She gave him a reminiscent grin. “Every year, on Thanksgiving Day, the town has a festival to celebrate the day as a community. There’s a group meal that all the ladies of the town contribute to, lots of games and competitions and there’s even a dance. It’s lots of fun.”
“Miss Bruder says the children’s choir will be doing some singing.”
Abigail nodded. “That’s right—they usually do a program of some sort that morning. Will you be participating?”
“I suppose so.”
She nodded decisively. “Then I intend to stand in the front row so I can have a good view.”
“Speaking of holidays,” Seth said, “have you figured out how you’re going to decorate the hotel for Christmas yet?”
Abigail shook her head and turned to Jamie. “Perhaps you can help.” She cut her gaze Seth’s way with a sly grin. “Your uncle tried but he wasn’t very good at it.”
Seth rolled his eyes but otherwise didn’t contradict her.
“What do you need help with?”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing difficult. In fact it’s going to be fun. I’m in charge of decorating the outside of the hotel for Christmas.”
The boy wrinkled his nose. “Christmas is a long time away.”
She nodded. “It is. But we’re not going to actually start decorating for a while yet. I just need to start planning for it. Which means I need to come up with a theme.”
Jamie swallowed the bite he’d been chewing. “What’s a theme?”
“It’s an idea you use to build your plan around. For instance we could say the theme is the three wise men, or the Christmas star or Christmas trees. And then we would know what kind of decorations we want to use.”
“Oh.” He seemed to give it some thought. “Those all sound like good themes. I especially like the Christmas-star one.”
“Yes. But I’d rather come up with something that gets me excited, something no one else is going to think of.” She speared a carrot with her fork. “There’s going to be a prize for the business that does the best job of decorating.”
The boy sat up straighter. “What kind of prize?”
“A plaque that we can hang in the lobby saying we had the best decorations. And even better than that, a beautiful, very special silver star to hang on our tree.” She pointed her fork, carrot and all, at him. “It’s on display at the town hall. If you like I can take you by to show you.”
Jamie nodded enthusiastically. Then he cocked his head to one side. “So, do you know what your theme is going to be yet?”
“Not yet. If you think of any good ones, let me know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Seeing an opening for more getting-to-know-each-other conversation, Abigail lowered her fork. “So tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Christmas?”
“I used to think it was the presents. But that was when I was just a kid and didn’t know better.”
Abigail hid a smile at Jamie’s attempt at maturity. “And now that you’re older?”
“Now I know that spending it together with my family is the best thing.” He looked down at his plate and dragged his fork through his vegetables. “When my parents were still alive, on Christmas Eve night we’d sit in front of the fireplace and I’d climb up in Momma’s lap while Poppa would get the Bible and read the Christmas story. Then we’d sing some Christmas carols while drinking hot cocoa with peppermint sticks for stirrers.”
His fork stilled. “Christmas morning we would get up and go to Christmas service together. Afterward we’d come home and open presents, then sit down to a feast Momma had prepared for us.”
Abigail lightly touched his wrist. “Those sound like perfectly lovely memories.”
Jamie nodded, his eyes moist with unshed tears.
* * *
Seth listened to Jamie’s story and realized it was a memory his sister had been a part of. Whatever had turned her away from him, at least she’d been able to give her son a loving home.
Not for the first time he wondered what had hardened her heart against him when they’d once been so close. Was it due to his infirmity? Was it because she’d risen above him socially and didn’t want any reminders of her origins? Neither of those sounded like the sweet little sister he remembered, but something had obviously changed her.
“What about you—do you have some favorite childhood memories of Christmas?”
It took a moment for Seth to realize Abigail’s question had been directed at him. He lifted his glass to take a drink, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts.
Thinking back to the time when his family was still untouched by tragedy was a bittersweet thing.
“My mother loved Christmas. She did her best to make it as festive as possible for me and my sister. She would bake the most delicious pies. Cherry with walnuts was my father’s favorite so she always made sure she had one of those, no matter what else she baked.”
“I like those, too,” Jamie said softly, “especially the way Momma made them.”
So, despite her privileged upbringing, Sally had learned to bake.
“What else?” Abigail asked.
“The house would be decorated with lots of evergreen and ribbon and paper ornaments, most of which we made ourselves. I remember there was one special ornament we always placed at the top of our tree—it was an angel with a china face and real feathers on the wings. Mother said it had belonged to her mother, and she always treated it like it was made of gold.” That ornament had been destroyed in the fire along with all the other trappings of his childhood.
Shaking off that thought, he continued. “And then on Christmas Eve, before they tucked us in, Father would read the Christmas story from the Bible with me and Sally seated on either side of him.”
Jamie was watching him with wide eyes. “That was my mother. She used to tell me those same stories about how Christmas was when she was a little girl.”
Seth cleared his throat. “More recently, if I’m in town, I spend the day with Judge Madison. He has a Christmas gathering in his home for friends. If I’m out of town, however, working on a project, like I will be this year, I usually have a quiet day, with perhaps a fine meal, at whatever hotel I’m staying at.”
“That sounds lonely.”
He wasn’t looking for pity. “Not at all. It’s a nice quiet time to reflect on accomplishments from the year that’s winding down and to set goals for the coming year.”
“And to reflect on the message and true meaning of the season, of course.”
“Of course.”
She gave him an it’s-going-to-be-all-right smile. “And now that you have Jamie in your life, you two can start building a whole new set of lovely memories.”
Seth wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but Jamie spoke up. “Last year, Uncle Seth picked me up at school early in the morning and we went to church service together. Then we went to lunch at a nice restaurant and he gave me a new winter coat as a Christmas present. After that we went for a walk in the snow and then he brought me back to school.”
This time Jamie’s recitation of the day was devoid of emotion. Had the day really been so dull?
Perhaps this year he’d put more effort into seeing things from Jamie’s point of view.
Ready to turn the spotlight away from himself, he faced Abigail. “Your turn—how do you normally spend Christmas?”
She didn’t hesitate even a heartbeat. “The best thing about those Christmases I was at boarding school was that Everett came to spend time with me. We would try to cram as much as we could into those visits to make up for the months of being apart.”
He could see how much that had meant to her.
“He used to take me to the theater and museums and on long walks in the park, weather permitting,” she continued. �
�We weren’t allowed to have Christmas trees in the dormitories, but Everett always bought me a small potted plant that we decorated together, just like it was a tree. And on Christmas day itself we would go to service, then exchange gifts and afterward we would play word games.”
“And now?”
“Now I get to spend the day with Daisy and Everett and their children. We still do a lot of the same things, only now we have a real tree to decorate, and a home-cooked meal to feast on. It’s all very warm and merry.”
She sat up straighter, her face taking on a glow of excitement. “You know, I think I may have my theme after all.”
“What is it?” Jamie asked eagerly.
“Making memories.”
Seth felt as confused as Jamie looked. “How would you turn that into any kind of decoration?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Apparently that little detail didn’t have her the least bit concerned.
“It’ll take some thought for sure,” she said airily, “but the more I think about it, the better I like it. I said I was looking for an idea that got me excited and this one definitely does that.”
“Can I help?” Jamie asked.
She grinned at him. “I’m counting on it.”
Seth had no doubt whatsoever that she’d make it work and that it would be spectacular. The intriguing Miss Fulton would settle for nothing less.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Abigail and Jamie merrily burst into the office. “We’ve figured it out,” Jamie announced.
“Have you now?”
“We have indeed,” Abigail proclaimed. “I knew between us, Jamie and I would come up with something fabulous.”
“Out with it, then. What is this amazing, fabulous idea?”
“Stars.”
“Stars? I thought your theme was to be making memories.”
“It is. But the stars are going to be how we display them.”
“We’re going to have a paper nativity scene in the front window,” Jamie explained. “And hanging over it will be a sky full of stars, and on each one, someone will have written their best Christmas memory.”
Seth nodded, mentally visualizing what they were describing. “It will definitely be unique. But how will you get people to participate?”
“Oh, that part will be easy. I’ll start with the children. Miss Bruder and Mr. Parker can pass stars out to their classes for me. I’ll also ask people I know. That’ll give me lots to start with.” She shrugged. “After that I’ll spread the word that anyone who wants to participate can.”
“This is going to be the best Christmas decoration ever,” Jamie said happily.
“That’ll be for the contest judges to decide,” Abigail cautioned. “But it will certainly be the most fun to put together.”
Apparently as far as Abigail was concerned, that was a reward in and of itself.
* * *
Now that she’d decided on a theme, Abigail threw herself into preparations for the Christmas decorations with a vengeance. Anytime she wasn’t busy working with one of the craftsmen on the furnishing for the hotel, she was planning her decorations.
Once Walter Hendricks was back to work and Simon Tucker was no longer needed, Abigail hired him to build her the large nativity scene she needed for the front window. Once he had the pieces cut to her satisfaction, she recruited Jamie and Seth to help her paint them.
“You’re the expert painter,” she told Seth when he seemed poised to decline. “And don’t deny it. I’ve seen your work on that sign you painted for my library.”
Once he agreed, they had a fun afternoon, though unfortunately they got as much paint on themselves and the ground as they did on the pieces.
With that done, Abigail ordered a special heavy paper to make the stars from. She cut them in various sizes and didn’t worry about making them perfect. “If you look up at the night sky,” she told Jamie, “you won’t see one star displaying five symmetrically shaped beams. If you ask me, these stars are much truer to what they should look like.”
Freed from the constraints of perfectionism, Jamie enthusiastically lent a hand.
“What are you going to do with those?” he asked as she opened packages that contained sequins, glitter and ribbon.
“These are for when the stars come back to us. We’re going to make sure they sparkle and shine before we hang them up.”
* * *
Seth was both astonished and pleased by the change in Jamie. The boy was rarely without a smile these days, and he seemed full of energy and spirit.
Seth could hardly imagine his life without Jamie in it now. It was so heartwarming to see the youngster experience new things, learn new lessons. He still read to him every night—it had become one of his favorite parts of the day. They’d finished The Swiss Family Robinson and had moved on to Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Jamie was now considering pursuing a seafaring life, though Seth suspected that would change with the next thing that caught his interest.
Seth never lost sight of the fact that he had Abigail to thank for this—Abigail, who had pushed and prodded him to learn more about his nephew, to spend more time in the boy’s company. Abigail, who was such a generous soul, who always saw the best in people.
Abigail, whose heart he was destined to break.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Monday before Thanksgiving, Seth was talking to Darby about a few preparations they’d need to make before the elevator engineer arrived the next week, when Everett Fulton walked into the lobby.
Abigail’s brother shook his hand in greeting, then glanced around. “Is Abigail here? I thought I’d let her show off her new library to me like she’s been wanting to do.”
Darby spoke up before Seth could. “She went down to the dress shop a little while ago. Said she needed to check something on the new drapes she ordered.”
“She probably won’t be long,” Seth added. “Can I interest you in a cup of coffee while you wait?”
“Of course.”
Seth led the way into the dining room, stopping long enough to stick his head in the kitchen doorway and ask Della to bring them some coffee.
Once they were seated, Everett leaned back and gave Seth a polite smile. “Abigail seems to really enjoy the work she’s doing here. I want to thank you for giving her this opportunity.”
Seth shrugged. “It’s Judge Madison you should thank. He’s the one who gave her this opportunity, not me.”
Everett nodded. “That’s just one more thing our family owes that man. For someone who barely knows us, he’s been an amazing benefactor.”
Della bustled up, deposited their coffee in front of them, then returned to the kitchen.
Determined to say his piece, Seth met Everett’s gaze head-on. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I know who you are. Or rather, I know what you did back in Philadelphia that made you want to leave.”
Everett leaned back heavily. “I see.”
“I remember that story you wrote, the tragedy that followed it and the accusations that the story was unfounded.”
“It’s all true.” There was deep regret in his tone and demeanor.
Then Abigail’s brother took a deep breath. “I turned in that story without digging as deeply into the facts as I should have. No excuses—because of me, a good man and his family suffered. And even though his death, and that of his daughter, were ruled accidents, I know my story contributed to it in a real way. They were on that boat that capsized because they were trying to escape the scandal I created with my story. It’s a burden of guilt I’ve carried with me ever since.”
“Your sister doesn’t know, does she?”
Everett shook his head, then
his lips formed a twisted smile. “I told Daisy the whole story before I married her—I wanted her to know what she was getting herself into before she committed.” He grimaced. “But Abigail has no choice, she’s family. And I just couldn’t bring myself to tell my little sister.”
Seth could sympathize with that. But he remembered Abigail’s story of how she’d been ambushed by gossip once before. “Do you ever plan to?”
Everett stared into his coffee. “I know I should, but the right moment just never seems to come up.”
“Don’t you think it would be better if she hears it from you than from someone else?” He held up a hand. “And no, I don’t plan to tell her, it’s not my place. But someday it could happen. How do you think that would make her feel?”
“You’re right, of course.” He tilted his head to one side. “You really care about my sister, don’t you?”
Seth shifted slightly in his seat, uncomfortable with being on the other side of the interrogation. “She’s my friend,” he said.
Before Everett could respond, Abigail bustled into the dining room. “Everett, Darby told me you were here. I hope you haven’t been waiting on me very long.”
Both men stood and Everett stepped forward to take her hands. “Not at all. Seth and I have just been getting better acquainted over a cup of coffee.”
He turned back to Seth. “Thank you for keeping me company. Now if you’ll excuse us, I need to see my little sister’s new library.”
Abigail gave his hand a tap and rolled her eyes. “Listen to him. To hear my brother talk, you’d think I was still an adolescent instead of a grown woman.”
Seth smiled at the teasing, disguised as chiding, she aimed at her brother. But as soon as they turned to walk away, he sobered.
Had he done the right thing, interfering that way? What Abigail’s brother chose to tell or not tell her was none of his business.
Where was the businesslike dispassion he prided himself on? In a matter of weeks he’d be leaving this place, leaving Texas, and he would likely never see any of these people again.
But somehow that thought didn’t make him feel one iota better.
Once Upon a Texas Christmas Page 18
