Page 33 of The Christmas Keepsake
To Mallory’s relief, the actors continued to read. As they did, Mallory kept a close eye on Hollis. He wasn’t an easy man to read, but Mallory thought he looked upset as he sat through the rest of the reading. When it was over, he pushed back from the table and stood up quickly. Mallory wanted to talk to him, but on her way, she was stopped by several of the actors wanting to know how Nan was doing and what the plan for the rest of the rehearsals would be. By the time Mallory was finally free, she looked around, and Hollis was gone.
The Skeleton Key Ornament
The Skeleton Key Ornament is tagged with the number 5. Tear off the green paper. Inside the box, you’ll find a skeleton key. The original doors to the theater required one. Of course, years later, we installed new doors and this key was no longer needed. Not functionally at least. So here it is, a symbol of so many things, but mostly it represented second chances.
Here’s the story.
The day my mother gave me her rainy day fund and we purchased the old mill to turn into the Bloom Community Theater was the day I realized that my great grandmother was right. Sometimes dreams can come true even if they don’t happen the way you always envisioned they would.
Running the Bloom Community Theater became my dream, and after opening the doors, I never regretted not “making it” on Broadway. In fact, as my stomach grew, still too small for town folk to suspect, I knew I’d made the best decision for my little family. It would just be baby girl and me, two souls against the world—even if I secretly pined for Ralph. Another secret. Hadn’t I learned my lesson the first time?
In a small town, I couldn’t help but run into Ralph almost daily. My foolish heart would leap every time I saw his face, and then my heart would stumble and fall when I saw the hurt flash in his eyes. I knew I was the culprit. I put the hurt there. I left him for something that could never make me happy. I walked away, telling myself that it was fine because he gave me permission at the start. He was the one who told me to leave andnot even tell him good-bye. I wanted to cling to that and put the blame on him, but I knew it was all mine. Our breakup was my fault.
The Bloom Community Theater was my second chance. Our baby together was my second chance. It would be foolish to hope that I’d have a second chance with Ralph as well. I have never been that lucky—and as someone who firmly believed in fate, shouldn’t love be the one place where fate is real? If Ralph and I were meant to be, I never would have left for New York. I would have stayed in my small hometown. Ralph and I would have worked out the first time around.
I was starting to second-guess that thought when I saw him one day in town, holding hands with someone. I watched from a distance, my heart falling into my stomach, sharing space with the baby. He made her laugh and then he leaned in. Everything inside me screamed. No. No, no, no. He was mine.
Their kiss broke me. I’d lost him. No. I gave him away. This was my fault—no one else’s.
Laying a hand on my belly, I tried to catch my breath. I meant to turn away before they saw me, but I was frozen. I didn’t budge even as Ralph caught me watching and headed in my direction, holding her hand.
“Hi, Nan,” he said.
The woman echoed the same greeting.
It was painful as I put on a smile and stepped into the role of the woman who’d moved on. Who wasn’t bothered. Wasn’t still in love. In love?
This moment was brief, but monumental no less. I could have fought for him. I could have stopped the train and begged him to get off. Instead, I remained frozenand gave the greatest performance of my life—before my theater had even opened the doors.
Hang the old skeleton key ornament fifth down from the top of the Memory Tree, below the rustic nail, the pressed wildflowers, the butterfly barrette, and the Santa hat at the tip-top of the tree.
Chapter Ten
Art, especially the stage, is a place where it is impossible to walk without stumbling.
—Anton Chekhov
The winter temperatures were mild tonight, even for North Carolina. It didn’t feel like Christmas if Hollis could sit on his back deck without so much as a jacket. On a sigh, he relaxed into his deck chair and closed his eyes just for a moment. He was still wound up from tonight’s play rehearsal.
He shouldn’t let Esther Woods’s comments get to him, but she’d said those things in front of the entire cast, and no one had stood up for him. Not one person.
Maybe he should back out. He didn’t want to bring any negativity into this play. Nan would never have stood for Esther’s behavior tonight, but this was Mallory’s first time serving as the director. Things needed to run as smoothly as possible.
Hollis opened his eyes when something pressed against his lower leg. “Hey, Duke.” He patted his dog’s head. “Are you sensing that I’m in a mood tonight? It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
Duke leaned more heavily into his calf muscle, his brown eyes wide and sad.
Dogs were incredible animals. They had to be the most empathetic. That’s one thing that drew Hollis to them. He’d seen how much they could help.
Maybe instead of playing Santa in this play, he should be focusing on the plans for expanding Popadine’s Tree Farm. He’d love for things to progress while Pop was still around to see it.
Hollis’s phone buzzed from the patio table beside him. He glanced over and saw Mallory’s name. It was a text.
Mallory:You disappeared tonight before I could catch you. You okay?
Hollis picked up his phone and tapped his finger along the screen.
Hollis:You know me. Things just slide right off my back. It was a good rehearsal. Nan would be proud of you.
