“That looks good, too.”
Pairing it with a loose silk blouse, she topped it off with a long gold rope necklace and hoop earrings, items Gracie rarely wore because they didn’t suit her. But they suited Faith, as did the gold sandals she’d brought with her. Her dress-up shoes, they were a gift from Buck.
Linda Donvillough, Gracie’s high school friend, was the first to arrive. Gracie had talked to her on the phone but hadn’t seen her. “You didn’t tell me you were pregnant!”
“I wanted to surprise you.” Linda hugged her. “I’m due early next month.”
Grace was surprised and a bit envious. She and Linda used to dream about the day they’d marry and have kids. Everyone seemed to be pregnant nowadays, but her. She and Linda were the same age, and this was her first child.
Hope arrived next, and paled when she saw their younger sister. “You two take a minute to say hello,” Grace said, leading Hope to a chair. “But only a minute. I need both of you.”
Marianne Heber appeared awed. “Your skirt is beautiful,” she told Gracie, gingerly touching the scarlet and green printed chiffon before looking around wide-eyed, “and so is your home.”
Harry Bradmoore came next, then Harland Hamilton, followed by the woman who headed the Chamber of Commerce. Gracie greeted her guests, showed them around, and answered questions about Special Effects. Linda and Faith served refreshments, while Hope helped guests who wanted to purchase display pieces or book decorating jobs.
Another dozen business people came, and a generous number from the old neighborhood, including the young and old Bossos. The house was filled and Gracie was bursting with joy when an old classmate, Ginny Ball, came up to her.
“This is like a soap opera,” she said, around a mouthful of Mrs. Jarvis’ paté. “Girl from Edge Road comes back to hobnob with the other half.”
Gracie excused herself, and while she was trying to recover her poise, overheard two women talking.
“I simply can’t believe this gorgeous house is haunted.”
“Maybe you can’t, but I’d never get a good night’s sleep here.”
Gracie glanced uneasily at the piano, and jumped when the doorbell rang. Ferndale’s mayor welcomed her warmly to the community. “We should hold a ribbon-cutting for Special Effects,” he told her.
Squirming after her recent encounter with the zoning board, and remembering that his mother-in-law was Lizzy Kendall, Gracie assured him it wasn’t necessary.
Hope stood in the parlor doorway, a frantic look on her face, and Gracie, excusing herself, rushed over to her. “Linda’s having pains. She says it must be false labor, but she keeps clutching her belly and frowning. I think someone else should serve punch.”
Gracie led Linda to the sitting room sofa, and suggested she call her husband, Mark. “It’s too soon to be real,” Linda protested. “I’ll just put my feet up for a few minutes.”
Faith took over at the dining room table alone, Hope stayed with Linda, and Grace was headed back to the parlor when Ginny Ball moved in on her again.
“Did you notice Beryl Marcum isn’t here? I heard by the grapevine she called your neighbors and told them you were violating the zoning code, and if they showed up here, they’d do the neighborhood a disfavor.”
So the assumptions Gracie had made were right. “The zoning commission granted me a variance yesterday.”
“I know. I saw it on the front page of this morning’s Daily Reporter.”
“The front page?” Gracie had read the editorial and letters, and missed the front page.
“The Reporter always does publish the important stuff.”
“I guess my neighbors haven’t read their papers yet.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Beryl went out early and stole them off their porches.” Ginny planted her fists on her generous hips. “She was the cattiest girl in Ferndale High.”
Feeling a sudden rush of warmth for her old classmate, Gracie was about to urge her to have more paté when Margaret Riggs entered, followed by Dorothy White and half a dozen neighbors who’d called to say they weren’t coming. Gracie blinked back happy tears, and welcomed them warmly.
The rest of the party passed in a memorable blur. Linda’s pains persisted, and Mark arrived to take her home. Gracie got five bookings. More than half of her display pieces were purchased. And the piano kept its silence. Until the last guest left, when it broke into a resounding chorus of “Joy to the World.”
“It’s uncanny,” Hope whispered.
“It’s terrific,” Faith said, delighted.
It’s Mirabelle. Gracie’s hostess duties must have left her overwrought, because she wanted to shout the words aloud.
* * *
Hope went home soon after the other guests, and Faith went upstairs to change clothes, leaving Gracie to her mixed emotions. She felt so drained; it might be a very long time before she gave another party. Merett saved the day with stories in the Daily Reporter, but he had a chance at a job in New York, and reporting in the Big Apple was what he loved. She’d managed to forget Merett’s imminent departure for a while, but now that the party was over, her worst fears came flooding back. She’d lose him soon, forever.
After calling Mark Donvillough and learning Linda’s pains had lessened, and that the doctor thought her labor was false, Gracie phoned Merett to say she didn’t feel like going anywhere. “I’ll just fix a bite of supper for Faith and I, and go to bed early.”
“Is something wrong?” Merett asked.
He’d spent the afternoon with Tom, and she couldn’t bear to hear about his new job plans. “Thanks to you, everything is fine.” Trying to keep the despair from her voice, she told him about her bookings, sales, and prominent guests. “Even the mayor was here,” she said cheerfully. And when she told him about Margaret and the entourage, she almost forgot to be sad. “It was magnificent. I appreciate all you did, Merett.”
“You still don’t sound right.”
Sighing, she told him about Ginny’s remark about a soap opera, the woman who said she couldn’t sleep in Gracie’s house and about Beryl blackballing the party. “You were right, Merett. People in small towns are petty.”
“I wasn’t right. I was bitter. Why are you talking that way?”
“A dose of reality just butted heads with my naive optimism.”
“I think I should come over.”
“No. I’m tired, and you’ve had a full day with your friend from New York.”
She heard Merett take a deep breath. “Okay. Spend the evening with your sister, and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll celebrate your successful party tomorrow evening.”
* * *
Merett leaned his elbows on his desk. Saturday night, and here he sat at the Daily Reporter, trying to sort things out. When Gracie canceled on him for the evening, he’d come here to be alone and close to the source of his problem. His world had spun out of orbit today.
He loosened his necktie and leaned back in his chair. When he was a kid, he’d had a book where you flipped the corners of the pages with your thumb and they ran together like a movie. Staring at the tiny Christmas tree on his desk, his day flipped through his mind in a series of scenes.
First, he’d called Margaret Riggs, and she’d promised to undo Beryl’s damage. Then…
The airport… Him pumping Tom’s hand. “I couldn’t believe it when you said you were flying in. What’s on your mind?”
Tom’s grin was boyishly disarming. “Big things, Merett.”
Merett had big things on his mind, but not a clue what Tom had on his. Driving his New York editor friend to the Daily Reporter, Merett told him about his current operation and future plans. “I’m having the pagination system installed the first of the year if the Board of Directors approves. What do you think, Tom?”
“I wondered why you hadn’t gotten back to me.”
“Even if I take the job, I wanted to set things right here first.”
Tom rubbed his chin. “Pagination is a mus
t for a happening paper, but how do you plan to make it pay with such a small circulation?”
“The Reporter’s new appearance will be polished and easier to read, and to show it off, I’ll offer a week’s free papers to potential subscribers. To widen the range of the newspaper’s appeal, we’ll add a full page of regional news, using stringers from surrounding villages to gather it. And with paste-up time, etcetera, reduced, we can take on extra print jobs. Flyers for supermarkets, sales barns, and what-have-you will bring in additional revenue.” He cracked his knuckles, and waited for Tom’s reaction.
“Sounds workable, and could even prove profitable, after about a year. But I thought you wanted to come to the Herald and work for me. Cover New York. Stare up at tall buildings and bright lights. Share a few drinks after work. Have dinner with Tammy and me. Like the old days.”
A shadow passed over Tom’s face, and Merett knew he’d remembered too late, it would never be the same without Holly. “The plans started with the necessity to submit a year-end report, and they grew on me,” Merett said. “The excitement built, you know?”
Tom smiled and leaned across Merett’s desk. With short red hair and a freckle-sprinkled nose, he looked younger than his forty years “More exciting than working for me? Then let me paint you a more attractive picture. You want to know why I flew in today, old buddy?”
An hour later, a totally befuddled Merett drove Tom to the house for dinner, where he met Harry and told Kirsten how much she’d grown. Then he took Tom back to the airport where they shook hands. “I need your decision ASAP.”
Merett shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s a tough call.”
“It doesn’t need to be. Sure, your father’s pleased to have you home, and Kirsten is happy here, but your old man wants the best for you, and kids are flexible. A major buy-out of your paper will put a tidy sum in your pocket, and you’ll have your new job as a city editor in New York. How much better can things get?”
“I don’t know, Tom. A while back, I wanted a conglomerate to buy the Daily Reporter,” Merett confessed, “but now…”
“It’s happening all over. Big companies buying up little ones. And Dixon-Pope News is a heavy player. They’re snapping up small papers all over this part of the country, and particularly in your area. I’m not usually the one to make the contact with the seller, but I asked to make this trip because you’re my friend.” Tom shrugged and studied Merett’s face. “I thought you’d be so excited you’d go nuts.”
It’s happening all over. Big companies buying up little Dixon-Pope was offering Merett a lot of money for the Daily Reporter. Just when he’d gotten all worked up about making it a success. And just after he’d written an editorial in support of small business. “I’m sorry if my reaction is guarded, but your offer came as a big surprise.”
“Maybe I’m missing something,” Tom said, picking up his carry-on bag as his flight to New York was announced for the second time. “Maybe you haven’t told me the whole story. Is there a woman in your life, Merett? Is that why you want to stay here in Smalltown, USA? I always took you for a city boy.”
Merett didn’t like Tom’s tone or his tactics. Ferndale was small, but there were a lot of good people here. When Gracie told him that, he hadn’t believed her, but more and more, he did. And when he’d started thinking about his paper as a “window on the real world” like she’d said, he’d begun to place a higher value on his work. “It’s a big decision, Tom. That’s all I can say. I’ll have to let you know.”
“You’ve got one week, tops. You can’t dangle a big company like Dixon-Pope for long.”
Sunny Haven was the next picture in the flip-book of Merett’s mind. After Tom’s flight left, Merett couldn’t say why, but he went to see Mama. It wasn’t one of her better days. She held out her hand to him, but simply stared while he rambled on and on.
Home was next. Merett arrived home to have Kirsten hand him a new Christmas list. She’d revised it a dozen times. He reached for it. “I’ll pass it on to Santa, and see what he can do.”
“Dad-dy. You’re not listening. This is a list of things I want to buy for the people in my life.”
The people in her life. He sat down and pulled her onto his knee. “Read it to me.”
“Grampa. I think he needs a new bag to carry to the gym. He said his is ratty.
“Gramma. I’m going to buy her a sun catcher for her window. She likes things that are pretty. She loved the sparkly star Gracie and I made for her Christmas tree.
“Spook. I’m going to get him a jingle bell, so he’ll be easier to find, even though he hasn’t been hiding as much lately.” Looking at her list again, she pointed to the word Gracie followed by a question mark. “I can’t decide what to get Gracie. I thought maybe you and I could just look until we find something wonderful.”
“We can do that,” Merett said softly. “Is that the end of your list?”
“I can’t shop for you when we’re together, so Grampa or Gracie will take me. And since my other grandma and grandpa don’t celebrate, I’ll just paint them an un-Christmas picture after Santa brings my new paint set. A letter came from them today. Want to see it?”
Without waiting for an answer, Kirsten ran to get the letter. When she finished reading it aloud, Merett shifted uncomfortably in his upholstered chair. They would be home from Hollywood in the spring, and wanted her to spend a few days with them. “I don’t really want to stay with them, but they said they’d take me to my mother’s grave, and I probably should go.”
He held her tightly. He and Kirsten hadn’t been to the cemetery since the funeral. “Do you want to go there?”
“No, but you went to see your mother when you didn’t want to.”
Merett blinked back tears as he kissed his daughter’s head. “Even if your mother didn’t get excited about Christmas, we could take her a wreath.”
“I don’t know if she can see it from heaven, but that’s a good idea. First, could we shop for Gracie?”
That request did a number on his mind. And then, Gracie called to say she didn’t want to see him tonight.
Willing the flip book of scenes to continue, Merett discovered he’d reached a dead end that found him back at the office facing reality. Gracie stewed about the Holiday Open House for weeks. She should be happy. Maybe the aftermath was a letdown, like post-partum blues after a baby is born. Maybe a Christmas light tour and dinner would cheer her. But not if he told her about Tom’s visit, and of course, she’d ask.
Merett squeezed his eyes shut against the scene of him telling Gracie he’d sold the Daily Reporter to a conglomerate, and he was moving to New York. It was a wonderful opportunity, but after the editorial he’d written, he’d look like a hypocrite.
When he was a kid, flip books made Merett laugh. Today’s happenings, running through his mind, made his head hurt. Gracie needed his strength the past few days the way he’d needed hers since they had run into one another again—a surprising turn of events, and a sobering one.
Chapter Thirteen
What would he do with a million dollars? Merett was unbuttoning his shirt when there was a knock on his bedroom door. “I know you’re tired, son, but I had to talk to you. You seemed preoccupied over dinner” His dad shifted from one foot to the other, and Merett motioned him to the armchair by the window. “Did Tom want you to come back to New York and work for him?” His father blurted out the question.
Merett sat down on the bed and folded his hand between his knees. “Something like that.”
His father’s mouth thinned, and he looked suddenly old. “If you want to talk, I’m here for you.”
In the last year, his father had more than made up for the years he’d left Merett’s concerns to Mama. “I know, Dad. Maybe tomorrow…I’m tired. And confused.”
His dad had no sooner left than Kirsten came to stand uncertainly inside Merett’s bedroom doorway. “What’s the matter, princess?”
“Squirt is okay if you’d rather call me t
hat.” She climbed into his lap. “I heard you and Grampa talking, and I wanted to talk, too.”
“What about?” He tipped her face toward his.
“That man, Tom. He’s from New York, and if he wants you to take a job there, I hope you told him no, because I’m not going. If you go, I’m staying here with Grampa.”
“You’d let me go alone?” Merett’s words were lighter than his heart.
“You could come home weekends, couldn’t you? I’m Student of the Week when we go back to school after Christmas. Did I tell you that? I get to bang erasers and help the teacher and lead the lunch line. I’ve waited all year for my turn. Everyone gets a turn, but it is so dumb…Ms. Margolis decided to go in backwards ABC order. She said we do everything else the other way around, and this was fairer to Susan Zachcarias.”
Kirsten took a breath and went on. “When I told Gracie, she said that was true. Singleton was close to the end of the alphabet, and she was always near the end of the line. She should never have married someone named Saylor, should she, Daddy? ‘Cause she’d still be at the end. If her name was Bradmoore, she could finally be up front, though.”
The little matchmaker was still at work. “Grownups don’t have much cause to go alphabetically, pumpkin.”
“Hey, that’s a new one.” Kirsten threw her arms around his neck, then pulled back to grin. “But it sounds like Thanksgiving. How about Star or Angel or—”
“Sleepyhead.” Laughing, Merett tapped her lightly on the head. “About bed…”
“I could sleep better if I knew what I was buying Gracie for Christmas. What are you getting her?”
“Can you keep a secret?” Merett told her about the tree topper he’d ordered made at the Pottery Barn.
“Oh, Daddy! She’ll love that. But you really should give it to her early, so she can put it on her tree.”
“Would Christmas Eve be soon enough?”
Merriest Christmas Ever Page 20
