Christmas at Grey Sage

by Phyllis Clark Nichols

  “I grew up on the banks of the Huron River in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I was an only child, and quite frankly, I was born to parents who were too old and too set in their ways to have children. They were both professors at the university, so their idea of playing was a Saturday afternoon at the museum or some performance on the university campus.” Laura rolled and pulverized the wafers like she was pounding away the crumbs of her childhood memories, trying to change them into something finer.

  “But you said you grew up on the banks of the river? That must have been a great place to explore.” Lita looked at the wafer crumbs and approved and pointed to the bowl.

  Laura stopped the pummeling. “Oh, it would have been I suppose, but I wasn’t allowed to do that. Too dangerous, my parents said, or I might have gotten too dirty. So I was only allowed to play in the garden—a very manicured garden thanks to my father and a hired gardener.”

  “Oh, what a shame! If you weren’t allowed to explore outside, what on earth did you do with your time?”

  “I read and practiced the piano. My mother insisted on violin lessons, but that never seemed to work. My grandmother taught me how to tat and embroider.”

  Lita wiped her eyes on sleeve, sniffed, and looked at Laura. “Not to worry, your story’s not making me cry. It’s the onions I just finished chopping. Although, your story is a sad one—tatting when you could have been tadpole hunting.”

  “I really shouldn’t have complained to you, but—” She shrugged. “—you’re so easy to talk to. My parents took good care of me and gave me a fine education so that I could support myself. But I fear they were fastidious and passed along those habits to me, and life-ingrained habits are difficult to break.”

  Lita laughed out loud. “I don’t know what fastidious means, but it doesn’t sound like much fun.” She handed Laura a bag of shredded coconut and a box of raisins. “Another shortcut secret. My mother would have been cracking fresh coconuts and shredding it herself. This way is easier. Stir the coconut and the raisins in with the nuts and cookie crumbs.”

  Laura followed Lita’s instructions, stirring gently and with a bit of hesitation.

  Lita smiled. “Go ahead. Mix it up good. You’re not going to injure it.”

  Laura tried, but just couldn’t bring herself to stir all that vigorously.

  “Now before the last step, you need to prepare this springform pan. Don’t worry; there are no springs. The pan is made so we can unlock this clasp and remove the sides of the pan.” Lita showed Laura the pan and handed her a stick of butter. “Grease the pan first.”

  Laura took the butter but didn’t move. “Ah, do you have a secret easy way to do this?”

  “Yes. Peel the paper off and rub the stick of butter all around the bottom and sides of the pan.” She watched as Laura buttered the pan with the same careful hesitance as her stirring.

  “Now comes the fun part.” Lita opened a can of condensed milk and poured it over the contents of the bowl. “Now go to the sink and wash your hands with that soap in the bottle.”

  Laura did as she was told and returned. “What is that? That creamy stuff?” She was a head taller than Lita, she realized, as she stood and peered over her shoulder.

  “Oh, sister, if you don’t know what this is, then you’ve missed out on something you need to know about. It’s sweetened condensed milk, extra thick and extra sweet. My ancestors would have used thick goat’s milk with molasses, but we’re fresh out of goats.”

  Laura backed away. “I guess I can be grateful for that.”

  “Here comes the fun part I told you about. Now put your hands in there and squish all that between your fingers and stir it and knead it until it’s all mixed together. Might want to take your rings off.”

  Laura raised her eyebrows, then slowly pushed up her sweater sleeves and removed her rings. “My hands? In there? What about using the spoon?”

  “Your hands are your very best kitchen tools. Get to work.” Lita backed away to watch.

  Laura started slowly until her hands disappeared into mush. “How strange this feels!” She pulled her hands out of the mixture and stared at them. Then she went back to work and slowly began to mix vigorously. Unable to help herself, she laughed out loud—not that apologetic chuckle from before, but a real, honest-to-God laugh. She held up her hands. “Look, Lita, my hands are dirty. And in case you’re wondering, I’m not being at all fastidious, and my knickers are almost untwisted.”

  Lita joined her in her laughter. “When you get through playing there, dump that stuff into that springform pan and press it down real good. Then pat it softly like you would a baby’s bottom. After that, it’s ready for the fridge.”

  “That’s all? You mean I’ve made a Cold Christmas Cake?”

  “That’s all unless you want to do it the way my ancestors did it. My grandmother told me her mother would wrap the cake in layers of leaves and bind it with vine. Then she’d take it down to the creek, where the water ran cold, and leave it there for the icy water to pour over it for a couple of days. On Christmas morning, they’d fetch the cake—if the bears hadn’t already found it.”

  “Guess it kept the goat’s milk from spoiling. But it just sounds like an adventure to me.” For the first time in a long while, Laura felt a genuine smile come across her face.

  Reba knelt on the floor next to a large green bin. She took the lid off a box, gently removed the tissue paper, and lifted the figure from the box. “Iris, look at the exquisite detail of this wise man.”

  Iris touched the robe. “That’s a work of art. Feel the fabric and look at his face.”

  Maude had walked through the gathering room just in time to hear their conversation. “You’re right, Reba, it is a work of art. And every box in that green bin holds another piece.”

  Iris took the figure from Reba. “More pieces like this?”

  “The Holy Family, two more wise men, an angel, and two shepherds. I used to display these on the mantle, cradled in cedar branches. Sometimes I left them up for several weeks after Christmas just so I could enjoy their beauty.”

  Reba read the box lid. “Ferrigno?”

  Maude knelt next to Reba and removed another box. “Yes, Silas and I bought these in Naples, Italy. And I was so fortunate to meet the artist who made them. Comes from over a hundred years of Ferrigno artists. We paid far more than we should have, but it was art, and very beautiful art.” Maude got up. “Enjoy, ladies. Look closely. Just put the boxes back in the bin when you have all the pieces out.”

  Iris opened another box. “Oh, it’s Mary, Mother of God. Look at her porcelain face and her eyes, sort of half closed and looking down.”

  Reba was engaged in putting the wise man’s headpiece on and placing the gold box in his hands, extended and ready to offer his gift. Iris leaned over toward Reba to get her attention. “Look Reba, Mary looks just like Emily—that perfectly shaped face and those beautiful and gentle eyes.”

  Reba stopped to look. She put down the wise man and took the figure from Iris. “You’re right. She does look like Emily, my beautiful daughter with a beautiful soul like Mary.”

  “And I think my beautiful son has taken quite a fancy to your beautiful daughter.” Iris stood and began placing the unboxed figures on the table behind the sofa, giving them room to repack the empty boxes. “And I hope it’s okay with you that I’m quite happy about that, Reba.”

  “I’ve observed the same, and I’m quite pleased myself. Even more, I think Emily’s father would be pleased as well.” She put the last empty box in the green bin. “What do you say we arrange these on the mantle for Maude? We can put the greenery around later.”

  “Oh, let’s do. I think Maude would like that.” She paused. “I don’t mean to pry, but Kent has had so much disappointment in the past few months. He lost so many of his friends in Iraq, and then he’s worked so hard to come back from his own injuries . . . I guess I am prying, but only to protect my son. Does Emily have someone in her life back home?”

>   “Yes, twenty-three of them in fact.” She waited to see Iris’s face. “Of course, they’re all in kindergarten. They are the loves of her life right now.” They both laughed.

  Iris’ expression showed her relief. “That makes her even more wonderful.”

  “Emily is capable of so many things, and I’ll admit, I had to struggle to keep my mouth shut when she told us of her college and career plans. I fear I could have damaged our relationship had my husband not intervened. He encouraged me to keep quiet about my expectations, and he encouraged Emily to do what would make her happy and what she was passionate about.”

  “Sounds like a wise man and a loving father.” Iris placed the last figure, the Christ Child, on the mantle and backed away to look.

  “He truly was. I was always so driven, and I’m sorry to say I could be a real driver in someone else’s life. I’ve had to fight that tendency as a therapist.” She joined Iris to look at the nativity. “Why, I do believe that’s the most elegant nativity set I’ve ever seen.”

  “I agree. It’s so delicate and detailed.” Iris smoothed the vintage fabric of Mary’s shawl. “And such polished beauty. It’s an interesting contrast to this one, don’t you think? I’m certain Greg could say a lot about these two.” Iris pointed to the olive-wood nativity set they had arranged on the hearth at Maude’s suggestion. “This is one of a kind as well, hand carved out of roughness until it’s smooth. Sort of rustic and earthy, don’t you think? But beautiful in a different way.”

  “Certainly, and I do like your insight.”

  “Thank you, Reba. Although, I’m not certain if I’m comparing the nativity scenes or if I’m comparing our children.”

  Reba waited before responding. “As I said, you have great insight, Iris.”

  “Thank you, and what a kind thing to say, although I think that is more descriptive of my husband. But I do have my thoughts from time to time . . . like how these two works of art truly depict the real gift that Christmas is—our great God himself cradled in a crib, the world-maker as a vulnerable baby, with stars in his eyes and hay underneath him. That earthiness all around him—and at the same time, that indescribable thing that transcends.”

  Reba faced Iris and hugged her. “With a mother like you, I know Kent has a beautiful heart. You know that children get their concept of God from how they relate to their fathers, and they get their concept of how to relate to others from their mothers. I have no doubt that Kent relates in a healthy and beautiful way to Emily. And I know my Emily—she would choose no less.”

  They stood together and admired their work.

  “All is well, Reba. All is well.”

  They had just finished with the last pine boughs on the mantle when the guys returned with cups of coffee and a need to sit in front of the fire. Reba reminded them there were stacks of bins in the hallway waiting to be moved.

  Kent rose first. “Yes, ma’am. Consider it done.”

  Reba winked at Iris. “I like that young son of yours, Iris,” she whispered. “And I see why my daughter does too.”

  By noon, a stately, well-dressed pine stood in the corner of the great room next to the fireplace. The mantle was draped in pine and cedar branches and secured with red velvet bows that had started out dustier than the barn floor. Iris and Reba had unboxed a half dozen manger scenes from Maude’s collection and found just the right places for them. They saw to it that a pine bough and three red candles perched on every windowsill in the gathering room and in the dining room.

  Grey Sage looked like Christmas, and the smell of coffee and chili and hot cornbread and a crackling fire floated through the halls.

  Maude watched fondly as the Unlikely Christmas Party gathered around the dining table once again. Laura, in her spattered apron, helped Lita serve piping hot bowls of chili with the cornbread baked on top of each bowl. She proudly served her salad plates with croutons she’d made herself from Lita’s leftover homemade bread.

  Laura took her seat only after everyone was served and she and Lita could sit down together. Once there, she looked around the room and offered her first unsolicited comment in four days. “Oh, this is truly Christmas. Look how lovely, Ted. I’ve been so busy in the kitchen this morning I’ve not had time to see all that you ladies have done. It’s . . . it’s spectacular!”

  Lita announced to the group, “The salad is all Laura’s creation. I opened the vegetable bin and told her to have at it, and she did. And that was after she made a special surprise that won’t be revealed until Christmas dinner Sunday evening.”

  The group clapped and voiced their compliments. Ted looked surprised but said nothing.

  “Thank you. It was really nothing.” Laura paused. “And we’re making cookies this afternoon.”

  Henry spoke up next. “Isn’t it amazing what can get done when we all have jobs and we do them? Lita, you and Laura have provided us with the best lunch I’ve had all day.”

  Everyone chuckled.

  Henry continued. “And, you ladies outdid yourselves making Grey Sage look like a magazine spread in the Christmas edition. And all Ted and I had to do was to keep the fire going and stay out of your way.”

  Beatrice turned to Henry. “Yes, and that staying out of our way must have been the hardest part for you. It would appear you have extra-special skills staying underfoot, Carl. But this place is as it should be now. And I have gifts to put under the tree. Thank you, gentlemen, for finding not one, but two perfect Christmas trees.”

  Greg added, “Yes, and we risked our lives doing it. We braved the fierce winds, and snow blowing in our faces, a chainsaw, and wolves, and then we had to drag the whole trees back to the house for miles uphill.”

  Kent’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline. “Dad, let’s leave the exaggeration for your pulpit and the classroom. I don’t think we were in any danger and I think the mile uphill . . . well . . .”

  “Okay, but we did see the wolf tracks, son.”

  The colonel leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “So the howling was for real, Alo.”

  “Yes, sir. Like I thought, more than one. Saw their tracks in the packed snow down by the creek. But nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  Maude glanced at Silas and then back at the group. “What do you say we all take a little siesta and maybe assemble in the gathering room around two thirty when we’re rested? We have some plans for the afternoon if you’re interested. If not, Mi casa, su casa, and just make yourself at home to relax and or read or go out to the studio and get creative.”

  Laura spoke up quickly. “Oh, don’t count on Lita and me. We’ll be making cookies.”

  Maude smiled. I knew Laura would get that bag of joy dumped on her when she put on Lita’s apron.

  Lita washed her hands at the kitchen sink. “Look, Maude, it’s Christmas. An unexpected one. If these folks were home, my guess is they wouldn’t change their bed linens every day. They’ll be here three nights. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, and the girls we hired to help earlier won’t be available. So, the best we can do is keep them fed and provide them with fresh towels.”

  Maude sat on the bar stool at the counter and tapped her pencil on her pad. “You’re right. I’m checking that off my worry list. And you’re sure we have enough food?”

  “Yes, and to make absolutely certain, we have more food coming in any moment.”

  “But you’re here, and Alo just passed through the kitchen. So who’s making the delivery?”

  Lita reached for her recipe book and opened it. “Beth and Jedediah are in town getting their supplies. She had seen the inn lights were still on this morning and called to check on us. I gave her a list when she offered to bring any supplies we needed.”

  “Great to have good neighbors.”

  Laura entered the kitchen and Maude looked at the kitchen clock. “Did you rest at all, Laura?”

  “Yes, thank you. I know Lita has so much to do, and I thought she might need my help this afternoon.”

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nbsp; Lita knew Maude couldn’t miss the grin on her face. “Well,” said Maude. “I’ve learned over the years, if you hang out with Lita in the kitchen, you’ll be up to your elbows in something, but that something is always good.”

  Lita slid the cookbook across the island for Laura to see. “Well, we’ve eaten our supply of Feast Day cookies, so it would be so helpful if you’d make us a fresh batch. If we double the recipe, then we’ll have enough to last through Christmas. Only this time, we’ll add a couple of ingredients not listed here. Grab yourself a clean apron from that drawer.” Lita pointed to the drawer by the sink.

  In a matter of minutes, Laura had her apron on and followed Lita from the pantry with an armload of flour, sugar, shortening, anise seeds, pine nuts, and other spices. Lita was getting out the mixer when the backdoor bell rang.

  Maude got up from her stool at the counter. “I’ll get it. Must be Beth and Jedediah.”

  Laura looked over the recipe. “More guests?”

  “No, Beth and Jedediah live across the creek. They’re actually our nearest neighbors, and they offered to bring in some grocery items from town.”

  “Will they be here to share Christmas dinner with us?”

  Lita rolled off two sheets of wax paper and put them on the counter. “Oh, no, they both have parents and other family within driving distance, so they’ll be getting together with them if they can get there. But they’re always welcome at our table with that cute little fellow of theirs.”

  “You say they’re your nearest neighbors? How far is that?”

  Lita took Laura to the kitchen window. “By car, about two and a half miles up and down and around some sharp curves. As the crow flies, a little less than a half mile down that steep hill, back up and across the creek.” She pointed to the west. “Grey Sage property extends to the other side of the creek, and Alo built a foot bridge at a narrow crossing. That way we don’t have to get our feet wet to visit our neighbors. And our guests like to hike down there next to the creek.

  “Okay. Time to get to work.” Lita returned to the mixer and all the cookie ingredients. She instructed Laura on how to measure the dry ingredients and cream the butter and sugar. “The last step, not on the recipe, is the candied fruit we’ll add just to make the cookies more festive and add another layer of sweetness.” She chuckled. “That’s just what Christmas does—adds on another layer of sweetness to everything and everyone.”