Free The Night Before Christmas by Mary McNear Page A

But Daisy had overruled her; they were both so pretty, she’d said, and who knew when she’d have a chance to wear them again? Besides, how was it possible, her daughter had asked her, to be overdressed for your own wedding?
    Now, as they approached Judge Hilliard’s front door, Caroline felt her first flicker of nervousness, and to distract herself, she concentrated on making her way up the salt-­strewn front walkway instead. The judge and his wife lived in a converted farmhouse outside of town that looked especially pretty right now with the winter sun beginning to sink behind the pine trees that bordered its meadows.
    â€œLooks like the judge’s grandchildren have been visiting,” Jack said, pointing to a half-­finished snowman in the yard.
    â€œOurs is better,” Daisy said, under her breath, as they climbed the front steps.
    Caroline smiled and hesitated only a moment before she rang the doorbell. Then, to calm herself, she turned her attention to the wreath that hung on the front door, adjusting its slightly crooked red bow and securing one of its loose pinecones. Jack, sensing her nervousness, squeezed her hand, though she saw that he wasn’t doing much better. He kept tugging, restlessly, on the tie he was wearing with his button-­down shirt and blazer. Jack looked handsome in his wedding clothes, she thought, but also slightly out of his depth. After all, he was a man who felt most comfortable in T-­shirts, jeans, and work boots. She could count on two fingers, she realized now, the times she’d seen him in a tie, and both times had been at his weddings to Caroline.
    â€œRing again, Mom,” Daisy said, and Caroline did. She’d always liked Judge Hilliard, she reflected. He’d been known to be a formidable judge in Duluth before he’d retired, but he was generous and kind, and he adored his grandchildren. And he’d been a close friend of Caroline’s father, too, whom he’d grown up with here in Butternut. It was too bad her dad would never get to know Jack as he was now. He’d died thinking badly of him. But he would be happy that she was happy, and perhaps, today, that would have to be enough for her.
    â€œHello, hello, come in,” the judge’s wife, Mary Beth, said, as she swung open the door. She was a tall woman with shoulder-­length silver hair, vivid blue eyes, and an easy smile. Jack, Caroline, and Daisy each greeted her in turn before they took off their coats and hung them on pegs in the front hall and then followed her into the living room. A fire was roaring in the fireplace there, and pine boughs were looped cheerfully around the white wooden mantel. A fat Christmas tree covered with the old-­fashioned lights Caroline remembered from her childhood dominated one corner of the room. Caroline sighed with satisfaction. The room was warm and bright and lined with windows that overlooked the farm’s snowy expanses.
    â€œWould you like something to drink?” Mary Beth asked them. “We have some delicious eggnog.”
    â€œMary Beth makes the best virgin eggnog you’ve ever tasted,” Judge Hilliard said, coming into the room. He was a heavyset man with ruddy cheeks, and he was wearing a dark suit and a red-­and-­green tie for the occasion. He gave Caroline and Daisy each a warm hug and shook hands with Jack.
    â€œI’m so glad you’ve decided to do this here today. And don’t you look lovely,” he said, turning to Caroline.
    â€œThank you,” she murmured, her nervousness ratcheting up, but there was Jack, again, by her side, and Daisy, smiling at her encouragingly.
    Now Mary Beth brought out a tray with glasses of eggnog and a plate of Christmas cookies, and they all sat down, and sipped a little eggnog and nibbled on the cookies until, after several minutes of this, and some polite chitchat, Judge Hilliard cleared his throat and signaled that it was time for the