“He’s at the dog sitter’s tonight. I didn’t want him underfoot with the movers and all.” She gestured around with her hand. “So, what do you think?”
Char looked around the great room. “It’s not quite as bad inside as I remembered, but it still gives me the willies.”
“Some lights, a few decorations, maybe put the Christmas tree in front of these big windows so people going by can see it, and the place will be beautiful,” said Tess.
“Beautiful? Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but . . .”
A rap, rap, rap on the door cut into their conversation.
When Tess opened the front door, a young man dressed in dark blue pants with a light blue shirt, pointed to his nametag and said, “I’m with the Whispering River Cable Company, here to hook up your TV and Internet.”
Tess glanced at a white van with blue writing on the side parked out in the driveway and said, “Oh, sure. Come on in.”
“I better get going,” said Char. “I told Charlie I’d have dinner ready by the time he got home from work.” She glanced at the boxes then back at her friend. “Why don’t you come over? That way you don’t have to go digging around in all of that mess for your pots and pans.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” said Tess. “I’m kind of anxious to start unpacking. But thanks for the offer.”
“Do you want me to come over tomorrow and help you put stuff away?”
“That’d be great,” said Tess.
“What time?”
“I’ve got to go into the office for a little bit in the morning, so how about around one.”
“Sounds good,” said Char. “See you then.” She started to walk out the front door, but stopped and looked at Tess. “You sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself tonight, especially without your dog to protect you?” She glanced around and gave a shiver. “It’s an awfully big place, drafty . . .”
“I’ll be fine,” said Tess with a nod. “See you tomorrow.”
Tess watched her friend hurry down the sidewalk to her light blue Toyota Land Cruiser parked in the street. Char was right. The place was in real need of a makeover, an overhaul, a complete renovation. But she could tell just by looking at the structural integrity that the place was worth saving and that the end result would be magical.
She turned to Cable Guy and said, “Does it matter how many TVs I have?”
“Nope, same price.”
“Good, because I have them all over the house. How about we start in my office?”
While the cable guy did his installations, Tess unpacked her computer and organized her office.
An hour and a half later, Tess closed the front door behind the repairman, locked it and rubbed her hands together as she walked into the living room.
“Now that that’s done, what do you say I build us a fire, warm our old bones up a bit?” She patted the wall. “Would you like that?” The house let out a settling moan. “Good!” I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
Tess loaded up the large fireplace with the dry kindling from the cubby next to it, checked the fluke to make sure it was open, then lit the wood with one of the long matches. Immediately, the fire ignited and blazed. As the wood crackled, the fire cast a warm cozy glow about the room making Tess sigh.
“If Char could see you now, she wouldn’t think you’re so scary.” A creak coming from somewhere above her, the attic maybe, caused her to look up and smile. “You’re right, she can be very skeptical. But you and me, we’re going to change her mind, aren’t we?” She took in a breath. “Now how about some tea?”
Tess rummaged through the boxes until she found the one labeled “mugs” and carried it to the kitchen. She flicked on the light switch, instantly illuminating a stain glass fixture the hung above a round table situated inside a breakfast nook with bay windows. The cheery rainbow of colors made her smile.
She set the box on the table, ripped the tape off and opened it. “There you are,” she said, pulling a red teakettle from the box along with a tin of Cinnamon Orange Spice tea. She unwrapped a few cups until she found her favorite Christmas mug—the one with a ceramic candy cane fashioned as the handle. She filled the kettle, setting it on the lit stove, and then hurried back into the living room until the shrill whistle told her that the water was boiling.
An hour later, and on her third cup of tea, Tess had all of the boxes organized and moved into the rooms where they belonged—the bedrooms, bathrooms, den, dining room, kitchen and her office. Those boxes that she knew she wouldn’t need right away, she put at the foot of the stairs leading up to the second floor so she could store them in the attic. “I’ll deal with you guys later,” she said, staring down at the boxes.
Back in the kitchen, she rummaged through the box labeled “Pantry” and pulled out a can of Campbell’s Chicken and Rice soup, dumping the contents into a small pan. As she waited for it to heat, she gazed around the kitchen at the wainscoting halfway up the wall, the chair railing, and the ornate crown-molding overhead. Images of a kitchen bustling with family and friends as they prepared many a Christmas feast fluttered through her mind, making her smile.
“I want that, too,” she said quietly.
A momentary feeling of sadness overshadowed her joy as the festive images faded, and in its place, thoughts of her late husband flashed into her mind. This would be the first Christmas without him. And with no children or grandchildren in the picture, the chances of having a house full for the holidays was not a very likely scenario.
“I miss you, Howard. I wish you were here,” she said quietly and started putting the canned goods away in the walk-in pantry.
After her simple dinner, Tess headed down the hallway toward the living room ready to tackle some of those boxes in there, but paused at the foot of the stairs. She stared at the stack of boxes that blocked them and let out a little sigh. “Might as well take you guys up there now.”
She took the first box up the stairs to the second floor and stood by the attic door, her hand positioned on the doorknob, but she hesitated. She hadn’t actually ever been up there before, not even after making an offer on the house.
The place is menacing, in an Amityville Horror kind of way . . .
Char’s words echoed in her mind.
“Oh pshaw,” said Tess with a shake of her head as if to fling the haunting words out of her mind. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”
She pulled opened the door and stared at the steep steps, ascending into total darkness.
Chapter Two
Tess’s hand blindly searched the wall for a light switch, and a moment later the stairwell illuminated, casting away all of the dark unknown. With box in hand, she carefully headed up the old wooden stairs, each step creaking with the shift of her weight.
At the top of the stairs, ducking slightly to keep from hitting her head on the low part of the pitched roof, she entered the attic. The dim light coming from the stairwell’s overhead fixture allowed her to easily find the attic light switch on the wall. She flicked it on, illuminating one lone bulb hanging down from the end of a cord attached to the rafters.
She hesitated before going in any farther and glanced around the dimly lit room. Furniture draped in ghostly sheets had been placed haphazardly around the small, confined space. An old metal and wood steamer trunk, a few lamps with ripped vintage lampshades, a three-legged chair, an old end table and a variety of miscellaneous junk filled in the spaces toward the back of the attic.
Stepping in further, she looked for a place to set down her box. As she turned, she bumped into a small desk, inadvertently sending something that must have been sitting on top of it, crashing to the floor.
The loud bang it made when it hit caused Tess to jump. She let out a scream, dropping her box.
“Dear Lord, what was that?” she cried out. She bent down to pick up her box and noticed a large old book lying on the floor next to it. “What do we have here?” She picked it up and looked at it. Though it was hard to make out any details in t
he dim light, she could tell by the ornate leather binding that it was very old. “I need to get a better look at you.”
Carefully, she cradled the treasure in her arms as she left the attic and descended the main stairs, maneuvering around the remaining boxes at the bottom. She went into her office where she could look at it in much better light.
As a lover of all things old, Tess felt that excitement growing inside of her, tickling her insides as though a bevy of butterflies had been let lose in her stomach. She had the same feeling the day she saw this old house for the first time, knowing that it was meant to be an integral part of her life. As she held the old book, turning it over in her hand and scrutinizing its markings, she couldn’t help but be intrigued.
She set the book down on her desk and turned on the banker’s lamp with the green glass shade.
“Let’s take a look, see what we have here,” she said as she pulled out the chair and sat down.
The book, covered in soft, brown leather, looked to be roughly the same size as a laptop and approximately two inches thick. A dark green Christmas tree has been embossed on the front of the book, and above it, etched in gold lettering, was the title: “A Christmas Miracle.”
In each corner of the cover, Tess noticed a gold filigree pattern and noted how similar in design it looked to the lace pattern on the outside of the house. Across the bottom of the book—also written in gold—were the words “Written by Anonymous.”
Tess ran her index finger over the title, feeling the slight raise of the embossed lettering. She turned the book over but there was nothing printed on the back, only the same gold filigree covering each corner.
She carefully opened up the book to the first page and touched the paper. It felt thick and textured, like heavy parchment paper, and had an aged yellowness to it. In spite of its age, the book looked like it was in extraordinarily good condition.
She turned to the next page. Beneath the title of the book and the anonymous author, a smaller Christmas tree had been printed in the lower middle of the page, and across the bottom of the page was the name of the publishing company.
“Hmm,” said Tess, “Heavenly Press, 1898.”
She set the book aside and grabbed her laptop from the corner of the desk, opened it and typed “Heavenly Press” in the Google search bar.
“Heavenly Productions, Heavenly ski area, heavenly song . . .” But she couldn’t find any printing company with that name.
She typed in “Old Book A Christmas Miracle.” Instantly, a list of present-day movies and books filled the page, but none of them looked like the one sitting on her desk. She closed the lid of her computer and stared at the book.
“Where did you come from?” She turned to the next page, which was made of a much heavier cardboard stock.
Centered in the page and printed in black ink was a poem:
Tis the season for holiday cheer.
A time to spend with those so dear.
A tree, some lights, where carolers sing.
And messages arrive on an angel’s wing.
So, believe in what you cannot see.
Trust that what will be will be.
Just turn the page and know ‘tis true,
A Christmas Miracle a-waits for you.
She turned the page and squealed as it popped up into a 3-D image of a Christmas tree with a bird sitting on one of the branches.
“Oh, my goodness! It’s one of the old-time pop-up books. I haven’t seen one of these in years!”
Underneath the cutout was another poem:
On the first day of Christmas,
A tree with painted bristles.
On its branches, a partridge dances.
It sings and chirps and whistles.
Tess stared at the green cardboard tree, the ink still looking as though it could have been printed yesterday.
She was about to turn the page when her cell phone began playing, Joy to the World. The sound seemed to be coming from another part of the house.
She closed the book and set it next to her computer, slid the chair back and hurried out of the office.
“Where did I put it?” She stopped mid-step, listening for the festive ring tone.
Ding, ding, da-ding . . .
She hurried into the kitchen and there on the table among the unpacked cups and glasses, she found her cell phone.
Ding, ding, da-ding.
Tess grabbed the phone and pushed the green button. “Hello,” she said, a little winded.
“Mrs. Langley?”
“Speaking,” she said.
“This is Morgan Walker from Whispering River Savings and Loan. I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday evening.”
“Oh, Mr. Walker, that’s not a problem. How are you?”
“Oh fine, fine . . . And you?”
“Doing good, Mr. Walker. What can I do for you?”
“How’s the house? Have you moved in yet?”
“Yes, I’m in. The movers unloaded my things this afternoon.” She looked around. “I’m just starting to put some of the boxes away.” She paused and frowned. “Why? Is there something wrong with the sale?”
“Oh, no, no,” he assured her. “Not at all. I just had some papers for you to sign regarding your home equity loan for the remodel. Plus, I needed a copy or your current tax returns to finalize it.”
She blew out a breath. “Oh good. I was afraid you were going to tell me the home loan didn’t go through.”
“No, no. It’s, as they say, a done deal.” He coughed away from the phone. “The house is yours.”
“Are you feeling all right, Mr. Walker?”
“Oh yes, just a bit of a cold coming on. Nothing serious.”
She heard him sniffle. “Maybe you should get yourself some Echinacea, nip that thing right in the bud. You don’t want to be sick on Christmas.”
“No, I surely don’t,” he said. “I’ll be sure to get some first thing in the morning.” And then he coughed again.
“So, those papers you want me to sign . . .”
“Oh yes, the papers.” He laughed. “I almost forgot about them. I can bring them over if you’d like.”
“You make house calls?”
“Only for my best customers like you.”
“But it’s out of the way for you.”
He let out a chuckle intermingled with a cough. “I don’t mind. I do it all the time.”
“You don’t need to do that, Mr. Walker. I have to go into the office in the morning, so I can stop by afterwards.”
“Why don’t I just drop by your office?” said Mr. Walker. “Say, eleven?”
“That would be fine,” she said. “I’ll see you then. Good night.”
“Night, Mrs. Langley. Oh, and don’t forget your tax returns.”
“I won’t.”
She pressed the end button and stuffed the phone in her front pants pocket as she walked into the living room to stoke the fire.
She had planned on going back into her office to study the old book a little more, but as she stood in front of the fireplace, soaking up the warmth from it, she yawned widely, and it suddenly dawned on her that she was exhausted.
“I’ll look at it tomorrow, maybe check the attic to see if there are other treasures up there,” she said and then found a wool throw conveniently located at the top of an already opened box. She grabbed it, walked over to the couch and fell back on it. Wrapping herself in the blanket, she closed her eyes, allowing her mind to drift away with thoughts of her new home and the mysterious Christmas book sitting in her office.
Chapter Three
The next morning Tess awoke to someone knocking on the front door.
“Coming!” she yelled as she threw the blanket off of her and stood up. She sucked in her breath and shivered. “Dear Lord, it’s cold in here.” The fire had died down during the night, leaving nothing but a few glowing embers.
Rap! Rap! Rap!
“I’m coming! Just hold your horses.” She shuffled over to the d
oor and smiled when she looked through the peephole and saw a young woman with blonde hair standing there all bundled up in her red wool coat. She opened the door and immediately was nearly bowled over by a gangly, tan pup with long, skinny legs that looked like a mix between a Great Dane and a Golden Retriever.
“Goober! No!” yelled the young woman as the dog pulled the red leash out of her gloved hand and jumped on Tess.
“Hey Goobs, how are ya, boy? Did you miss me?” Tess ruffled the dog’s head causing him to wag his tail and let out a sharp bark. “I missed you, too.” She squatted down and grabbed hold of the dog’s collar, trying to calm him down a bit. But he leaned into her causing her to lose her balance and fall back on her butt.
Tess started to laugh which made the dog bark more.
“I’m so sorry, Tess,” said the young woman scrambling to regain control of the hyper dog. She picked up the end of the leash and pulled on it, forcing Goober to back up a bit, which in turn, allowed Tess to get back on her feet.
“It’s not your fault, Hannah. He’s still a puppy.” Tess bent down, unclipped the leash and backed away as the dog ran from the foyer into the living room and then down the hall, presumably to go explore his new surroundings.
“Sometimes I forget,” said Hannah, closing the door behind her. “He’s eighty pounds of pure puppy love.”
“Would you like some tea?” said Tess.
“Sure,” said Hannah as she unbuttoned her coat and took off her gloves, shoving them in her pockets.
Tess walked into the kitchen with Hannah following closely behind her. “How was he? Did he give you any trouble?” she asked over her shoulder as she picked up the kettle from off of the stove and took it to the sink to fill with water.
“Goober was great, really. No problem at all.”
Candy Canes & Corpses Page 54
