I just wanted to wish you Merry Christmas and let you know that you were my favorite teacher. You taught me so much more than just book learning. You taught me life lessons and kindness and to appreciate the simple moments in life.
I hope you’re enjoying living on the mainland now. You are missed here on the island.
Merry Christmas,
William Chancey
She gasped softly as the name registered. “William Chancey… that was my grandfather.”
Randy’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? It’s from your grandfather?”
She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “He passed away when I was very young. I barely remember him, but Nana… she always spoke of him with such love in her voice.”
She ran her finger over the signature, feeling a connection to the grandfather she’d never really known. “I wonder what the story is behind this postcard. Why Nana ended up with a postcard that grandfather wrote so long ago.”
“Now that’s something I think I can help you with.” He took the postcard and examined it. “Miss G told me a story once when I asked her about William.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me about a teacher who came over from the mainland to visit William when he was dying. She showed Miss G a postcard and said she’d kept it all these years to remind herself during the rough moments that she was making a difference in the world with her teaching. She gave the postcard to Miss G to remind her that William had made such a difference in her life too by writing to her.”
“We just never know the ripples of our actions, do we?” she said softly. “What a wonderful story. No wonder Nana kept it in this box with the other items she treasured.”
“We don’t,” he agreed. His eyes met hers, filled with understanding.
She turned to face him fully, overwhelmed by gratitude. “I’m really glad you’re sharing this with me,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “The opening up of each item and trying to discover why she kept it. Thank you. It means a lot to me.”
He took her hand with a gentle, reassuring touch. “It means a lot to me too,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Miss G was a very special lady. And, honestly, I’m thoroughly enjoying this.”
She stared down at her hand in his, feeling the connection and reluctant to break it. He finally loosened his grip and slipped his hand away, then cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we should get those cookies to the festival, don’t you think?”
“Yes, we should.” She stood and the intimate moment was broken.
CHAPTER 12
Evie and Randy arrived at the festival grounds, each carrying a box full of cookie tins. As they approached the bake sale booth, a wave of emotion washed over Evie. She paused, her grip tightening on the box.
Tally, who was arranging a display of gingerbread men, looked up and greeted them with a warm smile. “Evie! Randy! I’m so glad you made it.” Her eyes widened as she noticed the boxes they were carrying. “Are those…?”
Evie nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Nana’s sugar cookies. We found her recipe and thought it would be nice to share them at the festival, just like she used to.”
Randy gently squeezed her arm in support. “It’s a special recipe,” he added, placing his box on the table. “We found out that Miss G got it from an old bakery here in town. These cookies have been a part of the festival for years.”
“I never knew that. That’s wonderful. I’m sure everyone will be thrilled to have a taste of Genevieve’s famous cookies again.”
Evie carefully set her box down and began taking out the cookie tins. Randy’s presence beside her as he helped was reassuring.
Word quickly spread that Genevieve’s sugar cookies were available at the bake sale booth. A crowd began to gather, eager to get a taste of the beloved treat. She watched in amazement as people exclaimed over the cookies, sharing their own memories of Genevieve.
A woman approached the booth, her eyes misty with nostalgia. “I heard you brought Genevieve’s cookies. I’m Dorothy. Genevieve was a great friend of mine. I miss her dearly. She was one of The Yarnies, our local knitting group. I must buy a tin of her cookies.”
She felt a rush of emotion at the woman’s words. She glanced at Randy, who gave her an encouraging smile. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear that. Nana loved this festival and being a part of the community. And she sure loved to knit.”
“That she did.” Dorothy nodded.
Randy wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re doing a wonderful thing, sharing the cookies. Your grandmother would be so proud of you.”
She leaned into his embrace, grateful for his support and the shared memories they had uncovered together from the items in Nana’s Christmas box. Now the whole town knew the history behind Nana’s recipe.
