A Winter Dream(64)

“Look,” he said, “their banker.” We laughed.

“Hello, look at this,” I said, as I gently lifted what looked to be an heirloom. It was an ornate wooden box of burled walnut, intricately carved and highly polished. It was about ten inches wide, fourteen inches long, and a half foot deep, large enough for a sheet of stationery to lie flat inside. It had two large brass hinges crafted in the form of holly leaves. Two leather straps ran horizontally across the lid and buckled securely into silver clasps on each side. The lid had a skilled and detailed etching of the Nativity. Barry walked over for a closer look.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said.

“What is it?” Barry asked.

“A Christmas Box. For storing Christmas things in. Cards, baubles, things like that.” I shook it gently. There was no rattle.

“How old do you think it is?” Barry asked.

“Turn-of-the-century,” I speculated. “See the craftsmanship?”

While he took a closer look, I cast my eyes around the room at the work remaining to be done.

“We better get on with this,” I lamented. “I have a lot of work to catch up on tonight.”

I set the box aside and we went back to organizing space for our things. It was dark outside by the time we finished unloading the truck. Keri had long finished unpacking the kitchen boxes and dinner was waiting for us on the table when we came down.

“Well, Sister, what do you think of your new home?” Barry asked.

“I could get used to all this room,” Keri said, “and the furniture.”

“You should see some of the things up in the attic,” I said.

“Mom, how will Santa find our new house?” Jenna asked anxiously.

“Oh, Santa’s elves keep track of these things,” she assured her.

“The trick will be how Santa’s reindeer will land on the roof without impaling themselves,” I joked.

Keri cast a sideways glance toward me.

“What’s impaling?” asked Jenna.

“Never mind your dad, he’s just teasing.”

Barry laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be making dinner for the lady?” he asked.

“We officially begin our arrangement on Monday. In fact, she is making dinner for us tomorrow. At least she invited us to dine with her.”

“Is that right?” I asked.

“She was up here just before the two of you came down.”

“This should be interesting,” I decided.

We finished the meal and, after thanking Barry profusely for his help, we cleared away the dishes. Then I dove into a pile of receipts and ledgers, while Keri put Jenna to bed.

“Can Daddy read me a story?” she asked.

“Not tonight, honey. Daddy has a lot of work to do.”

“It doesn’t have to be a long one,” she pleaded.

“Not tonight, honey. Some other time.”

A disappointed child was tucked under the covers and went to sleep yearning for “some other time.”





Chapter III





UNDAY WAS NOT proclaimed the “day of rest” by a mother with a family to ready for church, but such is the irony of piousness. Upon our return home at the conclusion of the day’s “churching,” we reveled in the discovery of a glorious new lifestyle. In our last apartment we had had such little space we found ourselves looking for ways to spend our Sunday afternoons outside the home. Now we defiantly spread our things, and ourselves, throughout our quarters. I napped in front of the drawing room fireplace while Keri read in the bedroom and Jenna played quietly in the nursery. What we may have lost in family togetherness we more than made up for in sanity.

At quarter to six Keri woke me, and after washing up, we descended the stairs to Mary’s dining room. It smelled wonderfully of roast beef and gravy and freshly baked rolls. The dining room was spacious and, in typical Victorian style, the floor was covered with a colorful Persian rug that stopped short of the walls, leaving a border of the polished hardwood floor exposed. The room was built around a large, rectangular, white-laced dining table. A Strauss crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling directly above the center of the table, suspended above a vase of freshly cut flowers. The east wall had an elaborate built-in china closet displaying the home’s exquisite porcelain dinnerware. On the opposite wall was a fireplace, as ornately carved as the parlor fireplace, but of lighter wood. The mantel extended to the ceiling, and the firebox and hearth were tiled in marbled blue-and-white patterns. To either side of the fireplace were walnut side chairs with Gothic carved backs and tucked haircloth upholstery.

Mary met us at the doorway and thanked us graciously for joining her.