The Palisades by Gail Lynn Hanson

Author:Gail Lynn Hanson [Hanson, Gail Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gail Hommertzheim
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The guest bedroom was down the dark hallway. Dorothy stopped at the first room; the door at the end remained closed.

“What’s in the other room?” Ruth asked before thinking.

Dorothy gave her a stern look, as if Ruth had said something inappropriate.

“I’m sorry. I was just curious.”

Dorothy looked at the closed door. “It’s just storage.” She walked into the guest bedroom and switched on the light.

The wallpaper, the bedspread, a soft chair, even the rug, all flowers. A yellowing lace topper lay across an old bureau containing a mirrored tray, which displayed perfume bottles and tiny figurines of kittens.

“It’s all Laura Ashley.” Dorothy touched the bedspread. “I bought every one of the matching pillows, the boudoir, the lumbar, and these cute triangle ones.”

Ruth dug her bare feet into the fluffy rug and touched the bed. White eyelet fabric hung from the canopy.

An antique wooden table held a group of singing dolls about a foot tall, with mouths drawn open in circles. One wore a black hooded cloak. A man held a boy on his back. Another was wrapped in a robe, topped with a sleeping cap, and held a candle. And finally, a ghostly man stood draped in chains. Ruth stepped closer. The faces looked real. “Christmas Carol?”

“A Christmas Carol, Ruth. There is an A before the word Christmas.” Dorothy straightened Bob Cratchit’s hat. “Aren’t they adorable?”

“They look so real.” Ruth was charmed.

Dorothy folded her hands and stepped back to admire them. “Byers’ Choice. They’re all handmade in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. They’re extremely collectible and expensive.”

The white-gowned figure of the Ghost of Christmas Past; the black hooded one of Christmas Future; and the jolly bearded giant in a green fur-lined robe, the Ghost of Christmas Present, captivated Ruth. “I like them.” Ruth wished to live in a world where people still went caroling.

Dorothy touched the red velvet dress of a doll. “I’ve always wanted to go to the factory. They give tours through their life-size Victorian village, with cobblestone streets and shops like Dickens’s London. There’s a doll museum with an enormous display. Hundreds of dolls. I’ve seen pictures.”

Ruth imagined it and felt genuine elation like a child might feel upon seeing a special gift. “What fun!”

Dorothy’s face fell a bit. “Eugene had no interest, and besides, it seems like a thing for women.”

Ruth touched Tiny Tim’s crutch.

“Pennsylvania is so far.” Dorothy chuckled, but the sound lacked enthusiasm.

Ruth stepped to Dorothy, leaned close to her face, and said, “I could go with you, as your assistant.” A moment later, Ruth slumped, afraid Dorothy would think she’d crossed some boundary.

Delight smeared Dorothy’s face. She grabbed Ruth’s wrist. “Well, there’s an idea. How exciting to take a trip! We could also visit the Hershey factory. It’s not too far from there.”

Ruth tried to maintain her pleasant expression, one she’d learned to uphold under any circumstance, but positive feelings rushed in without effort. She was happy.

The Scrooge doll, long-faced, sported a pink flush beneath molded cheekbones and a pointy, crooked nose. “Their eyes are nice.

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