Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
T he office of Father Frank at St. Mary’s was as unassuming as the man himself—a room of simple, utilitarian design. A wooden desk, a couple of chairs, and a small bookshelf filled with theological texts and Bibles occupied the space. The walls were adorned only with a crucifix and a framed painting of the Virgin Mary. There were no frills, just essentials, and that seemed to perfectly match Father Frank.
Father Frank, the embodiment of pleasantness, sat across from them. He had a calming presence, eyes twinkling with an inherent kindness. Snow-white sideburns framed his lined face, complementing his genial appearance. His voice, gentle yet firm, had the unique ability to put anyone instantly at ease.
Internally, Bunny was practically buzzing with excitement. She felt they were on the verge of solving the mystery of the gift and finally finding the intended recipient. She glanced at Sam, who looked equally expectant as he handed Father Frank the church bulletin they’d found.
After uncovering the bulletin that mentioned a family facing a joyless Christmas, Bunny and Sam had decided to delve deeper into the church archives. Their persistence had paid off when they stumbled upon another article that highlighted a charity benefit organized for a local family. The article went on to describe how the community had come together in an unprecedented manner, contributing record-breaking donations that included a sizable trunk brimming with gifts. The article didn’t mention who the family was, but Bunny figured that if anyone would know, it would be Father Frank.
Father Frank took his reading glasses from his desk and skimmed through the pages. “Ah, I remember this well,” he said, referring to the notice about the charity benefit and the trunk full of donated gifts. “I was just a young priest back then. We held a benefit for a family in dire straits. The father had died suddenly, leaving the wife and children to fend for themselves.”
As they talked, Bunny couldn’t shake off a nagging feeling. The notion of the gift being merely overlooked seemed too simple, too convenient. She looked over at Father Frank and Sam, feeling the weight of the unsolved mystery on her shoulders.
“But then, how did the trunk end up in Mrs. Perkins’s attic?” Bunny asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
Father Frank paused, considering the question. “That is indeed puzzling. Perhaps the trunk was misplaced and then forgotten over the years. When families go through significant changes, especially under stressful circumstances, things can be easily misplaced or misattributed.”
Sam nodded. “And then maybe when someone cleaned out the house, no one remembered what the trunk was for. It could’ve just gotten lumped in with everything else.”
“That could be,” Father Frank agreed. “Mrs. Quillen moved to Tall Pines a few years ago. She’s almost ninety, you know. Before she moved, her children had a big estate sale. Maybe in the shuffle of selling off items and cleaning the house, the trunk found its way to Mrs. Perkins’s attic.”
“Mrs. Quillen? She’s still alive?” Sam queried, eager to follow the trail.
Father Frank nodded. “Yes. Her name is Ellen. Her children have moved away, but she’s still here and sharp as a tack, though she needs help with mobility.”
Bunny’s eyes widened, her excitement reaching a new peak. “Sounds like we need to go to Tall Pines. It’s late tonight, but maybe we can take Andie and the gift tomorrow.”
Father Frank’s eyes twinkled even more brightly if that were possible. “It would truly be a holiday wonder to reunite the gift with its intended recipient.”
As they stood up to leave, Father Frank offered a final blessing. “May your journey be filled with discovery and your hearts with fulfillment.”
Bunny felt a wave of serenity wash over her, mingling with her excitement. She made a mental note to zip a text off to Andie and arrange a time. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow.