Nutcracker Sweets at Moonglow Read online

  Nutcracker Sweets

  at

  Moonglow

  A Moonglow Christmas Novella

  Deborah Garner

  Copyright © 2018 Deborah Garner

  Cranberry Cove Press / Published by arrangement with the author

  Nutcracker Sweets at Moonglow by Deborah Garner

  All rights reserved. Except for brief text quoted and appropriately cited in other works, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by photocopying or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the copyright owner/author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cranberry Cove Press

  PO Box 1671

  Jackson, WY 83001, United States

  Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication Data Available

  Garner, Deborah

  Nutcracker Sweets at Moonglow / Deborah Garner—1st United States edition

  1. Fiction 2. Woman Authors 3. Holidays

  https://www.myidentifiers.com/myaccount_manageisbns_titlereg?isbn=978-0-9969960-6-8&icon_type=assigned

  p. cm.

  ISBN-13:

  978-0-9969960-6-8 (paperback)

  978-0-9969961-1-2 (hardback)

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  Books by Deborah Garner

  The Paige MacKenzie Mystery Series

  Above the Bridge

  The Moonglow Café

  Three Silver Doves

  Hutchins Creek Cache

  Crazy Fox Ranch

  The Moonglow Christmas Novella Series

  Mistletoe at Moonglow

  Silver Bells at Moonglow

  Gingerbread at Moonglow

  Nutcracker Sweets at Moonglow

  The Sadie Kramer Flair Series

  A Flair for Chardonnay

  A Flair for Drama

  A Flair for Beignets

  Cranberry Bluff

  For my mother,

  who always made holidays special for us.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Recipes

  Glazed Cinnamon Nuts (A family recipe)

  Christmas Crack (Submitted by Kim Davis)

  White Christmas Fudge (Submitted by Jean Daniel)

  Cathedral Cookies (Submitted by Teri Fish)

  Molasses Sugar Cookies (Submitted by Bea Tackett)

  Peanut Butter Fudge (Submitted by Petrenia Snodgrass Etheridge)

  Lemon Crinkles (Submitted by Kim Davis)

  Krum Kake Cookies (Submitted by Lynette Ausland Eads)

  Cranberry Drop Cookies (Submitted by Jan Knight)

  Double Chocolate Walnut Brownies (Submitted by Valerie Peterson)

  Granny’s Butter Rolls

  Christmas Hard Candy (Submitted by Betty Escobar)

  Lingonberry Buttercream Filling (Submitted by Lisa Maliga, from her book, Baking Macarons: The Swiss Meringue Method)

  Yummy Dates (Submitted by Deb Kenyon Thom)

  Twenty-first Century Peanut Brittle (Submitted by Deb Kenyon Thom)

  Healthy No-Bake Apple Energy Bites (Submitted by Lori Sparks Shoemake, from her blog 50 with Flair - www.50withflair.com)

  Grandma Chauncey's Date Nut Bars (Submitted by Taryn Lee)

  No-Bake Peanut Butter Oatmeal Cookies (Submitted by Betty Escobar)

  Cinnamon Refrigerator Cookies (Submitted by Robyn Seitzer)

  Mocha Candied Nuts (Submitted by Kathleen Brown)

  All-In-One-Pan Cookies (Submitted by Kathleen Brown)

  Date Balls (Submitted by Vera Kenyon)

  Applesauce Cookies

  Thimble Cookies

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Where will we put them?”

  Mist sat at the kitchen's center island, the reservation book spread before her. Betty's question was a good one. The Timberton Hotel was almost full, as was usual for the holidays. If not for a recent cancellation by a small group from Omaha, there wouldn't be any rooms available at all. As it was, there were only three.

  "We can manage," Mist said, studying the room chart. She reached across the wooden surface and touched Betty's hand gently, reassuring the hotel owner. "The mother and daughter can stay in Room 16, one of the two men can go in Room 22, and the other can take Room 24.

  Betty paused, and then nodded. “There’s only one bed in Room 16, but it’s a good-sized room. Clive could bring over that roll-away he has stored in the back of his gallery.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too,” Mist said. “The daughter is only ten years old, so I think that will work. Yes, we’ll make it work.”

  “It’s such an unfortunate situation.” Betty sighed and shook her head. “Having that theater burn down right before Christmas? And now, with flights booked solid, they’re stuck for the holidays, away from home.”

  “We’ll make this feel like home for them, then,” Mist said, a soft smile crossing her face. If not for her calm demeanor, she might have looked impish.

  “Like you do for our holiday visitors every year, dear,” Betty said. “If anyone can create a home-away-from-home, it’s you.”

  Mist stood up and closed the reservation book. “Thank you, Betty, but we all work together to make this a holiday home for our guests.” She adjusted the sleeves of her oversized wool sweater and brushed off the front of her heavy cotton skirt, an old-fashioned print that she’d taken a fancy to at the local thrift shop.

  “So we’ll have the cast members, as well as a mix of new and returning guests,” Betty said. “That’s a full house, not to mention the annual cookie exchange, and your famous Christmas Eve meal. It sounds like we have our work cut out for us this year.”

  “It’s not work when we’re spreading joy,” Mist said. “Especially at this time of year, and with such a unique mixture of guests.” She moved to the sink, filled a kettle with water, and put it on the stove to heat. “Herbal tea?”

  “Yes,” Betty said. “I just made a pot of coffee, but I drank my fill of it this morning. A cup of tea sounds more soothing.”

  “Peppermint, cinnamon-apple, lemon-ginger or?” Mist left her question open-ended as she opened a canister on the counter and pulled out a variety of tea bags.

  “What did you fix last night?” Betty asked. “It was delicious.” She turned as the back door opened.

  “Ah.” Mist smiled. “That was hibiscus, with just a touch of lemon and honey.”

  “That sounds …” Betty’s comment was cut short by a hearty laugh.

  “Absolutely boring! Can’t a guy get a plain old cup of coffee around here?”

  Both Betty and Mist smiled at Clive’s typical entrance. If it wasn’t something cooking that brought the gallery owner around, it was a craving for fresh-brewed coffee - aside from his desire to see Betty, of course. Any excuse was good enough for a visit to his favorite lady.

  “I just happen to have coffee on the menu today,” Betty said, chuckling. “But you might think about trying something new now and then.”

  Clive put his arm around Betty�
�s shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek. “It sounds like you’ve been hanging around some mysterious California transplant, picking up some of her new age habits.” He winked at Mist. “Isn’t that what you call it: new age? Makes it sound like we’re in the future or something.”

  Mist set Clive’s favorite coffee cup on the center island. “That’s because it is the future, Clive. We’re always in the future.”

  “Uh oh,” Clive said as he took a seat. “Here is comes, a dollop of Mist philosophy.” He winked again, this time at Betty.

  “The future is simply a bridge to the present,” Mist said. She removed the tea kettle from the stove and poured a cup of tea for Betty, as well as one for herself. Bringing both cups over to the center island, she took a seat. Betty filled Clive’s mug with coffee and sat down next to him.

  “All ready for this year’s holiday guests?” Clive asked.

  “Yes and no,” Betty said. “We’ve had some last minute changes.”

  “Oh?” Clive raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of coffee and glanced between Betty and Mist.

  “Just a few more guests to make the holidays merrier,” Mist said.

  Betty nodded. “A few of the cast members from the Sapphire Ridge Theatre will be staying with us.”

  “Ah,” Clive said. “I heard about the fire there. Terrible. They had to cancel the rest of the Nutcracker shows, didn’t they?”

  “Yes,” Betty said. “Fortunately, we’re shuffling a few rooms around and will be able to have them stay with us.”

  “That’ll be a full house, then,” Clive said. “Even more than usual. You have some returning guests this year, don’t you? I know Michael will be here.” He winked at Mist. It wasn’t a secret that Mist and Michael had continued to grow closer during the past year.

  “Just short of overflowing,” Betty said. “Yes, Michael will be here, and the professor will be back, as well.”

  “How about new guests?” Clive took another sip of coffee.

  “A family,” Mist said. “Two parents and a young daughter.”

  “Right,” Clive said. “The child we set up the ramp for?”

  “Yes,” Mist said. “She’ll be in a wheelchair. The father said he could carry her up the front steps to the hotel, especially since there are only a few. But the ramp will offer an option. They’ll have a room on the first floor, so she’ll be able to get around easily once inside.”

  “The professor will stay upstairs,” Betty said. “So will Michael, the cast members from the show, and …” Betty’s voice trailed off as she looked at Mist for clarification on the guest’s name.

  “Ms. Olga Savinova,” Mist said. “Another new guest. She’ll be traveling alone. I believe she’s older, from her voice on the phone. She had a slight accent, as well - Russian, I would guess from her name, though her address is in New York. I’m giving her a first floor room because she mentioned a knee problem.”

  “She’s arriving this evening.” Betty said. “A few guests are.”

  “”Yes,” Mist said. “The Rivera family will be here around nine p.m. They have a late flight into Bozeman.” She checked the notes in the reservation book. “Luisa and Rafael are the parents. Maria, their ten-year-old daughter, is the one who will be in the wheelchair.”

  “The rest of the guests will be arriving tomorrow,” Betty said. “At least I think so. Michael Blanton and Nigel Hennessy are driving down together from Missoula now that they both teach at the university there.”

  “Ah, yes,” Clive said, grinning. “I know someone is especially glad that Michael took that open teaching position.”

  “They might try to make it tonight,” Mist said. “Otherwise they’ll be here in the morning.” She tried her best to ignore Clive’s teasing, but smiled in spite of the attempt.

  Clive finished his coffee and stood up. “Well, you two lovely ladies just let me know what I can do to help, and I’ll be glad to lend a hand.”

  “Now that you mention it, we were hoping to borrow that extra roll-away you have,” Betty said. She turned on her most charming smile.

  “Absolutely,” Clive said. “I’ll bring it over this evening. I’d better get back to the gallery. Speaking of which,” he added, directing his comment to Mist, “I could use more of your miniature paintings. They’re selling as quickly as my jewelry. You wouldn’t happen to have any of the ones with the gingerbread house surrounded by pine trees, would you?”

  “I have a few more of those ready, plus several with the winterberries,” Mist said. “I’ll drop them off when I pick up the fresh greenery I ordered from Maisie. I’m going by her place later this afternoon.”

  “Great,” Clive said. “And I’ll get that bed over here right after the gallery closes tonight.” He gave Betty another quick peck on the cheek, and headed out.

  Mist and Betty exchanged amused looks after Clive left. The phrase, “right after the gallery closes,” might just as well have been “right about dinner time.”

  “Sounds like I’d better get that pot roast in the oven,” Mist said.

  “I’d say so.” Betty laughed.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mist glanced upward as she reached for the door handle to Maisie’s Daisies. From the looks of the sky, it wouldn’t be long before snow began falling softly on the small Montana town. Mist smiled. A snow-covered landscape was always welcome during the holidays. It added to the serene scene that Mist envisioned for the hotel guests.

  Maisie looked up from a cluster of red carnations, white mums and holly branches when Mist stepped inside the shop. She wore a white thermal pull-over sweatshirt and denim overalls, and sported streaks of red and green hair mixed in with her natural color.

  “Lovely,” Mist said, eyeing the floral arrangement. “A customer order?”

  Maisie shook her head. “No, this one’s for us. Clayton’s parents are coming to visit and I want something in the house to look like it might belong to grown-ups.”

  Mist smiled. Maisie and Clayton, the town’s fire captain, had married a year and a half before and now had a six-month old son, Clay Jr. Their home was now filled not only with joy, but with an ample scattering of toys, stuffed animals, picture books, balls, building blocks, and a dinosaur-print baby blanket that could be found dropped in any random location around the house.

  “I have your order ready for you,” Maisie said, setting her personal project aside and fetching a large batch of greenery from the shop’s back room. “Not much color this year, I noticed. You must have something unusual dancing around in that creative mind of yours.”

  “Yes, now that you phrase it that way,” Mist said. “I’ve had something planned, but I’m going to sweeten it – so to speak - in view of a few additional guests we’ll have. So perhaps the idea is ‘dancing around,’ as you say.”

  Maisie’s face brightened. “Oh! You must have the Nutcracker cast staying with you! Clayton told me about the fire. A couple of the men from his fire crew went up there to help.”

  “We won’t have the whole cast with us, just a few of them,” Mist said. “One young girl and her mother, plus a couple of the men. The rest of the cast were either locals or found ways to get home.”

  “Well, the luckiest are the ones who’ll be staying with you. Christmas at The Timberton Hotel is simply magical,” Maisie said. “I’ll be there to help you with Christmas Eve dinner, as always. I already warned our household. They can either come to the hotel or spend the evening at home together.”

  Mist nodded. “You do what’s best for your family, Maisie, but I won’t turn down the help if it really works for you, not with the full house we’ll have.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Maisie said, “even if only to see what you’re going to do with all this.” She removed the greenery from the tub, wrapped it in butcher paper, and tied twine around it. “Here you go. And here’s your raffia, too.” She handed Mist a small bag.

  “Thank you, Maisie,” Mist said. “What would I do without you?”

&n
bsp; Leaving the rhetorical question lingering in the air, Mist slipped outside and headed to Clive’s gallery, where she found Clive at his work table, hunched over a diminutive pendant in sterling silver. A Yogo sapphire sparkled under the overhead lights as Clive attached a tiny ring to the jewelry and slipped it onto a silver chain. He set the finished piece on a black velvet tray, alongside others.

  “I love that teardrop design, Clive.” Mist leaned forward and took a closer look. “I’m especially fond of the way each one is different, but has a similar sapphire somewhere in the design. Just as tears might fall differently from each other, yet find a way to sparkle in the end.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Clive said in a bright voice. He held a finger up in the air, as if just hit with a fabulous idea.

  Mist laughed, well aware that he was teasing her. “Then again, maybe it’s just a design that sells well.”

  “Even closer to what I was thinking,” Clive said. “And speaking of what sells well …” He raised his eyebrows and looked at Mist expectantly.

  “Yes, I did bring you more paintings.” Mist set the bundle of greenery and bag of raffia down on a chair and removed her backpack. She pulled out a half-dozen small bundles, all wrapped in cloth. She unwrapped each, saving the cloth for future use.

  Clive nodded with approval. “Excellent. I’ll display them on the front wall, next to Hollister’s painting of the railroad trestle.”

  “It warms my heart that he’s painting,” Mist said as she walked over to admire the piece. The town’s formerly homeless resident now lived in a room in the back of the hotel. Slyly, Mist had been slipping art supplies into his room for months. She’d seen him touch the supplies with longing, and knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in to the temptation of the blank canvas she’d mounted on his wall.

  Mist returned to Clive’s worktable, gathered the greenery and raffia into her arms, and headed for the front door. “Pot roast should be ready around six o’clock,” she said casually.