Home for the Holidays Read online

  Home for the Holidays

  ISBN-13: 978-0-8249-4786-6

  Published by Guideposts

  16 East 34th Street

  New York, New York 10016

  www.guideposts.com

  Copyright © 2009 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  Distributed by Ideals Publications, a division of Guideposts

  2636 Elm Hill Pike, Suite 120

  Nashville, Tennessee 37214

  Guideposts, Ideals and Tales from Grace Chapel Inn are registered trademarks of Guideposts.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.

  Scripture quotations marked (KJV) are taken from The King James Version of the Bible.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

  Cover by Deborah Chabrian

  Design by Marisa Jackson

  Typeset by Nancy Tardi

  Printed and bound in the United States of America

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  Introduction

  It’s starting to snow, and there are some wicked-looking dark clouds heading toward us from the west,” Jane Howard said to her sisters as she came into the parlor of Grace Chapel Inn.

  “A blizzard?” Louise Howard Smith, her oldest sister, looked up from her knitting. Her gaze went to the window. “In March?”

  “Looks that way.” A few crystalline flakes made Jane’s long dark ponytail sparkle as she produced the small bundle of envelopes she had retrieved from the mailbox. “Did either of you listen to the latest weather report?”

  “I heard the news at noon,” Alice Howard said as she brought her younger sister a steaming cup of hot cocoa. “There was a large storm moving across the Appalachians toward us.”

  “I think it’s here.”

  Concern appeared in Alice’s gentle brown eyes. “The forecaster predicted ten to twelve inches of snow for central Pennsylvania northeast into eastern New England.” She grimaced. “I was hoping it would skip us.”

  “Well, it didn’t.” Jane shivered as she gratefully exchanged the mail for the mug and cradled it between her chilled hands. “I wish spring would hurry up and get here. I’m so tired of cold and snow and more snow. I think my chilblains are getting frostbite.”

  “The next time you decide to go out to the mailbox, put on your coat and gloves first.” Louise completed another row of stitches in the pullover she was making before she glanced at the darkening window. The scrolls of frost on the glass were almost the same shade of silvery white as her elegantly cropped hair. “I thought it felt a little colder than yesterday.”

  “I haven’t felt anything since December,” Jane complained as she picked up a crocheted throw and wrapped it around herself. “To think, for this I left sunny California.”

  “Sunny?” Alice snorted. “You used to complain all the time about how cold and damp it was in San Francisco when you lived there.”

  “True.” Jane gave a theatrical shudder. “Maybe I should try moving to Florida. Or Brazil. Or the Sahara.”

  “A hot bath is what you need,” Louise advised. “We should check the firewood in the event that we lose power again. May I see the mail, dear? I’m expecting a letter from Cynthia.”

  “Of course.” Alice handed Louise the bundle before she returned to her chair and picked up the nursing journal she had been reading. “We don’t have any guests scheduled to arrive, do we?”

  “We don’t have any reservations until next week. That’s a blessing: With this storm the driving conditions will probably be atrocious.” Louise put on the reading glasses that hung from a chain around her neck and sorted through the bundle. “Why, look at this.” She extracted one thick envelope. “It’s a letter from Mr. Venson.”

  “Ted wrote to us?” Jane came over to sit beside her on the sofa as Louise opened the envelope, which contained a single sheet of notepaper wrapped around a thick stack of glossy photographs. “Hey, he sent pictures too.”

  “He said that he would,” Alice said. “I thought he had forgotten.”

  “‘Dear Ladies,’” Louise read out loud from the letter, “‘I am keeping my promise to send you copies of the photographs I took during our visit to Acorn Hill. I think that they tell the story of what happened to us far better than I ever could.’”

  Jane chuckled. “People won’t believe that story unless they see some pictures.”

  “I also have a surprise for you, but that I must inform you of in April,’” her older sister continued to read. “‘Who would have thought that what promised to be the most dismal holiday of my life would have turned out the way it did? Until April, Yours sincerely, Ted Venson.’”

  “What a lovely note.” Alice set aside her magazine as Louise passed the first of the photographs from the stack to her.

  The snapshot showed six people, one of them a middle-aged man in a driver’s cap, standing next to a small tour bus.

  “Oh, I think I actually took this one. Ted handed me his camera and asked me to take a picture the day they arrived in town.” Alice looked up. “Remember, Louise?”

  “I doubt that I could forget, even if I tried,” Louise said as she passed another photo of the group for Jane to see. “What an impossible situation that was.”

  Dimples appeared in Alice’s cheeks. “Now you sound like you’re quoting Max Ziglar.”

  “Max certainly looked depressed in this one.” Jane handed her the second photo, then took another from Louise. “Yikes, and in this one too. Look at how he’s chewing on that cigar.”

  The corner of Louise’s mouth curled. “I rather thought that look—and those cigars—were permanent fixtures on Max Ziglar’s countenance.”

  “Here’s one of the group standing by a fireplace with Viola Reed.” Alice frowned. “Was Viola unwell that day? She seems a little pink in the face.”

  Louise shook her head. “Ted took that photo just after Laura Lattimer and Viola had a clash over Viola’s English chandelier.”

  Jane perked up. “You mean those two got into a tussle and you never told us?”

  “It was a verbal disagreement, dear, not a fistfight,” Louise corrected. A self-deprecating smile brightened her face. “At the time I remember feeling very relieved that the group would only be in town for the Christmas home tour.”

  “This only proves that you’ll never be a psychic, Louise.” Jane picked up a snow globe from the side table and shook it. White snowflakes swirled around the three carolers inside. Across the room the wind moaned within the parlor’s fireplace chimney. Her gaze grew thoughtful. “I wonder what we would have done and what choices we would have made, if only we’d known.”

  “Had I known, I think I might have gone to visit Cynthia for the holidays,” Louise said wryly. “A daughter at Christmastime is a wonderful companion.”

  “Father used to say that everything happens for a reason.” The next photograph made Alice laugh. “Why, Ted took a picture of the three of us that day too. He never mentioned it.”

  Jane chuckled. “Ted was sneaky.”

  Alice smiled at a photo of herself with Louise and Jane as they stood looking at one of the shop windows in town. There was snow in her younger sister’s dark hair and on the shoulders of Louise’s dark green
jacket. They had all been carrying shopping bags filled with holiday purchases. “You know, all I could think about that morning was how wonderful it was going to be, spending a quiet Christmas at home with my sisters.…”

  Chapter One

  Winter had come to the little town of Acorn Hill, Pennsylvania, and brought with it crisp cold air, bright blue skies and just enough snow to adorn every rooftop with a shimmering cover of pure white.

  Although the temperature had dropped enough since Thanksgiving to make hats, gloves and heavy coats a daily necessity, the residents of the small town welcomed the month of December with joy and expectation.

  Christmas was only a week and a half away.

  Signs of the season were everywhere, from the festive outdoor lighting and decorations that dressed up every home and business to the smiles and cheerful greetings shared by the busy residents. Every merchant had put up a grand holiday display, and passersby could view beautifully decorated Christmas trees through the windows of nearly every home.

  This period just before Christmas was especially busy for the people residing in the little town. There were presents to wrap, cookies to bake, relatives to meet and dinner menus to plan. Church committees held their end-of-the-year Christmas parties and no pastor in town was allowed to dine alone.

  Enjoying the traditions of the holidays was something everyone looked forward to and indulged in, welcoming the time to express their faith, love for family, and thankfulness for the abundant blessings of life.

  This year the three sisters who ran the bed and breakfast on the edge of town were particularly eager for Christmas to arrive. After busy months of looking after their many guests, Louise, Alice and Jane Howard felt they had earned some time for themselves, and had just closed Grace Chapel Inn through the weekend until after Christmas. They had looked forward to this time for so long and now they wanted nothing to interfere with their holiday enthusiasm.

  “You know, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you,” Alice sang as she brought the fresh evergreen branches in from the garden.

  “We can’t go riding, we have no sleigh,” Jane said as she took a tray of tiny round cream-colored wafers from the oven. A rich, buttery scent filled the air as she set the cookies to cool on a rack.

  Alice put the branches in the sink. “Okay, how about a snowball fight?”

  “Tempting, and I would probably win, but no time for that either.” Jane put her hands on her hips and surveyed the cooling racks. “I must bake. After I bake, I must wrap.”

  “Aren’t you the ambitious one lately?”

  “It’s what I get for loving good food and my two wonderful sisters.” She pretended to think for a moment. “No, I must shop first, then I must wrap.”

  “Goodness, don’t be all work and no play,” Alice teased as she brushed some snow clinging to the branches into the sink. “You don’t want to end up being a dull girl, too, do you?”

  “I’ll be lazy and interesting after New Year’s. Hey, you.” Jane scooped up Wendell, the family tabby cat, as he jumped up onto the counter. “Now I know the smell of the cream is making you crazy, but these are really too rich for kitties. They’ll give you an upset stomach.”

  Wendell meowed plaintively and butted his striped head into her chin, as if trying to convince her that he was more than up to the challenge.

  “Trust me, I have something better.” Jane retrieved a small can of shrimp-flavored feline treats from the cupboard and shook out a few on the floor. Wendell made a magnificent leap from her arms and fell on the treats, which he immediately started to devour.

  “Have I earned a treat?” Alice asked as she leaned over to peer into a small mixing bowl of green-tinted filling and then inspected the quarter-sized cookies. “Oh, how pretty. What are these, exactly?”

  “I haven’t thought up a name for them yet.” Jane picked up one of the wafers that had cooled, added a dollop of filling and sandwiched it with another before she offered it to Alice. “Try one. I need some suggestions.”

  A test nibble revealed that the cookies were actually rounds of thin, flaky pastry lightly dusted on the outside with granulated sugar. The creamy middle added the perfect touch of richness.

  Alice closed her eyes to savor the taste of Jane’s pastry creation. “Mmm.”

  “No mummy sounds.” Jane pretended to look severe. “Besides, you mmm about everything I make.”

  “That’s because I always want mmmmore.” Alice reached for another and then took a moment to study it. “They taste scrumptious, and they’re so pretty and delicate too. I’ve never seen Christmas cookies like these.”

  “Well, I just invented them.” Jane regarded the fruit of her labors and tried out some names. “Delicate Divines. Divine Delicates. Double Delicate Divinities.” She sighed. “No, that’s not going to work. ‘Divinity’ has already been used for candy.”

  Alice laughed. “Whatever you decide to call them, I think you’re divine for making them.” She ate the second cookie and sighed. “You’d better hide them, though, or I won’t be responsible for how many I gobble up. They’re so light they’d tempt the angels.”

  “Angel light cookies, that’s perfect.” Jane took a pen and wrote the name down on her recipe notebook. “You’re a genius.”

  “You don’t have to twist my arm. I’ll be your name tester, anytime.” Alice looked over as the door to the kitchen swung open. “Louise, you should be trying out Jane’s new cookies.”

  “I could smell them baking, but I was preoccupied with checking out the last of our guests.” Louise examined the counters, which were filled with racks of the cooling rounds. “Very nice, Jane. The perfect size for afternoon tea.”

  “Flattery gets you a cookie.” Jane fixed another angellight cookie and presented it to her with a flourish.

  “Thank you, dear.” Louise turned to Alice. “Are you finished collecting your evergreens outside? If so, I would like to make an early start on our shopping expedition.”

  The demands of running an inn year-round meant that the Howard sisters rarely had the opportunity to spend a day out together. In fact, they had not had an entire week off for themselves since transforming their childhood home into a bed and breakfast after the death of their father, Daniel. It was one of the reasons they had decided to reserve the time of Christmas exclusively for themselves.

  “I’m just going to put these boughs in water so that they’ll stay fresh until tonight. They’re easier to work with that way,” Alice said, reaching into the cabinet under the sink for the bucket stored there. “Will someone remind me to pick up some floral wire from Wild Things while we’re in town? I need it for the wreath I’m planning to make.”

  “I’ll add it to my list.” Louise glanced at the slim gold watch on her left wrist. “Fred Humbert said he would deliver our tree tomorrow afternoon, so we should also bring the decorations down from the attic today, if possible.”

  “I think that tree we picked out is gorgeous,” Jane said as she began piling wafers into an airtight container. “I love Douglas firs. So, where are we going to set it up this year?”

  “The one we chose is too tall for the study.” Louise considered the question for a moment. “There is no place in the parlor for it, either, unless we have Fred move the piano to one side.”

  “If we move the piano, you won’t be able to play carols on Christmas Eve,” Jane said. “I love the tree and all, but we have to have your music, Louise.”

  Her youngest sister’s compliment made her chuckle. “Flattery will get you all the Christmas carols your heart desires.”

  “Since we won’t have any guests over the holiday, why don’t we put it up in the reception area?” Alice suggested as she added water to the bucket. “I know I loved rushing downstairs on Christmas morning to see that Santa had delivered the tree.”

  “Me too.” Jane chuckled. “Poor Father, he probably spent most of the night hauling it in from the shed and setting it up and decorating it, and still he
always acted surprised to see it.”

  “I think he was amazed that it had not fallen down,” Louise said, her voice dry. “No matter how hard he tried, Father never could get a tree to stand up straight.”

  Jane laughed. “Come to think of it, they always did list a little to the left or right.”

  “But he made the holidays special for us.” Alice felt a little pang of sorrow as she always did when she thought of Daniel Howard. “This Christmas I want to read Luke’s version of the birth of Jesus out loud, the same way he did after he tucked us in. I’d like to make some homemade bird feeders too. Father always liked to hang those to decorate the trees out front, and the poor little birds can always use the seed.”

  “I have a bag of pinecones in the shed we can use.” Jane took the last pan from the oven before she turned it off, then left the door open so that the heat would escape and help warm the kitchen. “Better add peanut butter and wild bird seed to the list, Louise.”

  “Good heavens, peanut butter and bird seed?” Aunt Ethel said as she came into the kitchen. “What on earth are you mixing up now, Jane Howard?”

  Daniel Howard’s sister lived in the carriage house right next to Grace Chapel Inn, and popped in frequently to check on her nieces and share the latest gossip from town. Although she had strong opinions that were sometimes at odds with those of the sisters, Ethel Buckley regularly brought humor and happiness into their lives.

  Today Ethel had dressed in a bright green, cable-knit sweater and matching slacks, and she sported a festive, pointed, green knit hat pulled over her short red hair.

  “It’s a classic recipe, Auntie Elf,” Jane teased.

  An enormous white pompom on the tip of Ethel’s hat bobbed as she scanned her nieces’ faces. “Please tell me you’re not going to feed that muck to anyone.”

  “We sure are. You spread peanut butter over a pinecone and roll it in bird seed.” Jane brought her fingers to her lips and kissed them. “It’s delectable stuff.”

  “It is if you happen to have a beak and wings,” Louise tacked on. “They’re not for us, Aunt Ethel. They are bird feeders. We plan to hang them in our trees.”