A Merry Bramble Christmas, page 13
“Trish,” she repeated, reminding Oliver of her earlier question.
“Yes, Trish. It was an interesting visit. At first, she was cool and restrained—you know, the usual. But when I told her about Sawyer asking Santa to bring her a new dress for Christmas, that whole façade crumbled. I guess she realized how her prolonged grief—and anger—over Dan’s death was affecting her son.”
“Children are a lot more observant than we think they are. Poor Trish. What happened then?”
“She told me she was sorry she’d been so negative. And she asked me to stay, at least until Christmas morning. It wasn’t an enthusiastic invitation, mind you.”
Gemma hugged his arm. “Nonetheless, it sounds like you made a breakthrough.”
“Let’s see how things play out in the next few days. I’d like to convince her that I mean to be a brother and an uncle she and Sawyer can depend on.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I have some ideas. In fact—” He paused, and Gemma had the impression he was going to say more, but he remained silent. Lights glowed all around them as they strolled through Crawford Park, sharing the space with other couples and families. The silence between them felt companionable. But Gemma was still waiting for him to finish his sentence.
“You were saying?” she finally prodded.
“I haven’t worked everything out in my own head, yet.”
“Okay. I get that.” After all, she’d come to Marietta to work out a few things herself. These past few days had made her surer than ever that canceling the wedding had been the right move. But she still couldn’t picture her future going forward. A change was needed. But what would that change look like?
This wasn’t the time to worry about her future, though. She was enjoying this moment and felt like she could continue to walk with Oliver for hours. After the intensity of Sage’s cooking class, it felt good to be getting some exercise, to be enjoying the beautiful holiday lights, and Oliver’s presence, solid and reassuring beside her. But all too soon the sparkling lights of Bramble House came into view.
*
Sounds of laughter and heated conversation were immediately audible as Oliver and Gemma stepped inside. They hung up their coats and tucked their boots onto the drying racks before entering the sitting room.
With the fireplace crackling, the tree lights glowing, and several flickering candles adding scents of clove and cinnamon, the room was like a living Christmas card. A Monopoly board sat on the central low table, and the four Caraways and Kris were seated around it. Clearly, they were in an emotionally charged game.
“Who’s winning?” Oliver asked.
“Oh, my Lord, Kris is bankrupting us all! Who knew Santa could be so ruthless?” Libby exclaimed.
“Everyone has a dark side. Now you’ve seen mine. That’s two hundred dollars in rent please…or I’ll take your last property.”
“Arg! I’m out.” Libby handed over her remaining property card. “How was the chocolate-making class?” She eyed the copper boxes in Oliver and Gemma’s hands.
“More fun than I thought,” Oliver admitted. He’d only signed up because he’d seen Gemma’s name on the list, but the process of hand-making chocolates had been surprisingly enjoyable—as were the end results. “Don’t think I’ll quit my day job though.”
Gemma opened her box. “Mine don’t look as pretty as Oliver’s but you’re welcome to try one.”
“Hm,” Viola said, peering at the proffered truffles. “Can I see Oliver’s first?”
With a chuckle, Oliver opened his box and passed it to Viola.
“Oh yes, these are much prettier. I’ll try one of Oliver’s.” Viola delicately picked out one and took a tentative bite. First her eyes widened. Then she murmured, “Oh my. Is that bourbon I taste?”
“Bourbon and chocolate?” Blaine perked up. “I’d like to try those. I’ll take one of Gemma’s. I don’t care what it looks like.”
Libby, Scottie and Kris all reached for a truffle after that. Their reactions were similar to Viola’s.
“I think we made a mistake not signing up for that class, Mother,” Libby said.
“Maybe not. If we knew how to make chocolate that good, we’d all be type two diabetics in no time.”
*
“I’m so glad you decided to stay until Christmas,” Amy said the next morning as she passed Oliver the plate with his breakfast—apple ricotta crepes with a burnt orange glaze. Then she passed a second plate to Gemma. “I hear you both enjoyed Sage’s truffle-making class.”
“It was awesome,” Oliver said. He shared a look with Gemma. “And I’m glad I’m staying too.”
Gemma saw Amy watching them closely, a knowing smile on her pretty face. Ignoring the growing warmth flooding her cheeks, she changed the subject. “I’d like to help you and Chet get ready for the tea tomorrow. You were such good sports to agree to such a major undertaking. And just three days before Christmas.”
She glanced at Oliver, expecting he would offer to help as well. But he’d pulled out his phone and seemed suddenly preoccupied.
“Thanks, Gemma,” Amy said. “I shouldn’t accept help from a guest—but in this case I will.”
“I wish I could lend a hand too,” Oliver said, “But I’ve got a meeting in Bozeman. I have to leave right after breakfast.”
Gemma was surprised he hadn’t mentioned the meeting to her. She remembered how quiet he’d become last night after telling her about his conversation with his sister. She had a feeling this trip to Bozeman was connected to that somehow. Gemma knew she had no right to feel hurt that he wasn’t confiding in her. They’d known each other such a short time.
Yet, during that time they’d developed a bond. And he’d been very open about his feelings toward his sister and nephew up to this point.
Well, no point brooding over it. Maybe later tonight or tomorrow he’d feel more like talking. Gemma took a bite of her breakfast and closed her eyes to savor it. “You’ve served us a lot of delicious food this week, Amy, but these crepes are phenomenal.”
“I doubt the chefs in Paris could top Jo’s crepes,” Amy agreed. “And thank you again for offering to help get ready for the tea. I admit I’m nervous. Some of the wealthiest and most influential people in Marietta will be here and I want Bramble House to put on a good show. The Carrigans are providing most of the food, but there is a cupboard of old china and silverware to be cleaned, linens to be washed and pressed. Et cetera, et cetera. We have Great-aunt Mable’s standards to preserve here.”
Amy laughed, but Gemma could tell she was serious. As the new owners of Bramble House, she and Chet felt they had something to prove. And she was going to help them do it.
*
Gemma could not believe one family could accumulate so much silverware and fine china. Not only cups with matching saucers, but also teapots and cream and sugar bowls. And all of it needed to be washed and dried by hand because of the gilt trims and delicate handles.
The sandwiches, scones and baked delicacies would be going on silver-plated, tiered platters. Bramble House had a good supply of these, as well. And of course, they hadn’t been used in years and so required polishing as well as washing.
For the first hour Amy sat at the breakfast table with her, applying the silver polish with a soft cotton rag and then rubbing the silver plates and cutlery vigorously, making sure to clean into all the crevices and engravings.
“Have the Carrigans given you a final head count?” Gemma asked.
“Yes. They’ve sold thirty tickets—not the twenty-five they originally promised. And the people who are coming have me pretty intimidated. Our mayor, Chelsea Collier, and her multi-millionaire husband Jason Flint. Cormac Sheenan and his wife Whitney—they own the Graff Hotel. Monica Silver—she’s on the board of the May Bell Center—and on it goes.”
Gemma set aside one silver platter and reached for another. “These sound like people who could make sizeable donations to the rodeo school.”
“That’s true. Which makes it all the more important that our event is a success.”
“I know Chet was a very successful rodeo competitor and just recently retired. Is that the reason you and Chet are so passionate about the rodeo school?”
“That’s only part of it. For most of his life Chet was raised by a very neglectful, and sometimes abusive, father. For Chet, the rodeo offered a better way of life including role models for being a more principled man than his father. He wants to pay it forward and help other kids in challenging or underprivileged situations. And as it happens, he’s a very good teacher. He even taught me to ride, and I was petrified at first.”
“It sounds like you married a very good man.”
Amy’s cheeks flushed. “I did. And I hope you end up doing the same, Gemma. And I’m not talking about the man you left behind in Denver.”
Then it was Gemma’s turn to blush. She rubbed harder at the platter. “Boy, this silver is really badly tarnished, isn’t it?”
*
The morning of the Bramble House Christmas tea went by in a blur. While Oliver helped Chet set up temporary tables in the sitting room and library, Amy ironed white linen cloths for Gemma to drape over the tables. Sweet Pea Florist had kindly donated festive floral arrangements for the tables, and while Oliver and Chet went to pick those up, Amy and Gemma set out all the teapots and filled the sugar bowls and creamers.
At one o’clock the Carrigan sisters arrived, along with Mattie’s daughters Portia and Wren—who was also pregnant, though not so far along as her sister.
“Did you two plan your pregnancies to coincide?” Gemma asked, after being introduced to Wren.
Wren laughed. “It just worked out that way. Which is kind of ironic because growing up, Portia and I were as different as could be.”
Mattie, their mother, came up from behind and put her arms around her daughters. “I knew you two would end up best of friends…eventually.”
Chet and Oliver unloaded the boxes of food from their vehicles and then Gemma helped the women stack the three-tiered silver platters with finger sandwiches on the bottom, cream scones in the middle, and tiny pecan tarts, macarons, and chocolate bourbon truffles on the top. Four platters were set out on each of the tables, along with bowls of clotted cream and strawberry preserves. Tea was going to be served by Amy, Mattie and Dani, with Portia and Wren in charge of refilling the platters as required.
For the sake of simplicity, they were offering just two types of tea: Darjeeling from Fortnum and Mason and Organic Peppermint. Gemma wore her long skirt again, this time with a delicate black cardigan with ties that wrapped around her waist, ending in a small bow. She clipped her hair back and put on sparkling hoop earrings. She had never imagined needing so many of her nicer outfits on this trip. But then she hadn’t planned on becoming so invested in the town and the people who lived here. Amy and the Carrigan women—especially Portia and Wren, who were close to her age—already felt like friends.
Portia and her husband and two children—with the third coming in March—lived on an acreage near Marietta, while Wren and her husband Austin had built a home out on the Circle C Ranch, near Callan and Court.
A few minutes before two, Oliver came up to her while she was lighting candles in glass holders on the sideboard.
“It’s an amazing transformation, isn’t it?” he noted.
“Totally,” she agreed. Though everyone kept thanking her for all her work—she was a guest! She should be relaxing—she had enjoyed every minute. She wondered about Oliver, though. “It was so nice of you to help. I guess you’d rather be spending time with Trish and Sawyer.”
“Trish has to work today, and Sawyer has a playdate with friends. I could be reading. But this feels like a more productive use of my time.”
There was a subtext to his smile, making her feel that she was part of the reason he’d chosen to be here. The moment felt significant. But before either of them could say anything further, Amy opened the door to their first guest. The inaugural Mable Bramble Christmas Tea had begun.
*
By two thirty the tea was in full swing. Oliver hung back on the fringes, observing the event with a sense of satisfaction, knowing he had played a small part to make it so successful.
And it was a success. That much was obvious. The house looked beautiful and festive and everyone in attendance seemed to be having a wonderful time and enjoying the delicious food. Oliver had sampled almost everything himself, so he could vouch for the food. And though he was a coffee drinker normally, the Darjeeling was beginning to grow on him.
There were so many beautiful and pretty women at the tea—they seemed to be a Marietta specialty—but to him, the one who stood out was Gemma. Pretty and elegant, she had a special glow about her, an aura that he believed radiated from her caring and thoughtful personality. At that moment she glanced at him and smiled. Automatically he moved toward her.
He had so much to talk to her about, but he was cautious. The timing had to be right. For sure the Bramble House tea wasn’t it. For now, he’d have to be content just to be near her.
“The party’s going well,” he said. “I notice the bourbon truffles are a big favorite.”
“Good thing we’ve got some stashed away,” she agreed. “I doubt there’ll be any left over.”
Sage came up to them then, accompanied by a woman who looked to be in her early fifties. She had short dark hair, huge diamond studs, and a thin face with dramatic features.
“Hi, Gemma and Oliver. I’d like you to meet Monica Silver. She’s on the board of the May Bell Care Center. She’s interested in hearing about your work teaching children with developmental delays, Gemma.”
Oliver leaned forward. He, too, wanted to hear more about Gemma’s work.
“I love the fact that Chet’s rodeo school is making such an effort to help underprivileged kids,” Monica said. “There is such a need for that, and of course the rodeo will have a great appeal for lots of kids who may feel left behind in more academic pursuits. But I have a special interest in reaching out to children when they’re much younger. What ages do you work with, Gemma?”
“Preschool, ages three to five. We have children with a broad spectrum of challenges, including cerebral palsy, attention deficit hyperactivity, Down syndrome, autism spectrum disorder, fetal alcohol syndrome. We focus on developing the skills they’ll need to fit into the school system, where possible.”
“At the May Bell Care Center, we help adults who have those challenges. But there’s a real need in this community for services geared to children. Most families have to drive their kids to larger centers like Bozeman to access appropriate services.”
“That can be expensive,” Gemma noted. “At our center we have speech and physical therapists as well as specially trained educators, like me.”
“Do you think it’s important to provide extra help to these children at a young age?”
“Oh, it’s vital. Brains are highly adaptable in young children. Some parents take a let’s wait and see if they catch up approach. But that’s almost always a mistake. Also, good teachers can help families learn how to help their children at home, and this really pays off in terms of the child’s future success.”
“This is such important stuff,” Monica said. “I’d love to have you speak to our board about the subject. Lay the groundwork for adding a program to our center. But Amy tells me you’re from Denver?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. But maybe I can help find you someone from this area.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you. I’d love to meet someone local who’s as passionate about the subject as you are.”
“It’s one thing to care about the development of young children. But the real reason I love my job is because I love the kids. It’s as simple as that.”
“Frankly I find young children exhausting so kudos to you,” Monica said. “But there are so many careers involving kids. What made you focus on the developmentally delayed?”
At the time she’d made her career choice, Gemma hadn’t known the answer herself. Only with the passage of time had she understood how the seeds had been planted. “When I started first grade my best friend had a lot of trouble academically. With hindsight I realize she probably suffered from attention deficit hyperactivity, but it wasn’t diagnosed at the time. Her parents ended up pulling her out of the school system. At the time I was so upset. I knew she was smart, and I didn’t think it was fair that she couldn’t stay in the same class with the rest of us. Now, as an educator, I believe that situation was totally preventable.”
“I have a similar opinion about high school students,” Oliver said. “My folks would have preferred I went on to get my PhD in literature, and a career in academia. But by the time students make it into university, they’re already on track for success. In high school though, if you reach a student, you can change the trajectory of their life.” Oliver laughed, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry. I’m on my soapbox, aren’t I?”
“Don’t apologize. It heartens me to hear the younger generation talking this way.” Monica pressed a business card into Gemma’s hand. “Now, if I can be totally superficial for a minute, excuse me while I grab another bourbon truffle.”
Two hours later, the tea was over, pronounced a social and a financial success, and the cleanup began. Portia and Wren didn’t let their pregnancies stop them from stepping in on the handwashing. Mattie and Dani wrapped all the leftover food—which did not include any truffles—while Chet and Oliver dismantled the tables.
Callan pulled out the vacuum while Sage gathered all the linens and promised to return them to Amy all washed and ironed.
By five o’clock, the Carrigans were gone and life at the B & B returned to normal. Amy set out cookies, cocoa and apple cider in the sitting room per usual. When the Caraways returned from their daily outing, they would never guess there’d been a big social gathering at Bramble House that afternoon.
