Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
A ndie clutched the Sandcastles bag in her hand as the trio entered Tall Pines. The place was a large complex with interconnected buildings that seemed more like a small community than an assisted-living facility. There were various rooms for the residents to watch TV or do a puzzle as well as a big dining room and several cafés.
Stopping at the reception desk, Bunny said, “We’re here to visit Ellen Quillen. Could you please tell us where to find her?”
“Certainly,” the receptionist replied with a welcoming smile. “Mrs. Quillen is in the assisted-living wing. Just go down this corridor, take a left, and then it’s the third right. You’ll find her apartment down that hall.”
Armed with directions, they ventured deeper into the facility, their footsteps softened by the plush carpeting. As they walked, they couldn’t help but notice the little alcoves outside each door—spaces where the residents could personalize their entries. Welcome signs, pumpkins, and pots of vibrant mums were popular. They even spotted an array of handcrafted Norwegian ornaments and trinkets, courtesy of Olga Svenson.
Finally, they arrived at Ellen Quillen’s door. They knocked and waited. It took a few moments, but the door eventually creaked open to reveal a petite elderly lady with snowy white hair, leaning on her walker for support. Her face lit up with a blend of curiosity and warmth.
“Hello,” she greeted them, her voice rising in question at the end.
“Hi, Mrs. Quillen,” Bunny began, smiling as genuinely as she felt. “I’m Bunny, this is Sam, and this is Andie. Father Frank from St. Mary’s said you might be able to help us with something. May we come in?”
“Of course, of course,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she stepped aside to let them enter. “Please make yourselves at home, and please call me Ellen.”
Her small apartment felt like a cocoon of yesteryears—photographs of younger days adorned the walls, a crocheted blanket was neatly folded on the armchair, and a delicate scent of lavender hung in the air.
The layout was simple but thoughtful—a compact kitchenette sat just to the right of the entrance, equipped with basic appliances and a small dining table set for two. The living room was the centerpiece of the apartment, featuring overstuffed furniture.
Ellen’s eyes sparkled with genuine happiness at their presence. “I rarely get visitors these days. Would you like some coffee? I could put on a pot,” she offered, her voice tinged with a gracious enthusiasm.
“That would be lovely, thank you,” Bunny replied as Andie handed over the bag of pastries they had brought. With deft movements that belied her age, Ellen carefully unwrapped the pastries, arranged them on a fine china dish, and set it on the coffee table for her guests.
“Now then,” Ellen said, settling into her armchair, “what did Father Frank think I could help you with?”
Taking this as their cue, Bunny and Sam began to recount their quest to find the intended recipient of the unopened Christmas gift and how clues had led them to her doorstep. As they unfolded the story, they produced the old church bulletin that Sam had discovered—articles and all.
As Bunny and Sam unfolded their story, Ellen’s eyes took on a faraway look, her gaze turning inward to memories long stored away. The weight of those years was palpable in her eyes. She nodded along with their recounting as if confirming details to herself, lost in a reverie of a time long past.
Setting out steaming mugs of coffee on the table beside the dish of pastries, Ellen eased herself back into her armchair and began her own tale. “My husband, God rest his soul, was killed suddenly in an accident. It was... unexpected, to say the least. We had two young children, and I was a housewife. Suddenly, there was no income, only a mountain of medical bills and the looming costs of a funeral. The church... oh, they were our saving grace. They helped us so much during that difficult time.”
Her eyes moistened as she continued, “That Christmas was a bleak one, but our congregation made sure the children had gifts to open. They did their best to bring some light into a very dark time for us.”
Andie, who had been listening intently, leaned forward and gently placed the beautifully wrapped gift on the table in front of Ellen. “Could this possibly be one of those gifts?” she asked, her voice tinged with cautious optimism.
Ellen looked at the gift, her eyes scanning the wrapping paper and ribbon, then shook her head slowly but decidedly. “No, I don’t think so. I remember that Christmas vividly, and I’m certain there were no leftover gifts. Also, this wrapping paper doesn’t look familiar to me. And ‘Urchin’? I have no idea who that could be. The gifts from the congregation were all addressed to the children by name, Linda and Tom.”
A pall of disappointment settled over the room. “You’re sure?” Bunny asked.
Ellen nodded. “Definitely. I’m sorry.”
Andie’s hopes deflated. They’d been so close, and she had been sure she’d found the person who should have the gift. She sighed and took a sip of her coffee. It looked like they would have to start again from square one.
After a heartwarming half hour with Ellen, Bunny, Sam, and Andie left her apartment with a mixture of contentment and disappointment. As they navigated their way through the maze of hallways in Tall Pines, Sam broke the silence.
“Do you think there’s a chance Ellen could be wrong about the gift? I mean, it was a long time ago.”
Bunny shook her head. “I don’t think so. Ellen seemed mentally sharp, and she was insistent that the gift wasn’t from that Christmas. Plus ‘Urchin’ doesn’t match any of her kids’ names.”
Andie, who had been quiet, chimed in, “I agree. I hope you two don’t mind if we drop off these muffins to my mom since we’re here already.”
“Of course not. We’d love to see Addie,” Bunny said.
The trio continued to the memory-care wing and soon found themselves at Addie’s room. Addie looked up from her seat by the window. After a moment of hesitation, her eyes sparkled with faint recognition. “Oh, Bunny and Sam. It’s been ages!”
“How are you, Addie?” Bunny asked.
“Fine, and you? Are you going to art school now? And Sam, you’re at the police academy, aren’t you?”
Bunny and Sam exchanged a glance, then both looked at Andie, who gave a subtle shrug. They decided to play along.
“Yes, we’ve really been hitting the books,” Sam said.
“That’s good.”
Addie’s face creased in confusion, lost somewhere in the past, so Andie decided to try to bring her back to the present. She stepped forward, holding out the chocolate chip muffins. “We brought you some muffins, Mom.”
Addie took the bag but seemed momentarily distracted, her eyes drifting past them to glance into the hallway as if she were expecting someone.
“Who are you looking for?” Andie asked, following her gaze.
“Jane,” Addie responded, a hint of anticipation lacing her voice.
“Jane isn’t coming today. But would you like to call her?”
Addie nodded, and Andie dialed the number.
“Hey, Andie, how’d it go?” Jane knew that the three of them were coming to Tall Pines in the hopes of finding the person the gift belonged to.
Andie sighed. “No, we struck out. But we’re not giving up. We’re actually at Mom’s room right now. She wants to talk to you.”
Andie handed her phone to Addie, who eagerly took it. “Jane, sweetie, make sure you finish your homework before you go out with your friends, all right?” Addie told her.
Jane chuckled on the other end. “Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t go anywhere until it’s done.”
Andie took back the phone, laughing. “I guess that message was important to Mom.”
“No doubt. Thanks for calling. I’ll see you later at the big art gallery reveal tonight, right?”
“Absolutely. Can’t wait!”