MARTHA DEAN wrestled with her problem all during the confusion that was the usual family breakfast.
As she toasted and stirred and fried to please each individual taste, she was only partly conscious of the family talk that rolled on about her.
At last the minor crises had all been solved. Her husband, Jim, had found his lost letter, Jimmie was assured that he really must wear his raincoat, and a stamp was magically produced for Jill. Jimmie was the last to go, and as the door banged shut behind his hurrying feet, Martha lifted Baby Petey into his highchair and began to spoon cereal into his open mouth.
Petey looked at his mother and chuckled as though it was all very funny.
Martha smiled back at her youngest son, but worriedly. "It's really no joke, son. I don't know what to do. The problem seems to get bigger all the time. If your big brother Larry hadn't married a girl who has always had every thing, maybe I wouldn't take it so hard. But with all Fran has been used to, how can I ask her and Larry to come and visit in this old house? And yet, if Larry doesn't come home for Christmas-----"
Martha paused. There was Jill too. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that her boy friend Bob wanted 'her to come up to his folks' cabin for the skiing. He might fall out of love with her if he saw how her family lives.
Martha looked at the pile of breakfast dishes, and winced a little.
"Come on, Petey," she said with sudden decision. "Let's go on a tour of this monstrosity and see if anything can be done in the next few weeks to turn the place into a dream house, so I can feel up to inviting my sophisticated older children and their wealthy partners home for Christmas."
"Cwistmas," Petey gurgled as his mother buttoned him into a red sweater and went out into the fresh morning air.
Martha walked along the old-fashioned brick wall.
"I needn't be ashamed of my garden anyway," she thought.
"If we could just be like Adam and Eve and have gardens with out houses," Martha thought.
She turned at the gate and tried to pretend that she was seeing the house through Fran's and Bob's eyes. They were, after all, the ones who would notice its shabby appearance most.
Martha's gray eyes traveled over the object of her concern. No. It would never do. The great sprawling mass was of no particular period. The upper story sat primly in the center of the roof like a spinster's best hat. The many windows were high and small. "Some thing like those old-fashioned glasses my Uncle George used to wear," she smiled in remembrance.
Just in time Petey was rescued from a puddle left by the recent rain. His hand nestled warmly into Martha's as she said, "Let's go upstairs, Pete, and see the ocean, and in the meantime try to discover some magic to turn those worn old bedrooms into some like they have in magazine pictures."
On the upstairs landing they paused for a moment, and Martha caught her breath at the wealth of beauty spread all about her. "This particular stretch of the Pacific Ocean must be the loveliest place in the whole world," she said to herself.
Turning into the narrow hall, Martha opened each door in turn, and shut it again almost as quickly.
Jim's long sick spell and the trip East for Larry's wedding, coming so close together, had taken all they had saved for remodeling these rooms.
Downstairs again, Martha tied on her old apron and mentally counted her blessings as she started the breakfast dishes at last.
"I guess a person can't have everything, and Jim's being well is worth more than a whole tract of houses."
In the weeks that followed, Christmas trees began to appear on the street corners. Lights began to glow in the store windows, parents went shopping with eager little boys and girls, and even the old house took on a festive air.
Wreaths hung in the downstairs windows, and the big tree that Jim and Jimmie brought in from the hills glowed with lights and wore its ancient ornaments proudly.
The big kitchen began to come alive with the sounds and smells of Christmas. Everyone helped crack the nuts for the cookies and fruitcake Martha sent to Gran and Larry. Jars were filled with nuts and candies for gifts. The recipes Martha's grandmother had used were used again.
The day before Christmas the gift came from Fran and Larry. Martha's heart turned over as she took the wrappings off a magnificent picture of Jesus and His disciples on the way to Emmaus.
"Oh, Mother!" Jill gasped.
"Sa-a-ay! That's all right," Jim said, admiring the painting.
"Did you know about this, Jill?" Martha asked, with a knowing glance.
"No, I didn't, Mother, but isn't it beautiful?"
"It's what I've always wanted," Martha sighed happily. "Wasn't it sweet of them. And yet," her eyes were wistful, "I wish they could be here to enjoy it with us."
"Hey!" Jim shouted, with a quick glance at the clock. "Was someone supposed to catch a train? Look at the time, Jill!" "Oh, Dad, Bob would have a fit if I missed it. We had planned to stay with his folks tonight and go on to Tahoe with the crowd tomorrow."
"Sounds like fun," Martha said on the way to the station. "We'll miss our girl on Christmas, but judging from the stars in your eyes, your Christmas will be a very happy one."
The house was quiet after Jill had left. Martha and Jim read the old, loved Christmas stories to the little boys and helped them hang up the all-important Christmas stockings.
The sound of bells awakened them on Christmas morning. Martha lay quietly listening to their message, before a shout from the living room brought her to her feet. Jimmie had found his Erector set, and Petey was running his new wagon round and round, finding a few new places to scratch on the shabby furniture.
After breakfast Jim took the boys to the beach, and Martha cleared out mountains of tissue and tried not to feel sorry for her self. The activities involved in get ting Christmas dinner for three people kept her mind off her lonesomeness.
The little boys returned from the beach, and tired from their play, took a nap before dinner. Jim sat in the sudden quiet, reading the new magazines he scarcely had time to see on work days.
"Peace it's wonderful," Jim grinned at Martha as she stole time from her cooking for a small rest on his lap and a Christmas kiss.
"Doesn't the house look nice, dear? Christmas things hide a lot, and no one will ever see the scratches anymore. They won't have eyes for anything but our beautiful picture." Martha's glance lingered possessively on the scene as she spoke.
The table was delightful with Jill's centerpiece of a fat red candle and Christmas greens. The beautifully ironed linen cloth was an old one that had worn thin in the twenty-five years since Martha had been a bride. And Jimmie had polished the old silver until the satiny finish reflected the soft candle glow.
The crisp brown of the nut loaf flanked by the tiny creamed on ions and a mound of fluffy mashed potatoes, along with home-canned pickles and Martha's own special fruit salad, caused Jim to heave a great hungry sigh as he buckled Petey into his highchair and sat down at the head of the table. "Enough food here for an army, dear. You are going to have to remember that your family is get ting smaller all the time."
Martha smiled, and glanced around the table to be sure every thing was in order. She was glad that Jimmie had washed his hands and face without being told.
The little boys bowed their heads, and their father's deep voice asked Cod to "bless our food, and those who are not with us, and keep them safe today."
And when the Amen was said, Petey's ready smile broke through the moment of longing as he reached out both fat hands for the " 'tatoes, pease!"
"Jim, did that sound like a car to you?" Martha paused in the act of filling Petey's plate.
"I didn't hear anything," Jim answered. "Jimmie, do you want to go and see?"
Jimmie's eyes were like saucers in his round freckled face as he rushed back from his trip to the front door.
"Daddy! Mother! They're all here!"
Martha had half risen from her place, but it was Jim who spoke. "Who, son?"
"Jill and Larry and Fran, and that guy Jill went to see." But Martha was halfway to the front door, and Larry's eager arms were around his mother's waist, with Fran close beside.
As Martha turned to Jill, the girl said shyly, "This is Bob, Mother." Martha's eyes liked what they saw.
Jim had never looked so happy as when his tall son slapped his shoulder and told him how glad they were to be home.
The dinner was marvelous, the children said, and Fran seemed to enjoy it most of all. Jimmie and Bob found a common interest in model planes, and Jimmie had an other hero besides Larry.
The big log crackled in the fire place after the dishes were done, and then Martha and Jim heard the whole story.
"It all began with Jill," Larry said. "She wrote us after Thanks giving and told us why mother didn't feel that she could ask us to come home Christmas."
"Oh, Jill!" Martha said faintly, and blushed to the roots of her graying hair.
"Well, of course," said Jill, "mother was embarrassed about the old house, but I just told Fran that when she saw the warmth and love pouring out of every crack of the old place, she wouldn't even notice the shabbiness."
"But the lovely picture!" Martha turned to Fran. "Why did you send it if you were coming?"
"Jill's letter came the day we sent the gift," Fran answered, "and Larry got plane reservations at once." Fran looked at Larry. "It took a special kind of home to give me a husband as loving and thoughtful as Larry, and I'm so glad I belong to it too."
"We're glad too," Martha said. Then she turned to Bob. "But there's another mystery. I thought you and Jill were going to Tahoe for the skiing. How do you happen to be so far from there?"
"Simple as anything. When Jill told me she had heard from Fran, and that they were coming, well, I knew she wanted to be with her family. So here we are." Bob smiled. "There will be skiing till May, but only one Christmas all year."
"Will you play for us, Mother, while we sing the carols?" Larry suggested.
"Oh, no! I can't, Larry. I don't practice anymore and I make so many mistakes. In fact, Jill told me the other day that I'm the only person she knows who can play each hand in a different key."
Everybody laughed.
"But we want you to do it just like the old days," Larry begged.
Martha played them all, from "We Three Kings" to "Jingle Bells." The old house seemed to fold them close as the young voices rose and fell in the Christ mas melodies. Even Petey's baby voice shrilled out bravely in "Silent Night, Holy Night."
At last the fire in the fireplace burned low, and evening prayers brought the little group close together.
Fran and Larry went up the stairs to Larry's old room, and Bob was given a room where he could hear the waves breaking on the shore and dream of the time when he and Jill would know the same happiness as Jill's parents.
Two o'clock in the morning. The old house was quiet again. Jim woke with a start. Martha was not beside him. He sat up. Where could she be? For twenty-five years he had always been able to reach out and touch her at night. Then he remembered, and sank back again on his pillows. The children were all home, and Martha was probably up to her old tricks, roaming around to see if they were all right.
Upstairs Martha stood for a moment outside the room of her son and the girl he loved. Their even breathing told her all was well. The old bed in Bob's room creaked restlessly. "Dreaming of Jill, no doubt," Martha thought. "It would be nice to have the wedding in June."
Downstairs Jill's dark head was turned slightly on her pillow, the hand with the watch from Bob tucked under her cheek.
Jimmy would never stay covered up, and Martha smoothed the tumbled blankets and kissed him lightly.
In his crib Petey slept like a Christmas angel, the moonlight forming a halo about his golden head.
Martha crept quietly back to bed.
"They're almost all grown up, Mommie," Jim teased her gently.
"You needn't cover them up all the rest of their lives."
Martha sighed happily. "Oh, Jim, was there ever such a lovely, lovely family? Houses don't really matter. It's the love in them that counts."
