Christmas in East Kansas (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza)

by Regina Smeltzer

  “And the first gift goes to”—Thomas turned the package to read the tag—“Miss Olivia Miller!” He rooted around the packages. “As does the second and the third."

  Olivia laughed. “Come on, Thomas. You know that side of the tree is where I put the gifts the people in town brought by. We can open them later. Move to the other side of the tree.”

  Thomas wagged his eyebrows. “And what might I find on the other side of the tree?”

  “Give me the one in front!” Donna said. “The one with the yellow bow.”

  “You peeked!” Olivia exclaimed.

  “Who puts yellow bows on Christmas presents?” Donna asked.

  ‘’It’s your favorite color.”

  Thomas handed Donna the gift.

  She carefully removed the bow before yanking the paper off in shreds. When she lifted the lid, her eyes welled with tears. She ran to Olivia, hugging her so tight Olivia thought her ribs might crack.

  “I can’t take this,” Donna said, stepping back and showing a tear-stained face.

  “Of course you can. You’ve always loved it.”

  Donna went back to the couch and gently pulled a glass tea pot from the box. “The whole set is in here,” she murmured. “The creamer, and sugar bowl, and cups.” She wiped her eyes. “Olivia, I can’t take this.”

  “You already said that, and yes you can. It is my gift to you.”

  “It’s a tea pot,” Mr. Goodman said. “It’s not a gold mine.”

  Donna smiled. “It’s the next best thing. Olivia and I have tea from this pot every time I visit. It’s been in her family forever.”

  Olivia pulled a tissue from her jeans pocket and wiped her eyes. “And now it will be in your family forever, and we will still drink tea from it together, only at your house.”

  Thomas continued to pass out the gifts.

  Olivia fidgeted as she waited for whatever Mitch had brought. Had he said he put it under the tree? She couldn’t remember.

  Mr. Goodman’s surprised expression as Thomas handed him three packages, one from each of them, was well worth the last minute shopping they’d done. It wasn’t long before he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

  Mitch’s eyebrows rose as Thomas handed him a box. Mitch glanced at the tag and then eyed Donna with a raised eyebrow. He unwrapped the box and held up a sweater, the duplicate of hers.

  “Go change,” she said, bouncing on the couch. “Try it on.”

  “You just want me to look as silly as you do.”

  He left the room and returned sporting a blue sweater with white snowflakes on the front. She smiled. “There is more than one way to bring snow to East Kansas.”

  “Thomas, grab those boxes over there.” Mitch pointed to two identical packages almost hidden behind the town’s gifts.

  Thomas read the tags and handed one brightly wrapped gift to each woman.

  Confused, Olivia ventured a glance at Donna, only to find her friend sneaking a sideways look her way. Olivia knew Donna recognized the silver paper used by Duncan Jewelers on Main Street. Their boxes were identical except for the bows, one white and one red.

  “Before you open them,” Mitch said, remaining by the fireplace, “I just want to admit that I might be a bit of a tyrant now and then, but it’s only because I care.” He paused. “And Donna, I didn’t know yellow was your favorite color. Go ahead, open your presents.”

  Olivia moved to sit on the couch beside Donna. Together they eased the tape off the glossy paper. In synchrony they lifted the lids off the boxes.

  In each box, nestled among the cotton batting, lay a silver bracelet with one charm.

  “Look closer,” Mitch said.

  Olivia picked up her silver bracelet and Donna did the same.

  “Each of you has half of my heart. My cell phone number is on both halves. Olivia, I have known you all my life, and you will always be part of me.” He smiled shyly. “Thank you for being the wiser of us. I mistook my love for you for”—he flailed his arms as though looking for the right words—“for my love for you.”

  Olivia smiled. She knew what he meant.

  “I am in your corner no matter what, and you can count on me for help. You have my number, literally. Use it.” He turned to Donna and sighed. “Donna, I intend to pursue a friendship with you and we’ll see where it goes. You bring out my best, and can hold your own against me, which is a rare female trait. I hope you will use my phone number. Please use my phone number.”

  “Oh, Mitch, you romantic fool.” Donna ran and planted her lips firmly on his. “There is more to come, when we don’t have an audience.”

  “Don’t mind us,” Thomas said with a smile. Now that his heart was eased by Mitch’s words, Thomas handed Olivia his present. “I hope you like it,” he said softly.

  With trembling hands, she unwrapped the box. Her eyes widened.

  “The wood is from the old barn we played in that summer. I have a friend who paints—”

  Olivia stumbled toward him and enveloped him in a hug.

  “This is beautiful,” Donna said, holding up the wood painting.

  Mitch stared. “That’s the pond that you’re going to—”

  Donna put a hand over his mouth.

  Olivia didn’t care. She knew what had to happen come the first of the year, but the painting of the pond full of skaters would always remind her of home. She held the board and looked at it more closely. “This is Mr. Carl, and the bench, and the trees.” She looked at Thomas. “It’s perfect.”

  “There’s one more present,” Mr. Goodman said.

  Olivia was reluctant to release the moment. She turned to the old man. “The other presents are from people in the town. They always give me candy and homemade gifts like soaps and hand towels. We can open them later.”

  “No, I don’t mean them.” He waved his arm as if to dismiss the packages under the tree. He focused on Olivia. “Thomas, get the box you put under my bed.”

  22

  Thomas clattered down the stairs and placed the metal box in his grandfather’s lap. He should have looked inside; the box wasn’t locked. The old man took his time shuffling through papers. He lingered over an item or two before finally removing something from the box. He gently unfolded the stiff, thick paper to reveal a yellowed, cracked document.

  Was it a deed to the hotel, some legal agreement between their ancestors that his grandfather had kept secret all these years? That would explain the man’s change in behavior, if he thought he might own what had belonged to his enemy.

  His grandfather turned to Olivia. “Miss Olivia,” he began, “I don’t know how much of your family history you know.”

  “I know they helped start this town.”

  “Your ancestor-granddaddy and my great-granddaddy, along with two other families, left the east coast headed for Kansas.” He rubbed his chin. “They had plenty of problems, and by October they found themselves here, in East Kansas. Of course it wasn’t called East Kansas back then; it was just a hollow in the mountains. But there was enough dry grass to feed the horses, and game in the woods to sustain them. They decided to stay the winter and move on in the spring.

  “Come spring, the place greened up and the idea of moving on lost its appeal. The four families divided up the land, each getting a portion. They named the place East Kansas, since they were east of their destination. They set up a system of barter and job share, and East Kansas thrived for a long time.”

  Olivia slid across the couch closer to Thomas’s grandfather.

  Mitch sat beside Donna.

  Thomas remained standing, unsure what point his grandfather was trying to make.

  “My granddaddy was the first baby born in the valley,” the old man said. “He was the only one of my great-grandparents’ children to live to adulthood. Times were hard. They were farmers, and land was the most valuable possession. Over time the other two families sold out. Our granddaddies bought all the land they could afford. When the land adjacent to my family’s c
ame up for sale, the man who owned it refused to divide it up. So our two families went together and bought it, even though at the time it was worthless. The mountain was too rocky and steep to farm.”

  The old man fingered the yellowed paper. “This is the deed to the land.”

  “What are you saying?” Mitch asked.

  “Over half the mountain west of town belongs to Miss Miller.”

  Mitch sputtered. “A fortune can be made logging that land.”

  “I know that, young man.”

  “And you never had it logged?”

  “I thought about it a couple of times, but I would have to show proof of ownership and my resentment toward the Millers was too strong. I logged my own land and forgot the rest.”

  “And now?” Mitch asked.

  “And now I find that I wasted years being angry.” He turned to Olivia. “It seems, Miss Olivia, that you could use this land right now.”

  Olivia’s mouth dropped open.

  “So half the land belongs to Olivia as the sole surviving member of the Miller family?” Mitch asked. “Which half?”

  The man smiled. “I kind of like that the land has always been together, not parceled off like most of the town into tiny lots. I intend to leave my half of the land to my grandson, Laurence.

  Mitch’s face turned blank.

  Thomas Laurence Baker,” Donna said and then chuckled.

  Thomas stared at the old man, not believing what he was hearing. Hadn’t he just punched the man in the jaw two weeks ago?

  “However,” his grandfather said. “I do have one request.” He turned to Thomas. “Go get those maps you’re so fond of.”

  “Grandpa, this isn’t the time.” Thomas felt heat rise at his slip-up in calling the old man by his familial affiliation.

  “Go do it.” His grandfather grinned, as if delighted by Thomas’s acknowledgment.

  It took until the fourth canister to find the map the man wanted.

  “Look here,” his grandfather said, running a bent finger down the paper. “The mouth of the creek that feeds the pond is here.”

  Thomas scanned the map. “How do you know that?”

  “I know because Olivia’s granddaddy and I dug that pond and diverted the stream to feed it. The best place for a pond is here.” Again he tapped a spot on the map, west of town. “This is where the pond would have been if I hadn’t refused to have it so close to my farm.”

  Thomas held the map. He sank onto the chair, his gaze fixed on the geography outlined in front of him. Finally, he looked up and smiled. “Why did I not see that?”

  “You depend too much on what you think you know,” his grandfather said. “It would do you good to go out and hike the woods a little more.”

  “So your condition…” Mitch said. “What exactly is it you want? It seems that Olivia owns half that land, regardless.”

  “The pond needs rebuilt on the other side of the town. There is room enough to make the new pond twice as large as the one now. And this young fella,” he nodded toward Thomas, “has the equipment to dig it right this time. Maybe put in a spot for swimming in the summer. Throw in a few fish. To answer your question, young man, if Olivia and my grandson agree to rebuild the pond, I will turn over the deed to the two of them immediately. They can decide to divide it, or keep it whole.”

  Mitch stiffened. “I don’t think you have the authority to withhold what is legally Olivia’s.”

  “You’re right, I don’t.”

  “Mitch, shut up,” Donna said. “You can’t fight a Christmas miracle.”

  “What miracle?”

  Donna got up and pulled Mitch with her. “Let’s go for a walk.” They gathered coats and mittens and went out the door.

  Olivia sat stunned, not able to turn over the implications in her mind.

  Thomas pored over the map with narrowed eyes, obviously thinking.

  “There’s one more condition,” his grandfather said.

  Thomas groaned.

  23

  Olivia’s brain finally engaged, and the miracle swept over her. The old man was giving her land that could be logged for income if she would agree to rebuild the pond. She stared at the sworn enemy of her family. Her dad always said if something sounded too good to be true, it usually was. She tamped down her excitement.

  At some point she and Thomas’s hands had intertwined. His anxiety was as strong as hers, if his trembling fingers were anything to go by.

  “I have one more condition. More of a request.” Mr. Goodman rearranged the papers in the box and closed the lid, tucking the deed back inside. “I used to spend a lot of time here.” He stared at the Christmas tree, then squinted harder. “See that do-dad? The thing that looks like a Santa Claus?”

  Reluctantly, Olivia released Thomas’s hand and went to the tree. “This one?” She removed the decoration and put it in the man’s outstretched hand.

  He smiled as he rubbed a thumb across the thin glass. “My wife and I bought this for your grandma and granddaddy one year for Christmas.” He carefully handed the ornament back to her. “I have enjoyed my time here at your hotel, Miss Olivia.”

  He was leaving? It made sense that he would eventually go back to his mountain, just as Thomas had to get back to his apartment in the city. She was sad to see him go. In the past few days he had become the crusty old grandfather she missed not having.

  He leaned his head back on the chair and closed his eyes. “I can get used to heat piped into the house.”

  “It beats chopping wood,” Thomas mumbled.

  “And I can get used to electricity.” He opened his eyes. “You flip a switch, and you have light. You turn a knob and cook your food. Water in a sink, and hot water at that.”

  “We can run electricity to your house,” Thomas said. “Is that your condition? Mom wanted to do that years ago.”

  “That isn’t it.”

  “So what is it you want?” Thomas eyed his grandfather, waiting.

  “I want to live here.”

  “In East Kansas? In town?”

  “No, here. In the hotel.” He looked at Olivia. “In your grandpa’s time that office by the front door was a fine bedroom. It would be nice not to have to deal with those stairs every day.”

  “You want to live in my hotel?” Her words stuttered.

  “I can pay.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  “Besides, when those road workers come tramping in here, someone needs to tell them to take off their boots and mind their manners.”

  Olivia stared. “Road workers?”

  “Where do you think Laurence’s crew will stay?”

  The front door opened and cold air accompanied Mitch and Donna.

  “It’s snowing!” Donna exclaimed.

  “Oh, no! The road…” Thomas ran to the window.

  Olivia slid beside him. “This is East Kansas. It won’t snow much. But let’s hope it snows enough to give us a white Christmas.”

  Thomas’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and she snuggled into his warmth. “Merry Christmas, Thomas.”

  “Merry Christmas, Olivia.” He gazed at the snow. Heavy flakes already coated the ground. “If we harvest the lumber sensibly, the land will provide us with an income for a long time. And with my grandfather’s rent, and that from me and the men, you should be able to stay here if you want.”

  “I can’t run a full hotel alone.” She looked up into his face, hoping for acceptance, longing for much more.

  “You won’t have to. Maybe we can correct the mistake our parents made.”

  His lips brushed against hers, and then took ownership. The fireworks happened just as she’d always imagined they would: streaks of light in red and green. She had her Christmas miracle—her pond, her home, and the love of her life. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

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