Read The Treasure of Christmas for Free Online Page B

where he was intently writing. “Yes?”
    “Uh, did you happen to see an old woman anywhere about – ”
    He adjusted his glasses and peered at her. “You mean Myrtle ?”
    “Well, I’m not totally sure.” Edith held out her hand to about four and a half feet high. “She was about this tall” – now she spread her arms – “and about this wide.”
    He kind of smiled. “I think you must mean our guest. Myrtle Pinkerton.”
    She nodded. “Our guest?”
    “She filled out her paperwork and paid for two full weeks in advance – with cash, by the way; I put it in your little zipper bag – so I could see no reason not to take her to a room. I gave her the Green Meadow Room. Is that okay?” All the guest rooms had names related to shepherds, all taken from the twenty-third psalm. There was, of course, the Good Shepherd Room, the Lamb Room, the Staff and Rod Room (which usually had to be explained), the Cool Water Room, and the Green Meadow Room.
    Edith smiled. “That’s fine, dear. And thank you for helping out when I know you’re busy.”
    “And is everyone okay over at the church?”
    “Yes.” She wanted to let him get back to his work now. “Everyone’s just fine.”
    “Myrtle mentioned that someone had fallen down and couldn’t get up.” His eyes twinkled with curiosity. “But she didn’t seem to think it was an actual emergency.”
    “Yes, that was Helen.” Edith decided to give him the sweet, condensed version for the time being. “She slipped, but she’s okay. Olive and I got her up and into her car. Don’t worry about it. I’ll try not to disturb you again.”
    He smiled. “I can hardly blame you for Helen’s fall, dear.”
    She nodded and quietly pulled the door closed.
    Goodness, how did this day get so busy?

5
    “I thought this was a bed and breakfast .”
    Edith looked up from where she was sitting at the kitchen table. Her normal routine was to get up early enough to read from her morning devotional book and enjoy a quiet cup of peppermint tea. Her private time. But Myrtle Pinkerton, ignoring the sign above the door, had just stepped over an invisible line and was now standing with a bulldoggish expression as she surveyed Edith’s kitchen.
    Edith slowly closed her book, glanced at the apple-shaped clock above the stove to see that it wasn’t yet 6:00 a.m., then cleared her throat and stood.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Pinkerton,” she said in a formal voice. “Perhaps my husband didn’t give you our brochure yesterday, but breakfast isn’t served until seven. I’m sorry for any inconvenience.”
    “Hmmph. Inconvenience is right. I’m an old woman. I didn’t have any dinner last night, and I am starving .”
    Despite her resolve to maintain her normal professional and cool facade right now (her means for dealing with the occasional cantankerous guest), Edith did feel her sympathetic side taking over once again. Edith’s family and friends had often warned her that she was a softie and that if she wasn’t careful, everyone would walk all over her. But, for goodness’ sake, this poor old woman was virtually stranded at the inn, and although there were a couple of eating establishments in town, they were also several blocks away, and who knew what kind of walking shape Myrtle Pinkerton was in.
    “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the dining room,” suggested Edith in a kind voice. “And I’ll bring you something out. Do you like tea, Mrs. Pinkerton?”
    “No. I only drink coffee. Cream and sugar. And call me Myrtle. I don’t go in for formalities.” She turned around, made a harrumph sound as if she were reluctant to leave, then returned to the dining room.
    Edith suppressed feelings of guilt now. Was she being too rigid with this guest? Really, what harm would come from inviting Myrtle to join her in the kitchen just this once? “Don’t compromise yourself,” she could just hear her children warning her. Or even Polly. “Don’t give in, Edith. Stay firm