The Cottage on Juniper Ridge. Sheila Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ as much fun as it had been when the kids were living at home. In fact, none of the decorating was. And taking everything down after the holidays was really not fun. But Ethan and Autumn would be back home in Icicle Falls for Christmas. They’d expect holiday razzle-dazzle.

      “One of these days I’m going to keel over with a heart attack after lugging all this stuff around,” Dean grumbled.

      “Oh, you’re much too strong for that,” Stacy assured him as he started to unpack the fake fir. “Really, Deano, I don’t know why you’re complaining. All you have to do is help me trim the tree and set up the train around it.”

      “Don’t forget hauling down all these boxes.”

      “The exercise is good for you,” she informed him, looking pointedly at his growing belly.

      He tried unsuccessfully to suck it in. “I’m not that fat.”

      That was exactly the same thing she told herself every time she looked in the mirror, but her hips had definitely spread. And at forty-six, those gray hairs were popping up among the blond ones like dandelions in a neglected yard. If not for Rory at Sleeping Lady Salon, she’d be in big trouble.

      “We could both stand to lose a few pounds.” She sighed. “We should go on a diet.”

      “Well, let’s not start now,” Dean said in horror. “It’s Christmas cookie season. And speaking of food, I’m hungry. Were we planning to fit dinner in somewhere between now and your book club?”

      Dinner. She’d been so busy decorating she’d forgotten about that minor detail. “Let’s order a pizza from Italian Alps.”

      “Good idea,” he said, pulling his cell phone out of his pants pocket.

      “Make it quick, Deano. We need to get this tree done.” The thought of how lovely it would be with the little electric train running around it and presents spilling everywhere made her smile.

      He shook his head. “With all the ornaments you’ve collected, that should take a millennium. I’m married to the pack rat of Icicle Falls,” he muttered as he searched for the number in his phone.

      “Ha-ha,” she said irritably.

      He came and put an arm around her. “I’m sorry, hon, but really, look at all the stuff you’ve collected. And you keep adding more. Pretty soon there isn’t going to be room in the house for us.”

      “I don’t have that many Christmas decorations,” she protested.

      “You’re kidding, right? And it’s not just Christmas stuff. Have you seen the attic lately?”

      “Some of the things up there belong to the kids. And you.” Well, okay, most of them were things she’d acquired. She hurried on before he could point that out. “Anyway, when you’ve been married for twenty-five years you’re bound to end up with a lot.”

      “Stace, you could load up a landfill with all the stuff you’ve got. My God, between the closet full of presents—”

      “We have to have presents for the kids, and for Ethan’s new girlfriend. Anyway, I bought everything on sale,” Stacy said righteously.

      “The material in Autumn’s old room.”

      “I’m a quilter. I have to buy fabric.”

      “The dishes. How many sets do you need, anyway?”

      “One for every day, good china for special occasions. And we use those Christmas dishes every year.”

      “And shoes.”

      “A woman can never have too many shoes.”

      “And purses.”

      “A purse is an important accessory.”

      “Clothes. You know there’s barely room in the closet for my clothes. And I don’t have that many. And don’t tell me I can put them in Ethan’s old room. I opened that closet the other day and a shopping bag full of bubble bath fell on me.”

      That bubble bath had been a steal. Honestly, sometimes her husband had no idea how much money she saved him. “Maybe it was a cosmic hint to clean up your act, Mr. Scrooge,” Stacy said. “Anyway, it isn’t all for me. Most of that bubble bath is for Christmas presents.”

      “How many people have you added to your Christmas list? You’ve got enough bubble bath to clean everyone in Icicle Falls. And their dogs.” He flopped on the couch, put in his call to Italian Alps and ordered a large pizza supreme.

      “There. Feel better?” she taunted.

      “I’d feel better if I could take all this junk to the dump.”

      She opened the box with her collection of Santa figurines and took one out. “Someone’s being very naughty,” she told the ceramic Santa. “I think you need to bring him a lump of coal for Christmas.”

      “Good. Something I can burn and get rid of,” he retorted.

      Okay, enough was enough. “You know, you’re ruining my holiday spirit here. I’m trying to make our house look nice and you’re being a Grinch.”

      He patted the couch cushion. “Come here and give your Grinch a kiss.”

      “Will it help?”

      He smiled, and she joined him on the couch for a kiss and another hug. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll try to un-Grinch myself. I love you,” he added, and kissed her again.

      “And I love you, too.” But his attitude stank.

      Besides, he didn’t have a clue about how important holiday decorating was. Or decorating in general. Those pretty things set the mood for fun. They were the backdrop for surprises and family togetherness. Without them it would be like watching a play take place on a barren stage. And that crack about the dishes? Come on. Using those Christmas dishes was part of what made everything so festive.

      She glanced at the herd of boxes scattered around her living room. Okay, there was a lot of festivity here. Was she a pack rat?

       Chapter Two

      The first step toward positive change is acknowledging the need for that change.

      —Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity

      By seven-thirty the Thomas residence looked like Christmas central. Most of the decorations were up and the rest had been stuffed in their daughter’s old bedroom, squeezed in with the piles of material and the quilt in progress. Dean was now ensconced in the TV room, grading tests for his eighth-grade English class, and Stacy was ready for her book club to arrive.

      She set her artichoke dip and crackers on the dining room table next to the plate of brownies and the punch bowl full of eggnog, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. The table looked lovely if she did say so herself. Her centerpiece was simple—an elegant Fitz and Floyd pitcher shaped like Saint Nicholas СКАЧАТЬ