A Winter Dream(66)

Mary smiled sympathetically.

“Oh, speaking of dance,” Keri remembered, turning to me, “Jenna’s Christmas dance recital is this Saturday. Can you make it?”

I frowned. “I’m afraid not. Saturday is going to be a busy day at the shop with all the December weddings and Christmas formals.”

“It must be a very busy time of the year for your type of business,” Mary offered.

“It is,” I replied, “but it drops off in January.”

She nodded politely then turned to Keri. “Well, I, for one, am glad that Jenna likes it here. And, if you’re wanting for company, I would love to take Richard’s place at that dance recital.”

“You are more than welcome to join us,” Keri said. Jenna smiled.

“Then it’s a date. And,” she said, looking at Jenna, “for the little dancer, I made some chocolate Christmas pudding. Would you like some?”

Jenna smiled hungrily.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mary said, turning to us. “She hasn’t finished her supper.”

“Of course not,” Keri said. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

Mary excused herself from the table and returned carrying a tray of crystal bowls filled with steaming pudding. She served Jenna first.

“This is very good,” I said, plunging a spoonful into my mouth.

“Everything is delicious,” Keri said. “Thank you.”

The conversation lulled while we enjoyed the dessert. Jenna was the first to break the silence.

“I know why flies come in the house,” she announced unexpectedly.

We looked at her curiously.

“You do?” Mary asked.

Jenna looked at us seriously. “They come in to find their friends . . .”

We all stifled a laugh, as the little girl was in earnest.

“. . . and then we kill them.”

Keri and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“My, you are a little thinker,” Mary said. She chuckled, then leaned over and gave Jenna a hug.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Mary said. She raised a crystal glass of wine. Following Mary’s lead we poured our glasses half full of the rose liquid and held them in the air.

“To a new friendship and a wonderful Christmas.”

“Hear, hear,” I said emphatically.

“A wonderful Christmas,” Keri repeated.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant conversation, punctuated with laughter. When we had finished eating, we lavishly praised Mary for a wonderful meal and transported the dishes to the kitchen. Mary firmly insisted on cleaning up the dishes herself, so reluctantly we left her to the chore and returned upstairs to our wing.

“I feel like I’ve known her all my life,” Keri said.

“Like a grandmother,” I observed.

Jenna smiled and raced up the stairs ahead of us.



The ritual of cohabitation took on a natural and casual openness welcomed by all. It soon became clear to Keri and me that Mary had solicited a family to move in with her more for the sake of “family” than real physical need. She could easily have hired servants, as there obviously had been in the past, and she seemed to trouble herself immensely to make our stay amiable, to the extent of hiring out any chore that Keri or I might find overly tedious or time-consuming, except when said chore would invoke a vicarious act of a familial nature. Bringing home the Christmas tree was such an occasion. Mary, upon finding the largest, most perfectly shaped tree in the lot, offered to purchase a second pine for our quarters. She was absolutely delighted when Keri suggested that we might all enjoy sharing the same tree together. We brought the tree home and after much fussing, the fresh scent of evergreen permeated the den. Not surprisingly, the room became a favorite place for us to congregate after supper. We enjoyed Mary’s company as much as she desired ours, and Jenna accepted her readily as a surrogate grandmother.



Some people were born to work for others. Not in a mindless, servile way—rather, they simply work better in a set regimen of daily tasks and functions. Others were born of the entrepreneurial spirit and enjoy the demands of self-determination and the roll of the dice. Much to my detriment, I was born of the latter spirit. Frankly, that spirit was just as potent a draw to return to my hometown as the quaint streets and white-capped mountains I had grown up loving. As I said before, Keri and I had left Southern California for the opportunity to operate a formal-wear business. Though formal-wear rental is quite common now, at the time it was new and untested and therefore exciting. The opportunity came by way of a friend who found himself in a small town just north of Salt Lake City, called Bountiful, for a wedding. That is when he met my future partner, an enterprising tailor who had begun leasing elaborate bridal gowns, and soon discovered a greater need for suitable accoutrements for the bride’s and bridesmaids’ counterparts.