“How big a fellow do you suppose your friend Frankie is?”
They bought a dark green sweater with three horizontal stripes—one yellow, two white—and a green turtleneck like the ones skiers wore. They also bought a light blue sweater and a white collared shirt. They had those wrapped as well, then added a tag that read:Especially for Frankie, Merry Christmas from Santa’s Helper.
They left them at the family’s door on Christmas Eve.
Frankie wore the clothes to school, and Annie swore he smiled more than before. Every time she saw him, she felt proud of her dad, and she felt special, too, because she was the only one in grade four who knew Frankie’s secret.
Like her dad’s Santa’s Helpers, Annie decided to make small acts of charity her Christmas tradition; she also suspected that Lucy would be happy if Annie asked her to help.
When John called and interrupted her thoughts, Annie made up a story about why she sounded as if she had been crying.
“Do you have a cold?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine. I inhaled too much bayberry.” Luckily for her, he wouldn’t argue because he’d never made soap and probably never would. And because he didn’t know she was in her cottage and not the workshop.
“Good. I don’t want my bride sick on our wedding night.”
It sounded so corny that she laughed.
Then he said, “What’s your schedule for the weekend?”
“Please tell me you need to work. I’m so busy trying to get things finished . . .”
“I’m working Saturday, but I’m off Sunday. I was thinking about going Christmas shopping for the girls. Wanna come? Unless you’re too busy?”
Annie thought about his daughters, who might appreciate a woman’s opinion about their presents from their dad. She’d also love to tell him about the baskets and about her father. “Will Christmas shopping include lunch? I’ll even pay.”
“Are you trying to bribe a police officer?”
“Yes.” She could take him to Town Bar and Grill, because he loved their marinated flank steak and bacon mashed potatoes.
He laughed. “You’re on. And thanks. My daughters will be grateful.”
“Speaking of daughters, do you want me to pick Abigail up at the boat tomorrow?” It was a spontaneous thought that Annie credited to full immersion in the holiday spirit.
“Thanks,” he said, “but there’s no need. She’s done with classes but still has to do a final project that she can do here, so she’s bringing her car over for winter break. And I won’t spend unnecessary money on rent.”
Annie congratulated herself for not commenting on “the rent.”
“And,” John added, “her boyfriend’s coming over with her for the weekend. I arranged a bed at the hostel for him.” He snickered. “Maybe I’ll even get to meet him.”
Annie pushed down her disappointment. If she’d been able to pick up Abigail, it would have been a perfect opportunity to ask her to rework the wedding dress. And a chance to reach out to her. Reaching out, after all, seemed to be working well with Taylor.
“Well,” she replied in a neutral tone, “that will be nice for Abigail.”
“Right,” he said, sarcastically. “In the meantime, do you want to come for supper tomorrow night? I have no idea how many of us will be here, so I thought we’d get pizza.”
“Sounds great,” she said.
They agreed on six tomorrow, did the “love you” bits, and then rang off.
Annie printed out the list of artisans she hoped would donate products for the baskets, then she put her jacket on and walked over to the workshop. It was time to get back to work, time to try to forget that, with Abigail’s boyfriend around over the weekend, the hours would be shrinking for Annie to expect that the wedding dress could be fixed. So she would, indeed, be an ugly bride. Or at least a bride in an ugly dress. But she could feel good, thanks to her Christmas surprise for a dozen deserving Vineyard women.
Oh, and she’d feel good that she and John were getting married.
She felt a little guilty that that had been an afterthought.
Chapter 15
