Making Room for Christmas

(From the Charlotte Diamond mystery series)

"Look at that snow come down. It looks like we'll be socked in at the Peak Lodge. I'm sorry, Charlotte. It was inconsiderate for me to drag you along. It's no way for you to have to spend Christmas."

"Just being able to be in the same room with you on Christmas, even if across a banquet hall, is enough for me," Charlotte Diamond said. She snuggled up against the gorgeous woman she still couldn't believe she was with. Brenda Boynton—or Brandon, as her adoring movie fans knew her—was everything less than Charlotte, while still being very much more. She was ten years younger, maybe less than half Charlotte's bulk, and, despite having been a top box office movie actress, she didn't have the wear and tear on her that Charlotte did from her decades as a top FBI investigator.

Brenda looked out of the chugging train's window—already two hours late in pulling into Burlington station because of the drifting snow.

"If only I had known how demanding they would be before I'd said I'd attend the Christmas day dinner up at the lodge to help raise patron money for our new movie production, I would have begged off."

"It's OK, Brenda, it really is," Charlotte answered. "This isn't the first time we've had to be circumspect Your fans—and certainly your prospective production angels—don't want to know that your significant other is a dumpy old retired cop—female cop. You said yes before you knew Aaron would be squeamish for us to be a couple there. I'll just worship you from afar like everyone else."

"Maybe it will be snowing so hard on Mount Mansfield that no one will show up."

"I think we're the only ones who haven't helicoptered up. Vermont isn't that far from Manhattan. Anyway, I think your idea of a train ride in the snow is romantic. It's the first time we've been able to sleep together in public."

"Even with you complaining all night about the tight fit of the seat?" Brenda said, with one of her trademarked radiant smiles on her face.

"Being close beside you was worth the torture. Speaking of which, look at that young couple several rows up the car. They look like they are sitting in the same seat. And they are so entranced with each other that I don't think they even are aware it's snowing heavily out there."

"We can imagine that they are foreign agents, escaping from the authorities. She was shot in the escape and he's trying to get her across the border to Canada, where they'll be safe enough to go to a hospital and where he can deliver his secret—"

"I think we've both seen several versions of that movie, Brenda." Charlotte laughed. "I'm the one who's supposed to be the sleuth here and see something nefarious in every situation. But, look, they are preparing to disembark. So, they're getting out at Burlington too. We could skip that stuffy conclave up at the lodge altogether and spend Christmas tailing them."

But Charlotte had lost Brenda. The ageless actress had her compact out and was touching up what was already perfection, ready to step out of the train like she was stepping out of a band box onto a red carpet rather than having ridden cramped up beside Charlotte for most of the night leading into Christmas Eve.

Burlington station seemed deserted in the early hours of Christmas Eve. Charlotte and Brenda and the young couple they'd been talking about on the train were the only ones on the platform. The snow was falling so fast that the light shining through from the overhead street lights was dim and cast an eerie glow.

"Where is it?" Charlotte could hear the young woman ask of her male companion.

"The lodge said there would be a car to meet us," the young man answered.

"The lodge?" Brenda called out to them. "Would that be a van from the Peak Lodge on Mount Mansfield?"

"Yes, ma'am," the man answered.

"That's where we're going too. Let's check in the station house and—"

"It's not open yet," Charlotte said. "Ours was the last scheduled train until this afternoon. I checked the hours when we got off the train."

The four of them stood there in silence for several minutes, each lost in her or his thoughts, their icy breath combining in a cloud of vapor swirling up into the dim rays from the overhead lights.

The man pointed over to the street. "Look, a taxi."

It seemed to be the only animated object in a town not yet awake on Christmas Eve morning.

"Let's see if he'll take us all up to the lodge," Brenda said in that rich contralto voice of hers that made millions of theatergoers sigh with satisfaction. "We'll catch our deaths standing here waiting for the van."

* * * *

Forty-five minutes and not more than ten steep uphill miles later, they learned just how fast the mountain could be socked in. The four passengers huddled together with a world of white swirling outside the windows of the taxi, which had stopped in its track while the driver made a cell phone call.

"Yahup, I was afraid that was the case," he was saying into the telephone. "Can you make room for four? I've got a cousin there. I won't be doing any more taxiing today myself. I'll stay it out with him."

The four passengers waited in dread for him to finish his pleasantries over the phone and to hang up and give them the devastating news. None of them was impatient to hear it. As long as he didn't say it, there was hope of getting to the lodge.

"The road up the mountain is closed past Grant. I can get you there, though, and they'll put you up for the night. We'll have to see what tomorrow brings when tomorrow gets here."

The young lady in the backseat with the young man and Brenda began to sob softly, and the young man took her in his arms and rocked her gently.

Charlotte and Brenda exchanged concerned looks.

In Grant, which consisted of fewer than ten houses hanging onto the down-slope side of the mountain road, the taxi stopped in front of a bungalow that looked cheery enough. Smoke was coming out of the chimney, and Charlotte could see a lighted Christmas tree through a front porch and a picture window.

A Mrs. Claus look-alike by the name of Mrs. Maston greeted them at the door. Her elflike husband hovered behind her, moving chairs to try to make room in a small parlor that didn't have any more room. The decorated Christmas tree appeared to have soaked all of the room up.

"Welcome," Mrs. Maston clucked pleasantly as she pulled the half-frozen travelers into her warm foyer and the taxi driver tried to move past the group with a pile of suitcases. "I'm afraid we're a little tight for room, but we'll manage. We're delighted to have the company."

Charlotte could see into the small dining room, where the table was set for breakfast—for two—and she could just imagine how delighted the Mastons were to have four strangers—one sobbing quietly—in their laps on Christmas Eve.

"I'm sorry, we only have the two bedrooms," Mrs. Maston said, looking at the four strangers and trying to figure out how they properly aligned.

"That's quite all right with Charlotte and me," Brenda said in that smooth "it's just fine" tone she was able to command. "We can share a bed."

Charlotte squeezed Brenda's hand with hers and tried to suppress a happy smile. This will be far better than the lodge, she was thinking. She hoped Brenda was thinking the same.

This didn't seem to faze Mrs. Maston one bit. She turned to the couple.

And the young lady broke out in deeper sobs.

"There, there, dear," Mrs. Maston cooed. "let's get these wet coats off and come into the dining room for a cup of tea. And tell me what saddens you so."

In the dining room, the young man spoke for the two of them while they all sipped the most delicious tea Charlotte had ever tasted.

"We are set to be married up at the lodge tomorrow," he explained. "I've got orders to ship out of Boston for Afghanistan on the morning of the 27th, and we had to rush to get the license and arrangements set up for the shortest honeymoon on record."

"Oh, dear, dear, we must see what we can do about that. Stanley." Mrs. Maston was looking above their heads to her husband who had been hovering in the doorway to the parlor.

"Yes, dear. I'll make some calls."

Calls? Charlotte wondered. What could anyone do in this situation in a snowbound hamlet on the side of a mountain on Christmas Eve?

But the Mastons showed her what they could do.

"We'll need cookies and some punch," Mrs. Maston declared as she stood and smoothed down her apron. "You two lovebirds go into the parlor. Can you two ladies cook?"

Charlotte and Brenda looked at her dumbly, each equally embarrassed.

"I can read a recipe," Brenda said with one of her famous tinkling laughs.

"I can watch Brenda read a recipe," Charlotte chimed in.

"Good enough. Let's go to the kitchen and give Stanley some elbow room in here."

The elbow room allowed Mr. Maston to mobilize two village men to move the Christmas tree out onto the porch and to run extension cords into the house so that it could still lend its festive glory to the occasion. Three wise women marched in within the hour, one carrying a tray of glazed ham slices, the second with a plate of dinner roles, and the third, miraculously, with a fruitcake slathered with white frosting and an ancient and somewhat bedraggled, left-leaning wedding couple ornament on top.

People were gathering on the porch and peering into the window and smiling at the wedding couple. The young woman no longer was crying and actually managed a wan smile. The young man hovered around her, solicitous to her every need.

Mr. Maston came into the kitchen, and his wife turned to him and asked, "Were you able to get hold of Harry?" Then, before he answered, she turned to Charlotte and Brenda and said, "Harry's our justice of the peace. He lives a good ways down the mountain toward Burlington."

"How can he—?" Charlotte started to ask. But then they heard the bells and all moved to the dining room window to witness the arrival of the justice of the peace on a plow horse with a belled harness.

Charlotte and Brenda acted as witnesses. There wasn't room in the parlor for more than the wedding party, so those who couldn't crowd into the adjacent dining room stood out on the porch next to the Christmas tree and watched the ceremony through the window. All of the villagers must have suspended their Christmas preparations and shown up.

"Perhaps you could sing a song for us, Ms. Brandon," Mrs. Maston whispered to Brenda with a twinkle in her eye after the ceremony was over.

"How did you know?" Brenda asked in surprise.

"We go to the movies up here, my dear," Mrs. Maston said. "I won't tell the others though."

Brenda sang "On Eagle's Wings" and, to general laughter, Mrs. Maston declared the sleeping arrangements proper now.

Later, in bed, Brenda snuggled up to Charlotte and asked, "Want to try to make it up to the lodge tomorrow?"

"Not a chance," Charlotte answered. "Unless you do. I think the Christmas spirit is just right here in Grant."

"Me too," Brenda said with a contented sigh. "Me too. Merry Christmas, Charlotte."

"Merry Christmas to you too, darling."