Page 5

“Come on. We’ll follow them in my car,” Diane offered, bending to pick up Vivian’s discarded boot before rushing off with Susan hot on her heels.

“Wait for me!” Maggie called, quickly reaching as high as she could on the fir tree, minus a deadly step ladder, and looping the green velvet ribbon around a random branch. “That’ll have to do,” she said to herself before snatching up her binder, the smaller wooden chest, and chasing after the others.

The Wish Tree Awakening was all about tradition, but glancing back at the broken ladder beside the giant fir tree and the low-resting wooden heart, Maggie had a feeling that Cranberry Cove’s beloved traditions had changed.

This holiday season was guaranteed to be one for the books.

MAGGIE

The brass kettle on the iron stove let out a steady hiss, its steam curling toward the exposed cedar rafters of Vivian’s living room. Outside the saltbox windows, the night sky over Cranberry Harbor had turned dark. The ocean wind rattled the wooden shutters along the eastern wall.

Maggie adjusted the wool blanket over Vivian’s knees for the third time, making sure the plaid trim tucked neatly around Vivian’s splinted ankle resting on the upholstered footstool. Her hands moved with frantic, practiced efficiency. She smoothed a crease in the fabric, repositioned the ice pack wrapped in a blue linen towel, and reached for the cup of chamomile tea resting on the side table.

“If you tuck that blanket any tighter, my left leg’s going to fall asleep before the tea cools down,” Vivian complained, her voice dry though her eyes held a warm, affectionate gleam.

“The doctor said to keep the foot elevated and use a cold compress for twenty minutes every hour,” Maggie replied, checking the tea temperature with a brief touch against the porcelain rim.

“Stop!” Vivian’s eyes widened. “It hasn’t even been twenty minutes since the last icing of my ankle.”

“I know, but I’m responsible for you,” Maggie told her, worry washing over her. “The doctor gave me strict instructions.”

“Nate’s just as fussy as the four of you,” Vivian pointed out, resting her silver head against the high back of her wingback armchair. “He’s overcautious because he doesn’t want the town council lecturing him about patient abuse.”

“He’s cautious because you fell off a ladder,” Diane said from the dining table near the front window. She had her laptop open beside her ledger, the screen casting a pale blue light over her neat rows of numbers. “The clinic report says a grade-two sprain. That means six weeks in a heavy ankle brace and no stairs until mid-December.”

“I took the clinic report from my sedan and put it on the side table in the hallway,” Carol said, moving out of the small kitchen with a tray of cloth napkins and dessert plates. “And I’ve already rescheduled Vivian’s morning work appointments for the next two weeks. The church altar guild can manage the greening committee without her.”

“The altar guild doesn’t know where the brass candle polish is kept without me,” Vivian grumbled softly, though she didn’t offer a real protest. “This just means that when I get back there will be triple the work for me to fix.”

Susan emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming stoneware casserole dish wrapped in a thick oven mitt. “I brought over the turkey vegetable bake from yesterday. There’s enough for everyone, and it only took fifteen minutes in the oven.”

Maggie absently went through the remaining items on her mental to-do list. A new item was on top of that list, which was to take care of Vivian.

Fussing over Vivian was necessary, of course, but it was also a shield. As long as she stayed focused on ice packs, teacups, and dinner preparations, she didn’t have to think about her own house waiting on Elm Street. The silent four-room house would be cold when she returned, the clock ticking in the dark hallway, reminding her that Tom wasn’t sitting in his armchair near the radiator, waiting to hear about the afternoon setup in the square.

“Maggie,” Vivian said, her tone shifting from dry amusement to a quiet, firm command. “Can you stop fussing for a few minutes? I’m okay.”

“I know you’re going to be. But right now, you need care,” Maggie pointed out, worry in her eyes. Then she turned toward the dining table. “Should we eat?”

“Yes, please. I’m quite hungry,” Vivian stated as Maggie helped her up. Carol rushed forward to help seat Vivian at the table. “Now, can all four of you stop hovering like a flock of nervous gulls. I have a sprained ankle, I’m not dying.”

Diane closed her laptop with a click, though she kept her finger tucked into her ledger. Carol set the tray of napkins on the sideboard, while Susan set the casserole dish down carefully on a trivet.

“We aren’t hovering,” Susan murmured, wiping her hands on her apron. “We’re taking care of you.”

“I’ve lived by myself nearly my entire life,” Vivian grumbled, her eyes sweeping over the group with fond authority. “I know how to handle a sprained ankle. And right now, I have something more important to discuss with the four of you.” She looked at Maggie. “Please bring my coat.”

Maggie nodded and got the garment from where it had been draped earlier when they’d brought Vivian home. She handed it to Vivian who then reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small brass key attached to a faded ribbon. The metal glinted under the warm light of the floor lamp.

Maggie watched the key, her pulse quickening slightly. “Is that for the archive box from the square?”

“It’s for the chest in my bedroom closet,” Vivian answered. She held the ribbon and smiled at Maggie. “Upstairs, in the master bedroom. In the main closet on the left side, on the top shelf behind the winter quilts. There is a heavy cherry wood box with iron straps.” Her lips tilted upward into a small smile. “Please, can you get it for me?”

Maggie frowned and looked toward the oak staircase rising from the back hallway. “Why do you have heavy boxes on high shelves when you live here all alone?”

“It’s been on that shelf for longer than I can remember,” Vivian replied quietly. “And it’s never fallen off, nor have I fallen reaching for it.” Her eyes held Maggie’s. “Please bring it down here.”

Maggie nodded and sighed in defeat. “Top shelf, behind the quilts you say?”