Chapter One: Cousins
As the train gently rocked along, Maisie looked at her map. She touched a finger to Baltimore, where her trip had started, and ran it along the small track up to New York City, where she had met her cousins, Trudy and Matt.
Their compartment had two double seats that faced each other. Trudy was reading a book and Matt was next to her dozing in an uncomfortable position, his head resting against a rolled up coat.
Trudy was the most beautiful woman Maisie had ever seen. She was 24, blond, and fair-skinned with a perfect complexion. She had blue eyes and a kind smile.
Matt had a similar look. He was only 12 and seemed more like Trudy’s son than her brother.
Maisie looked back down at her map and traced the route that lay ahead. Up to Boston, where they would change trains, and then north again to Portland, Maine. There they would meet Mr. Taylor and spend the night. The next day, Christmas eve, Mr. Taylor would take them by car, up, up, up to their destination. Maisie had to hold the map closer to locate the tiny writing that said Livermore. She folded the map and put it in her bag. A month earlier, she would not have guessed she’d be taking a trip to her grandmother’s house for a family reunion. In fact, she hadn’t known she had a grandmother or a family.
The mother she’d grown up knowing was actually her stepmother. Maisie’s birth mother – her father’s first wife – had died when Maisie was only two. The following year, her father had remarried, and his new wife, Clara, had loved and raised Maisie as her own.
All Maisie knew about her birth mother came from a few personal effects and two black and white wedding photos. When her mother and father had married, her mother had claimed to be an only child, an orphan, and to know nothing about her family.
Two years ago, when Maisie was 13, her father had taken ill and died quite suddenly, leaving Maisie and her mother – that is, her stepmother – alone. Her stepmother had some cousins, but that was all the extended family there was. Or so they thought until a month ago when an invitation arrived.
“Dear Mrs. Levingston and Maisie,” the invitation said, “the two of you are invited to spend Christmas in Maine as part of the Morse family reunion. Transportation and lodging will be provided. Please call me for further details. Sincerely, Oscar D. Taylor, Esquire, Attorney at Law.”
A call to Mr. Taylor revealed that Maisie’s birth mother had not been an orphan nor an only child. But attending the reunion seemed out of the question.
“I can’t go,” Mrs. Levingston said, pointing to her leg, which was heavily bandaged. “But you should, Maisie.”
“Mother, I don’t want to go without you. I would be too nervous to travel all that way alone. You could come. It’s only a sprain.”
“It’s more than a sprain. I tore the cartilage in my knee and ruptured a tendon. Maisie, I can’t travel all that way. I can barely walk across the room, even with crutches.”
“If I go,” Maisie said, “you’d have to spend Christmas all alone. And I’d be by myself up in some place that I’m not even sure where is.”
Mrs. Levingston looked at her daughter’s pleading face and gave her a tender smile.
“I’ll ask my cousin, Elizabeth, to come stay with me. She can help me figure out what to do with this house. The bank is threatening to take it from us if I don’t get caught up. And with my leg, I can’t work right now. You go. We’ll have Christmas when you get back. And if we end up losing the house, I’m sure Elizabeth will let us stay with her for awhile.”
Several phone calls back and forth to Mr. Taylor helped resolve the issue, at least partially. Mrs. Levingston would stay home. Maisie would take a train to New York City and meet up with two cousins who were going to the reunion, and the three of them would travel the rest of the way together.
Maisie looked out the train window as they sped past snow-covered houses and woods. How nice that it’s 1949, she thought, and we are riding in a modern train, snug and warm.
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Photo: 01_train
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She looked at Trudy, who glanced up to meet her eyes.
“Hungry?”
“A little,” Maisie said.
Trudy nudged Matt, who groaned and slowly opened his eyes.
“Wake up, sleepy head. We are going to the dining car for lunch.”
The words had a dramatic effect. Matt went from drowsy to wide awake. The instant change made Maisie and Trudy smile.
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Photo: 02_menu
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In the dining car, they sat at a small table and all ordered the same thing: a ham and cheese sandwich fritter and something to drink. Trudy asked for coffee, while Maisie and Matt each wanted a glass of milk.
When the food came, they chatted as they ate.
“Tell me again,” Maisie said, “about my mother. “This time, start with my grandmother – our grandmother.”
Trudy finished chewing a bite of sandwich, wiped her mouth with a napkin, then pulled a paper from her purse.
“Our grandmother, Maisie Hawkins, was born in 1885 in Livermore, Maine. When she was 18, she married a local boy named Jedediah Morse. In 1905, they had a daughter named Martha and in 1913, they had a daughter named Maisie.
“Let’s follow each daughter separately, starting with the older one.
“Martha stayed in Livermore until she graduated high school, then married a fellow from New York named Joseph Napolini. They moved to New York City. I was born there in 1925, and Matt, in 1937.
“So we have our grandmother Maisie, her daughter Martha, and Matt and I.”
“Maisie was eight years younger than Martha. When Maisie was 16, she left – ran away, I guess. She wrote a note saying she didn’t want to grow up in a tiny Maine town. No one knew where Maisie went or what became of her.
“We know now, of course, that she married a business man in Baltimore and that in 1934, you were born. So that’s the three Maisies: our grandmother, your mother, and you.”
She looked at Maisie and raised her eyebrows as if to ask, got that?
“What about our grandfather?”
“I don’t know,” Trudy said. “I think he died some years ago.”
Maisie nodded her head. “My mother never told my father anything about where she was born. Is Maine such a terrible place that she didn’t want anyone to know?”
Trudy laughed and shook her head. “I’m sure Maine is a wonderful place. Who knows why people do what they do.”
“How did the lawyer, Mr. Taylor, manage to find me?”
“I don’t know. But he did. We’ll have to ask him when we get to Portland.”
During this conversation, Matt had finished his sandwich. Maisie smiled at him and put half her sandwich on his plate. He gave her a smile in return and began eating it.
Maisie said, “My mother died when I was two, and a year later my dad remarried. I don’t remember my mother at all. My stepmother has always been my mother.”
“Your father died, right?” Trudy asked.
“Two years ago. He had a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry,” Trudy said. She nodded toward her brother and added, “Our parents both died in a car accident around that same time.”
Maisie gave her a sad look, then said, “I wonder how many people are going to be at this family reunion. We must have relatives we don’t even know about. It will be fun to meet them.”
Chapter Two: Maine
When they arrived in Portland, Mr. Taylor – an elderly, well-dressed man – met them at the station and drove them to his home, where they spent the night.
The next morning, which was Christmas eve, Mr. Taylor drove them north. Trudy and Matt sat in the back seat, and Maisie sat in the front with Mr. Taylor. Along the way, Maisie asked the question she had asked on the train.
“How many people are coming to the reunion?”
“The three of you, plus one more,” Mr. Taylor said.
“That’s all?” Matt asked, leaning forward.
“That’s all,” Mr. Taylor said.
“Who’s number four?” Trudy asked.
“A grandson who lives in Chicago. He’ll be here by morning.”
“Whose son is he?” Matt wanted to know.
Mr. Taylor hesitated. “It’s a little awkward to talk about. Your grandmother had a child, a son, uh, early on. The man who is coming is, like the three of you, a grandchild.”
“What’s his name?” Matt asked.
“Ranford. Daniel Ranford.”
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Photo: 03_house
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When at last they arrived in Livermore, it was late afternoon. They pulled up to a large farmhouse. As everyone was getting out of the car, a side door opened and an elderly woman came out with a big smile on her face.
“Hello! Hello!” she said. “I’m Mr. Taylor’s wife, Lisa. Come in. Come in.”
She led the way into a kitchen.
“Put your things down here. I’ll show you your rooms in a bit. But first, you must be hungry.”
The three guests were shown where the bathroom was and then were led to the dining room where a meal was waiting.
“Your grandmother was a dear friend of ours, and we are thrilled to have you come way up here for a small reunion.”
“Very small,” Matt said as he scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Just four of us.”
Trudy asked, “Are there more relatives, but only four of us could make it because it’s on Christmas?”
“No, there are just the four of you. That’s all. Nonetheless, it’s wonderful to have you here, in Maisie’s home.” Turning to the younger girl she said, “I understand your name is Maisie also.”
Maisie smiled. “I was named after my mother, who I guess was named after her mother.”
“She was. She was. Maisie Anne Morse. I knew your mother when she was young.”
“You did? What was she like?”
“Well, very much like you in appearance. She loved the outdoors, but she also loved reading and singing and dancing. She dreamed of seeing big cities. When she was 16, wanderlust got the better of her and she left. It broke her mother’s heart, but she knew that Maisie wasn’t a small-town kind of girl.”
Maisie chewed a mouthful of food and thought about this information. She turned to Mr. Taylor.
“How did you manage to find me?”
He gave a small laugh. “It wasn’t easy. If it hadn’t been for something a friend of your mother’s said, you probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
“What did the friend say?”
Mrs. Taylor answered.
“Maisie – your mother – had told her that Baltimore was her favorite name for a city. She used to sing “Baltimore, Baltimore, you’re the city I adore.” That was news to your grandmother and me, but it gave us a clue of where to search.
Mr. Taylor took up the tale.
“A year ago, when your grandmother’s health began to fail, she hired me to find and contact all her living descendants and invite them here for Christmas.
“I hired some college students in Baltimore to look through public records for marriages, births, and deaths of women named Maisie. I promised a large bonus for whoever found the one we were looking for.
“A young woman won the prize when she found your mother’s marriage record.”
“What was the prize?” Maisie asked.
“Five hundred dollars.”
Matt whistled. “Was our grandmother rich?”
“No, but she owned a profitable apple orchard, and raised and sold chickens and eggs. She was very thrifty and saved her money over the years.”
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Photo: 04_chickens
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“Chickens?” Matt said.
Something in the way he said it made Maisie laugh.
“My goodness,” Mrs. Taylor said, putting a hand on her chest. “Maisie, when you laugh, you sound just like your grandmother. You have the same laugh.”
Matt saw that Maisie was pleased, but also a little embarrassed, so he asked, “What about our grandfather?”
Mrs. Taylor kept her eyes on Maisie for a moment, then shifted her gaze to Matt. “Your grandfather died about 10 years ago.”
After supper, Trudy and Maisie helped clear the table and do the dishes as Mr. Taylor and Matt carried luggage to the various rooms.
The next morning, everyone was up early, wishing each other a Merry Christmas. As Mrs. Taylor cooked breakfast, the three young people set the table and helped with the preparations.
Matt asked, “When will Daniel Ranford be here?”
Mr. Taylor replied, “As soon as he can, I’m sure. But let’s not wait for him. This being Christmas, I hope you won’t mind if I read aloud about Jesus’s birth as told in the book of Luke.”
Everyone said that was fine.
After the reading, people passed the food around and served themselves. They had just started to eat, when a car pulled into the snowy driveway. In a few moments, a man walked in carrying a suitcase. He had dark hair and looked to be around 30.
“Mr. Ranford, you made it,” Mr. Taylor said, standing up.
Trudy made a motion with her fingers at Matt, and he stood, too.
“Leave your suitcase there and come join us. Here, take this chair,” Mr. Taylor said, indicating the seat next to Trudy.
Mr. Ranford sat down. Trudy handed him the scrambled eggs and he scraped some onto his plate. Once all the food had been offered him and his plate was full, Trudy said, “We are glad you made it safely.”
In response, Mr. Ranford made a sort of grunt.
Maisie thought to herself, he’s kind of grumpy. Maybe he’s just tired from his trip.
“Are you married?” Maisie asked.
In reply he gave her a bit of a look and held up his left hand back to, then turned it slowly around, showing off his gold wedding ring.
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Photo: 05_ring
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“Do you have any children?” Matt asked.
“If I had children,” Mr. Ranford said, “they would be here as descendants.”
After a long silence, during which Mr. Ranford continued to eat, Mr. Taylor said, “Well, then. The reunion has gotten off to a rollicking start.” Turning to his wife, he said, “Dear . . . ”
She stood and picked up a couple of the serving dishes. “While Mr. Ranford finishes his meal, Trudy and Maisie, will you help me clear and wash up? And Matthew, will you go with Mr. Taylor and assist him?”
Once all the work was done, Mr. Ranford, instead of carrying his plate and silverware to the kitchen, left them on the table for the girls to take care of.
Chapter Three: Gifts
Matt came into the dining room and said, “Everyone, follow me.” With that, he led them through a set of double doors into a library, where there was a Christmas tree, fully decorated, with presents underneath. Facing the tree were four chairs with a little distance between each one.
Mr. Taylor said, “Will the four descendants please take a seat starting on the right, youngest to eldest.”
Matt took his seat, then the others sat to his left according to age.
“Merry Christmas,” Mr. Taylor said. “Under the tree there are twelve presents. We are going to have what is called a Yankee gift exchange, which will go like this. Matthew will pick a gift from under the tree and open it. The next person, Maisie, can then either take Matthew’s present – in which case he will choose another gift from under the tree – or she, herself, can choose from under the tree. Selection will rotate, youngest to oldest, until all the gifts have been chosen.”
Mr. Ranford said, “What’s the point of this?”
“The point,” Mr. Taylor said, “is to have a little Christmas fun and for each of you to receive gifts from your grandmother. With each gift there will be a brief note describing the history of the item.
“Be aware that if someone takes a gift from you, you have lost that gift and may not take it from anyone. Ready? Then Matthew, choose a gift.”
Matt got up, took a few steps forward, and stood looking at the brightly-wrapped presents. After a minute or so, Mr. Ranford muttered, “Get on with it. Just pick one.”
Matt did so and returned to his seat to open it. Inside were four silver bells attached to a strip of rough fabric. He opened an accompanying envelop and read, “When I was a girl, these bells were clipped to the harness of my favorite horse, Nugget, when he would pull our sleigh.”
Matt smiled, held up the bells, and gave them a merry jingle.
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Photo: 06_bells
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“Maisie, your turn,” Mr. Taylor said.
She took less time than Matt, walking over to the tree and choosing the gift nearest to her. It contained a thin box, the inside of which was covered in black velvet. On the velvet was a diamond necklace. It had three larger diamonds and five smaller ones. The note read, “My dear husband bought me this necklace for our first anniversary.”
“It’s so beautiful,” Maisie said holding it up to her throat. “I love it.”
Trudy’s gift was a small oil painting of an apple tree. The note said, “I painted this when I was 15.” Trudy looked at her young cousin and said. “Same age as you.”
Mr. Ranford didn’t hesitate. He walked strait over to Maisie and held out his hand for the necklace. She paused a moment, then handed it over. He went back and sat down. His manner and action created a frosty feeling in the room, which he appeared not to notice.
Mr. Taylor said,”Maisie, having lost your gift, please choose another from under the tree.”
She did, and this time got a knife with a rustic birch handle. It was housed in a black leather sheath. The note explained, “This knife and sheath were made by my husband’s father. My husband used it whenever he went hunting.”
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Photo: 07_knife
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“Matthew,” Mr. Taylor said.
Matt walked over to Mr. Ranford and took the box with the necklace. For a moment, the man tried to hold onto it, but then released it. As Matt walked back to his seat, he winked at Maisie.
Mr. Ranford drew a replacement present from under the tree. The package contained a primitive-looking cross stitch of the alphabet. He reluctantly opened the envelope, which said, “This is my first cross stitch. My mother made me do it. I never did another.”
“Maisie, it’s your turn,” Mr. Taylor said.
From under the tree, she drew a present that was rather heavy. It contained a lovely wooden box that housed a set of silver knives, forks, and spoons. “These belonged to my mother,” the note said, “who loved to polish them, but never actually used them.”
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Photo: 08_silverware
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Trudy’s gift was a small pair of binoculars with a swiveled handle that hung down. “These are opera glasses,” the note said. “I never went to an opera, but loved to use them to watch birds.”
Mr. Ranford, as everyone suspected he would, took the box of silverware from Maisie.
Maisie went to the tree and chose a replacement gift. It was a carving of a sea lion. The note explained, “This was carved by a childhood friend of my husband’s. He traded the fellow a bag of marbles and two pieces of homemade taffy for it.”
Matt sat for a long moment. Instead of taking the silverware from Mr. Ranford, he asked, “Can I give the necklace to Maisie?”
“No,” Mr. Taylor said. “The necklace is still in play. Trudy might wish to take it.”
Matt looked at his sister. “Are you going to take the necklace from me? If not, I’d like to give it to Maisie.”
Trudy shook her head.
Matt looked at Maisie. “I’ll trade you the necklace for the sea lion.”
Maisie smiled and the two exchanged gifts.
“That exchange is outside the normal play,” Mr. Taylor said. “The necklace is safe with Maisie, but the sea lion is still in play. And it is still your turn, Matthew.”
Matt got up and asked for the silverware from Mr. Ranford, who said, “I protest. The boy used his turn to exchange gifts with his girlfriend. So he can’t take the silverware from me.”
The was a heavy silence in the room.
“No,” Mr. Taylor said. “Matthew’s exchange with Maisie did not count as a turn. Give him the silverware, Daniel.”
“I prefer to be called Mr. Ranford.”
“Give him the silverware, Mr. Ranford.”
Anger seemed to radiate from Ranford, but he controlled it and allowed Matt to take the silverware. Grumbling under his breath, he got up and chose from under the tree.
His gift was a porcelain doll with a fancy dress and real-looking red hair. Everyone laughed a little at his prize. The note explained, “The doll was made in France and belonged to a great aunt of mine who brought it with her when she moved to the United States.”
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Photo: 09_doll
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“Maisie,” Mr. Taylor said.
She went to the tree and picked a present. Inside was a large, old-looking Bible. The note said, “In between the Old and the New Testament is my husband’s and my family information. Whoever gets this should type up all the names and dates and send copies to everyone else.”
Maisie turned to the family section and found her mother’s name. She hugged the book and said, “I’ll do it. I’ll type up all the names.”
Trudy picked from the two last gifts under the tree. It was a pair of green candlesticks. The note said, “These jade candlesticks were found in a trunk in the attic. Who they belonged to or how they got there, I have no idea. We used them for years on the supper table.”
Mr. Ranford took a long look at the candlesticks and at the sea lion, but took the final present from under the tree. It contained a small figurine of a ragged-looking barefoot boy wearing a large floppy hat and holding a fishing pole. The note said, “A woman used this to pay for a dozen eggs. I didn’t need it, but she needed the eggs.”
Mr. Ranford sighed in a resigned sort of way.
Trudy looked at Mr. Ranford. “Sir, you ended up with a doll, a badly-done cross stitch, and a little figurine, which hardly seems fair. I will take any one of your items for any one of mine.”
Mr. Ranford looked at her in surprise. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t exactly frown, either.
“I’d like the opera glasses,” he said. “You choose one of mine.”
“The doll,” Trudy said, and they made the exchange.
Trudy looked at Maisie, who took the hint.
“I’d like to keep the necklace,” Maisie said. “It’s going to be a gift for my mother. But you can have a choice of one of mine for one of yours.”
“The Bible,” he said. “In exchange for the cross stitch.”
“May I copy the names and information before you leave?”
He nodded, and they traded the two items. Trudy and Maisie turned and looked at Matt. He returned their stare with a reluctant sigh.
“Pick one of mine,” he said.
“The box of silverware,” Mr. Ranford said.
He carried the figurine over, handed it to Matt, and took the silverware.
Matt smiled. “I was worried you would choose the sea lion. I really like the sea lion.”
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Photo: 10_sea_lion
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“Thank you,” Mr. Ranford said to the three, and they told him he was welcome.
Mr. Taylor said, “Now, if the four of you would move your chairs back a bit, and Matthew, if you would assist me.”
Chapter Four: The Vote
Matt helped fetch three chairs and set them so that they faced the group. He and Mr. Taylor put a narrow table in front of them. Matt then returned to his seat.
Mr. Taylor and his wife sat down in two of the chairs. He withdrew a document from an envelope and read, “And thus ends our family reunion. A committee of at least three impartial adults will now cast votes of either yes or no.”
Mr. Taylor produced three pencils and three pieces of paper. His wife took one of the pencils and pieces of paper, wrote something, then placed the paper face down on the table. Mr. Taylor, too, wrote on a piece of paper and set it face down.
“What are you voting on?” Matt asked, but got no reply. He looked at Maisie and Trudy, who both shrugged.
After the question had hung in the air for several long moments, Mr. Taylor looked at his wife, who said, “We are voting on whether or not we believe the four of you are good-hearted people.
“Your grandmother asked us to decide before continuing with her will.”
Trudy gave a small raise of a hand. “You said three people have to vote. Who is the third person?”
Neither Mr. Taylor nor his wife answered. After a long couple of moments, Mr. Ranford stood up, walked around the table, and sat in the third seat.
In response to confused looks, Mr. Taylor smiled and said, “I apologize for the deception. Mr. Ranford is not a relative of yours, he is a relative of ours. His name is not Ranford, it’s Taylor. He is our son.”
Mr. Taylor looked at his wife, who smiled and said, “He doesn’t live in Chicago, he lives in Livermore Falls, about five miles from here on the other side of the Androscoggin River.”
The newly seated voting member picked up a pencil, wrote something on the third piece of paper, and placed it face down on the table.
Mrs. Taylor turned her paper over. It said yes.
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Photo: 11_yes
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Her husband turned his over. It, too, said yes.
All eyes fastened on the younger Mr. Taylor.
He turned his paper over to reveal the third yes.
“Oh, and by the way,” he said holding up his left hand. He made a show of removing the gold wedding ring, which he handed to his father. The elder Mr. Taylor put the ring on his own finger.
The younger Mr. Taylor held his hand up, turned it backwards and then forwards, showing the absence of a ring. As he did this, his gaze was on Trudy, who blushed.
“Also,” he added, “I prefer to be called Daniel.”
He looked at his father, who said, “The three gifts that Daniel ended up with don’t belong to him, but to the three of you. Divide them as you see fit.
“Had there been a no vote from any of the three of us, that would have concluded your grandmother’s wishes. However, with three yes votes, I must continue.”
He turned the document to the second page and read, “To my granddaughter, Teresa Maria Napolini, I leave my apple orchard. It will provide you with a good yearly income. Or, if you wish, you may sell the orchard and use the money as you see fit.”
Mr. Taylor paused and said to Trudy, “Later today, we will take you to see the orchard. The snow is too deep for you to walk about in it, but you will be able to tell that it is a large orchard. And with it there are several hives of bees that help pollinate it.”
He continued with the will. “To my grandson, Matthew Joseph Napolini, I leave my coin collection. And a trust fund sufficient to pay your college tuition when the time comes. You may keep the coin collection or sell it as you see fit.”
Mr. Taylor said to Matt, “It is an impressive collection, which will grow in value as the years go by. I advise you to keep it. But should you wish to sell it, I will assist so that you get fair value.”
He looked down at the will and continued.
“To my granddaughter Maisie Louise Levingston, I leave this house and the fourteen acres it sits on. You are welcome to retain it and bring your family here to live, or to sell it, as you see fit.”
Mr. Taylor added, “There are also her many chickens. They won’t make you rich, but they will provide a steady income that will pay for household expenses.”
He returned to the will.
“I am most sorry not to be with you all on this festive occasion, but I wish each of you not just a Merry Christmas, but happy and prosperous lives.
“Your loving Grandmother, Maisie Hawkins Morse.”
Mr. and Mrs. Taylor stood, as did their son, Daniel, and congratulated each of the three, starting with Trudy. Mrs. Taylor gave each one a hug and a kiss on the cheek. The two men shook their hands.
Daniel took an extra moment to speak to Trudy.
“I apologize for being rude. I’m really not like that. Thank you for being kind despite my pretended rudeness.”
She smiled. “If I had not been kind, would you have voted no?”
He smiled back, but left her question unanswered.
“You set an example of kindness for the others,” he said. “and they followed your example. I admire that very much.”
As he moved on to shake hands with Maisie and Matt, Trudy followed him with her eyes.
“How about,” Mrs. Taylor said, “we tour the house, which now belongs to Maisie. Then, if you are up to it, we can take a drive to see Trudy’s apple orchard, Brettun Pond, and some other sites in the area.”
“Can we see chickens?” Matt asked. “I’ve seen a cow, but I’ve never seen chickens.”
He was told that they could definitely see chickens.
Maisie had a question, as well. “Is it possible for me to call my mother from here?”
“Not from here,” Daniel said, “But you can from my law office in Livermore Falls. We’ll stop there while we are out.”
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Photo: 12_phone
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Chapter Five: Maisie’s Laugh
Being Christmas day, it took a little while for the call to be connected. Eventually though, Maisie’s mother came on the line.
“Maisie! You made it. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, mother! Are you okay? Did cousin Elizabeth come?”
“Yes. She’s here. Are you having a good time? Are your New York cousins nice?”
“They’re wonderful. But Mother . . . I want to talk to you about the house.”
“Don’t worry about the house, sweetheart. Elizabeth says if the bank takes the house, we can live with her for awhile.”
“Mother, that’s why I’m calling. In her will, my grandmother left me a big farmhouse, some land, and a chicken business.”
“A chicken business?”
“Yes. Someone else runs it, but it is mine and I’ll make money from it. But did you hear what I said about the house? I own a house. Maine is very beautiful. We can either move up here and live in this wonderful house, or I can sell it and pay off our house in Baltimore!”
The line was silent and Maisie thought the call had been disconnected.
“Hello?” she said. “Mother, are you there?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m here. I’m sure you don’t want to sell your grandmother’s house, but I’m not sure I want to move up to Maine, either.”
“Don’t worry, Mother. We’ll figure it out. Mr. Taylor is an excellent lawyer, and I’m sure he will help us deal with the bank so we don’t lose our house. And maybe I won’t have to sell my grandmother’s house. But if I have to, I will. Isn’t this wonderful?”
Maisie could hear an odd sound and realized her mother was blowing her nose. There was a moment of silence before her mother spoke.
“Yes, dear. It’s wonderful. Wonderful.”
“Is it okay if I change my plans and instead of coming back on Thursday, come home next week after the New Year?”
Her mother said it was fine. They chatted for awhile longer, then said their goodbyes.
Trudy, who was standing nearby, handed Maisie a handkerchief so she could wipe her eyes.
Part of the reason for the extra days in Maine was that papers needed to be signed. Or so Daniel Taylor said. Maisie, even in her youth and inexperience, could see the spark between her cousin and the younger Mr. Taylor and it made her smile.
Mrs. Taylor said, “I’m good friends with a family named Washburn. They have the most beautiful piece of property you’ve ever seen. We are invited there this evening for supper and for Christmas caroling. Has it been too exhausting of a day, or would you all like to go?”
“I’m not much of a singer,” Matt said, “but I like food.” This made everyone laugh.
The Washburn property, which was called Norlands, turned out to be even more beautiful than the three visitors had imagined. And for years afterward, long after Trudy and Daniel were married, long after Matt graduated from Livermore Falls High School and went to Colby College, and long after Maisie and her mother moved to Maine to raise chickens, they still talked about that first family reunion and about supper and caroling at Norlands.
And there came a day when Maisie fell in love. He was a sturdy Maine fellow whose family owned a store in Livermore Falls.
When he asked her to marry him, she said, “Only if, should we have a daughter and name her Maisie and she decides when she is 16 to leave Maine and move some place like Baltimore, we will not make her feel like she needs to run off, but will let her go with our blessing.”
The young man, down on one knee and offering Maisie an engagement ring, wobbled a bit as he tried to keep his balance.
“Does that mean you are saying yes? Yes, you will marry me?”
Maisie laughed and held his arm to steady him.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m saying yes.”
THE END
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