Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Beverly
School is finally out. We only had to go in for half a day on Friday, the principal waving us off before lunchtime so we could officially start our Christmas vacations.
My plan is to head straight to Heartsboro and dive right into the festivities.
I joyfully trot to my car, already loaded with my luggage and presents.
“Have a great Christmas,” Joan, the reliable school secretary shouts from across the parking lot.
“You too!” I wave.
The gifts I have for everyone are carefully wrapped in gorgeous red and green plaid paper and tied with various handmade bows.
I love painstakingly shaping the ribbon that has wire woven into the edges on each present, the final look resembling a photo from a magazine.
There’s something about a pretty package with added ribbon volume and detail that I absolutely love.
Unlike my sister, I’ve always had a talent for wrapping the loveliest presents.
Poor Madison gave up years ago and resorted to gift bags rather than taking the time to craft the perfect wrap job.
But it’s the thought that counts, right?
And Madison has been extremely generous over the years with what’s inside her gift bags.
Homemade baked goods, including banana bread and blueberry muffins, fill a small cooler behind my seat.
Even though I’m ahead of the game with my baking, I’m still looking forward to our annual holiday goodie day at her house.
As sisters, we’ve always made fudge and decorated Christmas cookies together every season, the sight of the frosted angels, Santas, and holiday trees dotted with sugar crystals, chocolate and rainbow sprinkles a marvelous sight to behold.
Last year, we had at least four dozen decorated cookies and tins of thick fudge spread across the kitchen table, plenty to share with our local friends Jenny and Janie.
It’s been our sister tradition since we were young.
I’m leaving for California a few days after Christmas to be with the man I love.
We plan on lying low during the days before New Year’s, enjoying each other’s company in front of his six-foot tall Fraser fir tree he proudly declared he decorated himself.
I can’t wait to see it in his beautiful home.
I can imagine us sitting at his baby grand while he plays “White Christmas” or “The Christmas Song,” the piano tone crisp and melodic as the subtle scent of pine wafts around us in the romantic lighting.
Shockingly, Whitney has already allotted some time we can spend with Roman too.
I’m looking forward to the expression on his little cherub baby face when I give him the old-fashioned blocks and picture books I’ve already picked out for him.
I even have a small gift for Whitney: a photo of her and Roman that Ridge shared with me.
I tucked the sweet image into an antique silver frame I found while perusing the quaintest little antique gift shop in Heartsboro. I hope she appreciates it.
Ridge requested I wear a long dress for the New Year’s Eve party we’ve been invited to.
It’s a formal gala being put on by the movie studio for his upcoming film.
He’s already warned me there will be reporters at my first official red-carpet event, and he promised to coach me through it.
As long as he’s by my side, I think I’ll be just fine.
I found the perfect red velvet gown at a reputable high-end consignment shop in Atlanta, the off-the-shoulder fashion sure to lure him in for a midnight kiss.
And when the paparazzi are on the prowl, which I’m positive they will be, I’ll be more than ready for them to capture me in a photo wearing a red gown instead of a red coat.
Just thinking about my good fortune keeps me smiling as I drive through the deplorable downtown traffic of Atlanta.
With school out in most counties, it seems like everyone is packed up and heading out of the city, the cars and trucks whizzing by me stacked with luggage carriers and stuffed with children and pets.
I inadvertently start humming the children’s classic, “Over the river and through the woods,” before I roll my eyes.
I’m done with kids, ready for some downtime with my family.
The only kids I want to be around are Joey and Roman.
To fight the earworm of the monotonous song playing through my head, I click on the radio and find a station playing nothing but classic Christmas tunes.
I sing along with Bing, Nat King Cole, and The Ray Conniff Singers as I manage the bumper-to-bumper travel.
Once I’m on the south side of the city, things start to move a little faster, and before I know it, the cityscape morphs into the countryside.
I like daydreaming about Ridge while I drive.
When I first met him, I thought he was pure magic.
Not because he’s famous, but because in the quiet corners of my suburban world, I truly felt like our stars aligned the moment our eyes locked together.
Looking back, we weren’t just two people brought together by a film location.
We were pure talent and banana bread. Movie cameras and happy sunflowers.
The oddity of our pairing only made it feel like those fairy tales I adore.
Ridge is a Hollywood heartthrob from California, who shoots movies all over the world.
I’m the hometown kindergarten teacher who spreads kindness like glitter.
Somehow, we fit.
I sit up a little straighter in my seat when I realize I’m on the outskirts of Heartsboro, the familiar landscape welcoming me to my happy place.
I’m only a mile or two from my dream house and decide to take a brief detour for manifestation.
I’m grinning from ear to ear, focused on the crooked mailbox up ahead.
Right away, I notice a peculiar sign posted on the property near the street.
My heart sinks as I home in on the announcement, and I question the one word in bold red lettering out loud.
“Sold?”
I pull into the driveway and park, slamming my door in anger. “They can’t sell the Milton Farm. It was never on the market.”
I march around my vehicle and face the declaration for all the drive-by locals to see with my hands on my hips. The flimsy metal yard sign staked into the ground has the Heartsboro Real Estate logo on it, and in the corner is a photograph of Keri Clayton herself, smiling maliciously for the camera.
I shake my finger at her and yell, “You were supposed to let me know when the Miltons were ready to sell. I was supposed to be your first call!” I kick at the gravel, a piece of rock pinging the metal sign. My mood takes a nosedive into misery. “Now what am I going to do?”
I leave my car on the drive and walk the fifty yards under the canopy of barren trees. “My trees,” I whisper into the wind.
Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I will myself not to cry. I’m too angry to cry. I stop and stare at the vacant farmhouse, my entire body feeling heavy with profound disappointment. I was certain this was going to be my forever home. I had no plan-B.
Foraging for my cell phone out of my navy pea-coat pocket, I scroll to Keri’s number and defiantly hit the call button.
I tap my foot while it rings, ready to give this woman a piece of my mind.
Unfortunately, an automatic message plays, letting me know the Heartsboro Real Estate office is closed until after the New Year.
Keri’s chipper Southern twang is annoying.
“We’d like to wish all of you a blessed holiday season. And remember, a new home doesn’t have to be a dream. Let the Heartsboro Real Estate office help you be in your new home before Christmas of next year. Bye-bye!”
“Ahhh!” I shout. My muscles vibrate with the urge to throw my phone into the meadow. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. Throw the yard sign into a ravine. Shake my fist in Keri’s pretty face.
Releasing a cleansing breath, I raise my eyes to the house again.
The front porch still beckons me with its quaint and homey exterior.
A blend of history and country charm. Wood and bricks.
Antique glass in the windows. I can imagine a Christmas tree through the front windowpane, shining like a beacon with white lights and keepsake ornaments.
Perfectly wrapped presents with my fancy bows stacked neatly beneath, begging to be torn open.
A piece of me in every room, making all who come through this door feel special.
A new welcome mat stretched across the threshold, inviting visitors inside.
The mat.
I clamber up the steps and flick the corner of the threadbare fabric, hoping and praying the key is still there.
I need one more walkthrough. One more look through the kitchen window at the screened-in porch and backyard.
One more dissonant chord from the old piano.
One more moment gripping the newel post to lavish in my fairy tale before it implodes for good.
But alas, the key is gone. And so is my energy.
I slump onto the first stair of the old porch and hold my chin in my hands.
I know I am blessed. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.
A wonderful family. A teaching job I’m good at.
A gorgeous man who loves and respects me.
I have everything except for my dream house in the country.
I take a deep breath and hold on to the moment.
In a way, I feel like I’m saying goodbye to this old house.
And maybe I need to? I’m done allowing it to ruin my holiday mood.
Hoisting myself up, I turn and take one last look at what I thought would be my forever home. That’s when I realize maybe there’s something even better out there for me. Something I need to be ready for.
I may not have all the pieces yet, and nothing is more frustrating than trying to put together a puzzle with pieces you don’t already have.
I can’t feel upset if I’m missing something.
And even though I can’t understand why this happened, I need to allow this to play out.
To unfold. I need to diligently keep hope alive as I allow God to make sense of this for me.
The magnitude of what is being created in my life right now is already amazing. This is just a minor blip.
And besides, home is where the heart is, right? And my heart belongs to Ridge. That’s all that really matters.
***
“I can’t believe Keri would do something like that without telling you,” Maddy says.
We’re sitting at the kitchen table after dinner, and she pours me a rare second glass of wine.
Joey is already down for the night, and George’s back is to us as he washes dishes at the sink, insisting we stay put and enjoy our girl-talk.
“I know. I was so upset. I tried to call Keri, but I got an auto-message saying the office is closed until after the New Year.”
“Oh, gosh. That’s too bad. I’m sorry, Bevy. I know how much you loved that house. I mean, I loved it too. And you would’ve been right down the road from us.”
“I know. It was too good to be true, I guess. But I’m okay. I’m just gonna concentrate on what I do have.”
George chimes in, “And what you’re gonna get for Christmas. Tell her about the special delivery, Madison.”
I look over my shoulder at George and then back at Maddy. “What special delivery?”
She grins at me and rises from her chair. “It came this morning. It’s from Ridge.”
I watch her scurry to the counter. She brings back a basic shipping box and hands it to me. I look for the return label, expecting to see Ridge’s address but don’t see one.
“Turn it over,” Madison suggests.
I flip the box over and notice a handwritten message in black ink. Do not open until Christmas. Love, Ridge.
I instantly frown. “This doesn’t look like his handwriting.”
“So what? It’s obviously from him. Maybe he had his assistant send it?”
“Hmm…” I lift the box to my ear and shake it. “I wonder what’s inside?”
“Says the girl who always peeked at her presents every year and was never surprised on Christmas morning,” Madison quips with humor.
George seems shocked by this. “You cheated?”
“No!” I laugh. “I just couldn’t stand not knowing what was in all the pretty packages with my name on them. Don’t worry, I only peeled back a few corners to guess, and I always taped them up when I finished. I promise.”
Madison snatches the box from my hands. “I think it’d be best if I hid this one for now. I don’t trust you.”
I scowl. “Oh, come on. Ridge isn’t even here. He won’t know if I opened it before Christmas.”
George comes back to the table and sits next to Maddy, wiping his hands on a red dish towel with green Christmas trees. “I think your sister is right. I think you should wait.”
I look at the two of them with suspicion. “Why? Do ya’ll know what he got me?”
“No,” they say in unison.
I lean forward to get a good look at the box again. “It’s small. What if it’s a piece of jewelry?”
“Maybe it’s an engagement ring?” Madison wiggles her eyebrows with delight as she rolls the box around in her hand. I lean forward and snatch it from her when she isn’t looking. “Hey!”
“You’re wrong, Maddy. Ridge would never randomly give me a ring in a box like this. He knows how I feel about the fairy tale. I think he’d want to be here and romantically get down on one knee, don’t you?”
“You’re right. Maybe it’s a diamond tennis bracelet…”
“—Or an engraved belt buckle,” George interrupts, both of our heads jerking to stare right at him before we burst out laughing.
“An engraved belt buckle?” I repeat. “Now, why in the world would Ridge gift me a belt buckle?”
Madison shakes her head with chagrin and tenderly runs her fingers through George’s hair. “Never mind him. He’s been dropping hints all month long about wanting a new belt buckle for Christmas.”
“I figured if it was something special to me, maybe you’d want one too,” George explains. His words make total sense.
I hand the box back to my sister from across the table. “Well, whatever it is: a diamond tennis bracelet, or even a new belt buckle, I know I’m gonna love it.”
“How do you know you’ll love it?” George asks. His tone is genuine.
“Because it’s from Ridge.”