Misty Hollow

Blair Water

December 21, 1931

Dearest Mums,

It seems so strange to think that we won't be spending Christmas together—the first time ever! And with Christmas being held at Cloud of Spruce again, too. I was dreadfully afraid that I'd be terribly homesick, but it really just seems like an adventure, although of course I will miss you. I'm so very excited about the Christmas dance. Charlie Miller is taking me, and all the other girls are so envious.

Mums, I wish I could talk to you about Charlie. Sylvie says he's a flirt, and he's obviously very used to having girls fall for his charm. I told myself I wouldn't take him seriously, but he's been paying me more and more attention, and he seems serious enough. He's so very nice and fun, and he pays such delicious compliments. How can I tell if he's really interested in me, and do I even want him to be? His sister hates me, and his mother is really quite patronizing, although his father is unaffected. I don't even really know how much I like him! I just wish you were here and I could lay my head on your shoulder and tell you everything, and have you give me advice. How did you know when you first fell in love with Father? Were you sure it was real? Was it all butterflies in your tummy all at once or did it happen gradually? Did you ever think you were in love with anybody before you and Father met? I can't believe we've never talked about this before.

Marigold sighed and crumpled up the letter. She couldn't send that to her mother. Lorraine would worry and fret, and she couldn't really help anyway. What Marigold really needed was someone like Old Grandmother, with her gift of sizing up people and cutting to the heart of things.

The young girl rose from her table and looked intently at herself in the mirror. Was she falling for Charlie Miller? Did she even know what love was? She shook her head. Maybe she was being silly. Maybe this was all just adolescent hormones running wild, and would run its course and end painlessly. If only there was someone she could talk to! Mickey would be sure to give her good advice, but he'd seemed strangely abstracted and distant lately, even talking about leaving Blair Water and heading back out to sea. Cousin Mira said he was affected with wanderlust, but Marigold was heartbroken at the thought of him leaving. They hadn't had a real conversation in days.

In many ways, Marigold almost wished the Millers had never come back to Blair Water. Life was so much simpler when they weren't around. She didn't have to worry about falling for Charlie, Rosy wasn't shooting her glares and snide remarks every time she came around, Sylvie wasn't so busy, and Mickey hadn't even hinted at wanting to leave—although she supposed she couldn't blame that on them.

She sighed again. Only four more days until Christmas and the dance. Maybe things would clear up then.


Charlie stopped by later that afternoon to pick her up for a drive. He was talking politely and courteously to Aunt Edna as Marigold came down the stairs. Despite his charm, he never seemed to get anywhere with Aunt Edna or Cousin Mira, both of whom viewed Marigold's infatuation with him in distaste. Aunt Edna, in spite of her age, was still a shrewd judge of character; she could see what Marigold, blinded by youth and romance, could not: that Charlie Miller was essentially a weak character, with no moral fiber or any kind of principles.

All Marigold saw, however, was a charismatic young man who paid her the greatest of attention and was even polite to elderly ladies who were quite rude to him in return. To be sure, he made fun of Aunt Edna behind her back, but Marigold pushed that to the back of her mind. Just seeing him made her heart skip a beat. All her good intentions and plans of keeping her head and not letting herself fall for him flew far away. When he smiled at her and helped her into her coat, she felt her knees grow slightly weak. As they spun off in the car, she decided she really didn't need four whole days to confirm what she felt: she was most definitely falling for Charlie Miller, and she didn't care.


The next four days flew by, and before Marigold knew it, Christmas had arrived. She and Mickey, forgetting their respective problems, had decorated Misty Hollow inside and out with greenery, bows, and candles. The massive spruce tree in the parlor had just been set up the night before, a Babcock Christmas Eve tradition. With Mickey on a ladder to reach the heights, Marigold getting everything else, Cousin Mira digging treasured decorations from the depths of an old box, and Aunt Edna ensconced in her high-backed armchair giving direction, they had turned the tree into a thing of wondrous beauty, glittering with gold and silver and red ornaments, and little white candles tied to every bough. The stair rails were wrapped with garland and jaunty red bows, strings of gold and silver beads festooned the chandeliers, holly branches were above every window, and Cousin Mira had roguishly hidden mistletoe in unexpected spots all over the house.

Christmas morning was spent simply and pleasantly with just the four of them. Marigold and Cousin Mira made cinnamon buns and bacon for breakfast, with hot tea for the two older ladies, black coffee for Mickey, and hot chocolate for Marigold. Presents were opened in the mysterious candlelight from the tree, and then Mickey regaled them with tales of Christmases past, spent in every far-off corner of the globe.

Marigold sighed with happiness as she put on her wool coat to walk over to the Kents, carrying her first evening dress—a present from Aunt Edna and Cousin Mira—in a bag along with her gold slippers and new fur cape (sent by Aunt Marigold and Uncle Klon—Marigold suspected that Aunt Marigold and Cousin Mira had conferred about the presents). For the moment, she was too excited to worry about Rosy's sneers or be confused about Charlie.

"Ready, Mickey?" she asked him. As it was a special occasion, he was escorting her to the Kents.

The young man looked awkward and uncomfortable in his one good suit instead of his everyday working clothes. "I still don't know how you talked me into this, Miss Marigold," he grumbled, struggling with his tie.

"Oh, stop your fussing, young man," ordered Aunt Edna. "It does you no harm to look like a gentleman one day out of the year. Now run along, you two, and Mickey, make sure Marigold's home from the dance at a reasonable hour."

"Aye, ma'am," he said, tipping his cap to her and holding the door for Marigold.

"I'm sure I don't know why you don't like to dress up," said Marigold as they headed down the road in the frosty midday air. "You really are a gentleman, Mickey, in all your ways. It's just your general appearance that belies it."

"Oh well," he said good-naturedly, his normal cheerfulness restored by the fresh air. "If folks can't see through my rags and common ways, then their opinion ain't worth fussing and fretting over."

"You do understand that Charlie is my escort for the dance, don't you?" Marigold queried anxiously as they neared Hope Fulfilled. "Sylvia said she would be happy to let you escort her and Rosy, and Charlie asked me days ago if he could take me."

Perhaps it was the wind that burned a flush suddenly into Mickey's cheek as he answered. "So long as Master Miller knows to bring you home in good season, I don't see that it matters who escorts who."


The dinner with the Kents was delightful, full of fun and good humor. Mickey was slightly nervous at first in front of so many prominent people, but Mr. Justice Miller soon engaged him in conversation about mutual places to which they had both sailed, and almost before he knew it, he was the life of the party. To be sure, Sylvia was a little hurt that he hadn't spoken to her at all, beyond a simple "Happy Christmas," or even looked in her direction, but nobody else noticed anything amiss.

To the girls, the climax of the day came when they ran upstairs to dress for the dance. It was quite a tight squeeze: Marigold, Sylvia, Rosy, Sophie, and Sophie's good friend Christine Morgan, but they endured it with giggles and grace. For the moment, even the animosity between Rosy and Marigold was set aside.

Sophie and Christine had their dresses made in the same style, though different colors. Both had elbow-length puffed sleeves, a low back, and a skirt that hugged their forms to their hips, and then flared out sharply to the floor. Sophie's was a powder-blue velvet, with pearl jewelry and a strand of pearls woven through her unfashionably-long hair, done tonight in an elegant French braid. Christine, who had auburn hair, chocolaty-brown eyes, and who reminded one of a porcelain doll, so fragile and fair was she, had her dress made of forest green velvet, with tiny little emeralds glittering at her ears and throat. Both girls had velvet wraps to match their gowns.

Sylvia's dress was very simple and elegant, being a soft silvery ankle-length chiffon slip with an asymmetrical hemline and a matching short-sleeved lace jacket fitting closely over the bodice, buttoning at the neck and just under the bust. Uncle Dean had sent her a diamond set for Christmas, and the necklace now lay snugly in the hollow of her throat, sparkling and glittering alluringly, matching the winking stones in her ears and on her wrist.

Rosy, naturally, was the most stylish and daring of all the girls. Her dress was of black velvet, fitting very closely to her bodice and hips, and swaying out from there. The front had a daringly low scoop neck, and the back was practically non-existent, showing off her fashionable tan quite nicely. To add a splash of color, Rosy had wide, sheer sleeves of bright pink gauze hanging to her elbow, and a pink ribbon encircling her waist, the ends of which fell to the floor in front. Her velvet wrap was of the same shade pink, as were her nails and lips and jewels.

Marigold's dress, while not as showy as Rosy's, suited her delicate beauty perfectly. Made of pale yellow silk crepe, the sleeveless gown had matching Vs in the back and front. Her small waist was defined and set off by ruching in the center front, and the wide straps gave off that same pinched effect at the shoulder by being gathered by a yellow ribbon, the ends of which brushed her arms. Like Sylvia, her hemline was asymmetrical, the left side reaching her ankle, and the right touching the floor.

Sophie gave a deep sigh of satisfaction as she gazed at all their reflections in the large mirror. "Scientific mind though I have, there is something nice in being a girl and being able to dress up. No woman, no matter where else her interest lies, can possibly pretend to not care about clothes all the time."

Christine laughed her light, tinkling laugh which always reminded Marigold of wind chimes. "Come on, Miss Scientific Mind, let's go before David and Murray forget about us. There will be little point to these lovely frocks if our escorts leave us at home."

Laughing gleefully, the five girls ran down the stairs, where Murray, Christine's brother David, Charlie, and Mickey were awaiting them.

"Who will be your escort, Sylvia?" Marigold heard Rosy ask her friend. "After all, your brother is taking Sophie."

"Mickey very kindly offered to take both you and me," answered Sylvia, "as Charlie is taking Marigold."

"WHAT?" Rosy's outraged shout echoed through the hallways, causing everyone to stop and stare at her. She went on, oblivious. "Of course Charlie is taking me! You don't expect me to go with a hired hand, do you?"

Mickey flushed in embarrassment, but not as much as Sylvia, who went crimson over the insult. Both of them, however, were eclipsed by Marigold, whose face turned deadly white. She faced Rosy with her eyes blazing.

"Of course we wouldn't ask Mickey—who is honest, hard-working, true, kind, and better-bred than you, miss—to take a selfish, thoughtless little puss like you to the dance! Charlie can take you, and I would be honored to go with Mickey. You don't deserve him!" With that, she swept the rest of the way down the stairs, past the dumbfounded Charlie, and held her arm out to Mickey. "If you would be so kind?" she added in a lower voice.

He smiled at her. "It would be my very great pleasure." He helped her on with her cape and they moved toward the door.

Rosy turned her shocked face toward Sylvia, expecting sympathy. However, Sylvia reached up, slapped her hard on the cheek, and tore down the stairs after the other two. "Wait—Mari, Mickey, wait!"

They turned around as she flung her own half-cape on and joined them. "After all, I still need an escort as well, don't I?" smiling at them.

Marigold laughed, and they headed down the road, a girl on each of Mickey's arms.