Pizza night at John’s was fun, a delightful change from being trapped in the workshop until late Thursday night and all day Friday. Abigail, however, wasn’t there; she was out with “the boyfriend,” as Lucy still called him. Best of all, that gave Annie a chance to share her idea with John and Lucy, who was thrilled about helping out, starting with how she knew almost everyone on Annie’s list of artisans and said she’d contact them about donating their products.
“Everybody who lives here is generous,” she asserted. “Which is why few people have much money.”
The three of them laughed, but Annie knew that what Lucy said was true. It was part of what Annie loved about living on the Vineyard.
“Speaking of money,” Annie said, “I’ve also decided to give the profits of my sales at the Fair to island support services for women. It might not be much, but I think that every little bit must help.”
“Oh,” John said, feigning distress, “there goes our retirement fund.”
They laughed again, and Lucy rolled her eyes. Then, with her priorities in order and the clock ticking, Annie gave John a kiss, Lucy a hug, and Restless a scratch behind his ears, and was home by nine o’clock.
And now, Saturday morning, she was showered, dressed, and back in the workshop before eight in the morning, determined to use her time wisely. After all, setup for the Fair would be Friday—less than a week away. The Fair itself was only open from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. on Saturday.
She worked in veritable silence for a couple of hours. Then Earl appeared with coffee and cinnamon rolls that he admitted he’d stolen from Annie’s freezer. “Couldn’t help it,” he said. “You make the best.”
He pulled a stool up to her workbench and made himself comfortable. “How’s it going? Think you’ll be done in time?”
“I will if I don’t keep finding other things to do.” Then she told him her plan for the baskets.
Earl got emotional because that was Earl. He lowered his head and bit into the cinnamon roll.
“Do you think Claire would like to contribute something?” Annie asked. “My hope is that several recipients will be single mothers. Do you think Claire would like to donate a small doll for each basket—maybe like the yarn-haired ones she made for Bella? With a Christmas theme? I want to keep this as confidential as possible, just among the contributors.”
The comment made Earl laugh. “My wife is good at keeping things, as you say, confidential, when it’s for a good cause. And, by the way, it’s a mighty nice idea you have.”
“I just want to be able to show a few people that others care.” She decided not to mention donating her profits from the Fair. She wasn’t, after all, doing all this to receive pats on the back.
Earl nodded. “You tell John?”
“I did.” She didn’t add that he’d bitten into his pizza the same way Earl had just tackled the pastry. “Lucy’s going to help me. And I know it’s short notice, so please tell Claire she’s welcome to decline.”
“You have my word that she’ll say yes. Not that I can speak for her, of course.” He grinned.
Annie took a quick sip of coffee, then went back to wrapping soaps. “I should have asked her directly, but, well, here you are, and it came to mind, and . . .”
“I shall be honored to be your messenger.” With that, he finished his morning treat, said he now had an important mission and that he’d leave Annie alone. So he did.
And she went back to work.
Until almost noon.
When she realized she’d run out of ribbon.
“Noooo,” she groaned. She decided to call Lucy and ask if she could bike over to Granite, grab a few spools of red, green, and silver wire ribbon, and get them over to Chappy. She’d offer to pay her handsomely, which Lucy would decline.
But then Annie remembered that Lucy and Kyle had plans to ride their bikes to Polly Hill Arboretum before it got too cold out for a picnic. But because Lucy might be one of the few teenagers left on the planet who still listened to voice mail, Annie said, “I forgot to ask if you’ll still be able to help me at the Fair. I hope you’re having a fun day. Last night was nice.” She rang off, then checked in with Francine to see if she needed anything from Edgartown (she did not), then hightailed it to theOn Time. With any luck, people hadn’t yet started wrapping gifts, so the store would have plenty of ribbon.
* * *
Overnight, the town had been transformed into a holiday village: the white sea captain’s houses were exquisitely decorated with lush greens and bright reds. Annie knew that members of Claire’s garden club made their services available to seasonal residents whose homes were vacant this time of year but needed to be “properly dressed” for Christmas in Edgartown. Adding to the ambiance, white lights twinkled everywhere, as if Santa himself were spreading cheer up and down the narrow streets and brick sidewalks where smiling shoppers sauntered in and out of stores with lots of bundles in their arms. It felt magical.
At Granite, the parking lot was crowded; shopping locally was not a request but a Vineyard tradition.
After three tries around the lot, Annie finally saw a space open near the bank; she wasted no time sliding the Jeep into it.
She expected the store to be packed.
It was.
