A Winter’s Keepsake: Part One by Anita Dickason

From my Author’s World to yours. Welcome to A Winter’s Keepsake, a three-part holiday interlude in the Tori Winters Mystery series. This story steps away from crime scenes and whodunits to explore a quieter kind of mystery—one wrapped in memory, emotion, and the shimmer of a Christmas star. For readers who’ve followed Tori’s journey, this is a glimpse into her world between the investigations, where even joy carries shadows and every gift has a story. I hope you enjoy this seasonal pause, where the past stirs, secrets linger, and the spirit of discovery never sleeps.

A Winter’s Keepsake: A Tori Winters Christmas Mystery

The Attic Whispers

Christmas Eve

From the doorway to the music room, Tori Winters watched, her eyes shadowed with a haunting sadness. Gasps and exclamations echoed from those gathered in the mansion. Their incredulity wasn’t due to the cheerful, sparkling holiday décor, even though the house, inside and out, shimmered with Christmas pageantry.

Twinkling white lights outlined the Victorian silhouette of the three-story Leichter mansion with vivid brilliance. A large sleigh, complete with wrapped boxes, a life-sized Santa, reindeer, and even one with a blinking red nose, graced the front lawn. Flanking the front door, six-foot nutcrackers kept silent watch, their lacquered boots surrounded by clusters of poinsettias. Between them, a holly and pine wreath studded with clumps of red berries hung on the door.

In the foyer, a third nutcracker stood at attention. Beside him, animated figures of Mr. and Mrs. Claus and two elves waved in greeting, punctuated by bursts of “Ho Ho Ho” and “Merry Christmas” from Santa. Across from them, garlands braided with red and green ribbon and twinkling lights hung in graceful loops along the elegant staircase banister.

In the library, a Christmas tree glittered with multi-colored lights that extended to outline the window seat nestled in the curve of the turret. Beneath the limbs, a Christmas train chugged, occasionally disrupting the quiet with a cheerful whistle. Snow globes, Santas, reindeer, elves, and more, artfully arranged with pine cones, sprigs of garland, and red and white flowers, adorned the tables scattered throughout the room. The space was warm and inviting, enticing someone to snuggle up with a book in the window seat or an easy chair. 

Inside the living room, a second tree climbed to the ceiling. Its ornaments sparkled from hundreds of lights that twinkled like tiny stars. On one side, a red stepladder was cleverly arranged with elves climbing the steps. Brightly wrapped gifts, casually piled, abounded. Flickering candles, holly, and pinecones lined the mantle. A clump of mistletoe dangled from the archway, daring the unwary who paused beneath it. 

Amid it all, the scent of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air. But yet, it was something else, undeniably astounding and unbelievable, that sparked their disbelief. 

Mia, wide-eyed and visibly shaken, asked, “Tori … how? This is impossible.” 

“Gather round,” Tori said, her voice edged with emotion. “I’ll explain how this mystery came to be.”

With glasses of champagne or cups of eggnog, they drifted toward sofas and armchairs. Tori stood near the fireplace, where the fire crackled softly, casting golden shadows across the room. Her gaze slowly skimmed the faces of loved ones and friends as she collected her thoughts. 

For a moment, the air seemed to still, caught between the glow of the present and the memory of a series of strange events. Weeks earlier, in the dining room, which had been temporarily transformed into an office, five women were deep in their Monday morning meeting…

Coffee cups, crumb-filled plates, and half-empty juice glasses cluttered the table, silent witnesses to a morning spent brainstorming. With the renovation to turn the Leichter mansion into a B&B inn nearly finished, the grand opening was just a few months away.

Tina Lopez lounged back and took the last sip of her coffee. “I swear, my brain’s fried. I’ve wrung out every ad idea I’ve got,” she grumbled. As the Red Door Inn’s advertising manager, she’d spent weeks creating elegant designs for menus, brochures, flyers, videos, newspaper ads, a website, and social media campaigns.

She glanced around the table at the others. Absorbed by their own tasks, no one was paying her any attention. Tina cleared her throat, her knuckles loudly rapping the table. “Hey! Earth to team Red Door. We need fresh ad ideas.”

The inn’s operations manager, Heidi Grant, shot her a quick look before turning back to her laptop. “You’re the ad wizard. We just nod and approve.”

Tina’s eyes narrowed with exasperation. “Okay, really appreciate the support here, but if I have to look at another ad template, I think I’ll scream.” Her fingers kept drumming on the tabletop. Then suddenly, she grinned. “I’ve got it,” she declared. “Christmas!”

Tori, owner of the historic mansion, looked up from her computer, where she’d been perusing a website offering monogrammed pillow cases, towels, and even robes. “Huh?” 

Caught off guard by a question about Christmas, the word came out sharper than intended. She’d buried herself in the preparations for the inn, tuning out the holiday buzz. And tucked in her mind was a quiet determination not to intrude on her team’s holiday festivities. Even if the four women were the closest thing she had to family. 

“Christmas,” Tina repeated. “Ho, ho, ho, Santa, North Pole, reindeer, naughty but nice list.”

With a twitch of her lips, Tori said,  “You want to plant Santa and his reindeer in the front yard?”

“Absolutely, and more. Let’s turn the mansion into a Christmas wonderland.” Tina’s hands swept the air with broad, animated gestures. “Twinkling lights everywhere. Garland for the staircase, doorways, and mantle. Wreaths, fresh flowers, and decorations that spark wonder and joy. The whole place should smell like cinnamon and pine. And underneath it all, the soft hum of Christmas music.” 

Tina leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with uncontainable excitement. “And a huge Christmas tree, maybe two.”

Mia O’Brien, general manager and Tori’s second in command, cast a thoughtful look at Tina. “I know where you’re headed—the Christmas Tour.”

Tina’s grin widened. “Yep.”

“Wow! It would be perfect advertising to lead into the grand opening,” Heidi said, already nodding.

“Why didn’t we think of it sooner?” Cammie Dodd, the inn’s chef, added, “It’s exactly what we need to show off the house.”

“Absolutely!” Tina agreed.

Despite the flicker of dismay that crossed her face, Tori raised a hand, half-laughing. “Uh … someone want to clue me in here?”

Mia said, “Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s your first Christmas in Granbury. Every year, a few brave souls, willing to endure the chaos of elaborate decorations and strangers tromping through their homes, sign up for the Granbury Christmas Tour. Ticket sales go to local charities.” 

She paused, her voice softening. “Until Elly’s health gave out, this place was decorated to the hilt. It was the highlight of the tour.” 

At the mention of her grandmother, Tori straightened. Though she’d never met the woman, Tori had inherited Elly Leichter’s historic mansion along with her multi-million-dollar estate. “How?” Her idea of Christmas was a fake tree, a few decorations, and maybe a poinsettia. 

Mia frowned. “She probably hired someone. Though she may have had her own ornaments.”

Tina shoved back her chair, jumping to her feet. “If she did, I bet they’re in the attic. Come on, let’s see what we can find.”

With a rush of footsteps, they headed for the stairs. As they sped along the hallway, Tori felt a quiet surge of satisfaction as she passed the newly renovated bedrooms.

Mia led the way into the attic, nearly a whole floor, divided into two rooms. It was the one part of the house Tori had ignored, waiting until the renovations were complete. Then it had been pushed aside again with all the preparations for the inn’s opening. 

Now, as she surveyed the hodgepodge of boxes, old furniture, trunks, and assorted relics, she groaned at the thought of bringing any kind of order to the chaos. 

Her team, undaunted, spread out and began rummaging through boxes.

Cammie let out a squeal. “Found them.” She knelt in front of a multitude of neatly stacked boxes, one open in front of her. Sitting back on her heels, she stared in wonder. “My gosh. These are individually wrapped. Who takes the time to do that?”

With a laugh, Mia said, “That sounds like Elly.”

Tori stepped closer, peering at the mounds of tissue-wrapped objects. A spark of curiosity danced along her nerves. “Let’s get them downstairs.”

It took several trips, each one loaded with as many as they could safely carry. Soon, the living room was crowded with boxes.

Tori dropped into an oversized chair as her gaze skimmed the stacks. “Where do we even start?”

Mia said, “We need …,” then paused. “If you want to hire a professional decorator, it might be better to wait.”

Tori knew she was out of her depth again, with no idea how to decorate the house for a grandiose tour. But the look of eagerness on four faces tugged at her heart. With more certainty than she was feeling, she said, “Nope. It will be a hoot if we do it ourselves, or as much as we can. That is, if everyone wants to pitch in.”

A broad grin lit up Mia’s face. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” she declared with childlike wonder. “Let’s find out what’s inside these. Then go from there.” Behind her, the others were slapping hands in high fives. 

The room soon filled with soft exclamations and laughter as tissue paper was peeled back to reveal tiny sleighs, elves, reindeer, Santas, angels, snowflakes, and decorative balls. Tori was amazed by the number of glass-blown and hand-carved ornaments.

Heidi held up a hand-carved nutcracker. Her voice soft with nostalgia, she said, “I remember seeing many of these during one of the Christmas tours. The tree was in that corner,” she added, pointing. “It was the highlight of the tour. People would stop and marvel at the unique, stunning ornaments.”

For Tori, drawn by the craftsmanship and her grandmother’s loving care, each ornament felt like a whisper from the past. A glimpse into a holiday tradition she’d never known but was beginning to feel.

Heidi pulled out an object wrapped in cloth. After carefully unfolding the fabric, she paused for a moment. “This one’s different.” She passed a rich, dark wood box etched with flowers and vines to Tori. 

Setting it on her lap, Tori gently lifted the metal clasp and opened the box. A small envelope covered what was inside. Moving it aside, she exclaimed, “Oh, my gosh. Look at this. It’s beautiful.” 

Nestled inside a velvet lining was a hand-blown glass star. Its five points were slightly irregular, each one tapering with a subtle curve. Tori carefully lifted it, holding it up to the light. Though translucent, a pale blue tint deepened toward the center. Faint swirls, like frost patterns, shimmered inside. Suspended in the middle was a tiny silver bead. As she moved it, a soft chime echoed—delicate and haunting.

The others gathered round, each taking a turn to examine it. 

Mia cradled it in her hand and murmured, “This is so unusual. It catches your eye, as if it has a light of its own.”

Tori picked up the envelope again, its edges yellowed with age. Inside was a card. No name, just a single line written in elegant, looping script. 

A light to hold when doubt stirs.

“Well, this is curious,” Tori said, passing the card to Mia.

The others leaned in as Mia lightly fingered the card. “It’s old,” she mused. “Elly must’ve had a compelling reason to keep it.” She handed it back to Tori.

After carefully placing the star and card inside the box, Tori closed the lid and set it aside. Though the chatter shifted to decorating the house, her thoughts lingered on the cryptic message. Who had given it to Elly? And why?

The rest of the day passed quickly as they finished unpacking the boxes, then started a list of what was still needed. Garland and ivy for doorways, windows, staircase railing, and the mantle. Pinecones and candles. Wreaths for the doors. Red, green, and white ribbons. Poinsettias to brighten the corners. And lights, lots of strings of lights. And that was just for the inside of the house. 

Tina piped up. “What about life-sized nutcrackers. We could put one in the foyer and two on the front porch flanking the doorway. Plus, we need a display for the front yard.” Her eyes twinkled with laughter as she shot a look at Tori. “A big Santa, sleigh, and reindeer.”

Tori only grinned. “Add them to the list. I’m making it your task to figure out where to get them.” 

“My suggestion would be to rent, not buy,” Mia added. “No need to worry about storing them. For the outside lights, I do recommend hiring someone.”

It wasn’t until after the team left that Tori had time to ponder the mystery of the wooden box. The elegant, well-crafted case sat on her desk. The metal hinges and clasp were heavy and rust-free. She lifted the lid. The lining had aged, but the fabric’s expensive quality was unmistakable. This wasn’t a casual gift or a holiday trinket. 

She laid the card aside, then gently removed the star. It shimmered under the lights, and when Tori tilted it, the faint chime echoed. 

Elly had amassed a stunning collection of unique ornaments. But none held the quiet pull of this one. Tori wasn’t sure if it was the star itself, the cryptic message, or the mystery of the giver that stirred something deeper. Whatever it was, it lingered.

Tori replaced it, then picked up the envelope. No hint of who had given it to Elly. She pulled out the card again, hoping to find a clue she’d missed earlier. But like the envelope, there wasn’t a watermark or name to identify its origin. 

She reread the line she hadn’t fully absorbed earlier. A light to hold when doubt stirs.

The words felt personal, almost intimate. As if the person cared deeply about Elly’s well-being, wanting to offer comfort. So, why wasn’t the card signed? What reason could there be to hide the giver’s identity? Surely, that wouldn’t have been the case if it came from her grandfather.

But then, Tori still knew so little about her grandmother’s life. Only fragments she’d gleaned from others and a few journals. And she knew even less about her grandfather, other than that after Henry Winters died in a hunting accident, Elly took back her maiden name. 

Her brow furrowed as Tori sat motionless, brooding over the looping script. A quiet, compelling message. The motivation for the gift. One so important that Elly had kept both the star and the message.

Who wrote it, and why did Elly keep it all these years? An undeniable compulsion to find the answers surged. 

Outside, the wind stirred, branches tapping the windows with a rhythm faintly reminiscent of the star’s chime. 

Inside, the past stirred …

The mystery deepens in Part Two. Don’t miss what unfolds.

Want more Tori Winters’ stories before tomorrow? Check out the Tori Winters Mysteries.

About Anita Dickason