Four
“Mrs. Tuttle, I’d like you to meet my cousin from Philadelphia, Marlee Carrington,” Audrey said.
Mrs. Tuttle looked and dressed the part of wife of the town mayor. Her graying hair was fashioned atop her head and secured by several jeweled combs. The garnet-colored dress she wore fit her generous figure well.
“We’re happy you could join us,” the older woman said.
Marlee left her cloak with the young maid waiting nearby and walked with her cousins through the wide doorway into the parlor. The large room was decorated with floral prints of dark blue and gold. Heavy drapes hung at the windows. Beyond, through another doorway was the dining room with a large table, chairs, sideboard and a hutch filled with china.
Dozens of ladies were in the parlor and the dining room, chatting as they helped themselves to coffee and refreshments. Audrey presented the package of cookies they’d picked up from Lucy at Flora’s Bake Shop to the serving girl tending the table, then took Marlee to make introductions.
The faces and names became a blur. Marlee concentrated on memorizing as many as she could. She smiled and exchanged pleasantries, somewhat surprised that everyone was so welcoming.
Presently Mrs. Tuttle headed toward the front of the room. Marlee squeezed between her cousins on the settee.
“Welcome, and thank you for coming this morning,” Mrs. Tuttle said. “I would also like to welcome our guest, Miss Marlee Carrington, niece of Viola and Willard Meade, here visiting with us from Philadelphia.”
All the ladies turned Marlee’s way and favored her with smiles. It was a little odd to be recognized in a meeting, since she’d been but a secretary to Mrs. Montgomery. Marlee smiled at the ladies in return.
“As you all know, the town will be decorated for Christmas a full week before the holiday, and the biggest celebrations will take place during the all-important three days prior to Christmas Eve,” Mrs. Tuttle said. She gestured to the woman seated nearest her. “Melva, would you give us your report?”
Marlee remembered that this slight, dark-haired woman was Melva Walker, wife of Harmony’s barber.
She rose and consulted the tablet in her hand. “Everything our town merchants ordered for the festival arrived as expected, in good condition. Stores will be fully stocked and our restaurants’ larders will be filled to overflowing.”
A murmur went through the gathering and heads nodded in agreement.
“Volunteers will put up the town decorations. Chord Barrett assures me his father will return from Colorado in time for our musical performances,” Melva said. She looked out at the ladies and announced, “I believe we’re all prepared.”
A polite round of applause rippled through the room.
“Good,” Mrs. Tuttle said, as Melva sat down. “How are we progressing with the donations for the orphans’ asylum? Heddy, would you kindly—”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Tuttle?” a woman called from the back of the room.
“That’s Harriet,” Audrey whispered. “Her husband owns Goodwin’s Dry Goods.”
Harriet, a slip of a woman with iron-gray hair, stood. “I agree that the town is prepared for the festival. I think we’re overly prepared.”
A few gasps rumbled through the gathering.
“My husband has spent a fortune on Christmas decorations, Christmas toys, Christmas everything,” Harriet said. “We’ve gone out on a limb for this festival and we’re worried the town won’t get the turnout we’re expecting. What if we’re stuck with all these Christmas things that we can’t sell? We’ll be ruined.”
The gasps in the room grew into grumbles.
“Mama and Papa are worried about this same thing,” Audrey said quietly.
“They are?” Becky asked, her eyes wide with alarm. “We could lose the store? Our home? Where would we go?”
“I’ve been worried about the same thing,” another woman called.
“My husband says this festival is too risky,” someone else added. “He was up last night pacing. This whole thing might be too hard on his heart.”
“I’m sorry to say this,” Melva said, “but lots of folks are worried and asking if the town can get enough visitors to make this profitable.”
The room erupted.
Becky gasped. “Is Papa worried like that? Could he get sick? Could he even—die?”
“Nothing bad has happened yet,” Audrey said. She reached across Marlee and patted her sister’s hand. “Calm down.”
“We discussed this,” Mrs. Tuttle called, and the ladies quieted. “We decided there are plenty of townsfolk, along with ranchers and farmers from outlying areas, to ensure we’ll have a wonderful festival.”
“I can’t calm down,” Becky whispered. Big tears pooled in her eyes. “If anything happened to Papa, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Marlee’s heart went out to her younger cousin.
“I just don’t believe there’re going to be enough visitors to town,” Harriet declared. “True, a family might come during one of the festival days, but what about all the other days?”
“We discussed this, too,” Mrs. Tuttle pointed out. “Folks will come to hear the Barrett Family Singers. We’ve secured them for a number of performances.”
“I think we ought to cancel,” Melva shouted. “Now, while we can still return all this Christmas merchandise.”
“What about the restaurants?” someone asked. “They can’t return all the extra food they bought.”
Another round of chatter rose in the room.
Tears flowed down Becky’s cheeks as she leaned across Marlee and grasped Audrey’s hand.
“We have to cancel this festival,” she said. “We have to.”
“Becky, please,” Audrey said. “You’re getting yourself all worked up and nothing has happened yet.”
“But it might,” she insisted. A big sob tore from her throat.
Marlee took Becky’s hand. “Nothing bad is going to happen to your pa,” she said. “The Christmas festival is going to be wonderful. I helped Mrs. Montgomery with a dozen charity events in Philadelphia.”
“You did?” Becky asked, blinking back her tears.
“Yes. Hundreds of people turned out,” Marlee said.
“They did?” Becky asked, sniffing.
“They did?” Audrey echoed.
“Yes, of course,” Marlee said. She patted Becky’s
