Shadows on a Maine Christmas (Antique Print Mystery Series Book 7) by Lea Wait Page A
Book: Shadows on a Maine Christmas (Antique Print Mystery Series Book 7) by Lea Wait
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Authors: Lea Wait
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her,” added Will.
“Will, are you sure that’s Zelda?” As they’d moved closer to the singer, Maggie could see more clearly. “Because I don’t think that’s all makeup. That girl has a black eye.”
11
Filled All the Stockings. Red-and-black lithograph by Arthur Rackham (1867–1939) of elf-like Santa with a stocking, surrounded by toys—dolls, trains, animals—some of which are strange and possibly scary, especially with their black shadows behind them. One of four color illustrations Rackham did for a 1931 edition of Clement Moore’s The Night Before Christmas . The verse this illustration accompanies is, “He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk.” In Rackham’s vision, not all children could count on receiving happy gifts at Christmas. 4 x 5 inch picture on 8 x 5.5 inch page. Price: $65.
Christmas morning dawned sunny, bright—and frigid. Maggie heard Will in the kitchen below and hid her head under the quilt for a few last, luxurious moments before opening her eyes. It wasn’t quite seven, but the bedroom was filled with light despite the frosted patterns on the windows, and the smell of coffee perking had reached the second floor.
Next Christmas I’ll be the first one up, she thought. I’ll have the tree lit, the stockings filled, and presents from Santa will be waiting to be unwrapped. It will be our first Christmas together.
Whoever “we” would be.
She stretched her toes under the covers once more and smiled to herself. She could hardly wait.
Except…Will wouldn’t be there. She’d visualized a scene at her home in New Jersey. He’d be here in Waymouth, fixing coffee for Aunt Nettie.
They hadn’t had “that” talk yet. In fact, she had the feeling Will was avoiding it. But clearly he was settling into Maine life. Her life was in New Jersey. They were both moving on. Separately.
Life wasn’t a fairy tale.
She allowed herself a fleeting thought about Nick’s daughter, Zelda. How was she this Christmas morning? At first she’d thought Nick was being overprotective, and Doreen had implied that, too. But if Zelda’s boyfriend—Jon, his name was Jon Snow—had given her a black eye, maybe Nick was doing what a father should do. Protecting his daughter. Will had certainly thought so when she’d pointed Zelda’s injury out to him.
But maybe Zelda slipped on the ice or had another minor accident embarrassing to anyone, but especially to a teenaged girl. There might be nothing to worry about but her bruised ego.
Maggie allowed herself one or two more thoughts about what she’d do if Zelda were her daughter. Then she scrambled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. It was Christmas morning. Much better to be here than alone in New Jersey.
Will met her at the bottom of the stairs with a hug, a gentle kiss, and a glass of champagne.
“Really?” she asked, accepting it.
“Really. Longtime Brewer family Christmas morning tradition,” he assured her. “Did I forget to tell you?”
She raised her glass. “Then—Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, Maggie!” called Aunt Nettie, who was sitting in the kitchen with a similar flute of champagne alongside her coffee. “After the party last night I decided I needed a caffeine jump start, too.”
“Would you like hot chocolate or Diet Pepsi with your champagne?” asked Will.
Maggie frowned in pretend contemplation. “I think I’ll stick with champagne.”
“Good choice,” he nodded. “I’m going with champagne, too. And not to worry. I have three bottles chilled.”
“One for each of us!” Aunt Nettie almost crowed. “Merry Christmas!”
Maggie wondered how long she and Will had been up, and how much Aunt Nettie’d had to drink already. Besides her coffee.
“The next Brewer tradition is a special Christmas breakfast,” Will explained. “Sit down, relax, drink up. I’m in charge. Blueberry muffins are already in the oven.”
“I thought
“Will, are you sure that’s Zelda?” As they’d moved closer to the singer, Maggie could see more clearly. “Because I don’t think that’s all makeup. That girl has a black eye.”
11
Filled All the Stockings. Red-and-black lithograph by Arthur Rackham (1867–1939) of elf-like Santa with a stocking, surrounded by toys—dolls, trains, animals—some of which are strange and possibly scary, especially with their black shadows behind them. One of four color illustrations Rackham did for a 1931 edition of Clement Moore’s The Night Before Christmas . The verse this illustration accompanies is, “He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk.” In Rackham’s vision, not all children could count on receiving happy gifts at Christmas. 4 x 5 inch picture on 8 x 5.5 inch page. Price: $65.
Christmas morning dawned sunny, bright—and frigid. Maggie heard Will in the kitchen below and hid her head under the quilt for a few last, luxurious moments before opening her eyes. It wasn’t quite seven, but the bedroom was filled with light despite the frosted patterns on the windows, and the smell of coffee perking had reached the second floor.
Next Christmas I’ll be the first one up, she thought. I’ll have the tree lit, the stockings filled, and presents from Santa will be waiting to be unwrapped. It will be our first Christmas together.
Whoever “we” would be.
She stretched her toes under the covers once more and smiled to herself. She could hardly wait.
Except…Will wouldn’t be there. She’d visualized a scene at her home in New Jersey. He’d be here in Waymouth, fixing coffee for Aunt Nettie.
They hadn’t had “that” talk yet. In fact, she had the feeling Will was avoiding it. But clearly he was settling into Maine life. Her life was in New Jersey. They were both moving on. Separately.
Life wasn’t a fairy tale.
She allowed herself a fleeting thought about Nick’s daughter, Zelda. How was she this Christmas morning? At first she’d thought Nick was being overprotective, and Doreen had implied that, too. But if Zelda’s boyfriend—Jon, his name was Jon Snow—had given her a black eye, maybe Nick was doing what a father should do. Protecting his daughter. Will had certainly thought so when she’d pointed Zelda’s injury out to him.
But maybe Zelda slipped on the ice or had another minor accident embarrassing to anyone, but especially to a teenaged girl. There might be nothing to worry about but her bruised ego.
Maggie allowed herself one or two more thoughts about what she’d do if Zelda were her daughter. Then she scrambled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. It was Christmas morning. Much better to be here than alone in New Jersey.
Will met her at the bottom of the stairs with a hug, a gentle kiss, and a glass of champagne.
“Really?” she asked, accepting it.
“Really. Longtime Brewer family Christmas morning tradition,” he assured her. “Did I forget to tell you?”
She raised her glass. “Then—Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, Maggie!” called Aunt Nettie, who was sitting in the kitchen with a similar flute of champagne alongside her coffee. “After the party last night I decided I needed a caffeine jump start, too.”
“Would you like hot chocolate or Diet Pepsi with your champagne?” asked Will.
Maggie frowned in pretend contemplation. “I think I’ll stick with champagne.”
“Good choice,” he nodded. “I’m going with champagne, too. And not to worry. I have three bottles chilled.”
“One for each of us!” Aunt Nettie almost crowed. “Merry Christmas!”
Maggie wondered how long she and Will had been up, and how much Aunt Nettie’d had to drink already. Besides her coffee.
“The next Brewer tradition is a special Christmas breakfast,” Will explained. “Sit down, relax, drink up. I’m in charge. Blueberry muffins are already in the oven.”
“I thought
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