Fortunately, Frankie loved Christmas as much as I did and every year she threw herself into decorating the winery in a way that reminded me of the special touches my mother used to add. She had already placed red and green holiday-themed quilts and throw pillows on the sofas. A collection of nutcrackers—the three kings, drummer boys, toy soldiers—sat on the fireplace mantel. More grapevines, sprayed with gold and silver, were woven around the bases of the nutcrackers as if they were standing in an enchanted forest. On the bar hurricane lamps filled with gold and silver pinecones had chubby white candles set on top of them. Two halved wine barrels at either end of the bar contained miniature Christmas trees; one decorated with red bows, white lights, and silver pinecones, the other with vintage tin baking molds, cranberry garland, and more white lights. Wine bottles painted red, the necks wrapped in raffia, were each decorated with a letter that spelled the word joy.

“It’s gorgeous, Frankie,” I said. “Every year you work your magic and this place always looks so festive and Christmassy. Just like my mother used to do.”

“A high compliment. I’m glad you like it. You know me, I love doing it and I plan for this for months.”

I joined her at the bar, shedding my coat, unwinding my scarf, and sliding onto one of the high bar stools. “What are you making?”

“Christmas stockings,” she said, “since your family is growing in size this year. Quinn, Sasha, Zach … I thought everyone needed a stocking.”

I was flabbergasted. “How thoughtful.”

She held up what she was working on. Quinn’s, obviously, since she was cross-stitching California poppies and bunches of red and green grapes onto a cream-colored background.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think you’re incredibly talented. Quinn’s going to love it. Thank you so much.”

“I’ve already finished Sasha’s and Zach’s. I thought everyone could hang them when we decorate the tree. Don’t tell them, though. They’re meant to be a surprise.”

I made a motion of zipping my lips and she grinned. “Once the trees and the garland are delivered after you and Quinn choose everything tonight at Seely’s, we can finish decorating the rest of the place,” she said. “We’ve already got a lot of reservations for the tree-decorating party and the caroling evening next week. If this keeps up we’ll have to start a waiting list.”

“I hope we don’t. It would be nice to have a big crowd here,” I said. “That’s how it should be at Christmas.”