Chapter Twenty-Nine
Acting is in everything but the words.
—Stella Adler
As first light spilled through her bedroom window, Mallory restlessly tossed around in her sheets, her mind racing with the revelations from Nan’s journal.
Pop, the gentle soul who’d run Popadine’s Christmas Tree Farm all these years, who had become Hollis’s adoptive grandfather, was Ralph.
The same Ralph who had stolen Nan’s heart all those years ago in a high school Christmas play.
Who’d unknowingly fathered a child with Nan that had tragically passed away.
Ralph Popadine was Pop?
The pieces had fallen into place like a bittersweet puzzle.
Every interaction Mallory had witnessed between Nan and Pop at Memory Oaks now carried new meaning, weighted with decades of unspoken history.
History that Nan might not even remember at this point.
In fact, Mallory felt certain she didn’t.
Rolling onto her side, Mallory hugged her pillow close as she imagined young Nan and Ralph, their love blooming in simpler times.
The way Nan wrote about Ralph was different from how she described Mallory’s grandfather Mickey.
Both loves were real, but first love had a magic all its own, an innocence that could never quite be recaptured.
Another thing that had kept Mallory tossing last night was a final note from Nan, along with a collection of her mother’s letters, an envelope with a substantial amount of money, and Daisy’s contact information.
Dearest Granddaughters,
It’s not an ornament but I saved all the Christmas letters your mother sent after that last visit.
Read them and you’ll see that she was following both of you every step of the way along your journey to this point.
You’ll find her address on the letters. It hasn’t changed.
If you should want to reach out, she’d be thrilled, but if you choose not to, Daisy will never hold that against you.
Like love, it’s a choice that is yours to make.
P.S Daisy sent a savings bond for each of you every year since the last time you saw her. Consider the money like the rainy day fund that my mother used when I came home from New York, pregnant and scared. Everyone should have one, and you’ll know when it’s time to use it.
Mallory had been too stunned and tired to even consider what this final keepsake meant.
She would need to talk to Maddie before doing anything.
She didn’t know exactly how much, but the rainy day fund that Daisy had created for them was substantial.
Maybe even enough to solve all the concerns of Nan’s care and the upkeep for the theater. Wow.
On a yawn, Mallory sat up in bed and glanced over at the nightstand clock.
She’d already planned to see Nan this morning, like she did any morning when she didn’t have to work at the hospital.
I wish I could tell Nan that I finished her journal.
There were so many questions Mallory still had left to ask.
Most, however, were now answered. All that was left for Mallory to do was decide what the revelations meant in relation to her own life.
Hurrying, she showered, dressed, and made her cup of coffee to go, and then stepped out into the chilly morning.
As she drove, frost sparkled on bare tree branches, and Christmas lights twinkled from nearby houses, reminding her of the season’s magic—and of Hollis.
Always of Hollis these days. Was he working the tree farm this morning?
She envisioned him walking his dogs along the rows of trees, talking to them and himself, his boots making fresh footprints in the new fallen snow.
Or walking one dog and pulling the other in a wagon.
Even dogs could use a little fresh air for healing, right?
After parking, Mallory hugged her heavy coat tighter across her chest and walked briskly toward the front entrance of Memory Oaks, the cold air nipping her cheeks and nose.
“There’s our star director!” Francis cheered from the front desk. “The play was absolutely magical last night. You’ve done your grandmother proud, keeping her tradition.”
“Thanks.” Mallory managed a tired smile.
Francis’s expression softened. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve been carrying some heavy thoughts.”
“Just… I don’t know. I guess I’m processing some family history,” Mallory answered carefully.
“Mm. I’m processing some things this morning too.” Francis sighed. “Margaret put in her retirement notice earlier. She’ll be leaving us next month. We’re happy for her, of course. She’s earned her rest. But it’s a real loss for Memory Oaks. She’s one of our best.”
“She’s been so great with Nan. It must be hard finding qualified nurses in a town this size.”
“Like finding a needle in a haystack,” Francis agreed. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone looking for work, would you?”
Mallory shook her head, her mind already drifting toward Nan’s room. “I’ll let you know if I think of anyone.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Mallory continued down the hallway, watching her feet as she walked. Outside Nan’s door, she heard something that stopped her in her tracks—laughter. Rich, genuine laughter that transported her back to her childhood, when Nan’s joy had been a constant presence.
“Nan?” Mallory knocked softly and entered to find Pop seated beside Nan’s chair, both caught in the afterglow of shared amusement.
The sight struck Mallory with such force that she had to grip the doorframe.
Here they were, two people who might have spent a lifetime together, finding each other again in the winter of their lives.
It was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.
“Mallory!” Pop’s face creased with genuine pleasure. He turned to Nan, his voice gentle. “Look who’s come to visit.”
Nan’s eyes held that familiar mix of confusion and polite interest as she studied Mallory’s face. The lack of recognition still hurt, but Mallory had learned to find joy in each moment rather than mourning what was lost. “Who are you?”
“Just a friend of Pop’s. Hi, Pop,” Mallory said, glancing in his direction and sharing a look.
Settling into a nearby chair, she watched how naturally Pop and Nan interacted, how their shoulders angled toward each other without conscious thought. “The play was wonderful last night,” she told them. “We performed it in your barn, Pop.”
“Hollis told me. It’s not my barn anymore though. It’s his. I know he’ll take care of the place.”
Mallory knew that too.
“A play in a barn? How unusual,” Nan commented. “Was there hay everywhere?”
“A little here and there,” Mallory said. “It added charm.”
“You’ll have to take me next time,” Nan said. Then she looked at Pop. “Or maybe you could take me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Pop reached for Nan’s hand and gave it a squeeze, causing Mallory’s heart to squeeze too. “We’re good friends.”
Nan’s cheeks flushed.
“Actually, Nan,” Mallory said, “we’re planning to perform the play here next weekend.” Francis had agreed to host, and the cast had all agreed as well.
Nan drew a hand to her chest. “A play? Here?” She looked at Pop and reached for his hand. “Ralph, did you hear that?”
Pop slid his gaze to meet Mallory’s, maybe wondering if she knew his shared history with Nan. Mallory hadn’t, but she did now. And she was so grateful. “I did hear it, Nan,” he said. “Want to be my date?”
Nan looked pleased by the invitation.
Mallory felt like she was eavesdropping on two young lovebirds. “I, um, need to go. I was only dropping in to say hello.” As she rose to leave, Nan caught her hand with surprising strength. “You should visit more often, dear. Every day if you can. This is a wonderful place to be.”
The words resonated through Mallory like a struck bell. Nan was always right, even when lost in her current fog. Memory Oaks wasn’t an ending place. It was where life continued to unfold, where connections deepened, where love persisted against all odds. Where memories settled like old friends.
Mallory’s pace picked up along with her resolution as she approached the front desk again. “Francis? I think I do know someone who may be interested.”
Francis looked up from her paperwork. “You do? Who?”
Mallory’s heart raced with sudden certainty. “Me.”
Francis’s eyebrows shot up. “You?”
“I’ll bring my résumé by later today,” Mallory promised. “But first, I need to see a man about a Christmas tree.”
Back in her car, Mallory gripped the steering wheel as emotions crashed over her. Her grandmother’s story had taught her so much—about love, about timing, about courage. When you find real love, you don’t let it slip away. You grab it with both hands. You fight for it with everything you have.
Yes, Hollis had let Mallory down once. Or twice. But no one else challenged her the way he did or supported her dreams as fiercely. No one else saw straight through her defenses to the person she truly was—and loved her anyway. No one else made her feel so completely herself.
She turned her car toward Popadine’s Christmas Tree Farm, her grandmother’s journal entries echoing in her mind. Life was too short for holding back, too precious for pride. The past had given her its lessons. Now it was time for Mallory to write her own love story.
As she drove, more snowflakes began to fall, dusting the world in possibilities.
Mallory’s excitement grew, her assuredness, leaving her more certain with every mile.
Sometimes the greatest Christmas gifts weren’t wrapped in paper and bows.
The best ornaments weren’t store bought, but instead little sentimental trinkets.
Sometimes the best roles weren’t played out onstage, but in a barn, in real life.
At least that’s what Mallory was hoping as she cut the engine and stepped out of her car.
Buster darted in her direction first. Trained, Duke waited for Hollis to give him the okay. Duke was slower than normal, still healing from his injuries. Both dogs greeted Mallory with tail wags, sniffing her hands and legs as she stood there, waiting for Hollis to slowly approach.
“I’m so sorry, Mal,” he began.
She raised a hand to stop him. “Here’s the deal. Next time life goes sideways, you need to promise to turn to me, okay?”
“I promise.” He reached for her hand and held it in his. “You can lean on me and vice versa. Just like Santa and Mrs. Claus.”
Mallory liked the sound of that. “Did you know that Santa, Baby was really about Nan and her first love?”
Hollis crinkled his forehead in a thoughtful expression. “I didn’t know that.”
“Mm-hmm. This holiday season has brought quite the revelations.”
He stared at her. “I have a revelation of my own. I love you, Mal.”
Her lips parted. “Hey, that’s my line.”
The corners of his lips curved. “I thought maybe you forgot it.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Leaning into him, she hoped he’d keep his promise to catch her if she truly let herself fall, because that was the plan from here on out.
Part of the plan. She also planned to leave the hospital, work at Memory Oaks, and reinvent Nan’s theater for someone else’s dream—Maddie’s.
Wouldn’t the theater make a great location for the Adaptive Sports Center? Why hadn’t that occurred to her before?
And maybe, just maybe, Mallory and Maddie would extend an olive branch to their mom.
The future was full of possibilities and plans to make. But right now, Mallory’s only plan was getting Hollis to kiss her for a third time. Three’s a charm. “I love you too, Hollis Franklin,” she whispered, looking up into his dark brown eyes.
He didn’t budge. Instead, he held her gaze, looking at her like no one ever had. “You do realize I’m just a small-town guy who’s going to raise trees and rescue dogs, don’t you?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘just.’ That’s more than enough for me.”
Her words seemed to satisfy any hesitation he had left. Now he dipped low, his beard tickling her skin as he brushed his lips to hers. And just like being onstage, she felt like the ground was slipping from beneath her feet and she was flying.
As he pulled back, she flashed him a grin, her heart so full that it could burst. Not everyone got to live out their happily-ever-after with their one true love.
Mallory didn’t doubt that Nan and Mickey had loved each other in their own way, different from the once-in-a-lifetime way that Nan had loved Ralph. Still loved Ralph.
Mallory wouldn’t take this chance with Hollis for granted.
“Santa, Baby is about Nan?” Hollis asked.
“It’s a long story,” Mallory said with a laugh. “All I care about now is our story.”
“Ditto, Mrs. Claus.” Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he led her toward the trees, with Buster and Duke at their heels and snowflakes landing on their hair and dusting their shoulders.
Stopping short, Hollis bent and grabbed a bright red cardinal’s feather from the top of the freshly fallen snow.
He turned and positioned it, along with a lock of hair, behind her ear.
This was a perfect moment, she thought, deserving of an ornament—the very first on her own Memory Tree.