(12/20) No Holly for Miss Quinn Read Online Free PDF Page B

realize that she could not opt out of Christmas activities completely. Nor did she wish to. She willingly provided boxes of chocolates for raffle prizes at various Fairacre functions, accompanied Joan to a carol service at St. Patrick's, and drank a glass of punch at the vicarage Open Day.
    There was no doubt about it, this new venture was extremely popular with Fairacre folk. Mrs. Partridge and her helpers had decked the downstairs rooms with scarlet and silver ribbons, and all the traditional trappings of Christmas. Holly and ivy, mistletoe and glittering baubles added their beauty, and an enormous Christmas tree dominated the entrance hall.
    In each room was a table bearing goods suitable for Christmas presents, and a brisk trade ensured that the Church Fabric Fund and Mr. Partridge's pet mission would profit. Miriam recognized the planning which must have gone into this enterprise, and admired the efficiency with which it was run. It was an idea she intended to pass on to Lovell, when she saw him, for future use in his own parish.
    These little jaunts she thoroughly enjoyed, and she was grateful for the genuine welcome she was given by her village neighbors. Joan's growing excitement, as the festival approached, was a source of mingled pleasure and apprehension, however.
    "Isn't it wonderful?" Joan had said, on the morning of the Open Day. "Roger is coming for Christmas, after all, and then going with a party of other young people to Switzerland for the winter sports."
    "Marvelous," agreed Miriam. Barbara, the daughter, her husband, and the three children had already accepted Joan's invitation and would be in the house for a week. Miriam had listened patiently to Joan's ecstatic arrangements for sleeping, feeding, and entertaining the family party for the last week or two. The plans were remarkably fluid, and Miriam had long since given up trying to keep track of who slept where, or when would be best to eat the turkey.
    It was quite apparent that she must meet Joan's family at some time, and she had accepted an invitation to have a drink on Christmas Eve. So far, she had managed to evade the pressing invitations to every meal which her kindhearted landlady issued daily. That sitting room would be painted, come hail or high water, she told herself grimly.
    She had arranged with Barney to take some time off during his absence in America. This would give her a few days before Christmas to get on with her decorating, having left the office in apple-pie order after his departure. Tins of paint and three new brushes waited on the top shelf in the kitchen, and she felt a little surge of happiness every time she saw them. She could see the sitting room in her mind's eye, a bower of green and white all ready for the New Year, and the new curtains and cushions she had promised herself.
    Almost all her Christmas presents were wrapped and ready to post. Christmas cards began to arrive thick and fast. Usually, she had some plan of display—a whitewashed branch to hold them, or scarlet ribbons placed across the walls. But this year she read each with interest and then slipped it into a folder brought from the office, so that all were stacked away, leaving the sitting room ready for her ministrations.
    She was glad when the time came to leave the office for her extended Christmas break. Four days after Barney's departure, with everything left tidy, she distributed her presents to the office staff, and thankfully set off for Fairacre and the decorating.
    Lights were strung across the streets of Caxley, and entwined the lamp standards. Christmas trees jostled pyramids of oranges in the greengrocers' shops. Turkeys hung in rows in the butchers', presenting their pink plump breasts for inspection. Children flattened their noses against the windows of the toy shops, while exhausted mothers struggled with laden shopping baskets and wondered what they had forgotten.
    Queues formed at the Post Office: people buying stamps for stacks of