January 31, 2019
“Be careful on that ladder,” Memory said, staring up at her older sister Kirsten as she took another step higher toward the top of the Christmas tree.
“You mean like this?” Kirsten asked, leaning backward at a precarious angle and waving one arm around, though the other still gripped a rung.
“That’s not funny!” Memory glared up at her, holding firm to the ladder to steady it.
“Relax, sis. No one’s going to the hospital today.” Kirsten reached the top of the tree and carefully pulled the angel tree topper off, handing it down to Memory, who let go with one hand to take it.
Memory studied the angel for a moment. This was her grandmother’s favorite piece. Every year, when the girls’ dad, Bryce, placed it on top of the tree, Grandma Helen would tell the story of how Grandpa Joe had brought it home from a business trip to London when they’d first gotten married, back in the late 1960s. It was one of Memory’s favorite stories because Grandpa Joe had searched high and low for the perfect gift for his bride. The auburn-haired angel, dressed in a white gown with golden trim, had a beautiful porcelain face and held a candle. The angel bathed the entire tree in a glow that warmed the room and Memory’s heart.
She carefully handed the item over to her dad who waited with bubble wrap in hand to package it up. The angel had been the inspiration for her grandmother to open her own little shop on the square downtown, years later, when she decided everyone deserved special Christmas pieces in their lives. Memory had worked there with her in high school, and now that she’d finished her bachelor’s in business, her plan was to take The Memory Box to the next level. She was already working hard to make the shop an online presence. Grandma Helen didn’t care about any of that—she just loved sitting behind the cash register visiting with all of the folks as they came in to look around.
“Are you all right, Grandma?” Memory asked, glancing over at Helen who was overseeing operations from a chair by the window.
Helen smiled, though her eyes were only half-open. “I’m fine, dear. Just a bit of indigestion. I’ll be all right.” She chuckled, but something seemed off. Grandma was never happy on the day they packed up all the Christmas decorations, but today, she seemed unwell.
“Can I get you anything?” Bryce asked, carefully placing the angel in its own plastic bin.
“I’m fine,” Helen insisted. “Just need to rest my eyes.”
Memory took a few steps closer to her grandmother, noticing her coloring didn’t look quite right. Grandma Helen had just turned 72 last month, and while she had some health problems, she was still able to get around well, working at the shop almost every day and never missing a Sunday at church. “Grandma... do you want some water?”
“No, dear. Please, don’t worry over me. We need to get this tree put away. We can’t have a Christmas tree up in February. Not outside of the shop anyway. “ She laughed again, but it sounded forced.
“Maison will be over soon with the kids,” Kirsten said, handing the ornaments from the top of the tree down to their dad now that Memory had stepped away. Remembering she was supposed to hold the ladder, she went back, thinking the last thing they needed was for Kirsten to fall. She had a newborn son to take care of and a three-year-old daughter.
“Good, good,” Grandma Helen said, her voice sounding as if she were about to fall asleep. “I just love that little Lorelei. Reminds me of my Ann. And that baby Anson is precious.” Her voice trailed off, and Memory assumed she’d fallen asleep.
Kirsten came down from the ladder. “I don’t like this, Dad. I don’t think she’s well.”
A lump formed in Memory’s throat as she braced the ladder for her sister, her eyes turning back to her grandmother. Grandma Helen had been Memory’s best friend for as long as she could remember. Not only did they work together at the shop, Memory had moved into Grandma Helen’s house when she’d returned from college. When Memory was away at school, she’d called her grandma every night, and they’d decided it would be a big help to Grandma Helen if Memory lived with her and helped run the shop. Memory enjoyed living in the historic home, and she loved spending so much time with her grandmother.
Memory swallowed hard as her dad put the ornaments down on top of a bin and slowly walked over to Grandma Helen’s chair. “Helen?” he called, quietly. “Are you all right?”
Memory watched as her father reached out to his mother-in-law, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Helen? Helen!” Her hands flew to her mouth—she’d known something wasn’t right. “Kirsten—call nine-one-one,” Bryce insisted, shaking Grandma Helen, gently at first and then more vigorously. Tears streamed down Memory’s face as she heard her sister speaking to the emergency dispatcher. Grandma Helen wasn’t opening her eyes....
In the window behind her, three cardinals landed on the branch of an evergreen tree—one bright red and two brown. They flittered around together, calling a happy tune, as if they had just been reunited. Sirens blared in the distance, but they didn’t leave their branch, and seeing them, Memory remembered what her grandmother always said about cardinals. Another tear slipped down her cheek, rolling off, landing on the container that held the Christmas angel.
Helen perched on the windowsill right outside of the ballroom, Ann on one side and Joe on the other. Coming to earth to visit her family disguised as a bird had taken a little bit of getting used to, but she was glad Michael had agreed to let her drop in from time to time since she’d done such a good job of fixing the meet-cute gone wrong. Of course, he didn’t know Helen had actually been on her way back to heaven when Memory and Dak worked out the final conflict themselves, but none of that would’ve happened if Helen hadn’t taken on the assignment to begin with. As long as nothing else went awry, Helen’s great-great-great-granddaughter would discover a way to virtually eliminate cancer. Of course, that wasn’t Helen’s primary focus for now. She chirped happily as she peered in the window, glad to see the house in even better shape now than it had been when she and Joe had bought it right after they got married.I
Opening the book to the page where the feathers were placed, she squinted to see if there was anything particularly important about that entry. Reading by the light of the Christmas decorations behind her, she felt as if she could hear her grandma’s voice echoing in her ear with each word.I do worry about Memory. We are so close. When I pass away, which hopefully won’t be for many years, I am afraid she will be lonely without me. She is an old soul for someone so young, and she has given up so many opportunities in her life because she is so attached to me and this town. I do hope, one day, she will meet someone who is as generous and caring as she is, who gives so freely of themselves, and who appreciates history and tradition the way my sweet Memory does. I fear she may never give anyone a fair chance to prove himself to her, though. If I am still alive when he comes along, I’ll have to do my best to conv
She didn’t—the number was disconnected. Memory held her phone away from her face and stared at it, listening to the obnoxious tone on the other end and the message telling her she’d dialed incorrectly on repeat. Pressing the button to disconnect the call, she rested the phone against her chin. Part of her thought perhaps Ellie had been a figment of her imagination—but other people had seen her, spoken to her, interacted with her. None of it made any sense....Memory put her phone down and grabbed her purse, remembering what Ellie had said right before she left. The journal. She’d mentioned she should read it. Maybe Ellie wrote her a message in the journal to explain what was going on. She opened her bag and dug through it, feeling around in all of the mess, but the journal wasn’t jumping out. “What in the world?”She turned on the overhead light and opened her bag wide, pulling out the lar
No longer thinking linearly, Memory took off for the back of the store, grabbing her coat and shoving her arms into it, dragging the insurance policy through the sleeve with her fist. She snatched up her purse and dug for her keys, running to the back door and flying through it, barely getting it shut before she jammed the key in to lock it.Her car sputtered when she turned it over. “Not now! Come on Bertha, let’s go.” The second time, it cranked, so she said another quick thank you to heaven before throwing on her seatbelt and backing down the alley a ways before she flung the shifter into drive and took off headed for the Candy Cane Lane Inn.The sun was beginning to set, and Christmas lights glowed from every yard and rooftop, but she didn’t pay any attention as she concentrated on getting to her destination as quickly as possible without breaking too many driving laws. She found a parking spot on the street
Eventually, Memory managed to get control of herself again, though her throat continued to spasm as she choked stuttered breaths through her constricted airway. She felt around for her phone and found it between two boxes, figuring she must’ve dropped it when Dak had hung up. She didn’t even want to hear his voice at the moment, but she was curious about that second message he said he’d left. Her hands were shaking as she dialed into her voicemail.“Hey, Mem. Are you okay? I’m at the store, but the door’s locked. It’s not 3:00 yet. I hope you’re not upset about Ellie. I know how much you’re going to miss her. Me, too. Listen, I wanted to tell you in person, but since I don’t know where you are, and you might need some good news about now, you should know, I found something you’ve been looking for at your grandma’s house. I think you’re going to want this piece of paper I have i
As soon as he was gone, the tears sprang free. Memory swiped at them with both hands before she slammed her fists into the counter. It all suddenly made sense—Dak had to have known about the house all along! He was never interested in her. He just wanted the house with the perfect ballroom. Beardly was probably an associate of his.It wasn’t 3:00 yet, but Memory was done. She flew across the room to the door and locked it, flipping the sign as she went, and then switched off the lights, shooting to the back of the building where she could be alone. She went into the stock room and dropped to the floor, her arms tossed over a box, her head buried on top of them. Her shoulders shook as wave after wave of tears rippled through her.After a few minutes of thinking through the situation, she realized she wasn’t just sad—she was angry. How dare he come in here, to her town, and try to take advantage of her? To pretend