The Nightingale Before Christmas(95)

“Thank you.”

“Next year, we’ll just have to start looking for a house earlier,” she said.

I decided not to say anything about my resolution to not to get involved next year.

“In January, I should think,” Mother went on. “Perhaps not quite so large a house next time—after all, the design community’s noticeably smaller than it was when we started this whole project.”

Instead of answering, I hit the button to raise the garage door.

“We can sneak out this way,” I said as the door slowly chugged up. “So we won’t bother the judges.”

“Look!” Mother pointed as the landscape outside. “More snow. How lovely!”

Yes, it was lovely. All you could see in the light spilling out of the garage door was snowflakes. Not the kind of big, sloppy, wet snowflakes that tended to melt as soon as they hit the ground. These were the tiny snowflakes you get when the air is really cold—serious, businesslike snowflakes, clearly intent on making a major contribution to our already record December snowfall totals.

“How many more inches are we expecting, anyway?” I asked.

“I haven’t had time to listen to the weather,” Mother said with a shrug. “But as long as we take off soon, we shouldn’t have any trouble getting to your house.”

No telling if she and Dad would be able to get home again afterward. But if this proved to be the snow that finally defeated the county snowplows—well, one more benefit of not holding the show house in our house was that Michael and I had enough spare rooms for everyone to stay over. The boys would love being snowbound with all their available grandparents and great-grandparents to spoil them.

“Let’s not waste any more time,” I said aloud. “And—”

“Mrs. Langslow.”

It was Randall. He stepped into the garage. The six other members of the County Board filed in after him. They all looked solemn.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

Instead of answering, Randall walked over to stand in front of Mother.

“Mrs. Langslow,” Randall said. “I’m delighted to inform you that your room has been chosen as the winner of the best room contest for this year’s Caerphilly Historical Society Decorator Show House.”

The board members all broke into smiles, and a great deal of hugging and handshaking followed.

“The other rooms are all lovely, each and every one of them,” one of the women said.

“In their own ways,” chimed in one of the men.

“But your room is not only lovely, but it has a warmth and a sense of Christmas good cheer that we all loved.”

“Thank you,” Mother said. She was dabbing at her eyes. “I really couldn’t have done it without so many people.”

“Let’s go home and make a list,” I said. “So you can thank them all when you make your acceptance speech at the reception tomorrow. In the meantime, we have presents to wrap, and grandsons who are waiting for you to read them ‘’Twas the Night Before Christmas.’”

“Good advice, dear,” Mother said. “Good night,” she said, beaming one last time at the judges.

“Merry Christmas to all,” I said. “And to all a good night.”