Christmas At Swans Nest Read online

  “Just something I picked up from my grandma,” she said, smiling, but never tired of hearing that particular compliment. “I made them in my new oven, which bakes like a dream.”

  “Is that Tori and Kathy?” Noreen called from the kitchen. Already, Kathy caught the aroma of homemade New England clam chowder—and knew from experience it would be as good as what she’d ever tasted in Maine.

  “Yep. We’re here.”

  “Just waiting on Anissa now,” Paul called back. “What’ll you have to drink?” he asked the women.

  “I’ll have a white Russian,” Kathy said.

  “Oh, that sounds good. Me, too,” Tori agreed.

  “Coming right up.”

  On the stereo, Kenny Chesney wailed that all he wanted for Christmas was a good tan as Paul served up the drinks. “Closing in ten minutes,” he told the stragglers at the other end of the bar.

  “What about those chicks?” a guy in a black leather jacket asked, nodding toward Kathy and Tori.

  “They’re family,” Paul said, giving the women a wink.

  Both women grinned.

  The door opened, and with it came a blast of cold air. “It’s not a fit night out for man nor beast,” Anissa declared. “And luckily, I’m neither!”

  “Merry Christmas,” Kathy and Tori chorused.

  “And to you, too! Hey, Paul.”

  “Anissa,” he called in greeting.

  Anissa held a tray wrapped in aluminum foil. She walked over to the bar and set it down. “What’ve you got there?” Paul asked.

  “Cocktail weenies wrapped in puff pastries. If Noreen can pop them in the oven for ten minutes, they’ll heat up just fine.”

  Noreen ducked her head around the swinging door from the kitchen. “Hi, Anissa. Paul, bring them back here and I’ll get them warming. But first I want to visit for a bit.”

  “Sure thing, honey.” He turned to Anissa. “Sit down, and I’ll get you a drink when I get back.”

  Anissa took off her coat, setting it on one of the chairs by the other coats before she sat down next to Kathy at the bar.

  “That was some wind that blew you in.”

  “I know. When I left the house, there wasn’t any at all, but by the time I came down Resort Road, it was howling like a banshee.”

  Paul returned to stand behind the bar, just as the last of his paying customers got up to leave. “Merry Christmas,” he called.

  They nodded and headed out the door.

  “What’s with the sudden wind?” Anissa asked Paul.

  He shrugged. “I can tell you haven’t lived on the bay for a long time. Storms come across from Canada and that’s when you say to yourself, ‘I ain’t leavin’ the house ’til spring.’”

  “It better not be the case,” Tori said. “I need to get as much substitute teaching as I can get to stay afloat this winter.

  “And I need to be able to get to any jobs I get booked for,” Anissa agreed.

  Noreen came through the swinging door to join them. “We don’t worry so much because of the snowmobile trade. Ya get cold and hungry out in the wind and snow, ya know.” She poked her husband’s shoulder. “I thought you were gonna make Anissa a drink. I could use one, too.”

  “What’ll you have, girls?”

  Anissa eyed Kathy’s drink. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  “Me, too,” Noreen said, and Paul reached for the Kahlua once more.

  Paul poured himself a beer and soon they were toasting to a happy holiday.

  Tori pulled the plastic wrap off the platter Kathy had brought along and plucked up a tea cake. “These are the best.”

  “Oh, no,” Anissa disagreed. “Kathy’s best are the ones with anise.”

  “Not a chance,” said Doreen. Kathy had blessed her with a large plate of cookies earlier in the day. “I’m partial to her molasses cookies. They’re just like my grandma used to make.”

  “I’m not a sweets man, myself,” Paul—the male in the minority—said. “I’m waiting to pig out on Anissa’s appetizers.”

  “Which will be ready in a jiffy,” Noreen said, but didn’t make a move toward the kitchen. The CD ended, so she got up to put on more Christmas music.

  Tori reached for another of Kathy’s cookies. “This is the first year I haven’t spent Christmas with my family. It feels a little weird.”

  “Wait’ll you get older, kid,” Paul advised, “You’ll find that it’s just another day of the year. Call your family often; don’t just make one day of the year a time to connect with them.”

  Kathy knew that Paul had lost his parents some years before, and she made a mental note to call her folks first thing in the morning.

  Bing Crosby began to croon White Christmas and Paul groaned. “Can’t we have something a little newer.”

  “Oh, no!” Anissa protested. “My Daddy always played this Christmas record every year. That’s how I learned that Hawaii was our fiftieth state. I couldn’t pronounce Mele Kalikimaka and my whole family thought it was hysterical when I’d try to sing along.”

  “I would’ve liked to have seen that,” Tori said and laughed.

  “Unfortunately, it was captured on tape. My brother had it converted and uploaded it to YouTube, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you know that URL.”

  “Aw, that’s not fair,” Kathy protested, but then she hoped her own brother would never get the same idea. There were some pretty embarrassing childhood exploits her parents had caught on video that she wouldn’t want her friends to see, either.

  Noreen looked toward the big picture window that overlooked Lotus Bay just across the street. “Well, it certainly looks like we’re going to get a white Christmas after all. Maybe a little too white.”

  “And listen to that wind,” Anissa said. “I’m not so much afraid of snow, but the wind is a lot scarier.”

  “I kind of like listening to the wind during the winter,” Tori admitted. “It doesn’t scare me at all.”

  “It’s not the sound,” Anissa clarified, “it’s the force, and what it can do. Like knocking the branches off brittle old trees, and them falling on power lines and the next thing you know, you’re shivering in the dark.”

  “Does the power around here go off a lot during the winter?” Tori asked Paul.

  He shrugged. “Depends on not just the weather but jerks who drive like it’s summer and don’t pay attention to the road conditions, crash, and knock out a utility pole.”

  “Can’t we talk about something more fun—like the best present we ever got for Christmas?” Noreen asked.

  “I’m game,” Kathy said. “When I was four, my parents bought me a little pink kitchen set. It had a stove, a little sink that could run real water—if you filled a reservoir, only they did that once and I flooded the family floor rug, so I had to pretend after that. It had a fridge with fake, plastic food. I made a lot of pretend meals for my family. What was your favorite gift, Tor?”

  Tori scratched her head. “Well, let’s see.” All eyes turned toward her as her expression darkened and she frowned. “Gee, nothing seems particularly memorable. I mean, we always had a lot of presents under the tree every year, but nothing really stands out. Except that my Gramma Josie always got me a new pair of jammies and a book.”

  “A book? That sounds pretty boring,” Paul said.

  “No, they were wonderful fairytales or biographies about women who did fantastic things, like Amelia Earhart piloting airplanes, and Marie Curie discovering radiation. I remember getting one about Mary Jamison, who was captured by the Iroquois Indians and lived her whole life with them. It was fascinating. I think I read that book twenty times.” She looked wistful. “I sure wish I still had it. I’d read it again in a heartbeat.”

  Bing transitioned into Silver Bells. “How about you, Noreen?”

  Noreen’s smile was wistful. “I was seven and Santa brought me the most gorgeous baby doll. Oh, how I loved her. I named her Annabelle, and I treated her as if she was my own baby. May
be I have such fond memories of her because I never ended up having a child of my own.” She shrugged. “I sure wish I’d met Paul when I was a lot younger, then maybe I’d have been a mom.”

  “I think my ex-wife would have had something to say about that,” Paul said wryly.

  “You never had kids, either?” Anissa asked.

  Paul frowned. “I did. A little guy named Nicky. He had a heart condition. They said he wouldn’t live to be a year old, but he was a fighter. He made it to age ten, but it was a terrible life for all of us. We lived on the edge waiting for his next medical crisis. When he died, it tore our marriage apart. The truth was, we never had time for each other because all our love was tied up in little Nick and keeping him alive. We also forgot there were other people in our lives. I regret the time I lost with my parents, and aunts and uncles, and I vowed I wouldn’t make that mistake in the future.” He looked fondly at Noreen.

  She smiled wryly. “I don’t know about that. We spend twenty-four/seven together and the bar is our baby, so maybe we are in the same situation, but for the most part, I’m pretty darn happy.”

  “Me, too, sweetie,” Paul said, and leaned over to give his wife a kiss.

  “Awwww,” Kathy, Tori, and Anissa chorused.

  Noreen blushed, and cleared her throat. “What was your most memorable gift, Anissa?”

  She grinned. “Tap shoes.”

  “Really?” Tori said. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

  “Who said I could dance? I just liked to make a lot of noise and drive my brother crazy. My Daddy gave me a big square of Masonite to practice on and I’d wait until my brother was watching his favorite TV show and then I’d start tapping.” She gave an evil laugh. “It drove James right up the wall.”

  “You bad girl, you,” Tori scolded, smiling.

  “Okay, Paul; it’s your turn,” Kathy said.

  He looked thoughtful. “A minibike. Of course, getting it for Christmas sucked because you can’t ride a minibike in the snow, so I had to wait until March to give it a try. But I used to wax it and admire it. I’m surprised I didn’t slip off the seat the first time I drove it.” They all laughed and then Noreen sniffed the air.

  “Oh, crap. I almost forgot Anissa’s appetizers.” She ran into the kitchen and everyone else looked at each other with trepidation. But not more than a minute later, Noreen returned with a platter of the golden brown tasties and a box of frill picks. “Okay, everybody, dig in!”

  “Can I freshen up anyone’s drinks?” Paul called, and was promptly presented with four empty glasses.

  They laughed, ate their soup and cocktail weenies, and talked for another hour before Anissa looked out the big window. “Holy crap! It must have snowed six inches since I arrived. I hate to be a party pooper, but if I don’t want to walk home tonight, I’d better get while the getting’s good.”

  “You could always stay with us,” Tori said.

  “That’s sweet of you, but I’d much rather sleep in my own bed than on a couch.” She gathered up her coat, tied her scarf around her neck, donned gloves and a wooly hat, looking like she might be heading to Antarctica. “Merry Christmas, everybody!”

  “Merry Christmas!” they all called as she opened the door and a blast of icy air assaulted them.

  “We should probably head home, too,” Tori said. “It’s time to feed the cats.”

  It was with reluctance that Kathy slipped off the stool and followed her friend to retrieve their coats.

  “Thanks for a great evening,” Kathy called as she bundled up.

  “I’ll second that,” Tori said, and pulled her knitted cap down over her eyebrows.

  “Merry Christmas,” they all wished each other as Kathy and Tori pushed out into the snow.

  Thanks to the gale, the tracks from Anissa’s truck were already beginning to fill in. Tori led the way as the women pushed against the wind in near white-out conditions. They trudged across the road and it took a couple of minutes to travel what normally took mere seconds to arrive back at the Cannon compound. Tori unlocked the door and turned on the lights and the women peeled off their outer-wear, hanging it up on hooks just outside the kitchen. The three cats—Tori’s Daisy, and Kathy’s boys, Henry and Larry—arrived to tell their tales of starvation, so feeding them was their first priority. Once the cats were chowing on some ocean seafood concoction, it was time to turn to more serious matters.

  “What do you want to do now?” Tori asked. “Eat more cookies?”

  “I’m cookied out,” Kathy admitted, but I wouldn’t mind a mug of hot chocolate with a huge glob of whipped cream and a little cinnamon on the top.”

  “Coming right up. Why don’t you go plug the Christmas tree back in and see if you can find a holiday movie to watch on the tube.”

  “Great idea,” Kathy said, but no sooner had she said it when the lights flashed and went out.

  “Okay,” Tori said. “Let’s count to thirty to see if the power comes back on.”

  They did, twice, and then both of them went in search of candles.

  Once the candles were lit—scenting the air with cinnamon and pine, but giving off scant light—the friends looked at one another. “Well, no cocoa,” Tori announced, thanks to the electric range, “but we should probably fire up the wood stove in the living room—just in case.”

  “Do you think we’re going to need it?”

  “You heard what Paul said earlier about power outages, and I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  Tori’s grandfather, Herb, had stressed a number of times that during the winter they should always keep the wood box next to the stove full at all times, and as they loaded it and lit the kindling, they were glad they’d heeded the old man’s warning.

  Once the fire was going, they retreated to their favorite seats—Kathy on the couch, and Tori in her grandfather’s ratty old recliner which she hadn’t yet replaced—they pulled crocheted afghans that Tori’s late grandmother had made over themselves, and the cats joined them.

  “How about I stream some Christmas music on my phone?” Tori asked.

  “Sounds good to me,” Kathy agreed, and in no time the tinny sound of holiday tunes helped brighten the gloom. “I wonder how long it will be before the power comes back on.”

  “No idea,” Tori said.

  “I hope it comes on before the morning. We’ve got a fridge full of food that could spoil.”

  “We’ve also got nature’s freezer right out the front door,” Tori said, and laughed. “Besides, if we had to, we could take our stuff across the road to your house. You do have a generator, after all.”

  “Oh! I’d completely forgotten about that.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m around to keep you on your toes.”

  “I’m definitely not a ballerina,” Kathy said.

  The two of them—and the cats—listened to a choral group sing Silent Night, and Kathy wondered if she was making the right decision to move into her house. After all, she might own the place, but until she could build the owner’s suite on the back of it, the rest of the bedrooms were designated guest rooms.

  Henry and Larry snuggled close to Kathy as the wind continued to howl outside. It was anything other than a silent night, but they were safe in Tori’s little house, with wood for the fire, and flickering candlelight.

  The question was: would that be enough?

  The sky was still dark when Tori awoke feeling stiff from sleeping in the recliner, and cold. She’d had to get up every couple of hours to refill the wood stove, but it wasn’t enough to keep the house very warm. The power had been off nearly eight hours, and though she’d called the power company to report the outage, she’d been given no explanation as to what had happened or a timeline on when it would be fixed.

  Sometime during the night, Kathy must have put a pot of water on the stove. The higher humidity helped the living room feel a tiny bit warmer, but the added bonus was they could at least make cocoa for their breakfast.

  No sooner had Tori
refilled the stove’s nearly empty belly, when Kathy stirred. “Are you getting up and staying up?”

  Tori nodded. “If only to put on another sweater. I’m cold.”

  “What do you want to do about breakfast?”

  “We have a choice of cold cereal or bread. That’s about it.”

  “If we go over to Swans Nest, we could have French toast.”

  “With maple syrup?”

  “Only if you’ve got a jug of it that we can take with us.”

  “We could pack a cooler with stuff and take it over there,” Tori said. “But what about the cats?”

  “They’ll be okay here for a couple of hours. But if the power is off for very much longer, we could bring them over to the inn, too.”

  “I’ve got to bring in wood from the pile and I’d have to come over here every couple of hours to make sure the stove doesn’t go out and the pipes don’t freeze.”

  “I could help you with that,” Kathy promised.

  “Then it sounds like a plan. Of course, you know the minute we get across the street, the power will come back on.”

  “Then let’s hope that happens.”

  “Right.”

  And so they got dressed, and while Tori brought in more wood, Kathy loaded a cooler with everything they’d need for a sumptuous breakfast.

  It was hard to tell just how much it had snowed, thanks to the ever-blowing wind, but they had to slog through knee-deep drifts to get to Swans Nest. Anissa had nailed a board with a row of pegs onto a couple of the studs, and they peeled off their snowy coats, hats, and scarves and hung them on it. Coming in from Tori’s cold home, the inn felt positively balmy, despite the fact Kathy knew she’d left the heat set at fifty-eight degrees. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t turn the heat up any higher, but as it’s Christmas,” Kathy began.

  They hauled the cooler into the kitchen, where they could hear the roar of the propane-fueled generator chugging away out back. The stove also ran on propane, and Kathy had had both tanks filled just the month before. While Tori unpacked the cooler, Kathy disappeared into the basement. Only she knew which of her totes held what. On her first trip back up the stairs, she bought an assortment of pots and pans. She washed and dried them in the old farm sink, then started breaking eggs, measuring the milk, and getting the French toast going, while Tori put the bacon on the stove and tended it while it cooked.