“I’m looking for Abbey Fuller,” he said.
What in the world could this be about? she wondered. “I’m Abbey Fuller.”
“I figured, since this is the only house on the corner of Maple and Ivy Streets.” He smiled, but Abbey’s confusion clearly caused him to refocus and speed up his explanation for interrupting a national family holiday. “I have a delivery for you,” he said, holding out the picnic basket.
She took it from him.
“It’s from…” He looked down at his clipboard. “Mr. Nicholas Sinclair.”
“Thank you.”
He turned around and started down the steps, the snow now a sheet of ice after a deep freeze had set in. She shut the door to keep the cold from freezing the whole house, the jingle bells on her mother’s wreath clanging against the door. Abbey looked inside the picnic basket. When she realized what it was, Nick’s gesture gave her heart a flutter of gratitude.
“Who is it?” her mom called.
Abbey took the basket into the kitchen. “It’s from Nick Sinclair. He’s sent us pumpkin pies.” She didn’t recognize the bakery, and from the look of the packaging, she had probably never spent that amount of money on a pumpkin pie before. There was a complimentary card included. She pulled the card from its tiny, white envelope. It read, I’m sorry about your pumpkin pie. I hope this reaches you. Happy Thanksgiving. Nick
“How did he get a pumpkin pie delivered on Thanksgiving?” her mother wondered aloud. “Everything’s closed.”
“I have no idea.”
“If the price is right, I suppose,” her mother said, her eyebrows jumping up and down suggestively. “He must like you.”
Abbey shook her head. “I doubt that.”
Immediately, she wanted to call him and thank him. Initially, she’d been intimidated by him, but now she wondered who was really behind that reserved demeanor. Was there more to this man than his empty house and excessive car collection? She hoped that he didn’t think the dropped pie was a result of his phone call. The fact that he’d sent a replacement made her wonder. Nonetheless, he’d been thoughtful tonight, and she wouldn’t forget that. The thrill of it made her want to see him again and thank him personally.
“Let’s hurry and eat,” Max said. “I want some pie!”
The minute they had all the dishes on the table, as Abbey scooted her chair into place, Gramps said, “So, tell us about this mysterious pie-delivering man.”
“Abbey has an interior decorating job,” her mom cut in. She was still holding her knife and fork and talking with her utensils. “I’ve been dying to say something.”
“It’s just a favor for a lady that I provide care for,” Abbey said, trying to play it down. Abbey didn’t want Gramps making a big fuss over it until she’d been successful. She hadn’t proven herself yet. But every time she thought about it, she got a tingle up her spine. What if she could actually do this? There were wealthy people coming to his Christmas party—possible clients for her. What if she got the chance to actually live out her dream of being an interior designer? She tried not to think about it because it sent her hopes sky high.
“He’s paying her,” her mom pressed.
Gramps looked at her, his head cocked to the side. He was interested, and for the first time since she’d arrived, he looked happy, relatively still. “Tell us more,” he said.
“I’ve agreed to decorate his house. Well, I wouldn’t really call it a house.”
“What is it then, Mama?” Max said. He’d made a volcano with his potatoes, and he’d filled the crater at the top with green beans. She let it go. Normally, she’d say something, but if he wanted to eat a volcano-shaped dinner, then so be it.
“It’s a house. Just a very big house. Bigger than any house you’ve ever seen,” she told Max. “It has eight bedrooms, and a ballroom that’s the size of this whole house. It’s this giant mansion of a home but it’s almost totally empty. It’s so cold and sparse, it gives me shivers just being in it.” Abbey turned back to her mother and Gramps. “You know what struck me most? There isn’t a single Christmas decoration either.”
“Well, not everyone decorates as early as we do. Even the early birds decorate tomorrow. I just wanted to get it done before Gramps moved in.”
“Maybe he doesn’t celebrate Christmas,” Gramps said.
“Well, he said I could decide what to put in the house, so he’s getting Christmas decorations. He said himself that his family is coming for Christmas and he’s having a Christmas party! What would a house full of family be like on Christmas without a tree full of presents, stockings hanging on the fireplace, and plates of cookies and cakes waiting to be had?”