Page 2 of Easton Island: Old-Fashioned Christmas
Morgan beamed the light toward the corner, her heart skipping a beat when she noticed the big, bold letters on the boxes:Christmas decorations.
“You found Christmas stuff.” She tightened her grip on the flashlight. “I was down here a few days ago and couldn’t find any.”
“Because they were buried behind a headboard, two armoires and a curio cabinet,” Greg said. “When I saw how bummed out you were, I dug a little deeper.”
Morgan threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “You’re the best, Greg Baker. Thank you.”
He grinned sheepishly. “You’re welcome. As soon as I saw them, I called Ronni down here to help me dig them out so we could surprise you.”
“You made my day. Shoot my whole holiday season.” Morgan excitedly flipped the flaps on the top box and shined the light inside. Patches of red and green, nutcrackers with shiny metal hats, their hands resting on glittery gold swords gazed up at her.
Like a child on Christmas morning, Morgan began digging through the treasures that sat patiently waiting for her to find them, and the feeling she’d been missing—of her loving family she longed to see—tenderly reached out to her.
“This is what I’ve been missing,” she breathed. “Memories I can share with guests and friends.”
“Are you sure you want to put these out?” Ronni wrinkled her nose. “It might be safer if you displayed them at Looking Glass Cottage, away from curious hands and sticky fingers.”
Sensible Ronni. Of course, she was right. Morgan would be devastated if anything happened to the priceless mementos. Locke Pointe, Looking Glass Cottage, the furnishings, had all been entrusted to her, to care for—for the next generation. But what good would they do if no one got to see them, to appreciate their beauty?
She carefully removed a snow globe and gently shook it, watching the tiny snowflakes drift down onto the Christmas tree, draped in twinkling string lights, miniature ornaments dotting the branches. Piles of presents, perfectly wrapped with bright blue and green bows, sat beneath the tree.
A boy stood nearby, his eyes filled with wonder as he gazed up at it. Morgan remembered the feeling of awe on Christmas morning, waking early and rushing to the living room to seewhat Santa had brought for her. The magic of the season through a child’s eyes.
Yes, she could take the heirlooms home and decorate her beloved cottage from top to bottom. Chester would appreciate the bright lights. Quinn and Ronni would stop by to ooh and aah over it, perhaps even Grandmother Elizabeth, Brett and her boyfriend Wyatt.
But it would be a shame to have the treasures tucked away when she could share them with her guests, her employees,andher family. “I’m going to take my chances,” Morgan finally said. “The sensible side of me tells me I need to protect them, but my heart wins. Every day, every moment I look at these, I’ll have a small piece of my mom and grandparents surrounding me.”
She placed the globe back in the box and closed the lid. “If you don’t mind giving me a hand, I want to start decorating.”
“Today?” Ronni asked.
“Now. The sooner, the better.”
Chapter 2
Morgan draped the last strands of tinsel on the tree and stood back to admire their handiwork. “It’s perfect.”
Ronni eased in next to her. “It’s a beautiful tree. These decorations were designed for Locke Pointe. Your mother would be tickled pink.”
“I hope so.” As soon as they finished carrying the boxes and bins up the stairs and into the living room, Morgan promptly emptied every single one. The ornaments, the Dickens Village collection, every wreath was proudly showcased.
The décor was exactly what Morgan had envisioned—a step back in time, a tribute to the Locke side of her family. Despite her decision to share her precious treasures, she’d had a brief moment of second thoughts, with Ronni’s warning ringing in her ears, concern over an ornament or delicate decoration breaking, but the thought of keeping them to herself was unbearable. They had already spent years packed away in boxes, never seeing the light of day, or in this case, the twinkle of the Christmas lights.
In the end, she’d stuck with her resolve and lovingly displayed each piece for others to enjoy.
Morgan tapped the engraved sterling silver bell with the Locke family’s name elegantly scrolled across the front. The bell jingled cheerfully. “What would my grandparents have done to celebrate the holidays?”
“Ann was a wonderful cook and baker. She made platters of cookies, giving them as gifts, along with her delicious made-from-scratch cinnamon swirl bread. And then there were the Christmas celebrations. As I mentioned before, she and Josephhosted an annual holiday open house, similar to what Locke Village does with the local businesses. I guess in a way the islanders have carried on the tradition.”
After Ronni had mentioned her grandparents’ holiday open house and being invited to take part in the village’s celebration, she’d enthusiastically embraced her chance to continue it by offering to host the event, but in her own way. Finally, Locke Pointe was decorated, and she was ready to show it off, to let it once again shine.
“Which reminds me, I need to run to the harbor to pick up the flowers.” Morgan, with Ronni’s help, finished packing up the empty boxes and stashed them in the basement.
It was a quick trip to Easton Harbor’s flower shop. Sticking with the nostalgic theme, Morgan had selected antique hurricane candles with sprays of red roses and white carnations, along with blooming poinsettia plants.
She loaded them into the back of her SUV and took a shortcut through town. Burnie, her grandmother’s burnt orange Ford Crown Victoria, sat parked in front of her art gallery.
Making a last minute decision to pop in, Morgan found an empty spot close by. “C’mon, Chester. Let’s go see Grandmother.”
