Christmas 1964, brings a mysterious visitor to Cynthia's house; a reclusive great-aunt nicknamed, "Crazy Daisy." Is she really crazy or just eccentric? Cynthia and Gus are determined to find out, but a stray ember and a flaming nightgown take the girls on an unexpected trip through time, back to 1914, where compassion and friendship gives new meaning to the spirit of Christmas.
Read an excerpt!
Christmas With Daisy
Chapter One:
"How crazy is she?"
"I don't know. Her real name is Daisy, but I've heard
some members of the family call her Crazy Daisy." Cynthia, my best friend
since forever, hangs her favorite
pink ballerina ornament on the tree and then stands back surveying her
artistry.
I rummage through cardboard boxes filled with
multi-colored decorations and grab a silver garland. "And, she's spending
Christmas with you? What if she sets the house on fire or murders everyone
during their sleep!"
She rolls her eyes and flips her blonde, red-ribboned
ponytail. "Gus. Shut down your wild imagination. She's not a serial killer
or an arsonist."
I shrug. "I'm just saying that you don't know much
about this great-aunt of yours. Why do you suppose no one has talked about her
before?" I'll get the scoop on
Cynthia's Christmas visitor if it kills me! Er...poor choice of words.
Cynthia makes a big production of straightening the garland
I've just thrown onto a large section of branches.
"I liked it that way." I complain. "Not
everything has to hang in perfect symmetry. So boring."
"I'll decorate my tree, and you, Augusta Lee,
decorate yours. Or, should I say, you
stand ten feet away, throw ornaments and icicles in the general direction of
your tree and hope something sticks."
I should've expected she'd bring up my given name sooner
or later. My mom and dad just had to
name me after my grandfather, Augustus Leeander, but when my avid love of
sports and my dislike of fussing with my hair and clothes surfaced, they took
to calling me Gus.
"Hey! I'm just here to help, so there's no need to be
insulting." I grumble but can't dispute her description of my decorating
technique. She's seen me in action. So...I change the subject back to this
crazy aunt. "Where's she going to stay? Your room?"
Cynthia's attention is squarely on the tree that has stood
in the same corner of the den every Christmas since...since either of us can
remember. "Doesn't it look beautiful, Gus? I think I've outdone myself
this year."
I give an absentminded nod to the perfectly placed
ornaments: red, green, silver and blue equally spaced. Silver garland drapes
precisely on each branch of the six-foot pine chosen from a tree farm this past
weekend. Bor-rring. "Yeah, yeah,
it's gorgeous. But, what about your room?"
"Mother hasn't said, but you don't think Danielle has
any intention of being inconvenienced, do you?"
I couldn't imagine Cynthia's older sister allowing a
stranger to take over her bedroom, and it would take a bulldozer to get her
brother's room ready for human occupancy. Obviously, Cynthia would spend the
holidays on the living room sofa. "I have an idea. You can stay with me,
if you'd like. I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind."
Her eyes widen, and a smile breaks across her face.
"I have a better idea! You stay
with me."
Huh? She won't
have a bedroom. A crazy aunt could be roaming around the house–possibly rooting
around for butcher knives and axes–and she wants me to stay with her? "Oh, great. Then both of us
would be without a bed. Why not stay at my house? You'll be safe and have a comfortable place to
sleep."
"Oh, but then we'd miss out on maybe the best
Christmas ever. Aren't you always saying that Christmas is so annoying with
your bratty cousin banging on the piano all day and feeding sweet potatoes to
your dog, Sam, just so he'll throw up? Wouldn't you rather be here to
experience, first hand, the holidays with a strange, maybe scary, aunt?"
She has me there. Getting away from dear, sweet cousin
Bradley for a few hours has to be an improvement, even if I have to sleep with
one eye open, watching out for a shadowy figure to jam a pillow over my face.
"I'll ask if I can stay Christmas Eve. Mom and Dad will want me home in time
for the family dinner Christmas night, but someone has to watch your
back."
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