennyson, is safe and sound and not going anywhere. We have time to make plans and do whatever it is you want to do,” Kathryn said.
“After all this time. I can’t believe it. No wonder Abner couldn’t find a trace of her. She got married. To a minister. I can see that. She walked in and just never left. Amazing, after all these years. We should tell Mrs. Ryder, her old neighbor. Maybe we could arrange a Christmas party for all their . . . um . . . flock. She could bring all of Miss Roland’s Christmas decorations she said she saved. This is so wonderful, I want to cry. I don’t know how to thank you girls.”
“Hey, it was Kathryn and her memory. If it weren’t for that, we’d all still be searching for your old teacher,” Alexis said.
Maggie bolted off her chair and around the table, where she hugged Kathryn until Kathryn gasped for mercy. “You’re welcome,” she said hoarsely as she rubbed at her throat. “Glad to help. Now we need a plan, so let’s eat up and head to the farm. Is it still snowing?”
“It is, but there is no accumulation. The temperature is really dropping, though,” Isabelle said.
The girls finished off their pancakes in record time. When it was time to pay the bill, Maggie insisted she pay it. The girls didn’t argue as they bundled up and headed for the entrance. There was a definite spring in everyone’s step and a smile on their faces at the same time.
The girls were delighted to see and smell, as Alexis put it, Christmas. Beautiful balsam wreaths adorned all the doors and windows. The tree was up in the family room, and Charles was cooking something that smelled delicious, even though it was barely past breakfast, which pretty much guaranteed that whatever he was cooking would take a long time and would be mouthwatering in the end.
“Dining-room table, everyone!” Maggie shouted. “Hurry. Hurry. Take a seat. We have news. Well, Kathryn, Alexis, and Isabelle have news! Hit it, Kathryn.”
“We found Alma Roland. She’s married to a minister, and together they run a mission in Fayetteville, North Carolina, called the Guardian Angels Mission. They feed the homeless three times a day. It is so clean there. They never turn anyone away, and they exist on donations. The pastor invited us for lunch, and it was delicious. He serves hearty fare to his flock, as he calls them. They do such good work.” Kathryn went on to describe their conversation with the pastor, the call to Alma, and the people who benefited from their kindness. “The bottom line is everything is worn-out, they don’t have enough room, and they need money to keep doing what they’re doing. So, everyone, let’s run it up the flagpole and see what we can do for the Guardian Angels Mission.”
“How much money did we collect?” Nikki asked.
“At last count, we had two hundred eleven thousand dollars. That includes Maggie’s donation of her husband’s insurance, which amounted to one hundred thousand dollars. That should buy a lot of new appliances. Myra and I can add whatever you need. And young Dennis will be willing to part with some of his recent inheritance, won’t you, young man?” Annie said.
“Absolutely, and I know someone who owns an appliance store. I bet I can get us a nifty discount if we buy a lot of stuff. I assume we want the best of the best, because it will all get hard use.”
The others agreed.
“I know a piano tuner,” Ted said. “A couple of years ago we did a human interest story on him and his family. I’m sure if we paid him, he’d travel to Fayetteville to tune the mission’s piano.”
“Jack and I can get the blankets, pillows, cots, and crockery,” Nikki said.
“I know a plumber I did some work for,” Abner said. He’s the king of plumbers. When he fixes something, it stays fixed. Like Ted’s piano tuner, if we make it worth his while, he can put in the toilets and do all the plumbing. And if we use our own people, we are in control.”
Kathryn fiddled with her iPhone. “This is a picture I took when we first got there. See those two little stores next to the mission? If we could relocate those two stores and cut through the walls, then Pastor Tennyson would gain about three thousand square feet. He did tell me the person who owns the building charges him only a thousand dollars a year, and some years he can’t make the rent. Maybe we could find a way to buy the building using . . . ah . . . some of Angus Spyder’s money. That would be the ideal solution.”
“I’ll check the real estate records,” Maggie volunteered. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Food,” Myra said. “A guaranteed food supply. I’d like to work on that. Knowing they won’t run short, will have enough to feed everyone who walks through their doors, will be a tremendous relief to the pastor and his wife. We’ll fill the freezers at the outset, then arrange for food deliveries every two weeks.”
“Do they have a chapel?” Espinosa asked.
The girls looked at one another and admitted they didn’t know.
“Well, then, we’ll make sure they have one,” Espinosa said. “If you can secure the two side stores, we could use that space. I have some cousins who would be happy to do the construction work. Alexis and I can oversee the work.”
“Can I arrange the Christmas party?” Isabelle asked. “That’s what all this is leading up to, right? If so, I’d like to do it. I think in my other life I was a party planner.”
“The job is yours, dear,” Annie said. “That leaves me, Fergus, and Charles. What do you want us to do?”
“Coordinate and make sure it all runs smoothly. Schedule and oversee. If we don’t have a system, none of this is going to work,” Myra said.
Annie mulled all this over for a moment or two, then agreed. “Do we know if the good pastor has transportation?” she asked, addressing Kathryn.
Kathryn looked baffled as she gazed at Alexis and Isabelle, who just shrugged. “We don’t know. But there was a rusty-looking van parked in front. It could belong to anyone, though.”
“I’ll order two vans, then. If we set up Pastor Tennyson to grow his mission, he might have to hire some people to help. From what you said, he’s not a youngster, and Alma is about fifty. Working twenty-four/seven can’t be that good for a person. Doesn’t matter how dedicated you are. You still need some personal time. I say we help ourselves to a little more of Mr. Spyder’s monies and set up a fund for hired help.”
“That’s a great idea, Annie,” Abner said as he typed away. “I’m setting up an account right now, along with a business fund. Just tell me when you want to transfer the funds.”
“No time like the present. Do it now, Abner,” Annie said. “Then it’s one less thing we have to worry about.”
Charles raised his hand. “Should we give some thought to the pastor’s flock? By that I mean warm clothing, boots, shoes, and the like.”
“You’re right, dear. We do need to think about that. The weatherpeople are promising a very cold, snowy winter. What do you all think?”
It was unanimous. Charles beamed and immediately appointed Fergus as his assistant.
Annie stood up and clapped her hands for attention. If there was a mist in her eyes, the others pretended not to notice. “This, boys and girls, is what giving is all about. Helping and giving to someone who can’t do it alone but works tirelessly to make life better for others. The dream is for others, never for himself. Such selflessness should and will be rewarded.”
The clapping and the hooting forced Annie to cover her ears. When it all died down, she whistled sharply. “Okay, we all have jobs to do, so let’s do them.”
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it, Annie?” Myra whispered.
“Yes, and we didn’t even have to threaten anyone,” Annie whispered in return.
“You know what, Annie? We can do so much more if we want to. No one needs to know. Anonymity is a wonderful thing. And as you always say, it’s better to give than to receive.”
Annie winked at her friend. “For starters, why don’t you consider donating that messy five-mile-long scarf you’ve been knitting the past three years to someone?”
“And have my friend Claudeen laugh me out of the knitters’ club? I don’t think so.”
“Whatever you say, Myra.”
Chapter 9
The Sisters�
� plans in place, the days moved forward with lightning speed as the girls, as well as the boys, went at it with a vengeance. The days literally raced into one another, right through Nikki and Jack’s Thanksgiving dinner, their only reprieve.
In shifts, they became commuters out of necessity as they flew back and forth between Washington and Fayetteville, North Carolina, courtesy of Annie’s and Dennis’s Gulfstreams, which were always at the ready.
It was the fifteenth of December, with just nine days to go until what the Sisters called Maggie’s Magic Moment, when she would swoop into the Guardian Angels Mission and present herself to Alma Roland Tennyson.
They were meeting now at Pinewood for Sunday dinner and a break to discuss the progress they’d made to date and what was yet to be accomplished.
Pinewood was decorated from top to bottom; the scent of fresh balsam garlands and wreaths was everywhere. When that combined with the delectable smells coming from the kitchen, the group knew they were in for a wondrous dinner. Christmas music, thanks to Myra’s surround-sound system, wafted through the old farmhouse. And the mood of the guests this Sunday evening was one of high excitement because they were, as Dennis put it, almost down to the finish line.
Dinner was Szechuan braised meatballs served over shredded Chinese cabbage. Charles’s guests oohed and aahed over the delectable food, asking for leftovers to take home. The only problem was, there were no leftovers. Dessert was a mango-pear torte with a rich caramel-marshmallow topping. Before anyone could ask, Charles said there were no leftovers, because Jack and Ted had come back for seconds and Dennis for thirds.
Harry and Yoko, back from China, where they had eaten only fish and seeds, complimented Charles, and Yoko asked for the recipe. Charles preened at the request. If Harry and Yoko liked his meatballs, then he knew he’d succeeded in his culinary efforts.
Cleanup took the usual twelve minutes, and then the group was once again settled at the heirloom dining-room table with their after-dinner coffee. Folders, notebooks, pictures, and diagrams littered the table.
Wishes for Christmas Page 7
