Page 3 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

Jessica seized her hand and dragged her across the downtown park of Grandma Millie’s historical home. And what a home it was: a beautiful famous landmark, eight thousand square feet of fully restored and preserved antebellum architectural history delicately perched on two acres of manicured lawns backing up to a small man-made lake and fountain. It had been in the Maye family for generations, and Grandma Millie had moved into the house as a bride and still ruled there. Her one son had married and raised his three daughters in the house, but he and her aunt had bought a house on Lake Wiley after Jessica, his youngest daughter, had left for college.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Chloe pulled her arm free. “You’re like six-inches taller than I am and a total runner and with all the gardening you’ve been doing to update Grandma Millie’s old farm property, you’re practically an Amazon.”

“Maybe that’s what Grandma Millie’s text was about to meet her at the house. Maybe she needs help getting rid of Rustin.”

“Unlikely. She always took an interest in Rustin,” Chloe said, and then she pulled her cousin’s stiff, slim body into a tight hug, wanting to will her suspicion and bad mood away. “Please, Jessie.” She resorted to the nickname from childhood. “We’re all grown up. Give Rustin a chance.”

“No,” Jessica said.

*

Jessica’s sisters, Sarahand Meghan were already assembled in Grandma Millie’s parlor. They too had changed from their medieval costumes into knit dresses with matching blazers and colorful high-heeled ankle boots. It shamed Chloe that she could barely walk in high heels much less run across a park like Jessica had.

“Guess what?” Jessica burst out, and Chloe sighed heavily.

It wasn’t like Rustin was guilty of anything except being incredibly hot and not particularly friendly and coming from a rough, disadvantaged family. But she didn’t blame him for that. He couldn’t help who his family was any more than she could help that her family had abandoned her like a Christmas morning fruit basket on the Maye’s massive and elegant front porch.

Like her, Rustin had done his best to help his family. Sure he’d been an indifferent student probably because he’d been hustling for work to help his single mom who had rheumatoid arthritis and four kids to house and feed.

In her mind, Rustin was a hero, like Heathcliff or—

“So nice of you to join us girls,” Grandma Millie interrupted Chloe’s thoughts.

One night in town, and I’m Rustin-obsessed again.

Grandma Millie sat in her usual cherry winged-back armchair with the brilliant silk peacock-patterned upholstery.

“Let’s get to it,” Grandma Millie said briskly as soon as Jessica perched on a chair and Chloe chose a matching ottoman. Seeing Jessica’s perfect posture, Chloe made an effort to think like the ballerina she’d never been. While all of the Maye sisters looked calm, likely they all wondered about the summons following the Madrigal Dinner. Sunday dinners at Grandma Millie’s was when they would “autopsy” any family news or event the family spearheaded.

“Girls, I have an announcement,” Grandma Millie said. She took a sip of tea and then looked at each of them.

“What?” Meghan made a rolling hand motion, as if rolling out a red carpet, to hurry along Grandma Millie.

“Meghan Carlingford Maye, don’t hurry me,” Grandma Millie said, and as if she pulled a string, Meghan shot ramrod straight. Twin slashes of color stained her cheeks. Gone was the corporate attorney.

Chloe bobbled the teapot. She wasn’t technically a Maye sister, though she’d grown up alongside them and was often lumped in with the Maye girls, even now that they were women. But she’d never called Sean Ryan MayeDaddy. And Elizabeth Katherine Maye would have had a stroke if she’d once called herMama. Grandma Millie had beenGrandma Millieas long as Chloe could remember, and the few times she’d inquired about her past—Jessica called ither origin story—Grandma Millie had called her ablessingin a tone that warned her to leave the topic alone.

And for the most part, she tried to.

Grandma Millie looked at each of them, one by one. It seemed as if everyone was holding their breath. Chloe heard the grandfather clock, a relic brought over by boat from Ireland, mark the time. That clock had terrified her as a small child.

“The town is changing,” Grandma Millie said, and she took a fortifying sip of tea.

They all waited. No one interrupted Grandma Millie. And they couldn’t disagree.

Belmontwaschanging. The mills that once had made Gaston County an economic force had closed decades ago. The Mayes had owned three of those once thriving mills but had turned the market crash into property development, and the completion of the highway over a decade ago had made the charms of historic Belmont more accessible to Charlotte residents. The pandemic had brought more development as young professionals jettisoned their condos, wanting yards, open spaces, coffee shops, wine bars and restaurants and activities to raise a family.

“We can fight the change or lead it.”

Grandma Millie took another sip of tea and then carefully put down her teacup and saucer and blotted her lips with a linen napkin.

“Why would we fight change?” Chloe wondered. Jessica lightly tapped her arm, a subtle warning.

“I’m a fighter.” Again, she drilled them with a stern look. “As are all of you.”

Chloe sat straighter on the ottoman. She’d always wanted to be a true Maye and often felt like she fell short. But she wouldn’t let Grandma Millie down. Not ever.

“Mayes are one of the founding families of Belmont,” Grandma Millie intoned, “yet none of you are married. It’s past time.”

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