![]() ![]() ![]() Davina, that tree is simply magnificent! You’ve outdone yourself this year, darling! It was true, she thought dreamily, gazing up at the coniferous wonder. ![]() Eighteen glorious feet of Fraser fir, trucked in from some far-off farm on the opposite end of the state and stood upright at the base of the wide, curving staircase, giving guests who wandered up to the second floor a view of the upper branches. The tree was strung with garland and twinkling lights that reflected on hundreds of glass and crystal ornaments, the crowning star unfurling ribbons of red velvet that cascaded down the branches like a rich waterfall of blood, slashing through the blue-green needle-tipped boughs. It was a stunning display, and she had outdone herself that year. Waistcoated servers had kept the table of hot hors d\’oeuvres replenished in a never-ending procession of lobster rolls and prime rib pasties and savory vegetable tarts the champagne flutes topped with the bubbliest vintage, no guest needing to worry about an empty glass at any point during the night. All evening, the bite of cold from outside sliced through the foyer as friends and neighbors and assorted other merrymakers dropped into the Devlin’s annual Christmas open house, the fête of the season, a non-stop flow of cheeks to kiss and arms to embrace. The guests were resplendent in their holiday finery, sipping champagne and gliding around the dance floor graceful waltzes followed by upbeat foxtrots, the tuxedoed quartet she’d hired for the evening playing without rest for hours. Yes, the fête of the season which the whole community looked forward to, and Davina Devlin did not disappoint. The house was quiet now, the strains of the quartet long ago faded to echoes in the rafters. The holiday merrymakers had moved on to other celebrations, to their own homes to tuck expectant children into their beds and indulge in a final eggnog before retiring themselves, in anticipation of a visit from old Saint Nick. ![]()
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