Tales from Grace Chapel Inn Read online

  “Come over here, girls,” Rose Bellwood said. She was petite—not much taller than Jane. She stood over on the far end of the room. They made their way to her side, and they could see the foot of the table and Florence, who stood behind it.

  Various sizes of bowls for the craft supplies were set out on the table. Alice handed Florence their sack of craft supplies, and Florence poured the glitter into one bowl and the sequins into another, and then set the fabric on one end of the table with the other fabrics. Florence held up a beaded star she'd laid out on the table. “Here is one example of a Christmas craft. There are several other finished crafts here that you can look at too. Copies of the instructions are here.”

  She pointed to a stack of papers on the edge of the table. “You can take a plate and put what you need for your craft on it, then take it to your table.”

  She turned toward Jane and Doreen. “And girls, please be careful you don't spill anything on the floor. The Oriental carpets are quite expensive.”

  Jane blushed, but nodded. She knew those instructions were aimed at her. Why had Alice made her come?

  Jane waited until the ladies had taken their supplies. Then she approached the table. Most of the crafts were Christmas tree ornaments. A beaded star, a wreath, and a tree. A decorated canning jar to hold a candle. Braided ribbons made into a cluster of colorful loops. A felt gingerbread man and a snowman. A felt-covered cone ornament decorated with sequins.

  Jane couldn't decide. What would Louise like?

  “What are you going to make, Jane?” Clarissa Cottrell asked as she picked up a strand of gold ribbon.

  Jane liked Clarissa. She was older, like Florence Simpson, but she seemed younger than that. She worked with her mother and father at the Good Apple Bakery. She always talked to Jane and asked her about school, and sometimes she gave Jane an extra cookie.

  “I don't know. I want to make something for Louise. She likes old-fashioned things.”

  “How about the cone? You could fill it with candy.”

  “Maybe.” Jane studied the offerings on the table. “But it looks kind of ordinary.”

  “I agree. But you don't have to make it out of felt. You could cut it out of the interfacing Alice brought.”

  Jane nodded. So that was what that white stuff Alice brought was.

  “That would make it stiff,” Clarissa explained. ”Then you could cover it with pretty fabric.”

  “Hmm.” There was red and green material and fabric with poinsettias on it. Then Jane spotted squares of silver satin lamé fabric. “Maybe I could.”

  Jane looked over the supplies and spotted a bowl filled with tiny, wispy white feathers. That gave her an idea. She picked up a square of the fabric and a pattern piece for the cone. Clarissa showed her how to pin the pattern onto the heavy interfacing fabric. Jane followed her instructions and cut out a triangle. She would roll it up to make a cone. Then she took a piece of thin green satin ribbon, some sequins, and a pile of the feathers and carried them back to the table.

  Doreen was already back in her seat, stringing colored beads onto wire. Jane set her supplies on the table and picked up the glue. Rolling the cut triangular shape into a cone, she overlapped the edges and glued them, then held them in place while the glue dried. Some of the glue dripped onto the butcher paper. Jane wiped it with her finger, then looked for something to clean it off her finger. There was nothing around, so she wiped it on the back of the silver lamé.

  When she laid out the fabric and cut it to match the pattern, it got a little of the glue on the front. She dabbed at it, then smeared glue on the back and shaped it over the cone. Then, using the tip of the scissors, she poked a hole on each side of the top and strung the ribbon through for a hanger, tying it together in a bow.

  “That's taking shape nicely,” Clarissa said from across the table.

  “That's pretty neat,” Doreen said. “Better than my beads, although I like the way they shine in the light.” She held up the ornament she'd shaped into a star.

  “That's pretty,” Jane said. She ran a line of glue around the open top of her cone and carefully glued the feathers in place along the rim. Holding it up, eyeing it critically, she could see where dots of glue marred the fabric.

  “Does anyone know how to draw one of those curlicues on music?” she asked.

  “Do you mean a treble clef?” Doreen's mother asked.

  “I think so. Like on piano music.”

  “Yes. It looks like a backward S with a line down through it, like this.” She drew it on a napkin and handed it to Jane.

  “That's it! Thanks.” Jane sketched one on the side of the cone, then glued sequins along the lines.

  “Jane, that's beautiful,” Alice said.

  “Do you think so? Do you think Louise will like it?”

  “Like it? She'll love it,” Clarissa said. “I didn't know you were so artistic.”

  Jane smiled, pleased. It was pretty. Maybe craft parties weren't so bad after all.

  “Since you girls are finished, clean up your place and you can get some cookies and punch,” Doreen's mother said.

  “All right!” Doreen said.

  The girls cleaned up and threw away their scraps, then took their extra supplies back to the dining room. Plates of beautiful cookies and candies and a cut crystal punch bowl were set on the sideboard.

  There was a stack of lovely cream-colored dessert plates with gold rims and cut crystal glasses for the punch. Doreen filled a plate with a sample of everything and headed back to their table. Jane remembered Alice's warning not to take everything, but to leave enough for everyone else, so she studied the table, trying to decide which ones to choose. They all looked delicious. She had picked a frosted, decorated sugar cookie and a piece of divinity fudge and was deciding what else to take when she heard Alice in the hallway.

  “This was a lovely party, Florence,” she said.

  “Thank you. I do love to entertain, you know. And I feel it's my duty to share the blessings Ronald and I have received from the Lord.”

  “Yes, that is very generous,” Alice replied.

  “I understand Samuel Bellwood has appointed Jane to be the herald angel for the living Nativity,” Florence said. “Is that correct?”

  Jane's hand stilled, inches from the petits fours, frozen in place as she listened. Mrs. Simpson never said anything good about her.

  “Yes, and she will be a wonderful angel,” Alice said. “We're already trying to figure out a costume for her.”

  “Humph. You are optimistic. Mark my words, that girl will find some way to disrupt the nativity.”

  “No, Florence.” Jane could hear that Alice was struggling to hide her frustration. “Jane has a sweet nature and a kind heart. She is suited to this part, and she will announce Christ's birth in true angelic fashion.”

  Jane let out the breath she'd been holding and hoped Alice was right. She did tend to be exuberant on occasion, as she'd heard her father say. She never meant to create a stir, but it happened. Bless Alice for defending her.

  As Jane put a petit four on her plate, Alice and Florence walked into the dining room.

  “Hello, dear,” Alice said, giving Florence a frown, then smiling at Jane.

  Jane was glad she hadn't piled her plate high. Mrs. Simpson had to know she'd heard them talking. She tried to think of something to say. She smiled. “These cookies are lovely, Mrs. Simpson. You sure are a good cook.”

  “Thank you, Jane. Do try a fruit tart.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She used the small gold tongs to pick up a tartlet and place it on her plate. She took a glass of punch that had already been poured and returned to the parlor, glad to escape.

  As lovely and delicious as the treats looked, Jane had lost her appetite. She ate them because it wasn't polite to leave food on her plate, but all she wanted was to leave.

  Alice must have sensed her discomfort. She thanked the Simpsons and said good-bye. In a few moments they were climbing into Alice's old blue and whit
e, two-door Packard.

  “I'm so sorry you overheard Mrs. Simpson, Jane. She can be critical, but she means well.”

  Jane stared ahead out the window and nodded. “She doesn't like me.”

  “Oh, I don't think that's true. You know people are hardest on the ones they love.”

  “She doesn't love me. She thinks I'm an embarrassment to Father.” Jane felt tears well up in her eyes. She tried to focus on the houses, decorated with holly and evergreens, as they drove through town. “And sometimes she's right.”

  “Oh, honey, you never embarrass Father or me or anyone else. Don't believe that.”

  Alice pursed her lips together. She looked angry. At Jane? Or at Mrs. Simpson? Jane didn't know, but she didn't want her sister upset. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to get into trouble.”

  Alice looked at Jane and smiled. “Did I ever tell you I was a tomboy too?”

  “Louise told me you were, but I can't believe it.”

  “Well, I was. And Florence Simpson used to snap at me and tell me to act like a lady. And she's only four years older than I am. Don't take it to heart. She had a strict upbringing, and she can't help it.”

  “I don't embarrass you?”

  “No. Never.” Alice flipped on her turn signal and slowed at a stop sign. Then she eased the car right onto Chapel Road. “Worry me? Now that's different. When I see you standing on a limb at the top of the maple tree, I can't help but have a bit of concern.”

  “Oh.” Jane sighed and relaxed back against the seat. “That's all right, then.”

  Alice laughed.

  Jane held her arms out to her sides, trying to stand still. Alice worked on one side and Rose worked on the other, pinning the heavy white fabric under her arms and down her sides. She was standing on a stool in the middle of the spare bedroom at the Bellwoods' house.

  “This looks like my bedspread, only white instead of pink,” Jane said.

  “Hold still so I don't poke you,” Alice said.

  “It is, or was, a bedspread,” Rose said. “It was in a trunk in the attic when we moved into the farm. It's chenille. Perfect for an angel's robes. And it will be warm.”

  “Oh.” Rose had cut the cloth so that long pieces of fabric hung down from the arms like wings. Jane wanted to move her arms up and down as if she were flying. She resisted, waiting patiently for Alice to finish.

  “Will I have wings?”

  “Yes. Samuel is making a frame out of wire. I'm not sure how we'll attach them to you, but we'll figure it out,” Rose said.

  “Turn around Jane. I need to pin the hem in the back,” Alice said.

  Jane turned. She could see baby Caleb lying on a quilt on the floor, his chubby little arms and legs pumping the air. He was cooing and gurgling. Jane laughed. He stopped for a few seconds and seemed to be looking around. Then he started again. She was certain he'd heard her laugh and recognized her. He was so adorable.

  “That's good for now. Let's slip it over your head,” Rose said.

  Jane reached down and started to pull it off.

  “Whoa. Wait,” Alice said. “You'll pull the pins out, or get stuck. Let me help you.”

  Rose and Alice carefully pulled the pinned robe over Jane's head and off of her arms.

  “You did well, Jane. I know it's hard to stand still for so long. That deserves a cup of tea and a scone. I made some fresh this morning. Let's go in the kitchen.” Rose picked up Caleb and his quilt and went downstairs. She put him in his cradle next to the kitchen table.

  Jane sat close to the cradle, where she could see Caleb. When she leaned over the cradle and talked gibberish to him, his face broke into a big, toothless smile and he gurgled a happy sound. She tickled his tummy and he giggled and squealed. Jane loved playing with Caleb and drinking tea in Rose's kitchen. She didn't like standing on a stool, holding still for what seemed like an hour, but this made it all worth it.

  “Louie!” Jane ran to the kitchen door and hugged her big sister Louise, who was fifteen years older than she was. Louise lived in Philadelphia with her new husband, and she didn't come home nearly enough for Jane's taste. She had come home for Christmas a week early to help Rose and Samuel with the living Nativity. Louise looked fashionable in a black curly lambs wool coat and matching hat with velvet trim. “I'm so glad you're here early!” Jane took her hand to pull her into the kitchen.

  “Hello, Jane. My, you've grown! We're almost eye-to-eye. What have you been eating? Some kind of magic beans?”

  Jane stood to her full height and laughed. “No, silly. Father says I've had a growth spurt.”

  “Indeed you have,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

  “Eliot!” Jane hugged her brother-in-law, though with a bit more restraint. He was a reserved man, and it made her pause to think of him as her brother, since he was so old. Fifteen years older than Louise. To Jane, he seemed almost as old as her father. But he fit with Louise, who was very serious and motherly, and he treated Jane with kindness and affection.

  “Hello, Jane. I brought you a present.” He pulled a Hershey bar from his suit pocket.

  “Oh, thank you!” With her usual impulsiveness, Jane bounced up and kissed Eliot on the cheek, the way she would her father or Uncle Bob. He blushed.

  “Louise, dear, shall I carry our luggage up to your old room?”

  “It's all ready for you,” Alice said, coming into the kitchen. She hugged Louise, then Eliot. “Dinner will be in an hour. Go get settled and refreshed.”

  “We will, as soon as we greet Father. Is he in his study?”

  “Yes. Would you like to take him his tea?”

  “I would.” Louise removed her hat and gloves and hung her coat on a hook by the back door.

  Jane adored her oldest sister and her husband. They were so sophisticated. Jane supposed that was because they lived in a big city. Eliot was a music professor at a college and Louise played and taught piano. Jane had no desire to learn the piano, but she loved to hear her sister play. Now that they were home, their house would be filled with Christmas music on the old piano in the parlor.

  When they came down for dinner, Louise had changed into a more casual wool skirt and sweater. Eliot still wore his wool dress pants with turned-up cuffs, but he'd exchanged his wool blazer for a sweater vest. Jane was secretly glad she lived in Acorn Hill, where she could wear pants, except for school and church. Alice disliked skirts too, so Jane had a champion there.

  They ate dinner in the dining room on the heirloom blue and white Wedgwood china that had belonged to their grandmother. They usually ate at the kitchen table on a set of dishes with red and yellow roses, but tonight was a special occasion because Louise and Eliot were there. Alice had cooked pot roast and all the trimmings, one of Jane's favorite meals. Jane had helped peel the potatoes and carrots.

  Their father prayed before the meal, thanking God for Eliot and Louise's safe travel and for the bounty of their blessings.

  Jane sat patiently while the bowls of food were passed, but inside she was bouncing in her chair. Not for the food. Finally she couldn't stand it.

  “Louise, I made your Christmas present,” she announced.

  Louise stopped, holding a large spoonful of mashed potatoes in midair. She deposited the food on her plate and handed the serving bowl to her father, then turned her attention to Jane, one eyebrow raised.

  “Really? I cannot wait to see it. Will you give me a hint?”

  “Oh no. I can't do that. But it's all shiny and it has a surprise in it.”

  “Hmm. I can't imagine. Oh dear, and now I must wait to open it.”

  “Yes, and no peeking. I wrapped it and hid it in my room.”

  Louise's smile held mischief. “Now I am tempted. You can't guard your room all the time.”

  “Oh no! Promise you won't go in there,” Jane said, a bit alarmed. She couldn't imagine her big sister tearing her room apart looking for the present, but she had tempted her. She couldn't lock the door. The big skeleton key hanging in the kitchen by th
e back door opened every lock in the house.

  Louise placed a finger on her chin and frowned for a moment. “What if I want to help you clean your room?”

  Jane thought for a moment. Having her sister help her clean was tempting. But then she'd have an excuse to go in while Jane was at school. Christmas vacation didn't start for a week. “I can keep it clean by myself,” Jane said, unwilling to take a chance.

  “Or I might need to get your dirty clothes for the laundry.”

  This was getting serious. “I'll bring my dirty clothes downstairs.”

  “Well, then, I suppose I won't have a reason to go in your room. All right. I promise.”

  Louise didn't smile. She seemed serious, yet Jane thought she detected a twinkle in her eyes. But she promised, so that was good enough. The surprise was safe until Christmas morning, or maybe Christmas Eve. Jane relaxed and accepted the gravy pitcher that Alice passed to her. She poured hot gravy over everything on her plate—meat, potatoes, cooked carrots, and onions and turnips.

  “No wonder you're having a growth spurt,” Louise said, chuckling. “I think I'll call you Sprout. You are sprouting up. Keep it up and you'll be taller than I am.”

  “I'd like that,” Jane said, shoveling a spoonful of potato in her mouth. “Then I can have your hand-me-downs.”

  Louise laughed. “By that time, my clothes will be out of fashion.”

  “Oh. I didn't think of that.”

  “Eliot, are you able to stay for a chess match tomorrow? The board is set up in the library,” Father said.

  Eliot shook his head. “Much as I would love to, I must return to Philadelphia tomorrow after lunch. I have exams to give before Christmas break. But I'll take a rain check. We'll have time for several matches when I come for Christmas.”

  “Eliot, will you be back in time for the living Nativity?” Jane asked. “I'm going to be the angel.”

  “That's wonderful,” Louise said.

  “And a fine angel you'll be,” her father said.

  “Alice and Rose are making my costume. I'm going to have wings and everything.”

  “Will you have a halo?” Eliot asked.

  “I don't know. Will I, Alice?”