Page 30 of The Christmas Keepsake
I honestly had no idea what my mother was talking about. “A mill?” Did she think I had come home pregnant, dejected, and desperate enough to run a mill? I had no training or knowledge of what even happened in a mill.
“We’ll buy it and turn it into a theater. All these years, watching you onstage in the school cafeterias or random buildings, I always thought that Bloom should have a proper stage. A community theater.”
Pride was reflected in her eyes. When I’d wonderedhow she’d react when I finally told her my secret, I’d never imagined her offering to buy an old mill and turn it into a theater.
“Mom, that will cost a small fortune,” I whispered, too afraid to hope that her idea had any merit. And what kind of community theater could possibly be built inside a building that was halfway falling apart?
“Good. Because I listened to my mother.”
At that time, my grandmother was suffering early-onset dementia. The grandmother I knew wasn’t the wise woman who my mama loved to tell me about. Leaning in, as if telling me something very important, only for my ears, my mother said, “Because a small fortune is exactly what I’ve stored up all these years. And now I’m giving it to you.”
The thing about nails is that they may be small, but they’re strong. They weather the storm, even if they come out a bit rusty. Nails have teeth and they can do a lot of damage with one misstep. Have you ever stepped on one? Oh, but in the right conditions, a nail can build homes, cities… a theater. A nail can even build a dream.
Chapter Nine
Every now and then, when you’re onstage, you hear the best sound a player can hear.… It is the sound of a wonderful, deep silence that means you’ve hit them where they live.
—Shelley Winters
Mallory’s chest ached as she finished reading an entry in Nan’s journal and looked up at her grandmother.
Nan held up the ornament, rolling the piece of metal between her fingertips and inspecting it as if she’d never seen a nail before. “What did you call this again?”
“The Rustic Nail Ornament,” Mallory said, hoping with every fiber of her being that Nan would remember.
Nan shook her head on a deep chuckle that almost sounded like the old Nan. “The Rustic Nail Ornament,” she repeated. “Who ever heard of such a thing?”
Mallory took hold of the ornament and allowed the nail to sway from its ribbon looped over the edge of her fingertips. “I’m going to hang it on the Christmas tree in the community room. Would you like to come with me?”
Nan blinked. “Yes, I would. We’ll need a ladder. It needs to hang near the top. Fourth from the top,” she said automatically.
Mallory resisted the surge of hope that sprung up inside her. “Oh? Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s where it belongs, dear,” she answered, sounding like the Nan that Mallory had known until about twelve months ago.
That was all Mallory needed. Just that little nugget to keep her going.
“Well, let’s go hang the Rustic Nail Ornament, shall we? I’ll make sure I find a stepladder so that I can hang it, fourth from the top.”
Nan looked pleased, her eyes sparkling.
Mallory helped her sit on the edge of her bed and then transferred her to a wheelchair. Nan could walk, but she was unstable at long distances, and Mallory preferred for Nan to spend her energy visiting rather than getting exercise. “Did you enjoy the dance the other night?” she asked as she pushed Nan’s chair.
“Oh, yes. I danced with the nicest man,” she said.
Mallory wondered if she was talking about Hollis. As far as Mallory had seen, Hollis was the only man Nan had danced with. After that, she’d seemed worn-out. Exhausted from either being on her feet or from her emotions.
“A nice man, huh?” Mallory grinned at the description.Nicewas an understatement. She rolled Nan’s chair to the tree and stopped when they were just a few feet away.
“It’s so big!” Nan said, as if she’d never seen it.
“The largest from Pop’s Tree Farm.” Mallory’s mind slid back to her trip to the farm with Hollis when they’d picked out a much smaller tree. Things worked out for a reason though, because if that little tree had gone up in her grandmother’s room, this huge one in front of them probably wouldn’t be here, already full of so many ornaments and memories that belonged to the other residents.
That day at the tree farm was when things had started to changebetween Mallory and Hollis. There’d been a shift, and Mallory had started to see Hollis differently, as more than a friend.
Nan brought her hands together at her chest and cleared her throat, drawing Mallory’s attention. “Are you thinking about a special someone?”
“Hmm?” Mallory asked, blinking away the memory of the tree farm and refocusing on Nan.
