Page 70 of The Christmas Keepsake
“Good. Surprisingly, very good,” Mallory said.
“Awesome. I was shocked to hear that you agreed to have Nan’s play at Popadine’s Tree Farm.”
Maddie’s tone hit a sour note with Mallory.
“Why’s that?”
“Well, you know Nan and how she always wanted things to be just so. At least when it came to her theater. I could hardly stand to be there when we were young. No running. No eating. No this, no that. It felt like a prison.”
Mallory didn’t share that opinion, but Maddie had always resented boundaries and rules.
“Believe me, I know Nan was very particular about her theater, and rightfully so. But I think she’d be happy about how things are going. This year’s play is not the same, but all the important elements are.” Mallory was about to add that some of the actors had changed and that she and Hollis were playing Mr. and Mrs. Claus. She didn’t think Maddie had heard about that yet.
Before she could continue, however, Maddie interrupted. “I just think that one of the silver linings of Nan’s declining memory is that she can’t see what’s happening to her precious theater.”
Mallory’s whole mood dropped like a bag of cement in her gut. Instead of responding, she let her sister continue.
“I mean, I saw the inspection report. The theater is falling apart at the seams. I hope it can be salvaged but certainly not by opening night. And did I hear correctly that Hollis is playing multiple parts? I almost wonder if Nan would’ve canceled altogether instead of lowering her standards to having the performance in a barn, of all places.” Maddie laughed into the receiver. “I mean, I guess Jesus was born in a barn,” she joked.
Mallory didn’t find anything funny. “Jesus was born in a stable,” she corrected.
“Right. Aren’t a barn and a stable the same thing though?”
Mallory suddenly felt numb, and she wasn’t at all in a sharing mood. “Not really.”
“Well, I’m sure we can sell, even if it’s an as-is kind of situation. I know this is harder on you than me, Mal. I was never a theater nerd like you were.”
Were. Past tense. But Mallory’s love for the theater had only been in hibernation, waiting to come alive at just the right time. This Christmas. She had no desire to do theater full-time, but it was fun, and it made her feel a sense of long-lost joy.
“I love Nan, and I know you do too, but that doesn’t mean we should make our lives harder just to keep up something that she can’t really appreciate.”
“Nan is here,” Mallory said quietly. Maddie rarely visited Nan. She didn’t get to see their grandmother’s moments of clarity. And Maddie wasn’t reading Nan’s journal or putting up her Memory Tree, learning a history she’d never known.
“I do feel bad that you got stuck doing all the work for this play. You’re probably miserable doing it all by yourself.”
Mallory clutched her cell phone, debating whether to toss it across the room in frustration at her sister’s tone-deaf, one-sided conversation. Instead, Mallory focused on her breathing and remained silent.
“Did I say something wrong?” Maddie asked.
“No.” Mallory worked to keep her tone of voice light. “You’re right. It has been a lot of work to juggle alongside my hospital job.” This wasn’t the sisterly chat she was hoping for. “But it’s been a rewarding experience. Will you and Sam be there tomorrow for opening night?”
“Oh. That’s why you’re calling,” Maddie said, her voice full of relief.
“Of course it is,” Mallory said, even though the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind until now. She’d just assumed her sister and brother-in-law would go.
“Is the barn even wheelchair accessible?” Maddie asked.
Good question.“We can make sure you’re able to get inside the barn.”
In the background, Mallory heard Sam adding to the conversation.
“I’ll carry you over the threshold of the barn if I have to,” he said sweetly while Maddie giggled.
“Hollis and Matt’s crew have a ready-made ramp they could easily set up before the show. We’ll figure it out,” Mallory promised. “You should be there.” And the fact that Maddie even had to think about attending was making Mallory irrationally mad right now. It was the least her younger sister could do after all that Mallory had done for her over the years.
Everyone in this town would bend over backward to make sure Maddie had access to the barn tomorrow night. Maddie just didn’t want to attend.
“Please come.” Mallory was proud of the production. It meant a lot to her, and she rarely asked Maddie for anything, but she was asking for this.
