The woman in front of me lifted a little boy. “Look up, Bobby. Watch the balcony.”
I stood on tiptoe trying to see.
She gave me a quick bright smile. “Here, you can squeeze in beside me. Isn’t this wonderful. It’s just like old times.” Dark curls framed a cheerful face, her cheeks red with cold.
“I’m visiting around the corner.” I gestured to my left. “Is this a church party?”
She shifted the child onto one hip. “A neighborhood party. It will really make you feel like Christmas.” Her smile was infectious. “I’m Kay Kelly.”
I hesitated only an instant. “Jerrie Emiliani.”
Kay gave an expansive wave with her free hand. “I grew up in Adelaide and this has always been my very favorite Christmas celebration. It was started by the Pritchard family years and years ago. Susan Flynn, who lives here now, is the last of the Pritchards. Everyone is welcome. It started off as a little party for children who were friends of the family’s children, but now people come from all over town. Mrs. Flynn doesn’t mind. The children help decorate a big Scotch pine cut fresh from the Pritchard ranch. The tree isn’t like the tree at Rockefeller Center, but for Adelaide it’s a big, big tree. After the decorating is done, there’s a bonfire and kids roast marshmallows and there are cookies and punch and hot chocolate and every child gets a little wrapped present. One of the family members hands out gifts to each boy and girl. The gifts are assorted by age. I still have all my gifts. My favorite was a little charm bracelet with a rose rock.”
I knew all about rose rocks, the official rock of Oklahoma. Barite crystals combined with Oklahoma’s iron-rich sand to produce reddish rocks shaped like roses. The Cherokee believed that each rock represented the blood of those who died on the Trail of Tears when the Cherokee were forcibly removed from Georgia in 1838 to Indian Territory.
“Mrs. Flynn”—my new friend nodded toward the house—“has been ill the last few years and hasn’t come out on the balcony with the rest of the family to welcome everyone. One child will be picked to place the star at the very top of the tree and switch on the tree lights. Every year the lights are a different color. Last year they were all blue. Oh look, here comes the family.”
Twin lanterns flashed on, illuminating the now shadowy balcony in a golden glow, making it a bright stage in the deepening dusk. Susan Flynn stepped outside. She was elegant in a full-length black mink coat with a wing collar and turned-back cuffs. A crimson turtleneck emphasized the dark sheen of the mink. A matching fur fedora was tilted at a jaunty angle.
A cheer rose.
My new friend was joyful. “How wonderful. That’s Mrs. Flynn. She must be feeling better, though her face is awfully thin.”
Susan held up both hands, smiling and blinking back tears, touched by the exuberant welcome.
I sorted them out as they stepped onto the balcony.
Plump Jake Flynn nodded this way and that as if the welcome was for her, not Susan. Jake looked like a plump robin in a red quilted vest.
A wide-eyed Keith clutched Peg Flynn’s hand. Dave stood on Peg’s other side. He held possessively to her elbow. His camel-hair coat looked new and was undoubtedly expensive.
Gina Satterlee drew some admiring glances for her silver fur and stylish red-and-black-plaid slacks.
An ebullient smile was bright as a Christmas wreath on Harrison Hammond’s florid face. His wife Charlotte shivered and tied a red wool scarf beneath her chin. She moved toward a remaining sunny spot on the balcony.
Tucker Satterlee sauntered out last. Unlike the other men, he had a rugged outdoor appearance in his tan shearling coat and snug jeans. Tucker pulled the hall door shut and joined his sister. He leaned against the railing and folded his arms.
Gina gave Tucker a quick, unreadable glance.
Susan moved to the railing. “Merry Christmas.” Her voice rang clear and true.
“Merry Christmas.” The shouts rose on the clear cold air.
“Thank you for coming to our tree party.” The breeze ruffled the lustrous fur of her coat. She took a quick breath. “Every year a child is invited to put the Star of Bethlehem atop the tree when the other decorations are in place.” Susan gripped the railing with both hands, steadied herself. “This year, the child is special to me and this Christmas will be one of the most joyous of my life. My grandson Keith has come to live with me. Keith will crown our tree.”
Murmurs rose and the crowd pressed forward.
Peg picked up Keith, held him high. “Wave, honey,” she whispered.
Keith’s face was solemn, but he lifted a hand and waved.
“We’ll be right down.” Peg swung Keith to the balcony floor.
Tucker pushed away from the railing. “Hey, buckaroo. How about a Tarzan swing?” He held out his arms for Keith, shouted to Leon, who stood by the steps to the scaffolding. “Want to catch him, Leon? Here he comes.” Tucker picked up Keith and swung him out over the balcony.
Gasps and cries rose.
Susan lifted a hand in protest. “Tucker, no.”
Leon hurried forward, his weathered face drawn in a frown. “Wait up, Tucker. I can’t reach him.”
“Uh-one. Uh-two.” Tucker swung Keith from side to side. In mid-swing, he let go. “Here he comes.”
Leon shifted a foot or so to one side as he held up his arms.
Keith’s laughter was a gurgle of delight.
Leon staggered a bit as he caught Keith.
“Tucker, that was dangerous.” Susan’s voice was sharp.
He looked around, grinned. “Keith’s having a blast.”
Leon looked up. “I’ve got him all right.”
Susan took a deep breath, but her eyes were still angry.
Tucker spread his hands in a charming plea for approval. “Hey, Susan, guys have to be guys. Now you wait and see if Keith doesn’t remember next Christmas and insist we do it again.”
“Next Christmas…” There was an odd note in Susan’s voice.
Keith looked up from below. He wriggled in Leon’s grasp. “Swing me again.”
Tucker laughed out loud. “Keith’s got the right idea. How about it, Susan?”
“Once is enough.” She came to the railing. “Hold tight to Leon, Keith. He’s taking you up to the top of the tree.”
Leon wrapped an arm around Keith. At a card table at the base of the scaffolding, Leon picked up a huge white star. “Here we go.” He mounted two steps at a time, carrying Keith to the top platform. Leon steadied Keith on the metal railing and, bending forward, reaching out to the tip-top of the pine, Leon’s big hand over Keith’s small one, they put the star in place.
Another cheer rose.
Susan watched Keith, her face shining with delight.
I looked at those around Susan.
Jake’s lips compressed into a tight hard line. Peg took a step toward her mother, stopped. A frown marred Dave Lewis’s handsome features. Gina hunched her shoulders and jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat. Harrison looked worried. His wife put a hand on his sleeve. Tucker gave a dismissive shrug and turned toward the hall door.
Susan lifted her hands in a gesture of hospitality. “It’s time for cookies and cocoa.”
In an instant, Susan would turn. Though she was caught up in the moment, thrilled with Keith and with the tree, she would surely see the closed faces of those who surrounded her, closed against Keith, closed against her.
My voice rose clear and distinct. Soon voices joined me, one after another, until everyone sang the light and lilting “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”
Susan moved back to the railing, eyes shining. She turned toward those behind her and gestured like a conductor. One by one they joined in.
I nodded in satisfaction. It is difficult to frown and sing at the same time.
As the song ended, Susan beamed. “We’re coming down and we’ll sing more songs.” She turned and walked to the balcony door and those around her followed.