Chapter Eight
Setting up for the Christmas tea required somewhat of a transformation of the library and sitting rooms, and Amy was glad she and Chet had both Craig and Shelley to help.
While she entertained Robin, the two men moved the furniture back to the walls, then set up temporary tables, which Shelley draped with freshly ironed white linen cloths.
When the tables were all in place, Craig left, and Chet offered to feed Robin his lunch and put him down for his nap.
“Thank you,” Amy said gratefully. She really needed the extra time to prepare. She was about to suggest to Shelley that they bring out the tea services when a delivery arrived from Sweet Pea Florists. Once again, they were kindly donating small festive centerpieces for the tables.
Oohing and ahhing over the pretty arrangements, she and Shelley unpacked them and placed one on each table.
Then they went to the china cupboard to pull out the teapots and cream and sugar bowls.
This year they were featuring Fortnum and Mason’s Royal Blend black tea and an African rose tea from Luxmi Estates.
Choosing the teas was Amy’s responsibility and she took the job seriously, anxious to feature unique teas for their guests’ enjoyment.
“I’m so glad for your help,” Amy said, bringing the canister of sugar out of the pantry. “I hate to ask Jo and Ella when they’ve already got so much to do.”
“It’s my pleasure. The extra money will come in handy. I want to get my boyfriend a special gift this year. His birthday is the day after Christmas, and he turns twenty-one this year.”
“That’s nice. What kind of gift were you thinking?”
“I’d like to take him on a trip. He loves music, so I thought a weekend in Nashville would be fun.”
“Wow.” It sounded extravagant to Amy. “I bet he’ll love that.”
“I hope so. It’s our one-year anniversary on New Year’s Eve. I’ve never had a relationship that lasted this long before.”
Amy tried not to smile. Given Shelley wasn’t yet twenty, that wasn’t exactly surprising. “Will you be celebrating Christmas together?”
“I’ll spend Christmas Eve and most of Christmas Day with my family at my parents’ house. But Noah’s invited for Christmas dinner.”
She looked so dreamy. After one year it was clear she was very much in love with her boyfriend. “Do your parents live in Marietta?”
“My parents died in an accident, a long time ago. My sister and her husband will be hosting Christmas. My brother, his wife, and three kids will be there too. It’ll be a houseful, but lots of fun.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your parents, but I’m glad you have your siblings. I grew up an only child and I used to envy my friends who had brothers and sisters.”
“When did you find out about your brothers?”
“Not until three years ago, when I moved here.”
Shelley looked curious, but didn’t probe, which was good. There was still a lot of work to do. “Shelley, would you please assemble these three-tiered serving trays?”
“Sure.”
While she did that, Amy folded dozens of linen napkins using May Bell’s antique napkin rings. Fortunately, Shelley had polished and washed the heavy silver rings yesterday, so they sparkled like new today.
At one o’clock the Carrigan sisters arrived.
There were four of them ranging in age from late thirties to fifty.
Portia and Wren, daughters of the eldest Carrigan sister, Mattie, had come as well.
They were close to Amy’s own age and were two of the first friends she’d made when she moved to Marietta.
Whenever they got together, it seemed they always had lots to talk about. It helped that they had a lot in common as they were all working mothers with young children.
“I hope you and Chet and Robin can come to our Christmas brunch at the Circle C again this year,” Portia said.
Portia and Wren—in fact, the entire family—were always so welcoming and inclusive, Amy felt like a member of their extended family. And since her bed and breakfast guests knew that they could expect a self-serve buffet on Christmas morning, she was free to accept. “We’d love to come, thank you.”
“Perfect. Little Mable, Xavy, and Julie will have so much fun with Robin.”
At the mention of their children Amy asked, “Who’s looking after your kids this afternoon?”
“Their fathers are taking them to visit Santa at the Graff,” Portia said. “They’re super excited.”
“Hm, I was wondering if Robin is still too young to meet Santa,” Amy said.
“A photo of your child crying on Santa’s knee is pretty much a classic childhood moment you don’t want to miss,” Wren pointed out.
While Amy was laughing at that, Mattie—petite and still lovely at fifty—moved forward and clasped one of Amy’s hands between both of hers. “Amy, hello. It’s so nice to be back in Bramble House and to see all the memorabilia you’ve preserved.”
“Down to the themed Christmas trees,” Wren added.
“Exactly,” Mattie agreed. “As well as the family china and silver. We’re just so thankful to you and Chet for keeping our great-aunt’s tradition of Christmas tea alive.”
“Not that we enjoyed those teas very much. Great-Aunt Mable could be an ogre,” Callan pointed out. She was the youngest sister who, along with her husband, had taken over the Circle C Ranch after the death of their father.
“Yes, but that tea was a tradition,” Mattie said. “And Mable wasn’t all vinegar.”
“Hm. If there was honey, I never saw it,” Callan said. “Still, the same could be said of our father, I guess.”
Amy listened to the interchange with interest. The sprawling, loving, tangled family that was the Carrigans fascinated her.
“Let’s not get into that,” Sage said, coming between her oldest and youngest sisters and linking her arms over their shoulders.
Sage, the town’s beloved chocolatier, was taller than her sisters and generally pretty easygoing.
“We do thank you, Amy. For everything you’ve done to preserve our family’s history. ”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Dani, the intellectual Carrigan sister, who worked as a professor in Seattle, added her thanks too. “We’re so glad you chose Marietta—and Bramble House—for your bed and breakfast.”
“It’s been the best move I ever made,” Amy assured them. “And Chet and I love hosting the Christmas tea—especially since the proceeds go to the rodeo school.”
While they were talking, Chet and Sage’s husband, Dawson—who was also the town’s sheriff—had been unloading the boxes of food from their vehicles and taking them to the dining room.
Amy and Shelley helped the Carrigan women stack the three-tiered silver platters with finger sandwiches on the bottom, Jo’s assorted scones in the middle, and tiny lemon shortbreads, candy cane truffles, and chocolate-dipped dried apricots on the top.
Four platters were set out on each of the tables, along with bowls of clotted cream and huckleberry preserves.
It all looked so beautiful, but Amy only had a minute to take some pictures for Bramble House’s Instagram account before guests began to arrive.
First in were the Kettles and Gibson, followed quickly by the town’s mayor and her husband, and then Gemma and Oliver, the newlyweds who had met at Bramble House two Christmases ago.
“I’m so glad you guys could come,” Amy told Gemma.
The couple had come together under such unusual circumstances.
Gemma had been on the run from her aborted wedding, while Oliver was in town to connect with a sister he hadn’t known existed until his mother’s deathbed confession.
Fortunately they’d both decided to stay at Bramble House and the rest was history.
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Gemma said. “You know how special Bramble House is to us. And you and Chet of course.”
“Craig and I feel the same way,” said Mackenzie, joining their group.
Amy gave her a hug. Mackenzie had been booked at Bramble House the week Amy gave birth to Robin.
Thanks to her—and Chet—Amy had come home from the hospital to a completely outfitted baby’s room. It had been such a special surprise.
“I never dreamed when I moved to Marietta that I would make so many wonderful friends,” Amy said. “Thank you all so much for coming.” She’d love to keep chatting, but there were new guests to welcome.
Time seemed to speed up after that. More and more guests arrived, and Amy was torn between making conversation and refreshing the pots of tea and plates of food as required. Fortunately she and Chet had help from Shelley and the Carrigans.
It felt like hours, though it had only been thirty minutes, when Chet put his arm around Amy’s waist and pulled her into a quiet corner by the Bramble family Christmas tree.
“I don’t have time—” she began, but he shushed her with a finger on her mouth.
“We’ve got a problem.”
She could feel her eyes widen and her heart thump. “What is it?”
“Those brownie bites the Carrigans brought over? I think they’ve been laced with weed.”
*
Larkin felt like she was socializing with the who’s who of Marietta as she nibbled at goodies and circulated among the well-dressed guests.
She was glad she’d worn the nicest outfit she’d packed: a moss green pleated slip skirt and a figure-hugging cashmere sweater in the same color.
When she’d commented on how well everyone was dressed to the mayor—in an exquisite wide-legged navy suit with a stunning chunky necklace—Chelsea had laughed and said, “We clean up well in Marietta.”
Larkin grabbed a candy cane truffle, which melted in her mouth and left her taste buds awash in flavors of cocoa butter, vanilla, and peppermint.
Then, as she tried to make her way to the other side of the room where her grandmother was seated next to Carson’s mother, she happened to meet the man who had renovated the Graff Hotel and his beautiful wife.
She had to stop and talk to them for a few minutes, after which she got caught up in a conversation about rotational grazing among several of the town’s most prosperous ranchers.
It turned out that one of those ranchers was Drake Everett, Marly’s husband. He snapped his fingers at one point and said, “You’re Larkin Carrillo, aren’t you? The journalist from Denver?”
As Larkin admitted she was, Marly rejoined her husband, sliding in beside him as he placed his arm around her back.
“Larkin! I was hoping to see you here. How’s the article coming?”
“It’s almost done. I just thought I would experience the tea, since you wanted me to mention the event in my piece.”
“Perfect. Just as long as you get the copy to me by noon on the twenty-third.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Are you enjoying Marietta?” Drake asked her.
“Very much. For a small town, it has a lot going for it.”
“Your grandmother lives here, right? Any thoughts of maybe moving to be close to her?”
“Drake!” Marly gave her husband a play slap on the hand. “You’re shameless, you know that?”
“What can I say? You already work too hard. And now with our second baby coming…”
“You’re right. I do need to hire someone. Eventually. But I’ve already tried to poach Larkin from the Westward Beacon. Less pay, smaller circulation, I’m not sure why I haven’t been able to entice her.”
Larkin laughed, not sure if Marly was really serious about offering her a job. Not that it mattered. Marly was right—she’d be crazy to leave a publication like the Westward Beacon to work at the Copper Mountain Courier.
“It was nice to meet you, Drake. Now I’ve got to see how my grandmother is doing.”
She squeezed past a group of two couples and finally she reached Gran and Mary Beth, seated next to the beautiful Bramble family Christmas tree. “How are you doing, Gran? Can I get you anything?”
“I’m having a wonderful time, sweetie. I don’t need a thing.” Her grandmother indicated the plate next to her teacup, which still had several items on it, including a brownie that Larkin didn’t remember being offered at the beginning of the event.
She turned to Mary Beth, a woman who had been almost like a second mother to her when she was growing up, intending to say hello, but the diminutive matron was already standing and holding out her arms for a hug.
“Larkin! It’s been ages. It’s so nice to see you again. Your grandmother was just telling me how happy she is that you’ve come to Marietta to spend Christmas with her.”
“I’m sorry she had to break a hip to lure me here,” Larkin admitted. “Our family would love for Gran to move to Denver with the rest of us, but I can understand why she doesn’t want to leave Marietta. It’s a special town.”
“All my friends are here. And my garden,” Gran pointed out.
“I hear you,” Mary Beth said. “David and I plan to stay on the ranch until the day we die, if at all possible. But Larkin, do you know where Carson is? I was hoping to see him.”
Larkin felt heat rise in her cheeks. Oh Lord, she was acting like a teenager with a crush.
“He’s on babysitting duty this afternoon.
He said he was going to pop in briefly to show off Robin.
” She glanced around the room. There were a few big, muscular men, taller than six feet, but none of them were Carson.
“I bet he was thrilled to discover you were staying at his sister’s B & B.” Mary Beth’s eyebrows quirked as she said this, making the statement into a subtle question.
“I don’t think he was as surprised as I was.” Larkin noticed a loose thread on her skirt and pulled it off. “But it’s been nice seeing him again.”
“They went to a chocolate-making event together last night,” Gran said, fueling the fire of Mary Beth’s interest.
“Oh, really?”
And then Larkin saw him, standing at the doorway, with Robin perched on his broad shoulders, small hands clutching onto Carson’s dark blond hair.
Carson’s hands were on Robin’s legs, holding him securely as he scanned the crowd.
When he spotted her, he smiled. A second later, when he noticed the woman beside her, his eyebrows shot up.
He worked his way through the crowd, making slow progress as everyone wanted to say hi to Robin. Finally he made it.
He gave her another quick smile, then said hello to her grandmother before turning to his mother. “Mom. Didn’t expect to see you here.” He removed Robin from his shoulders so he could bend low enough to kiss his mother’s cheek.
“Your father and I wanted to support the cause. Unfortunately, one of our water pipes burst last night, so Dad had to deal with that.”
“You drove on your own?”
“Son, the roads are good and I’m perfectly capable. And any excuse to see this one, right?” She held out her arms and Robin happily went to her. “Hi, my precious one.” Mary Beth kissed his cheek. “Would you like a wee bite of brownie?”