Chapter Seven
The theatre was created to tell the truth about life and a social situation.
—Stella Adler
Mallory’s breath caught as she stepped into the community room of Memory Oaks and saw the large Christmas tree filling up the far corner, nearly reaching the ceiling. “Wow,” she said under her breath.
Francis stepped up beside Mallory. “I told you it was nice.”
“It’s stunning,” Mallory agreed, turning back to Francis. “Thank you again for doing this.”
“Well, Pop donated the tree. All I did was say yes to a very persuasive Hollis. I’m so glad he was here to help with Nan this morning. Usually, once she’s upset, it’s hard to press reset on the day. But he de-escalated the situation quickly enough that Nan was able to recover.”
Mallory turned toward Francis curiously. “Hollis was here earlier?” Hollis hadn’t mentioned anything to her when he’d called to invite her to trim the tree with him this evening.
Francis’s expression turned sheepish. Mallory was a good read of people, and it looked like there was something Francis wasn’t saying.
“He’s coming again tonight,” Mallory said.
“We’re going to trim the tree and add all the lights your staff was able to come up with.
” Then Mallory planned to add the first of Nan’s Memory Tree ornaments.
“I love Linda’s idea of having the other residents make their own memory ornaments. That’s so perfect.”
Francis was quiet again.
Mallory gave her an assessing look. “It wasn’t Linda’s idea, was it? Was it Hollis’s?”
Francis tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “Oh, I’m awful at keeping secrets.”
Why on earth would Hollis not want Mallory to know this was his genius?
“I guess he thought it’d be better if you thought this whole idea came from someone else.”
Mallory wondered why he would think that. “Well, whoever’s idea it was, it’s great. Over the last couple of years, my grandmother has started putting up a Memory Tree with each ornament telling a story. How perfect to bring the tradition to Memory Oaks.”
Mallory had hoped the tree would be in Nan’s room, but she could still bring the memory journal and read the stories behind each ornament to Nan as they hung the ornaments on the tree.
Mallory could learn a side of Nan that she’d never known while reminding her grandmother of the life she was slowly forgetting.
Even if Nan couldn’t remember, the journal did.
“Sorry I’m late,” Hollis said, stepping up beside Mallory. “The farm was a bit busy, and I wanted to make sure the seasonal employees had things under control before I left. But I’m here now. Let the wild rumpus begin.” He looked over and offered Mallory a wink.
She lifted a brow. “Have you been hanging around Eleanor today?”
Eleanor was Savannah’s great-aunt who loved to speak in book quotes.
Hollis chuckled. “Actually, yes. She and your grandpa Charlie were at the farm today, picking out their own Christmas tree.”
Mallory was so happy that her paternal grandfather had found love again after losing his first wife. He liked to tell people that lightning had struck twice for him when it came to love… Whereas it hadn’t even struck once for Mallory.
Hollis rubbed his hands together as he redirected his attention to the tree. “Wow. That’s a beauty, huh?” He said it as if he’d never seen the tree before, but Mallory was on to him. “Shall we get trimming?”
Mallory ignored the fluttery feeling inside her chest as he made eye contact. “Yes. Let’s get started.”
“How about I make you both some hot cider while you work?” Francis offered. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I won’t say no to apple cider,” Hollis said. He turned to Mallory. “What about you?”
“I’d love a cup as well.” As Francis disappeared, leaving them alone, Mallory reached for some clippers. “I’ll take the bottom and you take the top, seeing that you’re much taller than I am.”
“Seeing that you’re much shorter,” he shot back, giving her another wink.
Her chest fluttered again. He needed to stop with all that winking. In her mind, she knew he wasn’t flirting but her heart missed the memo. “So, have you found a Santa for me yet?”
“I’m working on it. Today was a bit busy,” he said casually, grabbing his own pair of cutters.
Mallory chewed at her lower lip, wondering how he’d respond to what she’d been thinking about all day. “Well, you can stop looking. Because I think I’ve found the perfect Santa.”
He looked up from the tree branch he was working on. “Yeah? Who?”
“You. You should be Santa this year.”
Hollis’s brown eyes narrowed as he straightened back into an upright position. “What?”
“I know you’re constantly being asked for favors and you always say yes, no matter what.
I also know you’re busy, so I hate to add more to your plate.
But you’re Santa, Hollis.” He was big and jolly, and he was so generous with his time and energy.
“You can say no, of course. But I really hope you’ll say yes. For Nan.”
“Nan? You and I both know this is the opposite of what Nan would want.”
Mallory folded her arms over her chest. “No. You and I both know that Nan loves you and she would trust you with anything. She’d trust you with her life.
She’d definitely trust you to play the lead in her play.
” Mallory pressed her hands together. “Please,” she said, her voice growing small.
She’d never liked asking for help, but Nan’s play couldn’t run without a Santa.
“You’re perfect for the role. You were made for it. Be Nan’s Santa this year.”
“Nan isn’t the director. You are,” he said, his eyes glinting in the dim light.
Mallory felt another unwanted flutter. “Right… Then be my Santa.”
Mallory’s body felt restless later that night as she tried to fall asleep.
She had too much weighing on her mind. Between the play and her excitement over decorating the tree for Memory Oaks, her brain was still buzzing.
Also, she could still smell Hollis’s cologne.
It wasn’t as if they’d even touched, but his scent was on her skin, making it impossible to get him off her mind.
She’d always found Hollis to be a handsome guy, but she wondered if her preoccupation with him tonight was more because she was lonely.
Usually after getting off a shift at the hospital and visiting Nan, she was so tired once she got home that she fell asleep on the couch some nights.
And when she awoke, she went through her rushed morning routine that led her back to the hospital, Memory Oaks, and home. Her days were on autopilot.
Rolling onto her side, Mallory exhaled softly and tried to get comfortable but only ended up shifting and squirming until she sat up and turned on her nightstand lamp, illuminating Nan’s journal on the table.
Mallory pulled it to her lap and opened it.
She had read only two entries so far. The Santa Hat Tree Topper and The Wildflower Ornament.
She’d hoped to read that second entry to Nan, but Nan couldn’t control her good days any more than Mallory could.
Maybe Nan’s recollection of the Santa Hat Tree Topper was just a fluke.
Maybe the rest of the ornaments wouldn’t refresh Nan’s memory.
Mallory blinked the sleep out of her eyes as she settled in to read the next entry. She was tempted to devour Nan’s entire journal in one sitting, but Nan had specifically requested that Mallory read only one entry at a time and hang one ornament at a time as she created the Memory Tree.
“Getting to know someone doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a journey,” Nan had said last Christmas.
“I already know you, Grandma.” Mallory placed a hand over Nan’s at the time.
“You know Nan, the grandmother.” Nan gave her a steady look. “A person, like an actor, plays a lot of roles in their life. I want you to remember me, all of me, even when I can’t.”
Mallory nervously turned to the page she’d left off on.
There must be a reason why Nan had kept some details of her life hidden.
There was always a reason for keeping secrets, and from Mallory’s experience, none of them were good.
Using her pointer finger, she kept her place as she read the story behind the next ornament.
The Butterfly Barrette Ornament
Locate the small box wrapped in silver paper adorned with sapphire blue ribbon.
The tag will have the number 3 written on it.
Inside you’ll find the Butterfly Barrette Ornament.
I use the term ornament loosely because you’ll easily see that it’s really a hair barrette with a beautiful silver-and-white braided rope fastened into the metal clip.
Hang it with care, the third keepsake on your tree.
Hang it on a branch that best catches the light in the room.
Here’s the story behind it.
After that Christmas, Ralph and I were inseparable.
We went everywhere together and everyone in town knew we were in love.
I was a mere seventeen years old, dreaming of heading to try my hand at Broadway.
Ralph and I never discussed it. I knew he had no intention of ever leaving Bloom, but Ralph always said he wouldn’t hold me back.
For Valentine’s, he gave me a beautiful jeweled butterfly barrette, almost too gorgeous to wear in my hair. The colors were mesmerizing.
“I love the gift.” We were sitting in his car and I recall worrying because he seemed suddenly serious.
Then he turned and looked at me. “The barrette isn’t the gift.
The gift is the message.” He was quiet for a long time, which wasn’t like him at all.
“Nan, when it’s time, don’t say good-bye.
Don’t feel guilty, don’t second-guess yourself, and don’t look back.
Just spread your wings and go. Fly like you were born to do. ”
Tears flowed down my cheeks because it was a gift. I didn’t want to be the villain by breaking his heart. I didn’t want to leave and maybe I wouldn’t have been able to if he hadn’t given me this beautiful gift. He released me to follow my dream.
So that’s what I did.
The morning after graduation, I got up and packed my car.
My eyes were so blurred with tears that I’m surprised I even made it to New York.
I missed Ralph so much, but I kept myself busy, working as a waitress and going to every audition I could.
It didn’t even take long to land a part.
My first big break. It seemed like fate.
The total elation that I always envisioned would consume me, however, never came.
All I felt was an immense pressure. The spirit of competitiveness was strong, and I’m pretty sure my understudy hated me.
I also felt sick. It was more than nervous butterflies. Between scenes, I’d run to the bathroom and throw up.
I thought it was just a stomach virus. Or the old take-out food I’d eaten for breakfast. Then I started to wonder if this sickness that wouldn’t go away was something more life-altering.
My clothes felt snug. The costumes I was fitted for would no longer fasten and I had to use a rubber band looped through the buttonhole to attach to the button. Desperate times, desperate measures.
Deep down, I knew the truth. Standing at a crossroads, I had a secret that I was carrying alone. I had a decision to make that would determine the rest of my life—and less than seven months to make it.