Dating people caused too many questions to answer for Max, and she could tell he felt the loss of those people in his life. She wouldn’t put him through that again. “Let’s check your meds and see what you need to have at the moment.” She looked at her watch. “I need to take your blood pressure.”
* * *
In just slightly over two hours, Abbey had returned from shopping, her little Toyota full to the brim with Christmas lights, ornaments, boxes, wrapping paper, ribbon, candles, and wreaths. Richard met her at the door and immediately called the groundsmen to help her, although she’d planned to bring it all in by herself. They deposited everything in the ballroom, the fire roaring in the fireplace. She sat down in front of it to wrap presents, dumping her coat and scarf on the floor.
The orange light of the fire reflecting on the surfaces of the great windows was helping with the ambience of the room already. Snow had started to fall again outside, and Abbey wished it would finally change over for good. It was as if the sky wanted to snow, and was trying to snow, but it just couldn’t. She felt a little like that with this giant room. She wanted to make it beautiful, she was trying, but she just didn’t quite know how to do it—it was so large. So she started with what she did know how to do, and that was decorate for Christmas. Abbey pulled out empty boxes that she’d purchased at the store and began folding them into shape. A log on the fire popped, sending an orange and yellow fizz up the chimney. After tearing the scissors free from their packaging and rummaging around in her shopping bags for the tape, she unrolled a section of bright silver paper. The blade of the open scissors slid along the sheet until it fell loose from the roll, and she began to wrap the empty boxes.
After kicking her sneakers off and warming her feet by the fire, Abbey was just starting to get feeling back in her limbs by the time she had finished an enormous pile of silver boxes. The cardboard spool rolled away from her as she unrolled the yards of wide, shimmery silver ribbon. Snipping and securing, tucking and folding, she tied each ribbon around a box until they looked like a perfect pile of presents on Christmas morning, their bows cascading down the side of each box. She pushed them off to the side and pulled out the Christmas ornaments she’d purchased.
Just as she’d gotten everything set out in one corner of the room, the Christmas tree farm called from the driveway. Abbey slipped on her shoes, found Richard, and asked him to round up the men to help once more. Seven trees were delivered: four twenty-five-foot trees in the ballroom, flanking the giant windows, two more in the entrance, and one smaller tree in the living room. She had the men leave the fresh garland on the floor of the entrance so that snow wouldn’t collect on it. They also left twenty-six wreaths, each with an oversized red velvet bow at the bottom—one for each front exterior window.
As she held the large bundles of mistletoe in her arms, Nick came out of his office to see what all the commotion was in the entryway. His brows were pulled downward, his mouth set in a slight scowl as if that were the resting position of his lips. “What is all this?”
“You said I could buy Christmas decorations.” She shifted to get a better hold of the mistletoe. It was wrapped in paper, but the sheer number of sprigs was causing it to slip from her arms.
“I’d rather hoped you’d buy some furniture.”
“I will.”
“I just don’t see the need in doing all of this. It’s a waste of time.”
“You said that you trusted me, so trust me when I say that I will have the house decorated by Christmas—furniture and all.”
He shook his head, his chest filling with breath, and what she thought could be a slight smile on his lips emerged. Or was it a disbelieving smirk? He turned and headed back to his office.
* * *
By four o’clock, Abbey hadn’t even stopped once, but she had both towering trees done in the ballroom. Each one had two thousand white twinkle lights and shiny silver and winter-blue ornaments to bring out the blue in the rug. She’d added silver tree skirts and then covered them completely with the silver faux presents she’d wrapped. Dangling from shimmery silver ribbons that the groundsmen had helped her pin to the massive ceiling near each of the windows were the sprigs of mistletoe, one hanging just over the grand piano, the tails of the bow cascading like tiny, velvet waterfalls, their reflection just beautiful on the surface of the piano’s bench.
The fireplace was draped in spruce greenery and more white lights, a blue and silver bow with long tails holding it up at either corner. She’d placed silver stocking hangers perfectly centered along the front of the fireplace and from them, dangled cream-colored stockings with silver beading.