“There are two of us!” they argued. “We should have twin trees!”
Noelle swung little Jayla in a circle, while her brother, Jeremiah, pulled on Noelle’s pants for a turn. “Where are you going to put two trees in your house, my sweet babies?”
Before they could answer, Miriam took each twin in one hand. “What if,” Miriam said, leading them toward the trees, “we go pick out a sapling for each of you, that can be your tree forever, as long as it’s growing?”
“I owe you!” Elijah called after her.
Noelle grinned, hoping Miriam and Elijah would become real friends.
Marisol and Collin had booths next to each other in front of the porch, between the roasted chestnuts and a caricature artist, Marisol selling brooches and trinkets and scarves—more stocking stuffers—while Collin peddled mincemeat pasties and peppermint mochas. Marisol was quite obviously flirting with Collin. His face had turned as red as his hair and he was at a complete loss for words. Noelle suspected, watching them, that by the end of this night, Marisol might “accidentally” drag Collin underneath some mistletoe and demand tradition be kept.
She found the old lady alcoholics wandering as a pack through the late afternoon light, haggling over prices, collecting trinkets, smoking like chimneys. They poked Noelle good-naturedly about Miriam.
“You did good, kid,” the ball player told her. “Don’t screw it up.”
And through it all, Kringle lurked through the snow, winding through people’s legs, begging for scraps and attention. Toddlers, unused to seeing a cat larger than themselves, chased him gleefully.
Noelle’s heart was full of how much she loved this damn place, and all these people.
As dusk fell, she climbed up onto the stage and took the microphone. Her bomber jacket ruffled in the breeze, and the puff ball on her snowflake beanie bobbed a little. The murmurs of the crowd faded.
“Friends and family, I’m so honored to welcome you to Carrigan’s Christmasland for the annual tree lighting ceremony,” she said. “As you’re all aware, this year is not like any previous one at Carrigan’s.”
There was a mournful susurration through the crowd. Noelle pushed on, trying hard not to let her voice crack. “For the first time in its sixty-year history, Cass Carrigan is not here doing emcee duty and did not decorate our tree.”
The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of distractions, and now, grief almost overwhelmed her again, the absence of Cass rolling over her in a wave that threatened to suck her under. She wanted Cass to be here, so Noelle could yell at her for not intervening in Miri’s childhood, for leaving them scrambling to stay afloat, for putting Hannah in such a terrible position. She wanted Cass here so she could show off Miriam, and to have Cass tell her that she was proud of how far Noelle had come.
She wanted Cass here, period, but if Cass were still here, Miriam wouldn’t be, and she couldn’t imagine that.
Hannah, standing on the wings of the platform, caught her eye and nodded. Noelle could hear Hannah telling her they were in this together, and besides, no one was falling into a pit of despair while there were still guests on the premises. Miriam stood next to her cousin, one arm through Hannah’s, and her face lit up from within. She smiled at Noelle encouragingly, and Noelle knew, with her girls behind her, she could do anything.
“Losing Cass has left a void in our lives and our community that we may never truly fill. However, we’re so lucky to have so many Carrigan women here to carry on the traditions. Mrs. Matthews, the glue that holds all of us together. Hannah, my amazing co-manager; Ziva, Cass’s niece; and Miriam, Cass’s great-niece. You may know Miriam better as the incredible artist Miriam Blum.” A few people in the crowd whooped.
“Miriam graciously agreed to decorate our tree for the ceremony this year. And I’m ecstatic to bring her up to announce the theme and unveil the tree.” The crowd applauded as Miriam walked up the stairs.
Noelle hugged Miriam, hard, and whispered in her ear, “I’m proud of you.”
Miriam teared up, then faced the crowd and grinned.
“Noelle mentioned four Carrigan women here tonight, but truly, we have five. None of this would have happened without Noelle.”
The audience applauded louder. Noelle dashed her own tears away. Miriam, this woman, calling her a Carrigan. It felt so right, all of them together. The future of Carrigan’s was this team. She hoped to hell the Rosensteins saw it, because her heart was going to break, again, if they had to give up this magical, perfect dream.
“I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before,” Miriam admitted, “and I’m not certain I’ve lived up to Cass’s precedent. The only theme I could possibly have used this year, the only way I could pay tribute to sixty years of Carrigan’s, was a history of the woman herself.” Miriam gave a signal, and Mr. Matthews threw a switch to turn the lights on. “Without further ado, the theme of this year’s tree is…Cass Carrigan!”
The giant screen Noelle had custom built to hide the tree was rolled away.
Miriam had promised that the tree would be the tackiest, kitschiest tree Noelle had ever seen, and she had lived up to her promise. To truly represent everything Cass had been—fake eyelashes, sequins, the whole package—Miriam had created a series of baroquely decorated boxes, each one with a scene or doll or other object inside. There were little marionette dancers in tiny glittering bras, miniature gleaming challah in perfect braids for Rosenstein’s, a 1963 Austin-Healey model that Noelle didn’t even know the story behind.
In between the boxes, she had hung shoes. Seventy years of high heels strung in pretty silver and gold ribbon dangled from pine boughs. Winding through it all in place of a garland were feather boas.
Next to her, Noelle heard Hannah gasp. She turned, and Hannah’s hands were on her cheeks, tears streaming down her face. Her own tears welled up. How had Miriam managed this, this tree that was the quintessential celebration of all of Cass’s eccentricity and verve? She could almost hear Cass, throwing confetti at people and cackling in delight at herself.
It was a triumph of Miriam’s art, and it was a gift to all of them. She’d wished for Cass to be here, and Miriam had made her wish come true.
After the unveiling, everyone in the crowd surrounded the tree, picking up the ornament boxes to look at more closely and exclaiming to their loved ones. They trickled home as slowly as they could, as if the lights of the tree had caught them in a spell, slowing down time and making everything warm and a little fuzzy around the edges.
When the final guests finally wandered back to their trucks, she went and put an arm around Miriam’s shoulders, resting her chin on the top of Miriam’s head.