“I know.” She laid the stocking on the bar, securing the needle in the fabric and putting her embroidery floss in a quilted pouch. “Do you suppose Quinn would object to having decorations in the barrel room this year? The guys wearing reindeer antlers don’t exactly count. I know it’s his domain, but I was thinking one night we could serve mulled wine and cider down there and he could talk about this year’s harvest. It would be nice to have the place look a bit festive.”

“My mother always decorated the barrel room at Christmas,” I said. “Nothing elaborate, but it was lovely. I remember red candles in hurricane lamps and a wreath she made out of wine corks and red berries that hung over the archway to the room where we keep the reds. She also wove ropes of white fairy lights and pine garlands around the wine barrels. And there was always a tree.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“After she died, we didn’t do anything that first year she was gone—she had always been in charge of Christmas and Leland didn’t have the heart for it. For some reason, we stopped putting up any decorations down there altogether. I don’t know why, but we—I—haven’t done anything Christmassy ever since. Probably because Quinn’s so utilitarian and he likes his workspace pristine and ship-shape.”

Frankie’s eyes softened. “Don’t you think it might be a good idea to restart that tradition? It’s your winery now. I bet your mother would really like it. She’d approve, Lucie. It’s time.”

I knew she was right. It was time.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell Quinn. This year we decorate the barrel room.”

“Great.” She looked pleased. “Do you have any idea what happened to the old decorations? I’ve never come across a wreath like the one you described.”

“It’s been so long I don’t remember,” I said.

“Well, I can always make another one. Though it would be a shame not to have something your mother made. If it still exists.”

“I’ll take a look,” I said. “Those things must be in boxes somewhere unless someone accidentally tossed them when we expanded the offices and renovated the barrel room a few years ago. In the meantime, I’ll tell Quinn you’re going to be fixing up the place a bit for the holidays. It’s taking some time, but I’m getting him used to the idea that we do Christmas in a big way here.”

Frankie grinned and came around from behind the bar. “I don’t suppose you asked him about being Santa at the party?”

“You suppose wrong. I did ask him.”

“What did he say?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

She walked over to the fireplace and stood with her back to the crackling fire, hands behind her to warm them up. “Sort of?”