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  She took a piece of paper out of her pocket and read, “In honor of all the effort put in by the Senior Citizens, a prizewinning architectural firm has donated its services to supervise the building of an additional wing.”

  Before anyone could react, Gus turned to his father and said, “Please, Dad, can we turn off your Victrola?”

  “I can do better than that.” Within minutes, Sam had the old contraption and the scratchy records in his hands. With a wild flourish, he dumped the machine and the records in the trash. “As a very wise person said to me just recently, it’s time to move on. I could use a little Bing Crosby or Nat King Cole. Now, let’s have some lunch.”

  Gus reached up to help Amy down from the ladder.

  “Merry Christmas, Amy.”

  “Merry Christmas, Gus.”

  “Do you realize in seven days I’ll be calling you Mrs. Moss?”

  “Yep,” Amy said linking her arm with her soon-to-be-husband’s. “Until then, you won’t mind if I sleep the days away.”

  “Not as long as I’m sleeping alongside you.”

  Gus opened the door to the kitchen. Everyone shouted, “Merry Christmas!”

  “To one and all!” Amy and Gus called out in return.

  Epilogue

  Amy Baran slipped into her mother’s wedding gown, which fit her to perfection. “I didn’t know you saved your gown. You never said…”

  “I never said a lot of things, Amy. I was happy the day I wore that gown. What came after…well, it no longer matters. A wedding gown is something you save for your daughter. You look beautiful. Do you have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue?”

  “I do. The Seniors were more than helpful. Mom, I am so happy. I wish there was a way for me to thank you for asking me to come home. I did what you said, I went for the gusto. I hope Gus doesn’t think I’m pushy.”

  “He doesn’t think any such thing. He loves you. Sam told me he talks about you in his sleep. He’s a fine young man, Amy. Sam…Sam can be stubborn, but he finally came around. We’ve had such long talks. He’s become a good friend. A really good friend.”

  “Is that your way of asking me if I approve?”

  “I guess. This room we’re standing in was Sara and Sam’s room. I feel like she’s still here. Sometimes I have these…doubts. My situation was different from Sam’s. He dearly loved his wife. I’m not…”

  “Mom, Sam knows his own heart. He’s moved on. He found you. You don’t have to live here in this house if you don’t want to. You have your own house but you need to ask yourself if Sam feels the same way about our house. Dad’s room is the same. You didn’t change a thing. Sam cleared all of Sara’s things out of here. Hey, you could move down the hall to another room.”

  “I guess. It’s time to go downstairs. Where’s your veil? Amy, do you think I’ll make a good grandmother?”

  “The best. Mom, I know about Dad. I want to thank you for never telling me. I think if you had, I would have run amuck. Now, we’re never going to talk about that again.”

  Tillie nodded. “Did something happen to the veil?”

  “I’m not wearing it. I’m wearing this”—Amy said, plopping her purple hat on top of her curly head—“and this scarf,” she said twirling the purple scarf around her neck. “Whatcha think, Mom?”

  Tillie laughed so hard she cried. “I think you’re going to give those California gals a run for their money. I hear the music. Sam’s waiting outside the door to walk you down the steps and give you away to his son.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  She saw him standing next to the minister. She paused, waiting for him to see her. He turned, his eyes popping wide as both his fists shot in the air. Amy started to laugh as all the Seniors clapped their hands. She sashayed forward, twirling the end of the purple scarf this way and that. Gus howled with happiness as wedding protocol flew out the window.

  This, he decided, just like the last two months, was a memory he’d keep with him for the rest of his days.

  Ten minutes later, the minister said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  The Seniors clapped and hollered, whistled and stomped their feet.

  “I promise to love you forever,” Gus whispered in Amy’s ear.

  “And I promise to love you even more.”

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  Copyright © 2020 by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  The Christmas Stocking copyright © 2020 by Fern Michaels

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  ISBN: 978-1-4201-5290-6