Curious locals gathered at the window of the local coffee house. They sipped coffee in the cold and watched Neve work. Some pointed, some took photos, some fogged the glass trying to get a closer look.
In spite of how she felt inside, Neve would take a deep breath, turn, pose and smile when someone would tap on the window and hold up their camera.
Play the game, Neve thought. Be social. You know how resort towns can be. You grew up in one.
Resort towns in Michigan were very territorial; everybody who lived in one knew who was a local, who was a weekend resorter and who was an outsider.
Though cold, it was a bright, sunny day, and through the window Neve could see the channel that paralleled town and flowed into Lake Michigan. Everything looked as if it had been dipped in ice, like it was a town frozen in time.
I understand exactly, Neve thought.
Neve shook her head and surveyed her very rough sketches. She turned from the onlookers and let a small smile come over her face.
Her vision for the windows of Saugatuck was different from what Trent had wanted. They weren’t really a celebration of Michigan winter, but more a window into Neve’s past.
My own holiday history, she thought.
The window for the coffee house was a peek into her childhood. Nine vintage coffee cups holding glittery trees—the lead “reindeer” featuring a red nose, quite literally, on the mug—were pulling Santa in his sleigh. His sacks of gifts were made from the shop’s own coffee bags, and the sleigh was flying over a little house in the woods. Beyond the house sat a forest of shimmering green trees. A little girl walked with her parents, following a path of coffee beans leading to the forest. Finding the Perfect Tree was to be written in the snow. The pine branches, holly, and red and yellow twigs from the dogwood she had plucked on her drive up would frame the entire window.
Neve flipped the pages of her sketchbook.
The spice shop’s window would showcase a winter wonderland of nostalgia, featuring vintage white glass spice jars filled with white trees Neve created by soaking some discolored bottlebrush trees in bleach and hot water. Her family’s recipe cards—tied to each baking spice—would float in the window.
The window of the local hardware store would be filled with miniature vintage Hot Wheels—including ones that looked exactly like Jackson’s old truck and Madge’s woody—with trees on top of them.
Other storefront windows were going to be filled with Lincoln Log cabins in the woods, just like she and Jackson shared, as well as an entire Christmas-tree farm in the midst of its hustling and bustling winter-fest.
It was pure Michigan, Neve thought, but it was also purely personal.
Neve’s heart leaped into her throat, but she blamed the overload of caffeine from the barista who refused to let her cup go empty.
Neve returned to work, getting lost in her creation, and a few hours had passed before she realized an even bigger crowd had gathered to watch her work.
There’s just something magical about store windows, Neve thought. Especially after all this nation has gone through, and how many empty chairs would be at holiday tables. At least these provided a little bit of hope, a little bit of light at the end of a very long tunnel.
When Neve had begun to design her signature windows with bottlebrush trees, she read and researched as much as possible about the history of window design. Store windows became popular at the end of the eighteenth century, when glass manufacturers began to make large, single panes that could provide a glimpse into a shop. Mannequins began to populate those windows. But the art of window design was immortalized in two books—Émile Zola’s The Ladies’ Paradise and a book by Wizard of Oz writer L. Frank Baum, a former window dresser, who wrote The Art of Decorating Dry Goods, Windows and Interiors.
And, of course, the movie Miracle on 34th Street didn’t hurt the profession, either, Neve thought.
Neve remembered traveling to Detroit as a child with her parents and pressing her cold nose against the chilly glass, just as people were doing now, to watch toy trains chug and elves hammer toys.
A fantasy world in tinsel.
A little girl in a puffy coat and a pink stocking cap pressed a mitten to the window. As if pulled by magnetic force, Neve reached out her hand and placed it in the exact spot as the little girl’s.
The girl giggled.
Believe while you still can, little one, Neve thought, before it’s all too late.
Neve put the finishing touches on the hardware-store window, held her breath and plugged in the cord.
“Here goes nothing,” Neve whispered to herself. “The moment of truth.”
Finally, she heard a click and then a clack, and the Hot Wheels cars began to move along a hidden track in the faux snow. Neve applauded and then rushed outside to survey her handiwork.
“You managed to exceed my expectations.”
Neve stopped cold. Trent was standing before her.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sort of underwriting this whole thing,” he said.
Neve laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m like a broken record. I told you to get out of your own office and now this. I’m sorry—I’ve been so lost in my work. This week has flown by. You just caught me by surprise.”
“Back atcha,” Trent said. “This isn’t what we discussed, by the way.”
Neve’s eyes grew wide. “I—I—”
“I love it,” Trent said, turning back toward the window. “This is stunning. Beyond what I envisioned or anticipated. You followed your heart and listened to your own voice, and that always leads to wonderful things.” He looked at her and extended his hand. “Congratulations.”
Neve watched the little cars carrying the tiny trees circle in a make-believe snowstorm. In the truck, the driver’s window was rolled down, and a little arm was sticking out the side, waving. Lights twinkled as “O Christmas Tree” played.
Neve felt the world spin.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to cover, but Trent noticed.
“I think you need some sustenance,” he said. “How about Phil’s? It’s one of my favorites.”
Neve checked her cell. “It’s time for dinner already? I hardly noticed. Let me gather my things.”
The two strolled down Butler Street, and red-cheeked holiday shoppers gave them happy hellos as they passed. When they approached Phil’s, Neve stopped in front and looked up. A giant marquee—vintage, like one you might find on a 1950s theater—was ablaze with big bulbs.
“This is a restaurant?” she asked.
“Former movie theater turned restaurant,” Trent said. “Best bar food and drinks around. And I think you need both.”
Neve laughed.
“You didn’t even read the marquee,” Trent said.
Neve took a few steps back, until she had edged into the street. Written in big black letters against the white background was:
Welcome to Saugatuck, Neve Ford!
We Love Your Big Heart & Tiny Designs!
You are Home for the Holidays!
The message hit Neve harder than a snowball. She could feel her heart rise into her throat and held her tears at bay.
“That’s quite a welcome,” Neve said. “When did they do this?” She looked at Trent. “I mean, when did you do this?”
“A few days ago,” he said. “You have been lost in your work. A marquee with your name on it, and you didn’t even notice. How many times did you walk past this spot?”
Neve shrugged.
“We all need to look up every now and then,” Trent continued. “Gives us a new perspective. And, you deserve every accolade. Now, let’s go eat.”
“You’re back!” a waitress yelled as Trent entered the restaurant. “For the holidays?”
“Hi, Beth! Just for a day or so. Had to check in on this little elf,” Trent said, gesturing to Neve. “This is Neve Ford, the star of your marquee. The one who’s decorating all the town’s windows for the holidays.”
“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” Beth said. “I just saw what you did to the window of the coffee house. It’s just magical. And so personal.”
“Thank you,” Neve said.
“This way.”
Beth led them to their table, and Trent ordered two glasses of wine.
“Is everybody here this friendly?” Neve asked when they were alone.
“It’s like Mayberry,” Trent said. “The way small-town life should be.”
Neve thought of Frankenmuth, and how it was the same way, too. It would be bustling this time of year. People would just stop and hug you, or bring you a pie or a casserole out of the blue just to be nice, to make the holidays even cheerier.
Good people, Neve thought. A disappearing breed.
“Do you like it here?” Trent asked as the wine arrived.
“Cheers!” Neve said.
The two clinked glasses and sipped their wine.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Neve took another sip and stared at Trent in the dim lighting of the restaurant. She looked away and then again at Trent.
He looks so much like Jackson, she thought. Even his spirit feels like Jackson’s.
“I do,” she said.
“I thought so,” Trent said. “And I’m glad. I do have some good news to share. A number of national and local morning shows will be here in a few days to cover your windows and what the town is doing to recover economically for the holidays. I called in a lot of favors.”
“I told you I didn’t want any press.”
“I know,” he said, “but, ultimately, that’s not your decision.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’re happy,” Trent said. “Say, ‘Wow! Thank you! This sure is great for my brand and my business, as well as Saugatuck.’ This is a feel-good story for the holidays, Neve. It’s a win-win.”
Neve took a big drink of her wine to calm the panic and suppress the memories.
“Look, I know how hard this is for you,” Trent said, putting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “Losing your husband. Leaving your hometown. Trying to start over.”
Neve’s eyes widened.
“You don’t know anything!” Neve shouted suddenly. People turned to look at her. Neve lowered her voice and looked at Trent. “Why are you doing this? Are you playing a game with me? This all just seems a bit too personal for me. You’re my boss.”
“I know loss, too, Neve!” Trent inhaled and looked away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. It’s just that… I also lost someone very special when I was young. My high-school girlfriend. I was going to ask her to marry me after college. She drowned. Riptide. Like your husband, she was in the prime of her life, and a stupid, random accident right in our own backyard took her from me.”
Trent finally looked at Neve, then continued, his voice hushed.
“So I do know something. I know that I’ve let my work consume me so I don’t have to remember the past or deal with the pain of getting close to someone again and then losing them. I know I like to get away from Chicago and come here because at least it allows me to see the world in new way—a sunset over the lake instead of a sunrise. And that gives me a sliver of hope that maybe things will be different one day. I worry all the time about getting hurt again, Neve. But as I get older, I also know that I don’t want to be alone or in pain for the rest of my life. I’d like a family. I’d like to share my life with someone. I’d like someone to know me completely.” He hesitated. “I don’t want to feel so darn scared all the time.”
Neve started to cry. “It still hurts so much,” she finally whispered. “It’s so raw, like it was yesterday. Three years I’ve run. From my past, my memories, my family, my friends, my life. I’ve lost myself in my work because it’s easier to live in a little make-believe world that I can create and control rather than be in the real one.”
“Your designs are like windows into your soul, aren’t they?”
Neve nodded. “And this—all of the windows I’m creating for you—was going to be my nod to the past and my final goodbye to Michigan,” she said. “I was going to disappear yet again.”
“But you can’t outrun the pain. You can’t hide from your memories,” Trent said. “And the holidays are always the hardest time of the year, despite all the ways so many of us try to decorate over our pain and loneliness with faux happiness.”
Trent reached out his hand. Neve hesitated, but she took it against her better judgment. Trent’s hand was warm, strong, and she felt a comfort in his touch, a familiarity in his grip.
“I know I’m overstepping all the appropriate boundaries here, but I have to say something if you’ll let me.”
Neve nodded.
“There’s something about you, Neve, that is so unique and so beautiful. You’re an old soul who gets it—gets what life is all about. And it’s not fair that God has tested us so deeply, but I believe there are signs that He gives us, and we can choose to follow them or we can choose not to heed His guidance. But those decisions will ultimately decide our fate. When I first saw your designs, I saw your soul. I saw pain transformed into beauty. I didn’t see old, tiny trees, I saw a world of wonder.”
Neve’s face flushed. “What are you saying, Trent?”
“That maybe, when the holidays are all said and done, neither of us run for once. We just…well, follow the signs. Whatever they may be and wherever they may lead us.”
“Ready to order?”
Beth’s appearance caused Neve to drop Trent’s hand.
“Yes, I need to eat,” she said. “I’m feeling dizzy.”
“What’ll it be then?”
Neve studied the menu but then looked up at Trent. She didn’t know this man at all, but for some reason she trusted him. Her head told her to run away, despite everything he had just shared.
Run right now, as fast and far as you can, Neve.
She looked outside. A gentle snow was falling in Saugatuck. It reminded her of their first meeting in his office.
Signs.
Neve started to stand and leave, but her body was paralyzed, as if she was being held down by someone or something, and an invisible voice whispered to her, Just be as still and quiet as the winter weather for once, Neve.
“Ma’am?” Beth asked. “Are you ready to order?”
Beth nodded and then looked at Trent.
“What do you recommend?” she asked. “I think I’ll follow your lead.”
People applauded as the final window was unveiled, and then shoppers scooted inside to buy Christmas gifts and sip hot cider. Neve sighed.
My holiday work has finally come to an end, Neve thought.
She watched Trent glad-hand local business owners and then turn to do a TV interview. For such a powerful man, he was humble and acted no differently than anyone else. As if Trent knew Neve was looking, he turned while still on camera, and winked at her.
“Hi, Neve.”
Neve froze. She knew the voice before she even saw the woman attached to it.
“Madge?”
“You’re a tough elf to find.”
Neve turned but was too stunned to speak. Madge still looked the same, but her face seemed more shadowed, more lined. She was dressed, as always, in what she liked to call her “Sunday best,” and her hair was curled. She wore gloves and carried an old-fashioned clutch. Shimmering on her coat was a pretty holiday pin.
A bright green tree, of course, Neve thought. Like she always wore.
“How did you find me?” Neve finally asked.
“Thank goodness for TV and social media,” Madge said. “And Michigan, of course. I knew you’d come back home eventually. Just didn’t know when. You’ve certainly made Saugatuck even more beautiful than ever. I just had to come see for myself.” Madge looked at Neve. “I just had to come see you.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Neve’s lip began to quiver, and her cheeks trembled.
“Oh, my dear, sweet child.”
Madge opened her arms and pulled Neve into them. Neve sobbed on her shoulder.
“Jackson was the love of my life, too. And I miss him every day.” Madge held Neve and rocked her ever so slightly and sweetly. “But he would not want you to live like this: Running, alone, wrapped in grief. I didn’t come here to hurt you, or make you feel any worse, but do you know how hard your leaving has been on me? On all of us?”
Madge looked Neve in the eyes and continued, “We’re your family. We’ll always be your family. It was nearly impossible to recover from my grandson’s death, and when you left you made us mourn the loss of two people. Wouldn’t your parents have wanted Jackson in their lives if something had happened to you? You know the only thing the Ford family ever wanted was for you to be happy again. You deserve to be happy again. You’ve had too much loss at too early an age, but you have a long, wonderful life ahead of you. You need to relish that, not waste it.”
“I don’t know how to go on any other way,” Neve said. “When I see you, I see him. When I’m in Michigan, I see him. At Christmas, I see him.”
“That’s hard, I know, but it’s also a wonderful thing, my dear. That means you loved, deeply, and were truly loved. Do you know how I go on? One day at a time, sweetheart. One little step at a time.” Madge stopped and gestured to Neve’s window design. “That step is sometimes as tiny as those little trees I gave you, but at least it’s a step in the right direction. Toward healing. Toward light. Toward new memories. And that’s all we can do. That’s all any of us can do. The old adage is wrong. Time doesn’t heal all wounds—some remain forever. But that pain just means your life has been filled with wonderful, memorable people.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Trent said, approaching. “Is everything okay?”
Neve nodded. “This is—” she hesitated “—my grandma.”
“Well, it’s great to meet you, ma’am. Want to come in for some cider?” Trent gestured to the coffee shop behind them.
“It’s nice to meet you, young man,” Madge said.
“Young is a generous adjective,” Trent said with a laugh.
“When you’re my age, everyone is young,” Madge said. “We’ll join you in a minute.”
Trent began to walk inside but stopped to turn back. Neve nodded at him to go ahead.
“And you should love again,” Madge said to Neve. “You know, there are different kinds of love, all unique, all beautiful. It may never be the same, but it can be just as sweet.”
Madge grabbed Neve’s hands as they stood in front of the window.
“Don’t live your whole life behind glass,” she said. “Don’t make your heart as small as your imaginary worlds. You are a bright soul, Neve, just like your name. When you diminish that light, the world grows darker as well.”
Madge hugged Neve and kissed her on the head.
“Diatribe over. I’m glad I found you. And we’d love to see you in Frankenmuth sometime, if and when you’re ever ready. Our home is yours. I love you, my sweet angel.”
Madge began to walk away.
“Grandma Madge?”
She turned.
“Please stay for some cider.”
Madge smiled.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Neve cried.
The two stood in the snow.
“You know, Jackson once had a terrier that loved the snow. Blond and cute as a button.”
Neve shook her head and laughed. “Are you saying I look like a dog?”
“No, not at all.”
“I’m just teasing,” Neve said. “The Fords have always had a way with words.”