Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes (17 page)

He looks at her long enough through the biting snow for her to whisper
Come back with me
. Long enough for the thought of cancelling Deck the Boats to become a possibility. How easy it would be to tell her to get in the truck and then head back to her house with her. It’ll be warm inside, they’ll light the fireplace, they’ll talk this out.

He shoves his coat sleeve up and checks his watch, then looks out to Vera, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Vera. Really, it’s best if you head back where you’ll be safe.” He puts the truck in gear and hitches his head in the direction of her house, a huge home that is now just a looming faint shadow behind the thick snowfall.

She starts to say something, then whips around, her arms crossed in front of her against the cold and wind, and walks away. He watches her go, watches her pass the food and coffee tents battened down, pass the craft and sweatshirt tents zipped up tight against the gale-force wind, watches her glance back once, only once, before picking up her pace, first to a slow trot through the deep snow, and finally to a full-out run, slipping as she nears her house.

And when he loses sight of her in the late afternoon darkness and the descending storm, he turns toward the water, drops his plow and pushes his truck through the encroaching snowdrifts, the engine straining with the effort.

Chapter Twenty-One

WHEN VERA CAN’T EVEN SEE her house in front of her, she knows the white-out conditions have arrived. The tall maples and oaks along her street bow their limbs to the wind and her boots sink deep into powdered snow, making walking treacherous. As she leaves the cove parking lot, something
does
catch her eye through the turmoil of the swirling storm. The entire street she lives on is aglow; all the old colonial houses on either side are lit up with twinkling wreaths on their doors, candles in windows, a few illuminated waving snowmen, and decorated picket fences. It looks like a Christmas gateway to the cove, and for her neighbors, she is so thankful. At least Derek has that much now.

And seeing all those pretty lights leading to the water, an idea comes to her, one that has her climb her front steps and run into the house to grab her keys to the barn. Jingles follows along behind her snowy boots, batting at a small clump of snow as she snatches the keys from the kitchen countertop and heads out back through the side door, sliding down the snow-covered steps to the long driveway leading to her barn. The twinkling lights on the small fir tree standing beside it light the way in the stormy evening.

But she stops when a noise carries on the wind, a long, plaintive cry. It has her spin around and look back toward her house, peering through the falling snow. When the noise comes again, her eyes barely pick out Jingles sitting on the top step of the side-stoop. She rushes back, sinking so deep the powder soft snow reaches the top of her boots, scoops up her big raccoon cat and tucks her coat around him as she treks to the barn, bent over against the wind.

Once safe inside, she takes a deep breath, turns on a lamp that casts a golden light on the space and heads straight for the cross-beamed double doors facing the cove, Jingles following close behind. First she lifts the heavy latch, and with all the muscle she can muster, slides the wooden doors open against the snow. The winter storm rages on the other side of them, and still she’s mystified by so many car headlights filling the cove parking lot, waiting for the Christmas festival. The townsfolk are as insistent on being there as Derek is, honoring his child.

Well there’s no way those decorated boats are going in the water this stormy night, not if she has anything to do with it. And so she turns back and considers her twelve-foot-tall fully decorated Christmas tree dripping with sparkling ornaments and garlands, rising in the open double doorway of her barn. Her dark tree. After another glance out to the cove, she reaches to the side wall and throws on the light switch.

If she’s not mistaken, the change is instant as thousands of twinkling lights come on, unfurling their resplendent glow through the storm’s blowing snow to the cove. And the night stills, somehow. The trucks plowing, the cars sliding through the parking lot, squeezing in and looking for a space amidst snowdrifts and boat trailers, all of them, every vehicle comes to a stop. As sure as snowflakes—and there’s
no
missing those tonight—every pair of eyes has turned to her magnificent Christmas barn rising through the dark storm.

With no time to waste, Vera works her way through the barn to plug in every display, every mechanical caroler, every decorated tree, every Christmas village including Brooke’s extravagant miniature town crowded with pine trees and storefronts and bakery after bakery, every swag of green garland draped along shelves and bannisters, every candle in each barn window, every snowman and reindeer, everything, until she arrives at the sparkling swan carousel, saving that one for last.

Before she can look outside again, she grabs her cell phone from her purse and calls Brooke, knowing she’s out there in her tent with their mother in the midst of a raging snowstorm.

“Brooke!” she says when her sister answers.

“Vera? Holy cow, your barn, what a sight it is!”

“Never mind that for now. Listen, Brooke. I want you and Mom to leave, right away. Just close up your tent and get out of there. The snow’s really coming down and it’s dangerous to be out in it.”

“I had the same thought. We’re about to pack it up.”

“Wait! Because what I want you to do is this. Direct everyone up here to the barn. Everyone! It’s warm and safe inside and there’s plenty of room for people to wait this thing out.”

“Are you sure?” Brooke shouts into her phone over the sound of the whistling wind.

“Absolutely. Get as many of those people here as you can. Hurry!”

By the time Vera gets to the double doors again and looks out, Brooke’s husband Brett is standing in the cove parking lot, a flashlight in each swinging hand directing traffic toward her home. And ahead of him, Bob Hough is plowing a clear path through the snowdrifts straight from the cove to her driveway.

Before long, Vera turns to see Brooke and her mother walking into the barn, their coats and hats covered in white snowflakes, faces rosy-red, their arms filled with boxes of coffee cakes from the tent. “That was fast,” Vera tells them as she takes some of the pastries and sets them out on a counter.

“We got a ride from Bob.” Her mother glances out the door behind her. “And get ready, Vee. The whole town’s on its way.”

Vera looks past them and sees a couple of her neighbors using their snowplows to clear the walkway from the house to the barn, while her long driveway is being cleared by Bob. But the best part? A line of headlights slowly snakes its way out of the cove parking lot, driving up the street, and if she’s not mistaken, heading straight to her barn.

Chapter Twenty-Two

IT DOESN’T TAKE LONG. EVERYBODY was ready to seek shelter, Vera can see that now. Her barn double doors are still open to the cove, the massive Christmas tree casting its glittering light on the swirling snow outside. That view, the image of endless white snowflakes spinning against a midnight blue sky, side-lit by the glow of her tree, becomes almost celestial.

But inside, the Christmas Barn has taken on its own magical glow. Vera stands up on the loft watching the families crowd in.
Ooohs
and
aaahs
rise to her as they set their gaze on the miniature villages and snowmen and reindeer and sleighs and the hundreds of glittering snowflakes hanging from the ceiling beams. Her brightly-lit Christmas train that Derek fixed up chugs around and around the loft through valleys and hills of snow and pine trees, and the candy cane alley is like a Christmas funhouse for the young children.

The group of carolers from the cove stands just outside the barn, bundled in scarves and hats and mittens, greeting those arriving with happy Christmas songs while the snow flies all around them. People inside pull off their damp hats and stamp their snowy boots on the wooden floor, looking around in sheer Christmas awe. Even Jingles is in awe, quietly perched on a loft railing near her, gazing down at the vast number of people below shedding their coats and gloves in the warm barn.

Quickly, Vera runs down the steps and takes a look out the side double doors to get a clear view of the cove parking lot. The last of the cars have left there, and so she returns to the loft. When Jingles bats a loose bell across the loft floor, the ringing gives Vera an idea. “Thanks, Jingles,” she whispers as she picks up a red leather strap lined with six silver sleigh bells.

Standing at the loft railing, she looks out at the hundreds of faces below and raises the sleigh bells, jingling them loud enough for heads to turn toward her. “Can I have your attention please?” With a couple more jangles of the silver bells, the crowd quiets and waits for her to continue as they huddle together, excited to be in her festive barn on this snowy night. When even the carolers step inside and close the red front entrance door of the barn, she clears her throat and begins.

“Welcome, all! I am so glad you made your way here through the snow and hope everyone is safe and sound. Please make yourselves comfortable, feel free to browse the displays and decorations while you warm up a little.”

A few people in the crowd wave quietly at her: friends she knows, neighbors. But other than that, everyone still waits, watching her. “I see some familiar faces, but for the rest of you who don’t know me, I’m Vera Sterling.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, unsure of how to handle the crowd. “Well, you probably know my dad, Leo Sterling. He’s the local weatherman, loving all this snow, I’m sure.” She smiles nervously, then goes on in the silence. “So anyway, I bought this property a few months ago, and in the middle of fixing it up, came across a true hidden treasure—all the remaining inventory from the old Christmas Barn.” She looks around the entire barn, from the snowflakes hanging from ceiling beams to a nutcracker shelf in the back. “I’m planning on having a holiday tag sale soon, so while you wait out the storm, have a look around at the beautiful Christmas history before you. And, in the meantime, well I’m just glad there’s enough room here to celebrate this special night together.”

A motion catches her eye then, at the still-open double doors off to the side. She turns to see Derek walking in, pulling off his hat and giving it a shake before eyeing the barn warmly lit up on such a dark night. This all happened so spur-of-the-moment, she’d never considered what he might think of it, or if he’d even show up. He gradually turns his gaze toward her in the loft right as Brooke hurries over to him with a large, hot coffee. It’s precisely at that moment, when he takes the coffee from her and cups it close for warmth, that Vera gets another idea.

She steps back toward the center of the railing and gives the sleigh bells another jangle. “So anyway, with my dad being the chief meteorologist down at the station, I’ve got the inside scoop on this snowy weather. And I want each and every one of you to stay put until I get an all-clear from him.” She clears her throat again while tucking her hair back behind an ear. “The good news is that with this storm blowing outside, I’m happy to share that we have a treat for you inside. My sister Brooke is serving up her famous Christmas tree coffee cake tonight.” She finds Brooke down in the sea of faces and her sister gives her a thumbs-up as she hurries over to the long counter near the door to set out napkins. She’d brought over enough coffee cake yesterday to feed an army, so this can definitely work. “If I’m not mistaken, there’s candy cane coffee cake, too, which is her specialty raspberry cream cheese concoction, and she’s also brought cranberry streusel coffee cake.”

When another bell jingles from below, Vera searches the crowd to see her mother standing beside Brooke. A bell is in one raised hand while her other hand points to the large coffee pot, bringing sudden tears to Vera’s eyes as her mom helps save the night.

“My mom will be pouring fresh hot coffee to go with Brooke’s delicious pastries, and so …” Vera hesitates. The howling wind draws her eye to the double doors and storm swirling outside, the snowflakes illuminated by the glow of her towering Christmas tree. “So,” she continues as everyone watches her closely, waiting. “I guess we’ve got snowflakes and coffee cakes for all!”

The applause starts slowly and builds until everyone is clapping and talking and laughing at the thought of being stranded together inside her barn, with enough good food and good cheer to go around, and then some.

Vera jangles the sleigh bells one more time until the barn quiets. “And still, I want to remind you why we’re here, after all. Even though the guys were not able to get the boats in the water in honor of Abby Cooper, my hope is this: That the light of this magnificent tree, decorated with old ornaments from all our pasts, reaches your hearts in the same special way.”

In the hush of the barn, Vera seeks out Derek. When she sees him, and sees that he’s watching her still from beside the double doors, as though he’s keeping an eye on the cove too, she continues, a little quieter, a little less festive. “My hope is also that the tree’s light shines far, far beyond, out to the cove, as well.”

There really isn’t another word she can say without choking up, her eyes already welling as she sees that Derek never stops watching her from below.

It is the small miracle of the carolers that saves her then. A miracle that starts with one soft, clear voice, one that has her turn to it, the beauty of its tone in the barn matched only by the solemnity of the moment.

Silent night, holy night
…

Other voices join in, one at a time at first, as though unsure.

All is calm, all is bright …

Still more join in until a heartwarming chorus of so many voices rises to the swirling skies outside the big barn doors, past her solitary Christmas tree, beautiful and sad voices filled with love’s pure light, delivering on the stormiest of nights—somehow, together, for one little girl, in a way that only small-town Addison could do—the sweetest heavenly peace.