Home In Time For Christmas

Melody stood. Jake jumped to his feet. “Please, Jake, sit, you’re a guest. I’m just clearing the table so we can bring out the dessert,” Melody said.

Keith stood, too. “Mom, Melody and I will handle this. You sit for a change.”

“All right, thank you,” Mona agreed.

Melody glared at Keith. He frowned, cocking his head. She hurried to the kitchen, carrying the used plates. When he had entered behind her and the connecting door had swung shut, she turned on him. “What’s the matter with you? You just left Jake in there alone with Mom and Dad!”

“Jake’s doing just fine. Hey, he’s a cool crazy, Mel. I like him,” Keith said.

“Get back out there, Keith!” Melody said, piling the plates in the sink to rinse for the dishwasher. “Please, come on, please? Hey, I’m the one who fought for you to keep Cleo, remember?”

“He’s not a cat, Mel,” Keith said.

“Get out there!”

“Going, going—I’ll grab the pie and plates. You bring the coffee.”

“All right, go. Oh, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

He grinned. Her brother left with the fresh-baked blueberry pie Mona had made for dessert and a stack of plates. She quickly rinsed the dinner plates and put them in the dishwasher, then unplugged the coffeepot and headed into the dining room.

To her dismay, her brother was having some kind of exchange with her father; Jake’s head was lowered and he was listening, fascinated, to her mother.

They all looked up when she arrived.

“The cups are in the cabinet, dear. Do you want your old Disney mug? Forgive us, Mr. Mallory,” Mona said. “We all have our favorite cup. What would you like? Traditional, a mug—or a Princess cup?”

“Any cup will do, thank you,” Jake said.

Mona passed out mugs and poured the coffee while Melody served the pie.

“Seen any good movies lately?” George asked.

A piece of pie nearly slipped onto the table. Melody’s gaze flew to Jake.

“I’m afraid I’ve not seen anything I could recommend, sir,” he said.

“I’ve got some DVDs up in my room I’m going to show him,” Keith said. “Hey, I brought a documentary for you, too, Dad. It’s on radio frequencies. You’re going to love it.”

“Wonderful,” George told him.

Mona rose. Jake rose. She hesitated, and smiled. “It’s really all right, Jake. Please, I’m just going to go get that diary that I found in the attic. I swear that that author’s last name was Mallory—and that her brother’s first name was Jake. What a coincidence that would be if you were related! Of course, to be honest, throughout the centuries, who knows who is really related to whom? You know, people didn’t always steer the course of the higher road.”

“What?” Keith asked.

“She means that women fooled around, so your father may not have been your father,” Melody said.

“Oh, dear, that’s putting it so crassly,” Mona protested, waving a hand in the air as she went to one of the bookcases.

“This diary is amazing. I probably could sell it for a mint on eBay. It’s authentic. And sad, really—it doesn’t have an ending. I’ve been meaning to go to the hall of records, though, I believe, a lot was probably lost during the Revolution. And young men died in different places, so…”

Melody sank into her chair. Mona produced an old leather-bound book from a bookshelf.

Melody started to reach for it. Mona held back. “It’s extremely delicate,” she said.

“I’d be honored to handle it quite gently,” Jake said.

Mona opened the book. “Serena Mallory wrote most of the diary here, in Gloucester. And it ends with her heading to New York City, aware that her brother had been captured and was about to be executed. The diary is absolutely charming. There’s so much of the day-today in it—and so much about the feelings of the general public during the Stamp Act, and then the Boston Tea Party. She has all kinds of wonderful herbal recipes in there—and reference to the fact that she intends to use all her powers to save her brother’s life.” She paused, glancing up from the pages. “Oh look, I remembered correctly. Serena’s brother’s name is Jake, too. Jake Mallory. What a pity there isn’t an ending to the story!”