“No time,” Ezra said. He gestured to the other man, who was burly and bald. “Jake, meet Ivy. She’s the one I told you about.”

Jake looked around the living room. Ivy had managed to shove most of the furniture into a corner, with the exception of the bulky sofa.

“You’re donating all this to the community thrift store? What are you going to sit on?”

“My own furniture should be here Monday,” Ivy said. “Until then, I’ve got a chair and a little table in the kitchen. I don’t need more than that.”

“Okay,” Jake said. “You’re the boss.”

Two hours later, all the rooms in the house were bare, with the exception of a mattress in Ivy’s bedroom and the wooden table and chair in the kitchen.

The men’s voices echoed in the high-ceilinged living room as they moved the last item, a heavy wooden footlocker. As they rolled the furniture dolly over the front doorjamb, the chest slipped off the dolly and fell, spilling papers and file folders all over the floor.

“Sorry,” Jake said, examining a gash in the wooden floor.

Ivy knelt down, gathering up the papers. There were old newspaper clippings, greeting cards, photographs, and letters. So many letters, all addressed simply “SANTA, Tarburton, NC.”

“Look at this!” she exclaimed, holding up a black-and-white photo of the jolly old elf himself, seated on an elaborately tufted chair, holding a little girl in his lap.

“Yup, that’s Santa Bob,” Jake said, examining the photo.

Ivy read the hand-lettering on the back. “Atkins Dept. Store, 1962. Darlene Meyers.” She picked up another photo, this one of Mr. and Mrs. Claus, standing on a parade float, waving to bystanders. “Christmas Parade 1990.”

She scooped up a handful of letters and replaced them in a folder marked SANTA LETTERS and showed them to Ezra. “Some of these postmarks go back to the 1960s. Looks like Big Bob kept every letter from every child he ever received.”

Jake shifted from one foot to the other, looking down at the trunk. “Uh, sorry to break up this little sentimental journey, y’all, but I gotta get this truck back.”

Ivy sighed. “It’s just a shame to throw away this stuff. I wonder if the local historical society would want any of it.”

“We could just leave the trunk here,” Jake said hopefully.

“Yes, please,” she said, laughing. “Sorry for the change of heart.”

While Jake went to stow the furniture dolly, Ezra looked around the now-bare room. The only remaining item, with the exception of the ladder, was Punkin’s bed, near the hearth.

“I like the paint job,” he said. His voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room. “But what happened to the chicks?”

“I moved them out to the kitchen where they get the morning sun, then I’ll bring them back here to the living room later in the afternoon.”

“Where’ll you put your Christmas tree?” he asked.

“I wasn’t planning on getting a tree this year,” Ivy said. “I mean, it’s just me and Punkin. Anyway, my ex got all our Christmas decorations in the divorce settlement.”