Chapter 18
“I’m stuffed.” Morgan leaned back in her chair and patted her stomach.
In celebration of the holiday, she’d splurged and sampled every single dish Mrs. Arnsby and her culinary staff had set before them—roasted turkey, carved ham, mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, sweet potato pie, green bean casserole and made-from-scratch dinner rolls.
As soon as the dinner dishes were cleared, a server made his rounds, refilling glasses with eggnog and sparkling water. When everyone had a full glass, Elizabeth lifted hers. “A toast to a warm home, delicious food and good company.”
Gerard and the guests raised their glasses. “Here. Here. Merry Christmas, everyone.”
“Merry Christmas,” a murmur of echoes replied.
“Jane.” Elizabeth reached out to stop the cook, who was darting back and forth from the table to the sidebar. “Please have a seat.”
“I was making sure the desserts were ready.” The cook reluctantly perched on the edge of her chair, sandwiched in between Jax and Ben.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “As is the Easton family tradition, each of us will share one thing we’re thankful for. I’ll start. I’m thankful for each and every one of you, including our new guests, Jeff and Tristan.”
Gerard grasped his wife’s hand, his eyes shining with love. “I’m grateful to have my first Christmas with my beautiful bride. I love you with all my heart.”
“And I love you too.” Elizabeth gave him a light kiss, her expression mirroring his.
Morgan was next. “I’m thankful for all of you, as well. Even though I miss my mom, I have my family here and couldn’t be more grateful.”
“I don’t mean to be a copycat, but my sister summed it up perfectly,” Brett said. “Family is everything.”
Taking turns, the others shared being thankful for a warm house, for Elizabeth’s hospitality, for their health. They reached Jeff Blakely, who said he was thankful for his nephew.
All eyes turned to Tristan. He squirmed and looked at his uncle, as if seeking permission.
Jeff gave a small nod of his head.
“I miss my mom too. I’m thankful Mrs. Easton…uh…Ainsworth asked us to stay because this house is super rad.”
His enthusiastic statement generated a ripple of laughter from the dinner guests.
“And on that note, dessert will also be super rad.” Mrs. Arnsby sprang from her chair.
Ben offered his assistance, wheeling a cart filled with tasty treats: coconut cream pie, pumpkin pie, Michigan cherry pie, chocolate cake. Last, but not least, was the star of the show…the Christmas pudding.
Each individual slice sat on a decorative holiday plate, representing the twelve days of Christmas.
Working her way around the table, she placed a plate in front of each guest. Ben followed behind, pouring a generous amount of rich brandy sauce over the top.
“Would anyone like their pudding flambéed?”
“What is flambéed?” Tristan asked.
“Lighting the dish on fire.”
His eyes grew round as saucers. “You’re setting the pudding on fire?”
Another ripple of laughter echoed in the room.
“Using great caution.” Mrs. Arnsby hurried to his side. With the flick of a button, she torched the dish. Flames shot straight up into the air.
“Cool,” he whooped. “Can I blow it out?”
“Carefully,” his uncle warned.
Taking a breath, Tristan blew out the flame. The others at the table broke out in a spontaneous round of applause. “I never saw food on fire before.”
“It’s only on special occasions,” Elizabeth said.
“Will it taste burnt?”
“Not at all.” Mrs. Arnsby insisted on serving the others, adding a scoop of French vanilla ice cream to their plates.
“Before you dig in, I must warn you each slice contains a charm, to bode good fortune for the new year,” their hostess explained.
Making a game of it, each of them dug into their pudding searching for their hidden trinket. Whether by luck or by design, silver coins and rings, miniature horseshoes and four-leaf clovers were found, with nary a single thimble in sight.
The meal finally ended, and Elizabeth invited the guests to the library for after-dinner drinks and a singalong at the piano.
The room started to clear, and the senior Easton motioned for Morgan and Brett to hang back. “Thank you, Morgan, for wrapping the presents for our extra guests.”
“You’re welcome. You found some great gifts.”
“ is my friend.” Elizabeth turned to Brett. “Jeff and Tristan have agreed not to spill the family beans?”
“Yes.” Brett made a zipping motion across his mouth. “Not a peep.”
“Good.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “And Quinn?”
He tipped his hand back and forth. “Is taking it like I figured she would. She’s in shock.”
“I noticed her staring at Tristan,” Morgan whispered. “I’m sure she noticed the resemblance between the two of you.”
“Perhaps even Prissy noticed,” Elizabeth said. “I saw her giving him a couple of sidelong glances.”
“I’m picking up a DNA testing kit at the drugstore.”
“They sell testing kits at the drugstore?”
“Believe it or not, yes. As I mentioned before, I have a friend who works in the field. I’ll send it to her the day after Christmas.
She promised to put a rush on it for a small fee, of course.
” Brett assured them he would have the test results back the following day.
“After we have the results, we’ll figure out our next step. ”
“I would plan on them coming back positive,” Elizabeth advised. “The boy is your son.”
“I believe you’re right. As soon as I can confirm it, I’ll talk to Tristan and his uncle.”
“And then what?” Morgan asked. “Tristan needs a home.”
“I agree. However, he’s old enough to have a say in where he wants to live.”
“Jax showed him around the property,” Elizabeth said. “Tristan wants to go fishing, hunting, snowmobiling.”
“It’s one thing to be excited about visiting somewhere new with cool stuff to do,” Brett said. “I would like to chat with him to get a feel for what he’s thinking. It could go one of two ways.”
“He could reject you entirely, thinking you’ll abandon him like his former father did, or try to please you and live up to what he thinks you want him to be,” Elizabeth said.
“Yep. I need a neutral party to kind of feel him out. Jeff said Tristan has been withdrawn since his mother’s death.”
“Not only is he mourning her death, but he feels like no one wants him,” Morgan said. “I’ve been in his shoes. He’s lost, which is how I felt until I found Easton Island. It changed my life forever. I bet he would love it here if he gave it half a chance.”
“You know what?” Brett snapped his fingers. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, but would you be willing to talk to Tristan? As you said, you’ve been in his shoes and you know how he feels.”
“I…”
“Brett is right. You’re the neutral party we need,” Elizabeth said.
“Of course. I mean, I’ll try.”
“Thank you.”
“The guests are waiting. I say you chat with Tristan tomorrow. Tonight is all about celebrating Christmas Eve.”
Reaching the library, the trio found Prissy seated at the piano, playing a lively Christmas tune while the others gathered around for a singalong.
The song segued into another, the start of a medley of familiar carols and tunes. After finishing, Morgan invited them to the parlor, where she’d set up craft tables to create handmade ornaments using the supplies she’d bought for her bed-and-breakfast guests.
Morgan, Ronni, Jax, Ben, Mrs. Arnsby, Mary, Elizabeth’s best friend, Prissy, Naomi, Gerard, Brett, Quinn, Jeff and even Tristan took a seat at the table while holiday tunes played in the background.
Chester, along with Esther, Quinn’s pup, made their rounds, curious to find out what they were doing before finally curling up by the fire for a long winter nap.
Conversation was easy, with the guests sharing favorite memories from Christmases past.
Morgan worked diligently on her ornament, decorating it with glitter and buttons, yarn, beads, pinecones, and dried citrus slices.
After finishing, she added a twined twig to the base.
“Mine was only a few years ago, when my mom was still alive. She hosted a holiday open house at her art gallery. After it ended, we packed up the car and drove down to Key West. Mom booked us a room right on the water. We sat on our balcony watching the Christmas boat parade.”
Her eyes filled with tears at the memory of the special holiday.
It was one of the last trips they’d taken together.
Instead of a traditional Christmas dinner, they feasted on conch fritters and Cuban sandwiches.
Mother and daughter meandered around town, visiting several touristy spots, including The Hemingway Home.
Tristan, who sat on her right, stared at Morgan. “You didn’t come here for Christmas?”
“I didn’t know about Easton Island until after my mom’s death. I found out about it in her will.”
Their eyes met. Two strangers—a boy and a young woman—sharing a bond…losing the most important person in their lives. “Like when my mom died and how I found out about it too.”
Morgan leaned in. “Easton Island is the most magical place on the planet. It’s full of hopes and dreams and people who love you for who you are.” She said it in a low voice, so low she hoped only Tristan could hear.
His lower lip trembled and gently…ever-so-gently…he reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
“All you have to do is give it a chance, and Easton Island will work its magic on you too.”
“I wish it could,” he said earnestly. “I wish it more than anything.”
She impulsively hugged the boy, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shared his grief. Morgan whispered a small prayer he would find a home like she had, a place to heal and become whole again.
And Morgan Easton would do everything in her power to help her nephew. Simple as that.