Shaking the Sleigh by Delancey Stewart

Author:Delancey Stewart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Delancey Stewart

The day went smoothly for filming the second house. The homeowner, a cute older woman just outside town, had a farmhouse and no unusual house pets—at least none that the crew and I had to contend with as we were shooting the very festively decorated house.

Filene Easter didn't favor the plastic elves, snowmen and flashing lights that so many holiday fans seemed to insist increased their cheer, and I was glad for it. In fact, in the little farmhouse, decorated with pinecones and simple trees, hand-knitted stockings and the beautiful homemade wreaths Mrs. Easter said she made herself, I saw a glimmer of a holiday décor I could possibly get behind. That is, if I was If I were going to change my mind about the holiday, that was. And I was not. Not after all this time.

To me, Christmas was a painful reminder of everything that had gone wrong in my life from an early age. It was better ignored. Other people could have it.

"I want you to have this," Mrs. Easter said as we packed up to leave her house that afternoon. The old woman handed me one of the prettiest wreaths, woven in a dark brown wood with just a touch of red foliage tucked in here and there. There was a slim gold filament peeking out in a few spots, but otherwise no sign of glitter or glitz. Just a beautiful handmade wreath.

"No," I said, staring openmouthed between Mrs. Easter and the gift. "This must take so much time to make. I couldn't …"

"Please, dear. I had months to make it, knowing you were coming. I'd love for you to have it, to have a little something to remember us here in Christmas Tree."

"You mean Singletree."

The woman's mouth dropped a bit in surprise and I felt guilty for a moment. If this little old lady wanted to believe her town was called Christmas Tree, maybe I shouldn't have corrected her. "You haven't heard, then?"

I shook my head. "Heard what?"

"Some little ruffian, probably hopped up on goofballs and moonshine and a bit too much holiday spirit, spray- painted the town sign to say Christmas Tree instead of Singletree. The town council voted to change the name of the town officially in the month of December."

"Won't that be confusing for the post office?"

The woman gave me a disappointed look and said, "It's only a month, dear."

"Sure, you’re right. Thank you so much, Mrs. Easter," I said.

I handed her the check from the network and found myself eager to wrap up and get over to Callan's. I just had time to dash through the inn and get a shower.

Mrs. Easter stood in her front yard as I drove away, looking sweet and happy, holding the check in one hand and waving with the other.

I sighed. I was staying in a town called Christmas Tree for a month. Because of course I was. This was how a universe that split up my family on Christmas operated, wasn't it?

Only …

Only I didn't feel that same deep gutting sadness this year.

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