Chapter 22: Tennyson's Gift

Two days before the giant Radio City wreath was due in New York, the newest member of the Holly Wreath Cooperative vanished. "Pop, have you seen Turner?" Allie Henderson asked.

"Haven't laid eyes on him," Pop said. He lifted the office phone off the hook and shut the receiver in his desk drawer. "Only way I can get any peace," he said.

Ever since the Chronicle story went national, the phone hadn't stopped ringing. Pop's wreath-makers struggled to keep up as out-of-towners descended on Tennyson to buy wreaths for their homes, and stores called in rush orders. Jeff and Turner emptied the storeroom of Pop's dying discards and restocked it with fresh ones.

Olivia Coffin, Pop's oldest supplier, took over as cashier, finishing wreaths in between sales. Pop hummed Christmas carols and chewed antacid, never busier, or happier.

"Weren't the two of you here late last night?"

Allie blushed. "Pop, we were making wreaths."

"Of course you were," Pop said, straight-faced. "Turner's probably getting some shut-eye. You could use some, too."

"Look who's talking. Pop, when's the last time you got some rest?"

"No time. I don't see how we're going to make it," he fretted. "All these orders keep pouring in, and the Radio City wreath is still not done. Where's Jeff?"

"Here, Pop," Jeff said, walking in the door, laden with wreaths.

"Come on. We've got some business to take care of." Pop opened the desk drawer and handed Allie the phone. "It's all yours."

"Jeff," Allie said, "have you seen Turner?"

"No, Mom. His car's not here."

POP TURNED off Route 9 onto a dirt road — the family's shortcut to their holly woods. A new sign greeted them: "Holly Estates, Phase Two."

"Pop," Jeff said, "where are we going?"

"To cut holly for the Radio City wreath. There's nowhere near enough back in the storeroom."

"But Pop, wouldn't that be stealing from Mr. Pritchard?"

"Yes, it would be," he said, ruefully, stopping the truck. "If we didn't own the land."

"But I thought ... "

"You were right, Jeff. Your dad wouldn't sell because he'd want you to have this," Pop said. "And you're going to want your kids to have it, too. I told Pritchard the deal was off. So hop out and pull up that sign."

BY NOON, Allie had given up on Turner. She passed Olivia a red bow.

"Maybe the country's boring for a man who's spent his life in the city," she said.

"Don't give up on him yet," Olivia said, patting Allie's hand.

The office door banged open. "Mom, Turner's back. You've gotta see this!"

"Told you," Olivia said.

Allie hurried out to the platform. John Turner stood by the Tennyson school bus, helping a line of chattering dark-haired women down the steps.

"Danny Horton's seamstresses needed work," he said. "Think you can teach them how to make a wreath, Allie?"

For the first time that day, Allie smiled. "If I can teach you, Turner, I can teach anyone," she said. "Come on in, ladies. We've got plenty to do."

THEY WORKED nonstop for hours. The seamstresses took quickly to wreath making. Outside on the platform, under Pop's watchful eye, Jeff and Turner hammered an oversized frame for the Radio City wreath.

Night fell, casting the platform in shadow. "We're not going to make it," Pop worried. "We need to leave for New York, but I can't see a thing out here."

"Can't quit now, Pop. You're putting Tennyson on the map," Fred Swiggett called, climbing the platform steps, carrying a cardboard box. Mabel, lugging two thermoses, followed. "We've got coffee, sandwiches and donuts."

"Day-old," Mabel whispered to Jeff.

"I brought reinforcements, too," Fred said. Three trucks pulled up, their lights illuminating the platform. "The boys at the store heard you needed help. They've rounded up all the old-timers." More cars and pickups converged, bathing the scene in bright light.

"There you go, Pop," Turner said, "all the light you need."

Their headlights turned night into day. Country folk and city seamstresses worked side by side in the cold, warmed by hot coffee and laughter. The Radio City wreath slowly took shape as they wrapped the frame with thick boughs of prickly emerald leaves and bright clusters of red berries. Olivia and Allie guided the seamstresses as they sewed ornaments — silver bells, gold balls and glittery pinecones. As dawn broke, they attached the crowning jewel: an immense red velvet ribbon.

"It's a beauty, Pop," Jeff said.

Pop opened his mouth. No words came out.

"Pop!" Allie cried.

Turner caught Pop just as his legs buckled.

Next chapter: Allie's Choice