Page 58 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
“Ugh. Just because she donated a lot of money to the Ashley Hall fund-raiser, she thinks she can do whatever she wants. At least she was able to talk Marc into filming the progressive dinner at Veronica’s instead of at our house, so I guess I owe her one. But I certainly don’t want to be here when Sophie sees this. I tremble to think what she’ll do to retaliate.”
“Take off Pucci’s pink nail polish and sweater and make her look like a real dog, maybe?”
I glared up at him. “Okay, I agree that the polish is too much, but there’s nothing wrong with dog sweaters.”
“Let’s just agree to disagree, shall we?” Jack asked as he led me down the front drive.
Speaking through chattering teeth, I said, “What on earth do you think Jayne’s surprise is? She knew we had tickets for the Shop and Stroll tonight, so I hope it’s something spectacular to justify our being thrown out in this weather longer than we needed to be.”
“You know it’s only about fifty degrees, right?”
I plastered an indignant look on my face. “To some of us, that’s the same as freezing.” I began climbing the steps. “Come on before I turn blue.”
The door opened before I had a chance to ring the bell, my mother appearing in the opening. “What are you doing here?” I asked as we hugged. “Are you the surprise?”
“I’ve been here all afternoon with Jayne and your father preparing the surprise.” She glanced behind me to where Jack stood. “Good job, Jack. I know how persistent Mellie can be when she suspects something’s up.”
I whirled to face my husband. “You know what it is?” I steppedforward into the foyer, barely recognizing the brightly lit space from when I’d first seen it right after Jayne had inherited the old house, every inch of it filled with cobwebs and peeling plaster. I knew Jayne had been working with Sophie to restore the house to its former grandeur, and after looking at the gleaming banister—peeking out from beneath a frosted pink garland—and mold-free walls, I had to grudgingly admit that Sophie knew what she was doing.
I spotted Jayne by the dining room door. “Please don’t tell me you have a pink Christmas tree hidden somewhere,” I said. “I just can’t believe you let Rebecca do this to your house.”
“I know, I know. But she was so upset when she came here. She knows that the laundry room at your house that you allowed her to decorate won’t be seen, but she hid her disappointment from you because she knows you’re dealing with ‘issues’ right now—her word, not mine. She said she had a lot of decorations left over and asked if I would allow her to decorate my house. Since it’s still under renovation and I’m not hosting one of the courses for the progressive dinner, I agreed. She seemed really sincere.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever heard Rebecca’s name and the wordsincereuttered in the same sentence before. But the fact that she’d hidden her disappointment from me did loosen some of my resentment toward her. Just a little bit.
“Hello, Peanut,” my father said, emerging from the dining room. I peered past him, almost expecting to see swaths of moisture-speckled wallpaper drooping from the cracked cornices. Instead, the walls were scraped clean, waiting for either paint or reproduction wallpaper. Knowing Sophie, I figured she’d probably brought artists from Italy to hand-paint the original wallpaper design, and Jayne had willingly allowed it.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked while my father hugged me. I kept my gaze focused on the dining room, where I could see Jayne and the foot of another person standing at the dining table.
I stepped into the dining room and was met with a loud “Surprise!” from Jayne. I turned my head and was speechless for a moment as someone held up an iPhone to take my picture. “Cooper?”
“Yes, ma’am. Nola’s babysitting, so she asked me to take a picture of you being surprised.”
Before I could ask a question, my gaze was drawn to the surface of the enormous table and the neat rows of five-by-seven photographs.
“Are these...?” I began, looking around at the faces now clustered around the table.
Cooper cleared his throat. “I pulled an all-nighter to get them all downloaded, then sized so they’re all the same, and then printed them. Nola brought me breakfast, though, so it was worth it.”
I could feel Jack glowering at Cooper, so I said, “I’m sure it was all vegan and gluten-free, so no chance she was out to impress anyone.”
Cooper shook his head. “Actually, it was a cinnamon bun with a side of hash browns Mrs. Houlihan made. She even drove Nola over to deliver it. Best hash browns I’ve ever tasted...”
As if sensing the tension, Jayne moved to stand next to me, straightening one of the photos. “Mother told me about Marc and that horrible Harvey guy invading your house, so when Nola told me that Cooper had printed out all of the photographs, I thought bringing them to my house would be safest. That way, Marc can’t snoop.”
“Brilliant idea,” I said, meaning it, although a tone I hadn’t expected emerged.
Jack nodded. “Jayne also suggested that I clear out my office for the same reason. She offered her house to store everything for the time being.”
“Jayne certainly thinks of everything,” I said, tapping lightly on one of the photographs. “Can’t imagine how we survived before she came to Charleston.” I looked at the single photograph, then picked it up, studying it closely. “I think this goes in one of the corners—you can tell from the design because only two sides have finished patterns, and the other two have truncated lines that must continue onto other bricks.”
I looked up to find all sets of eyes focused on me. Except for one—Jayne’s. Her eyes were blinking rapidly, her bottom lip clenched betweenher teeth. She jerked her gaze up to the table and to the photograph I held pinched between my fingers. She swallowed. “I think you’re right, Melanie. Good job—now we have a place to start.” She began clearing one corner of the table, then pointed to the empty spot. “I think you should have the honor of putting the first piece here.” She smiled at me and I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach.
“Actually,” I said, feeling the looks of censure from around the table, “you should do the honors. You’re the one who had the foresight to set up the puzzle in your dining room.” I handed her the photograph. “Here.”
She hesitated just for a moment before taking the picture. “Thanks,” she said, putting it in its place of honor in the corner of the table. “I want you all to feel free to come here at any time and work on this puzzle. When I’m at Melanie’s looking after the twins, just stop by and get my key. The more, the merrier, I say.”
An antique carriage clock chimed from the fireplace mantel, making me glance at my watch. “I don’t want to be late picking up our tickets at the Francis Marion. It will cut into our shopping time.”
