(advent) Wednesday, December 4

“So, what do you know about the Allards?”

 

Molly’s question was quiet and meant to be for Aunt Margie’s ears only, but Schrodinger heard, even from his bed next to the wood stove. CrossCats had really sharp hearing anyways, and it helped that the bookstore was fairly quiet, even for a Wednesday. He continued to pretend to sleep, waiting to hear the answer.

 

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Aunt Margie admitted, and the stool she was sitting on scraped a bit against the floor as she shifted. Probably reaching for her tea, although Schrodinger couldn’t tell without opening his eyes, which would have given him away. Beside him, Jack continued to nap, woofing slightly, and his legs twitched as he dreamed.

 

“More than me, probably,” Molly said, and Aunt Margie chuckled.

 

“Well, I know that Peter Allard was born in one of the CrossRoads towns in Connecticut,” she said. “He went to the University of Connecticut for pharmacy, and that’s where he met Donna Carlton, who was getting her teaching degree. They got married, moved to Pennsylvania, and had Zoey.”

 

“Let me guess: Mrs. Allard has never been in a CrossRoads town, has she?”

 

Schrodinger heard the scrape again, and bet Aunt Margie was shaking her head. “Not as far as I know, although I assume they must have gone back to visit his parents at least once. But remember, not all CrossRoads towns are like Carter’s Cove. The fact that we have the two Gates here makes us a bit more…”

 

“Outrageous?” Molly offered, when Aunt Margie’s voice trailed off.

 

“I was going to say magical, but outrageous works too.” Aunt Margie chuckled a little. “We’re lucky in that we have so many magical realms so near to us. The industry in the big Gate towns has driven a lot of the magic away.”

 

Schrodinger made a mental note to have Molly take him to one of the other CrossRoads towns in New England, one of the bigger ones. He’d always wanted to see what they looked like.

 

“So maybe it’s not that she hates Christmas,” Molly was saying, dragging his concentration back. “Maybe she’s just not used to the way a small town works?”

 

“That could be it,” Aunt Margie agrees. “I mean, look at Zoey. She’s polite, adorable and a joy to have around. That speaks well of her parents – and I’ve not heard any complaints about Peter Allard. Donna just hasn’t been around.” The stool scraped one more time and Aunt Margie sighed. “Time to get back to the mines. Are Schrodinger and Jack going to get the girls for later today?”

 

“No, they had a field trip to one of the local realms to look at Christmas traditions there. Corrine’s bringing them over, since she was a chaperone.”

 

“Ah, good.”

 

Schrodinger waited until Aunt Margie had left before extricating himself from the bed without waking Jack (a feat in and of itself, considering how much of the bed the hound had taken up). Then he wandered into the kitchen and jumped up on the stool.

 

“Did you have a good nap?” Molly asked him, putting his mug in front of him and filling it with water and tea.

 

I did, although Jack is chasing things again in his dreams.

 

“Poor Schrodinger.” Molly reached out and rubbed his head. “You’re such a good friend to put up with that.”

 

He leaned into the caress and purred a little. Well, he’s warm and he puts up with me snuggling up next to him. I’m so glad Corrine let him come and stay with us during the week.

 

“Me too. Dogs aren’t meant to be alone, and this means you have someone to hang out with too, when I get busy.” Molly looked up at the clock. “Speaking of, want to keep me company while I make some cookies?”

 

Always!

 

Schrodinger loved to watch Molly bake. Her kitchen was her kingdom, and the magic of the Gates had flowed into her blood as well, imbuing her with the innate senses to know exactly how and when something was done. Her magic wasn’t powerful in the terms of the warriors he’d known before, but it was homey, and he’d be willing to bet on her against any army in a fair fight.

 

Never bet against a kitchen witch, because everyone has to eat, after all.

 

Today, she was baking sugar cookies: snowmen and Santa Clauses, he saw, as she brought out her cookie cutters. What are you baking for today?

 

“I’ve been asked to help out with some of the charity work around here,” Molly said, rolling out her first lump of dough. She’d made the dough last night, and brought it in to the tea house that morning. “I told you that Corrine’s nursing group has become part of the charity assistance group that Father Christopher started a few years ago, didn’t I?” When he nodded, she continued, “Well, they’re trying to expand a bit this year. So Corrine asked if I would do some baking.”

And you said yes, of course, because you love baking.

 

“And I love to watch people enjoy my baking,” she said, cutting out a row of snowmen and laying them on the cookie sheet. A row of Santas followed, and for the next few hours, Schrodinger sipped his tea and watched her dance.

 

She had the innate sense of when the dough was ready, when the cookies in the oven were done, and when they were cool enough to go onto a tray for decorating. There were no timers in Molly’s kitchen – she simply didn’t need them.

 

Once she was done, the sideboard was full of cooling cookies. She brewed herself a fresh cup of tea and wandered out into the tea room to wait for the girls. Schrodinger followed her.

 

“Molly! Schrodinger! Jack! Wait til you see what we got today!”

 

Lily and Zoey came running into the shop, followed by Corrine, who grinned at her sister-in-law.

 

“Hi! How was the field trip?” Molly asked, putting her tea cup on the table next to her before kneeling down to hug the girls. Their voices had woken Jack, and he and Schrodinger crowded around as well.

 

“It was AWESOME,” Zoey told her. “We went to this little village and they don’t even have electricity, Molly!”

 

“They don’t?” Molly looked astonished, but Schrodinger saw the twinkle in her eyes. “What do they use?”

 

“Magic!” Zoey said. “They use MAGIC!”

 

“The school took them to Durintown,” Corrine told Molly. “To see the toy makers.”

 

“Oh, I love going there,” Molly said. “They have such beautiful work.”

 

“They paint everything by hand,” Zoey said, her eyes shining. “Everything. And look what they let us do!” She held out the horse that she’d carried in.

 

Lily had one too, and Molly oohed and aahed over them. They were very well-made, and Lily and Zoey had done an amazing job painting them. Lily’s was pink, of course, and she’d painted a butterfly on the back, almost like a saddle. Zoey’s horse was grey, and she’d painted tiny snowflakes all over it with an attention to detail that made Schrodinger blink. The little girl was quite talented with a brush.

 

“Are you guys hungry?” Molly asked. “Or do you want to just get right to the advent calendar?”

 

“Advent!” Lily shouted. “I can’t wait to see what we get to do today!”

 

“Yes, Advent!” Zoey agreed, and they both rushed into the kitchen, followed by the others. Corrine looked more tired than usual, and accepted a cup of tea gratefully.

 

“I’d forgotten how tiring field trips can be,” she admitted, and Molly chuckled.

 

“It’s Schrodinger’s turn today,” Lily reminded them, and Zoey nodded. Schrodinger went up to the calendar and peered at it. Unlike Jack, CrossCats were not color-blind, but it was still hard to see the golden numbers against the brilliant painting. He finally discovered number 4, sparkling against a snowflake, and pressed his nose to it.

 

The sweet smell of sugar and spice filled his nostrils as the painting dissolved underneath his touch. He stepped back and the snowflake floated out on that sweet breeze to hover over them.

 

“What are we doing today, snowflake?” Zoey asked softly. “What fun do you have planned for us?”

 

“Do you think it will answer?” Lily whispered. “Wouldn’t that be neat if it did?”

 

Zoey nodded, but the snowflake didn’t say anything out loud. Instead, it spun and went to hover in front of Lily, who held out her hand. A stream of silver shot out from the center of the snowflake, turning into a small piece of paper that said, “Magic works best when shared with others. Bring some magic to someone else today.”

 

That sounds like a fortune cookie, Schrodinger said, wrinkling his nose. What could it mean?

 

The snowflake then zoomed off and went to hover over the trays of cookies. “Looks like you guys are helping me today,” Molly said, and Corrine smiled.

 

“What are we doing?” Lily asked.

 

“Remember how you and I talked about getting your Scout troop to come and sing carols at the retirement home?” Corrine asked her daughter, and Lily nodded. “Well, the director there asked if we’d like to visit with the residents, and bring them over some cookies. I asked Molly to bake some-”

 

Because Molly’s cookies are the best ever! Schrodinger interrupted, and Molly blushed a bit.

 

“And it looks like the calendar thought you guys might like to help,” Corrine finished.

 

Zoey looked at the snowflake, which was still hovering over the cookies. “What does sharing the magic mean?” she asked.

 

Schrodinger looked at her. The Librarian once told me that magic shared is magic multiplied, he said, after a moment. There’s something about the way magic works, almost like a virus, that it spreads and spreads as more people share in it.

 

“I don’t like viruses,” Zoey said doubtfully.

 

“Magic as a virus.” Molly laughed. “That’s as good an analogy as any, I guess. But in this case, Zoey, think of it more like this – if you’re happy, and you hug Lily, you share that happiness, and it grows. That’s what we’re doing today. Growing magic.” She and the snowflake led them back out into the tea room, where she pushed two of the tables together. The chairs were big enough that Jack could sit in one and watch too.

 

“I need you guys to help me decorate these,” Molly said, and brought out not only cookies, but a couple of sets of edible paints. Schrodinger had wondered why she’d bought them. “Do you think we can get all of these trays done by six?”

 

Schrodinger looked up at the clock, which said 3:30 pm, and then at his comrades. We can, I think, he said, and the others nodded. Let’s get started!

 

The snowflake spun up towards the ceiling and then burst over them, drenching them in sparkles. They all laughed and settled in at the table, with Zoey and Lily picking up paint brushes and Jack and Schrodinger offering suggestions.

 

By 6 pm, they were done, and tired, and hungry. Molly had been packaging up the cookies as they dried, and she and Corrine had a full box with three bags of brightly decorated cookies in cellophane, tied up with sparkling ribbons. Molly had a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches ready for them, and once they were done eating, she said, “Are you ready for the next part?”

 

Lily and Zoey looked at each other, eyes wide. “The NEXT part?” Lily said finally. “It’s a TWO-PART adventure?”

 

“It is.” Corrine grinned. “Get your coats. We have to deliver these cookies!”

 

Corrine had a mini-van, and they all tumbled into it. She headed out to the Carter’s Cove Retirement Home, which was located out on the other side of town from the bookstore. It wasn’t a long drive, which was good: everyone was too excited to sit still for long.

 

“Welcome to our home!” boomed out a female voice, as they disembarked from the van. “It’s so good to see you!”

 

Zoey gasped as they came up to the front door. “Is that Mrs. Claus?” she whispered to Lily, who shook her head in wonder, eyes wide.

 

The woman looked like the classic Mrs. Claus, Schrodinger thought, which was impossible, because Mrs. Claus had other things to do this time of the year. But it was an uncanny resemblance: she had curly white hair that was currently tucked up under a muffin cap of bright red, and her blue eyes and blushing cheeks radiated warmth. Her white apron glowed against her red dress.

 

Corrine went up and embraced the woman. “Hello, Mrs. Dawson, how are things going?”

 

“Everyone’s excited to see you, dears.” Mrs. Dawson kissed her on the cheek, then beamed down at everyone else. “As am I!”

 

“This is my sister-in-law, Molly,” Corrine said, turning back to them. “And my daughter Lily, her friend Zoey, and this is Jack and Schrodinger. They all worked very hard on these gifts.”

 

“Just having you here is a gift!” Mrs. Dawson declared. “Come on in!”

 

Schrodinger didn’t like hospitals, or doctor’s offices, or vet’s offices. They all had a smell of antiseptic that he hated, and he knew Jack did too. Despite the warmth of their welcome, he entered hesitantly, not sure what to expect.

 

It was not what he found. There was no antiseptic smell – instead, he smelled pine boughs and cinnamon, and the air was warm and inviting. He and Jack exchanged a look and relaxed.

 

The foyer of the home (and it really was a home, he realized, a large mansion that had been adapted for its current use) was already decorated for Christmas, with a large wreath over the reception desk, and a Christmas tree in the corner.

 

“Most of our residents have just finished dinner,” Mrs. Dawson told them, leading them down one of the hallways. “They’re about to sing some carols, so I think this is the perfect time.” She led them into what once had been the grand ballroom. The ceiling soared high above them, and Schrodinger was suddenly reminded of the massive outdoor ball room that the Snow Queen brought with her to her ball every year. This one was paneled in warm wood, and large windows opened out to a lawn on one side and an enclosed courtyard on the other, both with trees strung with brilliant lights. Inside, more lights were strung along the walls, twinkling like stars against the paneling and the green boughs they were intertwined with. A grand piano sat in one corner, with a small artificial tree on top of it and an older woman sitting on the bench, stretching her fingers out.

 

And there were a LOT of people in the room, some in wheelchairs, some with walkers or canes. Some were quietly sitting, but more of them were talking, gathered around tables and in groups. Mrs. Dawson led them in, and then clapped her hands, getting everyone’s attention.

 

“Look what we have here!” she said, her voice not loud but carrying clearly through the room once everyone had quieted down. “You all have guests, and they’ve brought surprises!”

 

All the eyes in the room turned to them. Schrodinger felt Lily and Zoey shrink back a little, but he knew they would be fine once they started talking to people. They were like that.

 

So he poked Zoey in the knee and, when she turned to look at him, said, Why don’t we work together? Jack can go with Lily and that way, we can spread all sorts of joy.

 

She nodded, and Molly gave them a bag of the cookies, pointing with her chin. “Why don’t you start over there?”

 

“Over there” was a group of older men and women around the piano. Schrodinger and Zoey went over and then Zoey stopped, unsure of what to say.

 

Hi! Schrodinger went up to the first older lady, who sat in a wheelchair, knitting on her lap. He put one paw on the wheel of her chair and stood up to get closer to her. I’m Schrodinger, and this is Zoey.

 

The woman smiled at him, but didn’t say anything. She did, however, reach down with a dry hand to stroke him gently.

 

“Polly can’t speak,” another older woman said, leaning over. She too had knitting in her lap, but she wasn’t in a wheelchair. “Poor dear lost her voice several years ago, when she had a stroke. But she understands perfectly well.”

 

Schrodinger rubbed Polly’s hand. I’m sorry you can’t speak, he said. This works just as well, though.

 

Polly smiled and continued to stroke his head. He couldn’t help it; a purr built up in his throat.

 

“What do you have there, dear?” An older gentleman, his hands folded around a cane, leaned forward to look at Zoey’s bag. “Sweets?”

 

“Just what you need, Francis,” the other woman said.

 

“Always,” Francis said, winking at Zoey. She grinned and pulled the first package of cookies out.

 

“Molly made them, and we decorated them,” she said shyly, offering them to him.

 

Francis took the package of cookies and looked them over. “They’re beautiful,” he told her, and her smile widened. “Is that whole bag for me?” He winked at her again, and she laughed.

 

That broke the ice, and she handed out cookies to the other people at the table. They all started asking her and Schrodinger questions about the cookies, about school and about their plans for the holiday. At one point, Schrodinger looked up to see that the room had split three ways: one group with them, one group around Jack and Lily and one group with Molly and Corrine. Mrs. Dawson and her nurses (they must be, they looked official, although none of them had uniforms on) circulated around, keeping an eye on everyone.

 

Zoey was listening with fascination to Francis and another older gentleman, who were telling stories about getting Christmas trees back in their youth.

 

“No cars then, little miss,” Francis told her, his blue eyes misty as he looked into the past. “My da and me would go into the forest with the sleigh and the horses, and bring a tree back. Took a long time, but it was worth it.”

 

“And what did you decorate it with?” she asked, her eyes wide.

 

“Popcorn strings, cranberry strings, paper snowflakes that we kept from year to year,” he said. “My ma had some lovely glass birds and ornaments from her ma, and we’d bake gingerbread cookies to decorate and hang. One year, my sister tied her hair ribbons to the tree.” He looked down at the cookies in the bag he still held. “This brings back memories, it does. I haven’t thought of our Christmases at home in a long time.”

 

“It sounds lovely,” she said. “Are they good memories?”

 

He reached over and ruffled her hair, but Schrodinger saw just the faintest sheen of tears in his eyes. “They are, yes. They are.”

 

Mrs. Dawson clapped her hands again, and they all turned to her. “Now that you all have your goodies, who wants to sing carols?” She smiled as many of them raised their hands or nodded. “Mary Ellen has been nice enough to offer to play for us tonight. What shall we start with, dear?”

 

Mary Ellen, who had been talking with Lily and Jack, went back up to the piano. Sitting down, she stretched her fingers out before her. “How about this one?”

 

Notes flew up from under her fingertips as she started to play. Schrodinger recognized the tune quickly, as voices took up the words.

 

“Dashing through the snow, on a one-horse open sleigh…”

 

It was nearly an hour later when Mary Ellen finally pleaded exhaustion and the singing stopped. Schrodinger was surprised to find how disappointed he was at that – he loved music, any music, and the carols sung by the retirees had been heartfelt. He jumped down from Polly’s lap regretfully as Molly and Corrine called them over.

 

“Thank you so much for having us,” Molly said to them all. “This has been a wonderful evening.”

 

Yes, Schrodinger said, and Lily and Zoey echoed his words. Jack contented himself with wagging his tail enthusiastically.

 

“No, thank you,” Mrs. Dawson said. “You have been wonderful guests, and we would love to have you back any time.”

 

“Especially if you bring more cookies!” someone called out from the back of the crowd, and everyone laughed.

 

The ride home was quiet: everyone was tired, and it seemed right to listen to the instrumental carols on WCOV and watch the stars twinkle in the night sky. Schrodinger was nearly asleep when they dropped Zoey off, but the van stopping woke him up.

 

“Here,” Molly said, passing back another bag of cookies. “Take this with you, and tell your parents that they’re always welcome at the tea room.”

 

“Thank you,” Zoey said. “For everything.” And she hopped out.

 

“Mommy?” Lily asked from the back, as Corrine waited for Zoey to get in the house.

 

“Yes?” she said, waving to the woman (Mrs. Allard, Schrodinger assumed) who had come out on the porch. Schrodinger saw, as the door shut, that Zoey’s wreath hung on the door, which made him smile.

 

“Can parents be wrong sometimes?” Lily asked.

 

“Everyone can be wrong sometimes, Lily love,” Corrine said, backing the van up. “That’s part of being human. What’s really important is how you react once you realize that you’re wrong.”

 

“Oh.” Lily turned back to look out at the window again, and Schrodinger wondered what was going through her mind. She didn’t say any more, though, and in a few minutes, his eyes closed again.

 

It had been a long day.

Originally published at The words of Valerie Griswold-Ford. You can comment here or there.