Christmas In Icicle Falls. Sheila Roberts
Читать онлайн книгу.
out...a sad, bald poor excuse for a tree. What on earth? She looked inside the box, hoping to find, what? A note that said “Ha, ha. Your real tree is coming”?
“I’ve been had,” she muttered. She stood the tree up against the living room wall, feeling cranky. This was not going to work. No way could she display this pitiful excuse for a tree. It was an insult to Christmas, not to mention an insult to trees.
It served her right. She should have purchased her new tree from Ivy Bohn over at Christmas Haus. Well, it wasn’t too late. She dialed Ivy’s shop.
Ivy answered, sounding almost breathless. Hardly surprising considering how busy the shop got this time of year.
“Ivy, I won’t keep you long,” Muriel promised. “But I’m wondering if you have any artificial trees left.”
“Gee, I’m sorry, Muriel. Our last one just walked out the door.”
“Already?”
“I know. Go figure.”
Muriel looked at her ugly tree and frowned. “Will you be getting more in?”
“I hope so, but I’m not sure. We’ve been having some problems with our supplier.”
Muriel had experienced a problem with her supplier, too.
“I’m sorry. If you’d told me you wanted a tree, I’d have set one aside for you. But you’re usually all set for Christmas so far ahead of time—I’m surprised to hear you don’t already have one.”
Ivy was right. This was definitely unlike her. Christmas was hands down her favorite holiday. She’d pull out all her favorite cookie recipes and bake up a storm, putting together gift boxes of cookies for all the Sweet Dreams employees, always making sure to bake Arnie’s favorite fruitcake cookies for him. She loved to entertain and always threw herself into decorating. In her mind, setting a festive backdrop for gatherings was a must. She was sure that beautiful surroundings sent a subliminal message that life was beautiful and being together was worth rejoicing in.
“That’s okay,” she told Ivy. “I’ll work something out.”
“You can always get a live tree.”
Yes, she could but, much as she loved that wonderful fragrance, she preferred an artificial tree that she could put up right after Thanksgiving and leave up until after New Year’s Day. Besides, getting a live tree home and set up wasn’t a job she liked to tackle alone, and she hated to bother the kids.
She thanked Ivy and ended the call and returned her attention to her ugly tree. “Someone didn’t spend much time or love on you,” she informed it. Poor Ugly Tree.
What to do now? She absently ran a finger along one of its branches. Maybe, with enough ornaments... She had three boxes of silver balls that she’d purchased on sale the year before and some silver garlands. And she could pull out those pinecone-shaped lights, buy a few red cardinals at Christmas Haus. Maybe she could fix up her ugly little tree and make it into something pretty. Maybe it was salvageable. It was worth a try.
Always make the most of what you have, even if it isn’t much. She’d said that in one of her books. It was time to take her own advice.
“We have a week to get you gorgeous,” she told her ugly tree. “Let’s see what we can do.”
She could almost hear the poor thing saying, “Yes, please. Don’t give up on me.”
She’d barely determined her course of action when one of her grandmother’s favorite sayings came to mind. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Maybe her grandmother was wrong. Maybe you could. She certainly hoped so.
Her daughter Samantha wasn’t so sure she’d succeed. She dropped by later with Muriel’s three-year-old granddaughter, Rose. “That’s the most pitiful tree I’ve ever seen,” Samantha said.
“Did you go to the woods, Grammy?” Rose asked, cocking her head and staring at the tree.
“No, sweetie. This is a pretend tree,” Muriel explained.
The child wrinkled her nose. “It’s ugly.”
“It’s not pretending very well,” Samantha agreed. “Is that the one you found online?”
Muriel sighed and nodded. “The picture looked much better.”
“Ivy’s probably got some.”
“I called. She’s sold-out already.”
“Wow, not even December 1 and there’s a run on trees. Do you want us to cut you one when we go to the tree farm?”
Freshly cut, the tree would last. Her son-in-law would set it up for her. The whole house would smell woodsy.
Except Samantha and Blake weren’t going to put up their tree for another two weeks and Muriel wanted hers up for her party. “No, that’s okay. I think I can make this little tree look good. Anyway, it doesn’t seem right to toss the poor thing without at least giving it a chance.”
Samantha rolled her eyes. “It’s not like it’s got feelings, Mom.”
Yes, it was silly, but somehow Muriel felt like there was a principle at stake here. “I can dress it up.”
“Well, if anyone can do it, you can,” Samantha said. “If you change your mind, though, the offer still stands.”
“I won’t, but thanks.” It was game on now. Somehow, she was going to make that tree lovely.
And maybe if she stayed busy with the tree and all the other Christmas preparations she loved, she wouldn’t have time to think about Arnie and Dot having fun in Germany without her. Maybe.
Look for the good in everyone and every day, and you can’t help but be happy.
—Muriel Sterling, A Guide to Happy Holidays
Come the afternoon of Muriel’s party her tree was, indeed, beautiful. The bald spots had been filled in with the ornaments she already had as well as some elegant filigreed silver bells she’d found at Christmas Haus. The red cardinals were a brilliant addition, if she did say so herself. They added a splash of vivid color, backed up by the pastel colors of the lit pinecones. The silver garlands finished it all off nicely. Poor Ugly Tree was now a thing of beauty. It just went to show you what lavishing a little love could accomplish.
She checked her makeup and adjusted her long green scarf, then got busy setting out her refreshments: red velvet cupcakes, peppermint fudge from Sweet Dreams, brie cheese baked in puff pastry, crudités, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus and her favorite holiday punch. And of course, her signature chocolate-mint tea. She started some Christmas music playing, lit her fresh balsam-scented candle and she was ready to go.
Her dear friend Pat York was the first to arrive, along with Dot. “Good Lord,” Dot said, taking in the table centerpiece of red Christmas balls nestled among greens and the array of red candles and pine boughs marching across the mantelpiece. “Martha Stewart lives. Sometimes I really don’t like you.”
Muriel was used to Dot’s sense of humor. She merely smiled and took Dot’s coat.
Her daughters came in one big group, bringing laughter and plates of food. “Everything looks wonderful, Mom,” said Cecily, her middle child.
Samantha nodded in the direction of the tree. “I should have known you’d pull it off. The tree looks great.”
More people began to arrive—Pat’s new employee, Sienna Moreno; Charley Masters, her daughters’ good friend and owner of Zelda’s restaurant; Beth Mallow; Cass Masters; Stacy Thomas; Maddy Donaldson; and of course, Muriel’s other close friend, Olivia Claussen—and Muriel’s little cottage began to hum with conversation.
“Your