The Christmas Keepsake

by Annie Rains

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Contemporary Romance; Family Life

Synopsis

This heartwarming small-town holiday love story about hope and healing from USA Today bestselling author Annie Rains is perfect for fans of Susan Mallery and Jenny Hale!

Sometimes the best gifts aren’t under the tree.

Everyone has a story to tell. And for Mallory Blue, her grandmother Nan’s community theater and annual Christmas play has been a beloved tradition for as long as she can remember. But this year is different. With Nan losing her memories to dementia, Mallory has taken on more than she can handle—including directing this year’s show.

Two things are keeping Mallory going: A journal that tells the story behind each handmade ornament on Nan’s tree. And Hollis, who volunteers to play Santa to spend time with Mallory and prove he’s no longer the rebellious boy she knew growing up.

As Mallory reads through Nan’s entries, she realizes there’s so much she never knew about her grandmother. And when Mallory has big decisions to make in both her personal and professional life, it’s Nan’s wise advice and Hollis’s steadfast support that will hold the key to this year’s holiday magic.
 

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 352

Sample

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts.

—William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Thanksgiving was supposed to be all about relaxation and guilty pleasures, along with counting your blessings and loving on friends and family.

Not this year.

Mallory Blue audibly sighed as she plopped into a chair behind the nurses’ station for the first time in hours. Her legs ached, her temples throbbed, and her throat was dry. She’d had no time to quench her thirst during this eight-hour ER shift. No time to hit the restroom either.

Finally, the halls were quiet enough for her to hear herself think, which might not be a good thing. She took a steadying breath, inhaling the sterile aroma of bleach mixed with lemon. This wasn’t home by any means, but she spent more time in this hospital than she did in her own house. Especially lately.

Popping open a can of Dr Pepper—her favorite vice when working long shifts—she reached for her iPhone and checked her messages.

Maddie: Have you considered what I said?

Mallory’s momentary peace fizzled like the carbonation in her soda can. Her younger sister was referring to a conversation they’d had last week. Ever since Nan had gone to live at Memory Oaks, the bills had been piling up. These extra hospital shifts were the temporary answer, but Maddie was pushing the idea of selling their grandmother’s beloved community theater as the permanent solution.

Another text came through with a loud ping.

Maddie: You’re skipping Thanksgiving dinner tonight just to work overtime. You can’t do this forever. Sam and I miss you.

Sam was Maddie’s husband. They were newlyweds. This afternoon, they were having turkey and all the sides with Mallory’s paternal grandpa, Charlie, who also happened to be a newlywed. Mallory’s best friend, Savannah, might even stop by with her new husband, Evan. Love seemed to be all around Mallory, and she felt like the Grinch choosing work over Thanksgiving with loved ones.

Her phone dinged a third time.

Maddie: The show must go on!

It was Nan’s favorite expression, which she had used at every opportunity.

A boyfriend broke their heart? The show must go on.

Their dog died unexpectedly? The show must go on.

Their absentee mom failed to show up for Mallory’s sweet sixteen birthday party, even though she promised? The show must go on!

In this circumstance, Maddie wasn’t implying that the theater doors remain open. Instead, the show she was talking about was their lives. She’d made it clear in their last conversation that her vote was to sell Bloom Community Theater. And promise or no promise, Maddie also voted that Mallory not put on Nan’s annual Christmas play. In fact, Maddie didn’t want to do any of the things she’d promised Nan. They were supposed to go through the box of keepsake ornaments and read Nan’s journal, sharing the special memories that explained them. “I don’t have time rolling around in the past, Mallory. In case you haven’t noticed, my present is pretty different these days,” she’d remarked, talking about the fact that she had been recently in an ATV accident and was now paralyzed from the waist down. “My future is far different from the one I imagined. That’s what I need to focus on.”

Mallory empathized, of course, but Nan had raised them when their mom had walked away. Shouldn’t Nan’s wish be granted?

Maddie: Nan won’t even know if we keep our promise to her. She doesn’t remember us anymore.

It was true that Nan’s clarity of mind had been slipping away over the past year. It was rare that she even recognized Mallory’s face, much less knew her name. The “now” Nan wasn’t who Mallory and Maddie had made a promise to though. They’d promised the Nan who’d been a mother to them all their lives. The theater was Nan’s passion, and this play meant everything to her. And the town.

Nan had written the script herself, and the annual production of Santa, Baby had become a beloved town tradition. Last year, when subtle signs of forgetfulness had started to set in, Nan made Mallory and Maddie swear to carry on, no matter what.

It wasn’t even a huge ask. The cast was the same year after year except when cast members were sick or moved away. The set was already built, requiring only minor touch-ups each season. The script had evolved over the decades, but, like a fine wine, only for the better. Everything was in place. All they needed to do was step into Nan’s shoes and make it happen.

Mallory: Ruby Corben dropped out of the play yesterday. There’s a part for you.

Maddie’s response was quick and expected.

Maddie: NO.

All caps with no pretenses or apologies.

Maddie: I don’t recall a wheelchair ramp leading up to the stage anyway.

Mallory: We could make one.

Maddie: My answer is still no. Theater was never my thing and you know it.

Yeah. Nan knew it too. Maddie liked the great outdoors. She loved long hikes, mountain climbing, and cycling, anything that required sunshine and adrenaline. Or, at least, she had enjoyed those things. Since the four-wheeling accident had left her using a wheelchair, life had changed. Maybe it was wrong of Mallory to expect Maddie to get onstage in front of the entire town right now when she was still adjusting to her new normal.

Mallory reached for her Dr Pepper, preparing to take a long sip when the sound of a woman clearing her throat stopped her.

“Sitting down on the job?”

Wanda Boswell stepped up to the counter with a snide expression. Wanda was also a nurse at Bloom Memorial, and she loved to catch others doing things wrong. Not that taking a break after eight hours of walking up and down the halls, delivering medication and helping patients to the restroom, was wrong.

Mallory offered a reluctant smile. “Actually, my shift was technically over half an hour ago. I never had a break or lunch. So yes, I’m sitting down on the job, technically, but the floor is quiet right now.” For the first time in hours. The Thanksgiving shift was notorious for cooking injuries. Turkey fryer burns. Family brawls. The winner of this holiday shift went to the man who’d actually been attacked by the turkey that was supposed to be today’s guest of honor. And by the looks of the guy when he’d come in, moaning, the turkey had won.

Wanda glanced around. “I love working the holidays. It makes me grateful that I don’t have family to worry about. It all seems so unnecessary, if you ask me.” She looked at Mallory a moment. “I guess we’re the same in that way.”

Mallory’s lips parted as she tried to decide if Wanda was insulting her or paying her a compliment.

“You volunteered for this shift, right? There’s no ring on your finger.” She shrugged. “No judgment from me. I think you’re a smart girl.”

Overtime pay and feeling like a third wheel weren’t the main reasons Mallory had chosen a shift over dinner at Maddie’s. Her main reason was Nan. Thanksgivings were never small with Nan in charge, even after Grandpa Mickey died. Nan cooked enough for an army, inviting anyone who needed a place to go. With Nan at Memory Oaks Nursing Care this year, the holidays would be different. While Maddie didn’t want to entertain the past, Mallory was stuck there.

“We just got a new arrival in curtain 12,” Wanda said. “I got him settled while you were checking on the hypoglycemic in curtain 2.”

Mallory nodded, taking note and wishing her coworker didn’t call patients by their diagnosis.

“And since it’s quiet on the floor and my back is killing me,” Wanda continued, “I think I’ll clock out early. You don’t mind, do you?”

Wanda didn’t wait for Mallory to argue. Instead, she continued walking down the hall, whistling loudly, which would undoubtedly wake the patients and ensure that Mallory was back on her feet until the next shift’s nurses arrived.

Picking up her phone, Mallory tapped out another text to her sister.

Mallory: Happy Thanksgiving. Save me some turkey and…

The sound of barking erupted down the hall, grabbing her attention. Barking? Either someone had the TV volume too high or one of the patients had a therapy dog. Therapy dogs were typically quiet. Well trained. They knew not to bark unless… something was wrong.

Mallory got up and moved quickly in the direction of the sound. While it was usually a patient’s buzzer that alerted her that a patient was in distress, maybe this time it was a loud, barking dog. After ten years of nursing, nothing surprised her anymore.

She followed the yellow-tiled hall to open curtain number 12 and yanked it back, pausing as her brain tried to make sense of the sight in front of her. Wanda hadn’t mentioned that the new patient was Hollis Franklin or that he had his dog with him. Hollis was lying on the hospital bed, his face pulled in a painful grimace as he clutched his left leg to his torso. On the floor beside him was his chocolate lab, Duke, barking anxiously.

“Hollis? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Stupid question. “Where’s your pain?” Her gaze moved to Hollis’s shin, where a long, open gash poured blood.

“I don’t think this should hurt as bad as it does, but…” He groaned. “I think I must have hit a nerve with my fall. That dog knocked me right off my feet.”

Mallory eyed his gentle giant dog suspiciously. “Duke hurt you? Do I need to call security? Animal control?” She didn’t even think hospital policy allowed a dog in the ER, but Hollis had a charm about him that made it hard for people to tell him no.

He cracked his eyes open just enough to look at her. “Not Duke. One of my rescues. It wasn’t the dog’s fault. I scared him.”

Mallory quickly gathered astringent and dressing. The wound didn’t appear to be a dog bite. “Duke stays within the confines of this curtain, and as soon as I get you all fixed up, you’ve got to take him out.”

Hollis nodded. “Promise.”

Mallory pulled up a stool and sat. “I can get you clean and bandaged, but after all these years, I can’t fix this hopeless need of yours to save every dog you meet.”

Hollis’s grimace shifted to a tiny grin. “You know that’s the pot calling the kettle black, right?” He relaxed his hold on his leg and lowered it to the bed. “Says the nurse who cares for everyone around her except herself.”

Mallory and Hollis had known each other since they were kids, and Hollis was best friends with Evan, who was married to Mal’s best friend. Over the years, they’d had their fair share of feuds, but they were on friendly terms now. “Tell me what happened?”

“I’m not one to startle easily, but the dog lunged at me. I stumbled backward into a pile of lumber, one piece of which had a six-inch nail bent at the perfect angle to rip my leg open.”

Mallory flinched. “Ouch.”

“Ouch is an understatement.”

“I’ll try to be gentle, but I can’t promise this won’t hurt,” she said.

He grinned some more, which wasn’t the response she normally got when she warned a patient of pain.

“Then I won’t promise not to scream.”

“This hall has been a mixture of screams all evening.” Her shoulders slumped. “Forget the pumpkin pie. All I want for Thanksgiving is peace and quiet… Are you up-to-date on your tetanus shot?”

“I’ve been working construction since I was eighteen. Do you realize how many times I’ve been in this ER?”

Mallory laughed at the question. The ER wasn’t her regular department, but she knew that Hollis had been all-boy and was now all-guy. “If I had to guess, you probably have a bench named after you somewhere.”

He watched her intently as she worked, swiping the wound with alcohol wipes and dousing it with antibacterial ointment. “Rehearsals for Santa, Baby start this weekend, right?” he asked as she applied the bandage.

Her gaze flicked up. “Yep. Please tell me you’re not backing out too.”

Hollis hadn’t held an acting role since he was fifteen, but he managed the stage props and did a lot of the heavy lifting. If he backed out, she swore she’d scream.

“Too?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he tilted his head.

Mallory kept her focus on his wound. Now that it was clean, she reached for a bandage. “Mrs. Corban messaged me yesterday. I tried to get Maddie to take the open spot, but she’s got other priorities right now.”

“The newlywed life,” Hollis said with a nod, absently scratching the side of his beard. “Sam mentioned to me that Maddie missed being active, so I reached out to a friend of mine from my juvie days and connected her with Maddie.”

Juvie meaning when Hollis had been locked away in juvenile detention during his late teens.

“Renee is heavily involved in adaptive sports, and she runs a group here in Bloom and the surrounding communities,” Hollis said. “I think she could help Maddie find her groove again.”

Mallory looked up from his bandage. It had never occurred to her, but of course Maddie would be missing the outdoor activities that she’d always enjoyed. “That is so nice of you. Do you sleep?”

His brow lifted in question.

“You’re doing construction, rescuing and training dogs, doing stage work for the theater, and helping my sister find a new outlet. And,” she said, lifting a finger, “every time I visit Nan, you’re there visiting Pop.” Pop was Hollis’s foster grandfather.

“I can sleep when I’m old and gray. What about you?” he asked. “Why don’t you take that role in the play?”

Mallory shook her head. “I’m the director. I feel like I’m doing enough without taking on an acting role too.” Too much actually. Standing from the stool, she turned and started to walk toward the small metal rolling cart along the wall. She didn’t need anything specific, just space because the weight of responsibility on her shoulders was heavy, and sometimes it felt hard to breathe.

Hollis touched her hand before she stepped out of reach. “Hey. I know how hard you work, and I’ve seen how often you visit Nan when not many others do. I’ve watched how much you’ve supported Maddie since her accident, and even Savannah with her autoimmune condition. You’re everyone’s rock.”

Suddenly, she felt seen in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. Not since Nan had a clearer mind. “Then why are you questioning me about acting in the play?”

“I just remember how much you used to love being onstage, until I ruined it for you.” He looked down and then flinched, reminding Mallory that he was in pain.

“I’m going to need to glue this gash of yours.”

“It’s that deep?” he asked.

“Yep, and you’ll have a nice, new scar to match all the others. It’s not fair that men get sexier with scars and women have to cover ours with makeup.” The realization that she’d just called Hollis sexy hit her with a quick surge of heat through her cheeks.

He was kind enough not to call her on it, but the look he was giving her somehow felt worse. “Let’s get this over with. Matt and Sandy invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“That was nice of them.” She pulled the tray of medical items closer and got to work, tending to his wound on auto mode.

“Wanna come with me?” he asked, avoiding looking at his wound. She found it comical how many men came in and got woozy at the sight of blood. “I’m sure Sandy made more than enough.”

The suggestion took Mallory by surprise.

“You’re about to get off shift, right?” he prodded.

Now she regretted telling him that because it would be awkward when she rejected the invitation. Some part of her wanted to say yes though. “That’s okay. It’s been a long shift, and I’m exhausted. But thank you.” She applied a bandage in a quick movement, pushed the metal tray aside, and smiled back at him. “All done.”

He finally looked down, his brows lifting. “I’m impressed.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “If you knew how many times I’ve glued up a gash like that one.”

“Probably as many times as I’ve hammered a nail into a piece of lumber and constructed a basic frame. If you change your mind about dinner with Matt and Sandy…” When he stood, so did Duke, wagging his tail anxiously.

“Thanks.” She led him out of the closed curtain and down the corridor. “I think I’ll actually swing by Memory Oaks and visit Nan though.”

She hadn’t planned on doing that, but it seemed like a good idea now. Then she might head home and open Nan’s box of keepsakes afterward. She had been waiting for Maddie to join her, but now that it was clear Maddie wasn’t interested in a deep dive into her family’s past, Mallory was eager to discover exactly what was so important for Nan to show them. Mallory had assumed her grandmother was an open book, but everyone had secrets—little things they wanted to keep hidden from the world. Even Mallory.

As Mallory approached her small, one-story brick house later that evening, she slowed her step when she noticed an insulated bag hanging on her front doorknob, and a faint smell of delicious food wafted under her nose. Undoubtedly, Maddie had sent Sam to drop off a dinner plate from their earlier meal with Grandpa Charlie and his new wife, Eleanor.

Regret threaded through her, but without Nan, she couldn’t fathom sitting down to a turkey meal with all the sides and a slice of pumpkin pie, pretending everything was fine.

Even though Nan hadn’t known Mallory from the nurse who worked her hall, Mallory was grateful for the half hour she’d sat with Nan tonight.

After unlocking her door, she took the bag inside and kicked off her shoes—her feet practically sighing with relief. She was hungry, but the food could wait. She left the insulated bag on her kitchen counter and headed down the hall toward her bedroom, flipping on the light and veering into her closet. In the very back corner was the large plastic box that Nan had given to Maddie and her last Christmas.

“This is my Keepsake Box. Just a few treasured items that might not make sense if you don’t know the memories behind them.” She held up a small, brown journal to show Mallory and Maddie. “That’s why I’m also giving you this. Inside this journal, you’ll find the meaning of all the items. I’ve numbered them because they’re meant to be hung in order, according to the time line.”

“Hung?” Mallory had said, shaking her head slightly. “Hung where?”

Nan’s smile was warm, as always. “On the Memory Tree.” She didn’t wait for them to ask what exactly that was. Nan had been showing subtle signs of forgetfulness, and part of Mallory wondered if it was related to that. “A Christmas tree except this one tells a story. My story.”

She’d made both Mallory and Maddie promise they’d wait until this Thanksgiving or after, pulling each item out in their proper order and reading whatever she’d written for that memory.

“I promise,” Mallory agreed, ignoring the fact that Maddie had said nothing.

Nan’s shoulders seemed to slump in relief. “I have one more request. If I can’t make it happen next year, promise me that you’ll run my play. The town is depending on us. The show must go on.”

At the time, Mallory thought Nan was making a mountain out a of molehill over little things like losing her keys or getting lost on the way to the grocery store where she’d been shopping for decades. No part of her really thought that she was agreeing to put on Nan’s play on her own.

Dragging the Keepsake Box to the side of her bed, she sat on the floor while leaning against the side of her mattress.

I wish Maddie was here.

She understood why Maddie wasn’t. After months of living moment to moment, Maddie was finally focusing on the future. Maybe getting involved in adaptive sports would be fulfilling for her. Mallory couldn’t be prouder of her younger sister’s strength and determination. Maybe next year, she’d be ready for Nan’s full story.

Lifting the lid, the first thing Mallory saw was Nan’s journal lying on top of several small boxes, all numbered. The journal was a small brown book with tiny white flowers, and the word Memories was indented into the leather. Hooking the tips of her fingers beneath the cover’s edge, she opened to the first page.

Nan’s familiar cursive handwriting felt like a hug, reaching out of the book’s binding and squeezing Mallory’s heart. It felt good, but also left her heart aching because, deep inside, she knew things had changed and would never be the same again.

Blinking past her blur of tears, she focused on the words that Nan had written.

My dear sweet Granddaughters…

If you’re reading this, I’m probably gone, in one sense or another. No man (or woman) lives forever, and I don’t think I’d even want to. The best that one can hope is that we live on in our loved ones who remain.

As a girl, I watched my grandmother forget. First her address. Then things like her last name. Then she forgot me, which I couldn’t comprehend at such a young age. As an adult, I watched the same thing happen with my own mother. Then, it started happening to me.

I told myself that I was just being paranoid. When you’re young, you assume you’re invincible. That you’ll live forever and remember every moment. But those moments of forgetfulness increased, month by month, year after year.

I’ve always thought of a Christmas tree as a sort of memory album. Each keepsake ornament in this box will probably seem like random things that have no worth, but they’re priceless to me. In the journal, you’ll find the story behind each and every one. I hope that you’ll remember me as you hang these keepsakes on what I like to call the Memory Tree.

You may be surprised by what I tell you in these pages. People have different sides to themselves. Different faces. Different masks. I was so many people in this lifetime. A daughter. An actress. A writer. Friend. Wife. Grandmother. But first and foremost, I was a woman who lived, loved, and made a million mistakes.

When the time comes, I may not remember or be capable of saying so, so allow me to say it here. I’m sorry. I always did what I thought was best for you, and for your mother. Maybe my best wasn’t good enough. Maybe I should have done things differently. All I can say is that life doesn’t have a dress rehearsal. It’s all improv on one big stage.

Dearest granddaughters, memories are the secret to living forever—because even after you’re gone, they live on in the hearts of those who love you most. Some good, some bittersweet, and too many the kind that break you piece by piece. All of the memories are necessary to understand the final product, however, which I hope ultimately will be a life well-lived.

Thank you for being a part of my story. The mind may forget, but the heart never will. I love you always.

Nan

You gotta have a dream. If you don’t have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?

—Oscar Hammerstein II, South Pacific

Hollis swiped his shirtsleeves across his sweaty brow and looked out at the work of the day. His foster dad’s construction crew had made a lot of progress building the frame for the Maynard Farm’s new barn, but it wasn’t quite finished, and Hollis wouldn’t be able to see it through to the end. Since he was seventeen years old, Hollis had been working with Matt’s crew ten and a half months out of the year. The other six weeks, however, Hollis helped Matt’s father, who had a business of his own, Popadine’s Tree Farm.

When Pop went to live at Memory Oaks, Matt had tossed around the idea of selling the farm. Construction was Matt’s passion, not Christmas trees. Hollis had always loved the farm though, even before the Popadine family had taken him in at seventeen. Prior to that, Hollis would trespass on their property and get himself into trouble. That’s what he was well-known for back then. Matt himself had been the one to call the cops on Hollis the last time he’d gone to juvenile detention. But when Hollis was seventeen, the Popadines took him into their home and treated him like a son.

And Pop had treated him like a grandson. Even though Hollis had never been legally adopted, they were his family.

“Looks good, heh?” Matt clapped a hand along Hollis’s upper back.

Hollis offered a nod. “Yeah. Real good.”

Matt’s gaze dropped to Hollis’s leg, where the bandage that Mallory had placed there had soaked through, leaving a dirty, brown stain. “Better get that cleaned up before it gets infected. I don’t know why you deal with stuff like that.” That “stuff” being anything dog related. “I get that you enjoy training ’em, but some dogs aren’t rehabilitation material.”

“That’s what folks said about me.” Hollis reached for his bottled water on his truck’s tailgate and drained the last sip. Then he looked at Matt. “And look at me now.”

It was meant to be sarcastic, but Matt had a shine in his eyes. Matt Popadine hadn’t just taken on the role of Hollis’s foster dad at seventeen, he’d also given him a job.

“Look at you now indeed,” Matt went on. “I’m proud of you, son.”

Son. Hollis used to hate the term of endearment. Loathe it even. The word was akin to nails scraping along a chalkboard. Now it ran over and through Hollis like a spoonful of thick honey. That was the effect of unconditional love. Back in his young adult years, he hadn’t trusted that it was possible for him to be loved by anyone. It’d . . .