Chapter 3 #2
“I was looking forward to paying for the Huntington’s tree. It sounds like the money from the church and the garage sale will pay for most of the rest. A tree is the least that Charlie and I can do.”
“You’re already giving of your time, though.”
“So are you.”
“In that case, we can split the cost of the Huntington’s tree. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Kim, Victoria, and Samantha hurried in their direction.
“The girls are so excited about this,” Kim said as she wrapped Maddie in a hug.
“I just love Carmichaels. Don’t you? This place is the cutest and—” Kim broke off as she spotted Mrs. Carmichael approaching, carrying a tray.
“Well, here she comes now. You’re about to see for yourselves how delicious this cider is,” she told her daughters.
When Maddie accepted her cup, steam fragrant with cinnamon and apples filled her senses.
Their group climbed onto the waiting tractor bed and took seats on the hay bales lining its sides. Mr. Carmichael settled into the driver’s seat of the tractor and towed them toward the portion of his acreage containing trees for sale this season.
“You should take a picture of this,” Leo said. “For Instagram.”
“Oh! Right.” She spent time taking multiple shots she could comb through later in search of the best. As she did so, she could feel Leo’s attention on her like heat.
Charlie kept up a steady stream of chatter with Victoria and Samantha and Kim. When they motored over smooth stretches, they all attempted sips of the cider.
After exiting the tractor bed, they’d walked barely ten yards when Charlie made his tree selection. “This one!” He pointed, jumping up and down with excitement.
Leo held the double-handled saw they’d been entrusted with. Kim looked greatly amused. Her girls appeared befuddled.
The tree Charlie had picked was perhaps the ugliest tree on the farm. Squat. Sparse. A big bare patch in front. Tilting to one side.
“Are you sure?” Leo asked, no censure in his voice.
“I’m sure!”
“This is the one?”
“Yes!”
“All right then, buddy.” Leo gave Maddie a glance laced with humor while Charlie danced a circle around the tree.
“Perhaps you can turn the bald spot to the wall?” Maddie whispered.
“And trim it straight?” Leo whispered back.
“And add lots of lights so that no one will notice that it’s not very . . . full.”
Charlie beamed.
The little boy’s delight reminded her that the heart liked what the heart liked. She and Leo bent on either side of the trunk, then worked together to cut down the homely tree.
Her own heart also liked what it liked, despite all her self-lectures and all her best efforts.
Maddie grunted as she lifted a cardboard box marked Winslow Family China off of a box marked Save for Maddie.
She was spending her Sunday afternoon foraging for items for the garage sale.
To that end, she’d bravely scaled the pull-down steps that led to her parents’ attic.
Her father was tidy, so like the rest of the house, everything here was well organized.
Nonetheless, a tinge of spookiness hung in the air.
Maddie’s family and friends had supported her involvement in Mission:Christmas by purging their belongings annually in order to stock her sale.
So far this December, her purging pile and her parents’ purging pile were both looking thin.
Her mom had mentioned that Maddie might be able to find more items in the attic, so here she was.
The Save for Maddie box was promising. She used the pair of scissors she’d brought with her to slit the duct tape holding the box closed.
Sinking to her knees, she opened the cardboard flaps.
A few well-loved, bedraggled stuffed animals rested on top.
Below that, her favorite books from when she’d been small. Then artifacts from her school days.
None of this was garage-sale worthy.
After setting aside folded baby clothes and blankets, she unearthed a small, stained fabric bag, fragile with age. A bouquet of purple flowers had been stitched onto the front.
Maddie set her weight on her heels and lifted the bag. She could feel the contours of something inside, something firm. Turning the bag over, she saw that a row of letters and dates had been stitched onto the back. The topmost line read LD 1768. The bottommost read FBC 1959.
What in the world?
Gently, she opened the drawstring. A piece of jewelry slid onto her palm.
Silver had been artfully sculpted into interlocking hearts to form a base that supported a large pale purple heart-shaped stone. A single wide clasp stretched across the back. A brooch. An old brooch? She’d never seen it before. She’d have remembered if she had, surely. So why was it in her box?
She tilted the brooch to catch the light from the utilitarian bulb above. The stone seemed to draw in radiance, to glow with it . . . almost magically.
She carried the treasure down the attic steps in search of her mom and came upon Brandon watching TV in the game room. “Haven’t moved a muscle since I went to the attic, I see,” she said.
“Why would I?” He tilted a thumb in the direction of the flat screen. “Football’s on.”
“Hey, how about when I come back, you go up to the attic with me and help me hunt for garage-sale items?”
“Yeah, I would, but it might mess up my manicure.”
She snorted and continued downstairs.
Her mom stood at the kitchen island, rolling out pie crust.
“I found something,” Maddie said.
“Great, honey!” She had yet to look up.
“I found something mysterious that might be valuable.”
“Hmm?” The movement of the rolling pin ceased and her mom regarded her quizzically. Maddie displayed the brooch, cushioned on top of the bag it had come in.
Her mom’s features slackened with surprise. “Oh my goodness.” She extended a hand. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
Maddie passed over the brooch and took a seat on one of the island’s barstools. Mom smiled at the piece of jewelry with nostalgic affection.
Her mom’s face was as familiar to Maddie as her own, and still, Laura Winslow’s prettiness always seemed fresh.
Her mom’s thick, white-gray hair ended in a crisp line near the base of her throat.
Her strawberries-and-cream complexion shone with health.
And her blue eyes were surrounded by wrinkles that looked wise and beautiful rather than haggard.
She wore an apron that said Kiss the Cook over her jeans and cotton top.
“Where did the brooch come from?” Maddie asked.
“Grandma gave it to me when I graduated from high school.”
They called Maddie’s paternal grandmother Nonni. They called Fleeta Chapin, Maddie’s maternal grandmother, Grandma. “Is the stone real?”
“Yes. It’s an amethyst.”
“Then it must be worth a considerable amount of money, right?”
“Possibly. Since I never planned to sell it, I never had it appraised. It’s a family heirloom.”
“It is?”
“Oh, yes. It’s been passed down by the women in our family for generations.”
Maddie raised her eyebrows.
“The women are all noted on the bag, if I remember correctly.” Mom donned her reading glasses, which had been lying next to the cherry pie recipe. “Yes. See here? Each woman in our family who’s owned the brooch has been added to this list.”
“Those are their initials, I’m guessing. And what, their birth dates?”
“Those are their married initials, I think. And their wedding dates.”
“Wow.” It appeared that the same woman had stitched the first several lines because they were all in the same color and style. “Why does the fourth lady have four initials and two dates?” Maddie asked. “Was she married twice?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said.
The other lines had been sewn with different colors of thread in varying styles. The last inscription, FBC 1959, was overlarge and lopsided. “Wait a second. Is FBC Grandma?”
“It must be. Her married name is Fleeta Brady Chapin, and she married Dad in 1959.”
“Grandma isn’t the neatest seamstress.”
“She’s always been better at shooting than sewing.”
“Why aren’t your initials on here?”
“I meant to sew them on.” She gave an airy shrug. “I just never got around to it.”
Maddie positioned the brooch next to the bag on the island. “Why was this brooch in a box in the attic marked Save for Maddie?”
“Well.” Mom resumed rolling out the circle of piecrust. “I packed it away in that box to save it until the time came to give it to you. For your high school graduation or college graduation or on some other special occasion. But, goodness, I must’ve packed that box back when you were ten.
The brooch never crossed my mind when you graduated high school and college. I haven’t thought about it in ages.”
Mom was loving and social and cheerful but not necessarily the most detail-oriented of women. Her relaxed approach to life led to a high degree of contentment and a high number of things that fell through the cracks. Leaving a valuable piece of jewelry in the attic for years—typical.
“Sorry I forgot, honey,” she continued. “This isn’t as sentimental a moment as I might have hoped, but here you are.” Her eyes glittered with humor as she brandished a flour-dusted hand toward the brooch. “From me to you! Mother to daughter. Enjoy!”
“Thanks, Mom,” Maddie said dryly.
“Are you frustrated with me for failing to give it to you when I should have?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s hard to be frustrated about not receiving something you never knew existed.”
“An hour from now we can celebrate the brooch over this gluten-free cherry pie I’m making especially for you. How’s that?”
“That’ll work.” Maddie was not one to pass up her mom’s homemade pie. Ever.
Mom slipped the crust into the prepared pan then began crimping its edges. “There’s a legend that goes along with the brooch.”
“A legend?”
She nodded. “I’ll have to think on it. I believe it had to do with the bearer of the brooch discovering true love.”
“Hm?”
“Yes. Isn’t that sweet?”
“You mean to tell me that a brooch that might have the power to bring true love into my life has been gathering dust under baby blankets?”