Carolyn had vowed she would not cry during her session with Pastor Ruth, but she couldn't help it. Tears of frustration brimmed when she shared her concerns over the influence her parents were having on the children.

"I know it's a worn-out saying, but it's true. When God closes a door, He opens a window," the pastor said.

Carolyn sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. She nodded, then admitted, "I'm sorry. I don't understand how that pertains here."

The other woman helped herself to a tissue and used it to polish the lenses of reading glasses that hung from a chain around her neck. "Our lives are influenced by the people we spend time with, particularly family and friends."

She tossed the tissue into the wastebasket and went on. "When you were married to Robert, your lives were heading in the same direction. But say you and he had divorced, you would head in different directions." She motioned with her hands.

Carolyn could follow that line of thinking. She waited for the woman to finish her explanation.

"Well, you and Robert have separated–gone in different directions. It just happens that his direction was death. You aren't going to follow him there, not just yet, but he's no longer a factor in your life. You can go in a direction you might not even have considered while he was still alive."

"And that's the window?" Carolyn was still fuzzy on the metaphor.

The older woman nodded. "Too many people, when they lose a loved one to death, feel they have to honor that person's memory by continuing on as they would if they were still alive. But they aren't, and it doesn't work." Pastor Ruth explained.

"It's like you've hit a T on the road. You can't keep going in the same direction you were headed. You have to turn. You get to choose. Left or Right, but trying to go straight ahead is a dead end."

Carolyn wasn't sure she was comfortable with the idea that Robert's death had opened up new opportunities for her. It felt wrong to think that way. Wrong to suggest that anything good could come from losing him.

"So now I have to take a detour?" Carolyn suggested.

The Pastor shook her head. "Not a detour. You can go in a completely different direction if you want. Reinvent your goals. Try something different. Marriage is only till death do you part. Your love for Robert might live on, but the marriage is over. Your ties are dissolved." She was studying Carolyn, trying to gauge how she was taking to these ideas.

Carolyn sat back in her chair. Her forehead furrowed. She wasn't sure how to react, how to feel about this idea. "But–" She sat forward slightly then fell back.

The Pastor tried another approach. "You know how it was a fad several years ago for people to wear those bracelets that said, 'What Would Jesus Do?'"

Carolyn nodded.

"You don't have to spend the rest of your life wearing a 'What Would Robert Do?' bracelet. He may have been a great husband and a wonderful father, but he wasn't free of sin, or the savior of the world."

Carolyn cracked a smile at that. "No, that's true," she acknowledged.

"Think sustainability. It's your turn to find something that you want for yourself and the kids. Something you can all live with. Thrive with. Not a memorial to your dead husband, who frankly, no longer needs anything from you. You need a life that honors the three of you who are very much alive."

"I've been thinking…but…no. It's silly. I mean, not practical at all…" Carolyn hated how indecisive she sounded. She had never considered herself to be a ditherer.

"Spill it." Ruth made an encouraging motion with her hands. "Don't care how crazy it sounds, just let it out."

"Well, you know how I rented that cottage. It's just outside this nice little town. It's small, but it has everything important. A good school, a library, activities for the kids…"

The Pastor was nodding and smiling.

"It's just a day's drive. Not too far from family. And it doesn't even have to be THAT town. I just feel like I'd rather be out of the city. I've lived in big cities my entire life. I felt…I felt–" She looked at the other woman helplessly, not sure of what to say. Some kind of writer she'd be. She couldn't even pull a simple word out of the air to describe her feelings.

Ruth sat patiently, giving Carolyn the time she needed to gather her thoughts and feelings.

"I felt like it was a place where I could be happy." Was the best she could come up with.

"That's important," Ruth stated the obvious.

"It is, isn't it?" Carolyn was tired of feeling ashamed about it, as if she was settling, as if she had to sell everyone in her circle on the idea before she could own it.

"In the city, I feel like I'm constantly having to prove myself to other people. I was proud of Robert and his success in his career, but I never liked all the dinners and cocktail hours and schmoozing the clients. Life always felt like it was a negotiation. I never felt like we were just living for ourselves, doing our own thing."

Carolyn had never spoken these thoughts out loud. She had once suggested something like it to the wife of one of Robert's colleagues, but the woman had shrugged and said that it was the price they had to pay for the perks.

Carolyn had wondered which perks the woman was referring to. She didn't feel like her life was any perkier than the lives of women whose husbands had less demanding careers.

"I loved Robert, but I didn't always love being Mrs. Robert Muir." The words came tumbling out. "It's as if part of my role was being his wife. Typing 'Carolyn Muir' at the bottom of that article I wrote felt good. I'd like to live somewhere where I'm known for being me. For myself, not as someone's daughter or as a successful man's wife," she went on.

"But is that a good enough reason to move the children again? To pull them out of school here, and their activities?" Uncertainty flooded over her.

"Talk to them about it," the pastor suggested. "If you'd like, bring them here and we can all have a session together. Carolyn, if you're an adult and you've felt overshadowed by your husband and your parents, how do you think it must feel to the kids? They've been couch surfing for the better part of a year now, different houses, different families, different rules. They might love the idea of going someplace where they can just be kids again, not the kids whose father died and whose mom is up in the air."

Carolyn's face registered shock. She hadn't thought of it that way. She hadn't considered how confusing and even exhausting it must be for the children to keep up the appearance of being happy and enjoying all the sudden strange attention and activity they'd been the recipients of since Robert's accident.

If she was honest, she always felt rather like she was on stage at her parent's house with the children. Following the bedtime routine that she thought would please her parents, watching the shows they watched, going to the shops they liked, and attending the church they attended, never seriously considering her own preferences, but just going along.

No wonder she felt childish, resentful and exhausted.

"This town you like, Sandy Bay, do you think you could rent a place for six months and see how it feels? You don't have to make a permanent decision. Sounds like a great place to cool your heels while you figure some things out. And if after a while you decide it's not for you, I doubt the kids will resent the six months they lived at the beach," Ruth said with a chuckle.

"How come it makes so much sense when you say it and seems like the ramblings of a madwoman when I think it in my mind?" Carolyn asked.

"Sometimes we feel insecure and need someone we trust to give us permission," the pastor said with a shrug. "We may not have the sacrament of confession in our faith, but absolution is a basic human need. I think you've needed someone to absolve you of the burden of being Robert's wife." The words sounded odd, but there was so much truth in them. "A big part of my job is letting people know that it's ok to be human, to feel all the feelings, to make mistakes, change our minds and try again."

Carolyn sighed. "I don't know if it's the kids that need a session with you. It might be me and my parents." She realized.

"We can arrange that too," Ruth offered gently.

Carolyn looked at her watch. Their time was up. She needed to pick up the kids from school and hurry back to the church for Nativity Pageant practice.

She didn't relish the drive through city traffic, or having to grab a fast food snack as they dashed from one place to the other. It was days like these that small town life looked especially inviting.

XXX

"It's the dumbest thing I ever heard," Candy said with a hearty dose of big sister superiority. "It's not even a real part," she added with a sniff.

"You know how at the end of a movie they have that long, long list of names?" Carolyn challenged her daughter. "Those are the names of ALL the people it took to make the movie. It's not just the actors and directors, it takes everyone doing their job, and they are important enough that they all get listed."

"What about all the kids that have lines and songs? You think Jonathan blowing into a pitch pipe matters as much as they do?" Carolyn could hear her daughter's eyes roll all the way from the back seat.

"At least I don't have to wear tights or wings." Jonathan defended himself. When he had first told his mother that it was going to be his role to blow the pitch pipe, he'd been happy and proud, but his sister's ribbing had taken the wind from his sails.

"Without the pitch pipe, you'd be singing the carols out of tune. It would sound like a mess." Carolyn pointed out. "So yes, I think it is just as important."

"I don't like having to remember all those lines, and I don't like dressing up either." Jonathan stood his ground. "Besides, I'm going to help make costumes and paint sets while you all are practicing."

"Not everyone likes to be in the spotlight." Carolyn met her daughter's eye in the rearview mirror. "And it's a good thing. If everyone wanted the same role, there wouldn't be much of a show, now would there?"

"I'm going to build sets, too. Build stuff, just like daddy did," Jonathan declared.

Candy's eyes darted to her brother, and her snarky expression softened. "Yeah, you're right, that is important," she murmured quietly.

Carolyn was relieved that they settled the argument before they got home. She didn't want to hear any more about it during homework time or in front of her parents.

"I have a surprise for you two. Tomorrow after school, guess who's coming to visit?" Carolyn said in a cheerful tone.

"Our cousins?" Candy guessed.

"Uncle Castle?" Jonathan had heard so many stories about his mother's brother he was eager to spend more time with him.

"No. Martha! She's passing through town visiting family, and she's going to drop by and bring us some Christmas goodies."

"Yey!" Both children were delighted and forgot their grievance.

"I miss her cookies," Candy said.

"And I miss pudding," Jonathan added. He had adored having Martha's warm homemade pudding after dinner. No amount of Snack Pack could compare. "Specially tapioca." He recalled fondly.

"Tonight, after homework, I thought it would be nice if the two of you made Christmas cards for her," their mother suggested.

"Do we have any cotton balls? I want to make her a Santa, like we made in school." Jonathan decided.

"I'll call grandma and check. If we don't, we can stop on the way home and get some."

"We need some glitter," Candy added. "And some of those googly eyes."

Carolyn didn't ask what for, she was just happy the kids were on the same team again. She decided to just stop at the store and let them choose what they wanted for their card project and ride the tide of goodwill.

When they arrived home, dinner was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. After a quick run through of homework, they took over the dining room table to make cards for Martha.

"Well, what do we have here?" Carolyn's mother came over to investigate.

"We're making cards for Martha," Candy explained

"I bet she's going to have a boring Christmas without us," Jonathan mused.

"I bet she will," Emily agreed. "But having these to remind her of you will help her feel better."

"I like how Martha did the voices when she read The Three Bears." Jonathan recalled fondly.

Candy giggled at the memory. "And then papa bear said…smacking his lips..Who's been sleeping in MY bed." She made her voice as low and growly as she could, imitating Martha.

"And here I thought she was only a housekeeper!" Their grandmother declared. "I didn't realize she had so many talents."

"She can play piano, sing, and make bunny pancakes, and she taught Scruffy how to pick up socks and bring them to the laundry room." Candy sang her praises.

Emily looked to her daughter for confirmation about the wonder that was Martha, and Carolyn nodded. It was all true.

"I wish we didn't have to go away," Candy said. "From Martha I mean."

"I miss her too," Carolyn said.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a marvelous visit tomorrow." Emily hurried in to smooth things over.

"Won't you be here?" Carolyn asked her mother.

"I've got a salon appointment tomorrow," Emily said breezily. "I need to get ready for all the Christmas parties coming up!" Over the childrens' heads she mouthed to her daughter "BOTOX"

"Ah, yes." Carolyn nodded.

"Do you think Martha will like my Santa Bear?" Jonathan asked, holding up a folded sheet of construction paper that was nearly covered with cotton balls. "He's a polar bear and Santa," he pointed to the mass of white fluff.

"What about mine?" Candy held up her card, which had nearly as much glitter and her brother's had cotton.

"It's very festive!" Carolyn admired it. "You have five minutes to finish up. It's already past bedtime," she told the kids. "I'll clean up, mom, if you don't mind tucking them in."

"Mind? Of course not. I'd love to."

After the kids had gone upstairs and as she swept glitter and bits of cut paper off the table and into a trash bin, Carolyn stopped and considered. She missed Martha, too. Not just the cooking, cleaning and laundry services, but the woman herself.

She sat down, picked up a green sheet of paper, folded it, and cut a simple snowman out of white paper to stick to the front. There wasn't any reason that she shouldn't express her feelings to her friend the same way the kids did. Yes, she had stopped and picked up a gift for Martha, and the woman would likely appreciate the effort, but a handmade card meant more.

She put an uncertain expression on the snowman's face and wrote inside. "Martha, I miss you. The world is a chillier place without your warm heart. Love Carolyn."

She wasn't sure if it was polite to make the card more about her own feelings than about Martha, so she added. "Thank you for your love and friendship. Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."

She re-read the card, hoping she didn't come across like a sad sack. Then she got up and finished clearing the table.

Later, in bed, she tossed and turned, unable to settle down. She knew it was silly, but she felt nervous about seeing Martha tomorrow. She was afraid she might be over emotional and fall into the woman's arms in a sobbing mess. Or that she would try so hard to hold her feelings in that she'd behave too coolly.

Their relationship had been more than employee and employer, they'd been friends and partners in running the house and seeing to the children. She missed the camaraderie. Sometimes she and Martha disagreed about how to do something in the house or with the children, and they had agreed to disagree, with Carolyn and Robert's wishes dictating in the end, but she hadn't felt judged by Martha. She hadn't felt like maybe she wasn't doing it right the way she did around her mother.

After retiring to her room, Carolyn turned on the radio that was part of her old stereo system. She tuned in to a show she had listened to from time to time while she was at the cottage, "Shore to Shore." It broadcast all across the country, and on windy nights, it had been one of the few stations the radio could pick up at Gull Cottage. It reminded her of her time there. The program focused on supernatural and paranormal experiences. Tonight they were investigating whether Santa was real.

Carolyn smiled at the notion, and at the tales the callers shared of experiences where they were sure they had seen or been the recipients of Santa's generosity. It led her mind to wander; what would she ask Santa for if she allowed herself to believe? If she allowed herself to be honest and trusting and like a kid again.

She imagined a Christmas in Gull Cottage with a tree in the bay window and stockings hung on the fireplace in the sitting room, and wonderful smells coming from the old-fashioned kitchen. The kids were there, and Martha too, playing carols on the piano. Scruffy was wearing a red and black checked bow around his neck, and she swore she could hear the Captain's voice singing harmony, "Silent Night, Holy Night."

XXX

"Mrs. Muir, let me look at you!" Martha said, taking Carolyn's hands after entering the house and setting down her purse and bag. "Why you look so good! I was afraid I'd find you all thin and sallow."

"Oh, it's good to see you." Carolyn squeezed Martha's hands, then embraced her in a hug. "You look well too."

Martha smiled but said nothing in response. "And the kids?"

"They'll be getting off the bus in about 15 minutes. Candy and Jonathan are so excited to see you. They've missed you terribly." Carolyn took the woman's coat and showed her to the sitting area. "What can I get you to drink?"

Martha reached into her bag and drew out a cookie tin. "Something to go with these. I made the kids' favorite ginger cookies and the jam thumbprints you like so well."

"What a dear you are! I'll make us some tea. Would you like to join me in the kitchen? We can chat."

"Your parents have a lovely house," Martha said, taking stock of the place.

Carolyn just smiled and nodded. It was a comfortable house. Her home with Robert had been an improvement, being that it was newer and larger, but her mother had good taste and had kept most of the rooms downstairs current.

"I'll pass the compliment on to my mother," she said politely as she set the teakettle on the stove. "You should have seen the cottage I rented a few months ago. The kitchen would have floored you. It had this huge old iron stove. The counters were made of wood, and the floor was stone!"

"Sounds very picturesque," Martha said.

"It was really. Hardly anything's been changed since the cottage was built. It had a view of the ocean and all kinds of nooks and crannies. There was a fireplace in my bedroom!"

"I'll bet the kids enjoyed that."

"I went alone. I just needed some time," Carolyn admitted.

"How are you doing? Really?" Martha's tone softened from its polite but clipped manner.

Carolyn shrugged. "Fine. I think. Most days anyway. I guess I feel adrift. And I'm living with my parents, so you can imagine how that is. I love them both–"

"But no one likes having their parents looking over their shoulder," Martha finished for her.

Carolyn nodded and took mugs out of the cabinet.

"I think the kids are ready for us to have our own home too," she admitted.

Scruffy suddenly came rushing into the room. He stopped a few feet in front of Martha and barked three times as if to say, "Hello! Where have you been?"

"Why Scruffy! How are you? I have something for you in my bag!" She spoke to the dog as if he understood her.

He wagged his tail politely, then hurried over to Carolyn and danced, as if to tell her Martha was here!

"I know, Scruffy, it's wonderful to see her!" She meant it with all her heart.

He followed them, tail wagging, into the living room and Martha gave him the paw off of one of the ginger bear cookies, then dug in her bag for a package that was just for him. "I think it's ok if we let him open this one before Christmas, don't you?" Martha looked to Carolyn.

"I think it won't hurt, just this one time!"

Martha pulled the paper loose and held the package out to the little dog. She squeezed it and it squeaked. Scruffy barked once and ran around the couch in excitement before stopping to take the toy from Martha. He immediately hurried off to his bed in the kid's room.

"Well, I'd say that's a success!" Carolyn smiled. This was where she was supposed to say something like "Oh Martha, you didn't need to do that." But she didn't say it, because she knew that Martha did need to do it and that doing it made her happy.

They heard the squeal of the school bus brakes in front of the house. A minute later, the door flew open. "Is Martha here yet?" Candy's voice came in excited breaths.

"Martha!" Jonathan dropped his bag and ran straight to her with Candy hot on his heels.

The next several minutes were taken up with excited chatter, hugs and happiness. Carolyn brought out mugs of milk for the kids and they dug into the cookies with gusto.

"You look just like I remember you," Jonathan said to Martha, very relieved.

"And you smell just like always–powdery and stuff," Candy told her with a smile. "And the cookies taste like home."

"It feels like home, being here with all of you," Martha said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Scruffy had joined the group, prancing downstairs with his new toy to show the children.

After a few cookies, the kids settled next to Martha on the couch, one on each side, snuggled close and telling her about school and the Christmas pageant, and everything they had seen and heard the last several hectic months.

A natural lull fell on the group. They soaked in the happy feeling of being together, comfortable and satisfied. The children gave Martha the cards; she oohed and ahhed over them before giving them the gifts she had brought.

"Now I want you to save those until Christmas day!" Martha instructed.

Carolyn prompted them to put them under the tree, and she handed her own package to Martha, who said she would save it to open on Christmas, her eyes glancing away as if she didn't want Carolyn to read her emotions.

"What have you been doing?" Jonathan asked, lifting his innocent face to his older friend.

"Oh, this and that. Some cleaning. Some cooking. Some shopping. You know how I keep busy." The woman offered him a smile.

"Do you have a new family to take care of?" Candy checked.

"Well, I guess you could say I'm between families," Martha spoke the words carefully.

"We are kinda between families too," Jonathan said. "We been with lots of families, and now we're here. Grandma doesn't cook as good as you."

"Now Jonathan, I don't think that is true. It's just that you got used to my cooking and the dishes I made. Your grandmother is a fine cook, I'm sure. She just does things a little differently," Martha said diplomatically.

"I don't know Martha. Even when she makes the same things, they don't taste as good as when you make them." Candy supported her brother's opinion.

"We were good together." Martha hugged them both.

Carolyn studied the woman's face. The crow's feet around her eyes seemed deeper. And her smile, while genuine, seemed slightly uncertain. She wondered just what "between families" meant.

"Kids, I'd like you to take the mugs and saucers into the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher," Carolyn told them, hoping to get a few more minutes to chat with Marth alone.

"So you aren't…engaged now?" Carolyn asked in what she hoped was a breezy tone.

"No. The last two jobs didn't–we didn't mix as well as when I was with you. Seems I don't do as well with teenagers and the father of the last family—he was too friendly, if you get my drift." Martha tugged the skirt of her dress down and smoothed the fabric on her lap.

"Martha, that's terrible!"

"Yes, well. It comes with the territory, you get all kinds. People think because they sign your paycheck, they can treat you however they want. And maybe there are housekeepers who are fine with that. But you know I'm–well, I have my own way of doing things." Martha continued to avoid Carolyn's eye.

"Then where are you staying?" Carolyn leaned in.

"I'm renting a room. It's comfortable and it will do. After the holiday, I'll sign on with a service."

"What kind of service?"

"Maid service, or maybe making home visits to the elderly. Back to hoofing it, like a younger me." Martha shrugged as if she was fine with the whole thing.

"You're staying at a motel?" Carolyn had read between the lines. "And just cleaning people's homes. Why your talents are wasted! You're such a wonderful cook and have so much love and gifts to share."

"Well, you know. Things aren't like they used to be. People want nannies or au pairs–young women who can chauffeur the kids around and are easy on the eyes. No one is looking for a professional grandmother." Martha gave a sad little sniff and reached for her purse to get a tissue.

Carolyn sank back in her chair, feeling defeated. She wanted to help Martha, but what could she do? She didn't want to offend her by offering money, and frankly, she couldn't really afford to just give money away.

"Oh Blast!" she said, her hands balled into fists.

"My Goodness! What's that about?" Martha let out a chuckle that came from the heart.

"Oh, something I picked up in Maine. It's just. Well, it's just not right," Carolyn said. "There must be a place where we can be a family again. My parents have been more than generous, but I'm not happy here. I want to run my own ship…my own way." She felt scandalous speaking the words out loud in her parent's home.

Martha had her purse in her lap now. Both hands were clutching the handle, tension obvious in the white knuckles. "Mrs Muir, I know that money is tight, but if you do get a place of your own. I'd be willing to take a cut in pay. I mean, if you could find a place where I could live in, my expenses wouldn't be much." She spoke haltingly.

Carolyn knew it was hard for a proud woman to speak that way, and her heart ached for Martha, but it also leapt with the possibility of striking out on her own but not totally alone.

"Martha, I would love that, and the kids would be over the moon!"

"Over the moon about what?" Candy walked in, with Jonathan close behind her.

"Oh, nothing. Your mother and I were just playing, let's pretend," Martha assured them.

Carolyn's mouth turned down. Yes, they were daydreaming, but was it really so far out of the realm of possibility?

The kids were reprising their Thanksgiving pageant roles for Martha when their grandparents arrived home.

"Why Martha, how perfectly lovely to see you again!" Carolyn's mother gave the woman an arm's length hug. "You're looking terrific!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Williams, and Merry Christmas. You look very nice yourself." Martha spoke politely, but with a slightly puzzled look on her face.

Mrs William's face was frozen in an odd expression.

"BOTOX." Carolyn mouthed to Martha over her mother's shoulder.

"I guess the holidays bring out the best in all of us. Kids, isn't it lovely to have Martha for a visit?" She turned to her grandchildren.

"Yes Ma'am," Jonathan said, suddenly formal.

"Martha brought us cookies," Candy announced.

"How generous! Did you offer her some of the cookies we made?" The grandmother suggested.

"Her cookies are better," Jonathan said with candor.

"Oh my, you didn't tell me you had cookies too!" Martha chastened the children lightly. "I'd love to try some."

"Not now, dears, I was thinking, why don't we go to dinner! Wouldn't that be fun! We'll have a real celebration because Martha is here." Mrs. Williams gave a little clap. "Don't argue, my mind is made up!" She turned to Martha and wagged a finger at her, as if the woman had contradicted her.

"That's very kind of you." Martha nodded.

"Dear, look, Martha is here! We'll be ready to leave for the restaurant in two shakes. We just need to get the children cleaned up and have a potty stop." She called out to her husband, who had just entered the room.

"Why Martha, good to see you, good to see you. Welcome." He pumped her hand jovially.

There was commotion for the next few minutes as hands were washed, hair was brushed and everyone prepared to head out. They all fit easily into Mr. William's luxury SUV.

The restaurant was attractive, and the food was delicious, but throughout the evening Carolyn had the same feeling she'd had as a teen when her mother behaved as if she was inclusive and fun, but was really trying to impress and prove that she was better than the average bear. It was as annoying and embarrassing now as it had been 15 years ago.

Martha likely enjoyed her meal, but she was not impressed by the fact that Chad Williams drove a big expensive vehicle and could pay for a big expensive meal. It was nice that he shared his largess, but if enjoying each other's company had been the true goal, it would have been better served around the dining room table at home.

The carefully constructed power play tried Carolyn's patience. It was aggravating enough when her mother used it on her, but it disgusted her that she was using it with Martha. The only consolation was knowing that Martha wouldn't hold her mother's behavior against her. Martha was shrewd. She would grasp exactly what Mrs. Williams was doing. It wasn't in Martha's nature to take it personally.

When they arrived back at William's home, Emily suggested Martha come in for a drink, but the woman wisely refused. "I need to drive," she reminded them, "and I know it's time for the kids to get to bed."

She squatted as best she could, given her size and the dress she was wearing and hugged the kids, told them to be good, and that she loved them very much. Then she embraced Carolyn, who whispered in her ear, "Thank you for being such a good sport."

To which Martha answered. "It was worth it for that steak! And don't you worry, you'll find your feet soon."

Carolyn hugged her harder. "We both will," she said fiercely.

"Martha looks well!" Mrs. Williams declared as she hung her coat in the front hall closet. "Don't you think?" she asked her daughter.

Carolyn drew in a breath, wondering if she should play along or express her concern. "I think it's been a challenging year for both of us."

"Is she not enjoying her new job?" Emily's eyebrows were so high that she appeared astonished and drugged all at the same time.

"It's been an adjustment." Carolyn didn't want to air her friend's dirty laundry, or make her out to be a charity case.

"Well, I always felt like you let her have too much of her own way. She was more like family than an employee. It's no wonder she finds it hard to adjust to an employer that treats her like the hired help." Emily's tone was sympathetic, but her high brows made it appear that she was speaking sarcastically.

"She brought presents for the kids." Carolyn pointed to the Christmas tree.

"Darling, I hope you remind them not to expect too much. I'm sure Martha can't afford extravagant gifts."

Carolyn truly couldn't tell if her mother was purposely being patronizing or if it just came naturally.

"She knows the children so well. I'm sure she got them something they'll love." It was true.

"You know best, dear." Her mother gave her a sympathetic smile. "There are several parties coming up. All our friends know you're here, so of course you're invited. Maybe we should go shopping; brighten up your wardrobe a wee bit." She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

Carolyn simply nodded, but inside she was wondering if she was going to be trotted out for inspection by every divorcee, widower and eligible bachelor among her parent's social set.

She felt she owed it to her mother to attend and to dress the part. It wouldn't hurt her to be polite, and as Martha had said, "the steak was worth it." It would be nice to have a few new outfits and pairs of shoes.

She helped herself to another of Martha's delicate and delicious thumbprint cookies, then went upstairs to get the kids in bed.

XXX

Carolyn was sitting in the back of the church hall, fiddling with her phone while the kids rehearsed the Christmas pageant. She thought she'd lose her mind if she had to sit through another tuneless rendering of "No Room At The Inn", or the children's screeching voices murdering the high notes of "Silent Night".

An email notice caught her eye. There was a message from Claymore Gregg. She'd last heard from him a few weeks earlier when he'd sent a flowery email approving her article and praising her skill in handling a delicate subject so diplomatically.

She couldn't imagine why he would contact her again. The article had already run in the local paper and surely he couldn't expect she'd want to rent a place in Maine in the middle of winter.

She opened the email, which began in his usual grandiose prose. "My Dear Mrs. Muir, I hope this finds you hale and hearty."

She rolled her eyes and smiled; it was just Claymore being Claymore. "I'm writing to alert you of a possible attractive opportunity…"

"He's probably going to try to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge," she said to herself.

"I believe you enjoyed your recent stay at my property, Gull Cottage."

She raised her eyebrows–legally, yes, Gull Cottage was Claymore's property, but in reality it was ruled with an iron fist by a rather cantankerous ghost.

"I take my role in the Schooner Bay community very seriously, and I am committed to preserving the historic nature of this beautiful area…"

"Get to the point Claymore." She bounced her foot up and down as she read.

"As you may know, Gull Cottage is on the National Historic Register, and as such deserves to be preserved for posterity, but due to financial concerns and other extenuating circumstances, the property has fallen on hard times."

She wondered where this was going.

"In an effort to preserve this property, I have applied for a grant to bring the building back to its former glory. A previous resident of the cottage has released some historic material for sale under the stipulation that the money is used to improve Gull Cottage and to find a suitable resident.

"Your name has come up in the discussion as someone fitting to inhabit and serve as caretaker for a building of this distinction. I would greatly appreciate it if you would contact me to speak more about this possibility and to see if we can negotiate mutually agreeable terms.

"Sincerely and Happiest Holidays,

"Claymore Gregg,

"Claymore Gregg Real Estate and Professional Services"

She stared at her phone, open-mouthed, then closed her mouth, and stared some more. It did not surprise Carolyn that Claymore was attempting to let Gull Cottage. She was pleased that he might receive financial help in restoring the building. She was skeptical concerning his claim that a previous resident–who she could only guess was the Captain–was releasing items for sale.

The Captain she'd met had been quite clear that he believed Claymore Gregg was a bumbling idiot and that Gull Cottage was to be kept unchanged and uninhabited. She pointed out that keeping a place in good repair cost money, but she hadn't expected to sway him, not one iota.

On the other hand, the possibility of renting Gull Cottage and bringing the kids, Scruffy, and Martha to stay was delightful. Almost too good to be true. She could never hope to afford the rent for a place like Gull Cottage long term, especially after money had been sunk into it for renovation.

The thought of being in Schooner Bay again was exhilarating and terrifying. She'd gotten to know a few people and had begun a friendship with Laura, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast. But that was hardly grounds enough to merit moving the kids out there. What would she do for a living? Gull Cottage was a goodly sized house, with attached property. It would be a lot to take care of on her own.

"But you wouldn't have to be on your own," the voice in her head whispered. "Martha is looking for a place, and Gull Cottage has enough room for all of you to fit comfortably."

"There is no way I could afford Martha and Gull Cottage," she said aloud to no one.

She reread the paragraph where Claymore mentioned 'mutually agreeable terms.' The utility cost for a house that size would be high. It was a distance from town, so she'd certainly have to pay for satellite internet. The drive on that rutted, crumbling, uphill road would be treacherous in the wintertime. It made no sense.

She reread the email from start to finish. It sounded like he was looking for a tenant so the Historic Register would be willing to pour funding into it. She didn't know much about these things but she knew that insurance companies charged much more to insure uninhabited properties than habited ones. She was paying more than double to insure her and Robert's empty house while it was on the market.

"It wouldn't hurt just to call and talk to him, I suppose." Her lips drew into a thin line. She was still questioning the declaration that he was selling historical items. Was the Captain going to allow that? It must be true; Claymore wouldn't dare take anything from the home that might upset the resident ghost.

"Ghost. Do you hear yourself? Ghost? There is NO ghost, there is just a big house so distinctly decorated that you could almost feel the presence of the man who built it." Almost. It made sense that Claymore was going to remove some of the old and valuable items rather than let them fall into ruin. They were certainly in danger of being stolen from the vacant, isolated building.

"Hee haw, hee haw..bahhhh, bahhh, cluck cluck…" Animal sounds emanated from the stage where Mary and Joseph were bedded down in a stable full of creatures. Jonathan played a note on the pitch pipe, then held up his hands. He made a downward motion and the children onstage began to sing "Away in the Manger."

She was proud that he'd found his niche, and was making the most of it. He hadn't let Candy's opinion stop him, or caved to peer pressure to don yet another wooly sweater and bleat like a sheep.

"Some of us aren't meant to be sheep," she thought. "Some of us aren't very good at going along and doing the expected thing. Some of us are willing to do what it takes to find a place where we are comfortable. A place where we can use our talents and thrive."

She didn't want to live in Pittsburgh or Philadelphia. She didn't want to work as a secretary, or sell facial products like her mother had suggested, even though she had assured her that between Emily and her aging friends, Carolyn could likely make a tidy living.

She wanted, like Jonathan, to be the one who called the tune that she sang and danced to. It wouldn't hurt to just talk to Claymore and see what he had to say. It wasn't like she had to commit to anything. It would be an information gathering session.

"Kids sound great, don't they?"

Carolyn looked up. Ben Loudermilk was standing in front of her wearing a wide grin, khaki pants, and scuffed leather shoes.

"Yes, they are improving."

"Some of us are taking the kids to the pizza buffet. Would you like to come?"

"Some of us?" She looked around. He was the only one standing there.

"A group of parents. It's kind of like an early cast party, since things will be so hectic on the day of the pageant."

"I'm sure the children will like that very much." She smiled amiably, glad that he wasn't hinting at a date.

"I'm going ahead to pick up the cupcakes and ice cream," he went on.

"That sounds festive." She wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Would you mind giving Jeremy and the Emmersole twins a ride to the restaurant?"

"No, I'd be glad to." She reached for her purse. "Could I contribute to the cupcakes?"

"No, we've got that covered. Just pay for the buffet for your kids and yourself. The Church is paying for the rest."

She nodded her head vacantly, feeling like a bobble-head doll. Unsure what else to say.

"Just make sure they know who they'll be riding with," Carolyn requested.

Ben gave her that wide grin again. "Oh, Jeremy knows–Candy, the boy crazy one." He jerked his finger over his shoulder.

Carolyn bristled. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, no offense, but your daughter is always chasing the older boys around."

"And I've noticed they chase her back. I don't think playing tag qualifies as being boy crazy. She's really more of a tomboy than anything," Carolyn said curtly.

Ben held his hands up in the sign of surrender. "Gotcha. Tom boy. I'll make a note of it." He didn't look convinced.

Carolyn felt her face grow hot as he walked away. How dare he accuse Candy of being boy crazy. She was 7 years old. What did it matter who she played with? It was just for fun.

Carolyn's face grew hot again when she found Candy playing a loud squealing game of chase with a few of the boys.

She hurried over. "Come on Candy, Jeremy. Let's get things put away here. We're going for pizza." The words came out sounding more like a scold than she had meant them to.

"Yey! Pizza! Jeremy is riding with us, right?" Candy's eyes were bright and excited.

"Yes, and the Emmersole twins, isn't that nice? I'm going to get your brother. I'll meet you right back here in five minutes."

"Pizza, Pizza, Pizza!" Came Candy's voice along with the voices of the two boys behind her.

"Stupid Ben Loudermilk," Carolyn muttered as she went to collect her son. Stupid, stupid everything.

XXX