The Crossroad by Beverly Lewis

Author:Beverly Lewis [Lewis, Beverly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2007-11-04T20:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

A festive tree, decorated with slip-glazed gingerbread figures, stars, hearts, angels, tiny mangers, and white twinkling lights, literally brushed the ceiling with its tip-top sprig.

Philip watched his niece busy herself with the gleeful task of distributing gifts to her parents, grandparents, and Philip himself. He had felt somewhat obliged to attend the pre-Christmas Eve gathering when his sister called with her “great idea to get the family together before you leave” and sounding nearly breathless with her pleading that he “must come.” There was the promise of prime rib and, naturally, the family gift exchange.

And he had come, not so much reluctantly as chagrined that his impromptu travel plans had inspired Janice to throw a last-minute party.

He sat in the corner, nearest the tree, in the lone hand-painted Hitchcock chair, one of the many prized antiques his sister had collected over the years. Gazing about him, he took in the bank of windows to his right, where, in the near distance, a spectacular night view of midtown New York’s skyscrapers shimmered against the black sky. Across the room, Janice had decorated a mock mantel, encasing a wide bookcase. On it was a splendid array of evergreen garlands, white candles of varied sizes, ivory roses, and pine cones lightly sprayed with fake snow. Scattered about the room, white poinsettias and fragrant paperwhite narcissus added to the simple, yet elegant, holiday decor. The coffee table, partially covered with a lace doily, was the showcase for dessert—a Bundt cake with icing drizzled down the sides and powdery doughnuts to boot. “Homemade,” Janice had insisted upon first carrying the silver tray into the room, followed by “oohs and aahs” from Philip’s mother, especially. Ken, too, seemed impressed, as did Kari, whose wide eyes told the truth.

The word homemade caught Philip off guard, though he should have been prepared, but he wasn’t. His thoughts went twirling away to Lancaster County, although Kari’s interruption brought him back quickly.

“For you, Uncle Phil.” She stood before him, holding a large rectangular present.

“Thank you.” He accepted the gift, then began his usual dramatic shaking of the box, leaning his ear down to determine if there were sounds emerging. “Hmm, what could be inside?”

“Not yet.” Kari gave him a playful poke.

Philip’s mother, sitting prim and proper in her white woolen suit and aqua blue brooch, smiled demurely, eyes shining. Dad, looking fit in his perennial red sweater vest, grinned when Kari handed him the family Bible.

“Time for the Christmas story, Grandpa,” she said, recommending Luke’s account.

He began to thumb through the pages. “Luke’s my favorite, too.”

Philip and Janice’s father was a small wiry man, yet a “softie,” as Kari liked to refer to her grandpa, Howard Bradley, a retired Long Island businessman. But when he read the Bible, the family paid close attention because he read with authority, as well as a semblance of tenderness.

The evening went smoothly as family get-togethers go, and when the slightest fussing about “too much money being spent on your parents this year” commenced from

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