Bailey hurried over to where Alexis stood on the lawn beside their house, staring at the ground. “Why would someone cut down our memory tree?”

Her younger sister Alexis had come across the small stump, freshly cut with sawdust littered around it. The pine’s trunk had been about as fat as a baseball bat. “They wouldn’t need it for firewood. The woods are right there,” Alexis said.

The smell of pine wafted into Bailey’s nose.

Alexis sighed. “Maybe the other trees were just too big to chop down and drag away.” She pointed farther behind the garage. “That one over there is taller, fatter, and heavier.”   

Bailey measured the tree with her eyes, which was taller and fatter. She scoffed. “Most everybody gets a Christmas tree that big. Charles needed to carry ours in the house.” Something glinted on the ground at the base of a tree, right next to the wood line. She dropped the branches she was collecting to paint, glitter, and put in vases for Mom. Mom loved iced-over tree branches, and now she could look at them all year. Bailey walked over to the bigger tree. The glint on the ground was actually a silver rectangle strung on a short black leather cord. It would have a name or initials on it! She picked it up. The flat piece of silver had the initials A.L.M. She rubbed her thumb over the cold metal. 

Behind her, Alexis was still looking at the stump. “So if we see our memory tree in somebody’s house, we know who cut it down.”

“You know we’re not going to see it in anybody’s house we know. But that might be a clue too, Lexie.”

Alexis looked up. “Hey! What else did you find, Lee?” She ran over to Bailey.

“It’s a bracelet. Who do know with the initials ALM?” Bailey held the bracelet in her palm. “The thief would have to live somewhere else, where we’d never see the tree. Where anybody around here could see it.”

“You’re right,” Alexis said. She sighed again.

“I need to figure out this mystery,” Bailey said. Sadness ate at her. She missed Dad every day, and their memory tree helped keep him alive in her heart, but now the tree was gone. The thief had to pay. “Let’s go back in the house.” As they walked toward the house, Bailey stopped and turned to Alexis. “Don’t tell Mom about the bracelet. She’ll make me turn it in to police, but I need it. It’s a clue.”

Alexis nodded.

“Hey, Mom,” Alexis murmured when they stepped into the warm, cozy little kitchen in their double-wide trailer home. “Somebody cut down our memory tree.”

“What!” Marilyn, their mother, turned from the stove and looked at her daughters.

“Somebody stole our memory tree,” Alexis repeated.

Marilyn’s face fell. She had planted that tree with the girls, and her go-to place when she felt overwhelmed. “Why in the world would someone do such a thing?”    

“He probably wanted a Christmas tree,” Bailey said.

“We don’t know that, Lee,” Alexis said. She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder, and her little chin went up. “Maybe they only wanted firewood.” 

Bailey glared at Alexis. “Exactly why we need to find him. If he burned our memory tree, he deserves to be punished.”

Marilyn leaned against the countertop and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Girls, I know he cut down our tree, but…”

Bailey felt the bracelet inside her pocket. “He would’ve had to cut it down late last night. If he cut the tree down then, that means he planned ahead because he couldn’t know exactly when we’d get home. But why our memory tree? There are lots of trees out in the woods.” She removed her coat, hung it on the back of a chair, and sat at the table.

Alexis sat across from Bailey and shrugged out of her coat. “Maybe he didn’t have a car. Maybe he didn’t have a bicycle to carry the tree home, so he took our little memory tree.”

“Maybe,” Bailey said and sighed.

Unshed tears filled Marilyn’s eyes. “Girls, I’m sure your Dad doesn’t mind if that person truly needed a tree. He had a generous heart, and in the spirit of Christmas, he would have let them have it.” She sighed deeply. “I have you girls to remind of your Dad. Now, have you forgotten about making the Christmas cookies this afternoon? The dough for the gingerbread men is in the refrigerator.” Marilyn walked to the cupboard and fished out the cookie cutters. “I’ve got the raisins, the red and green sugar, and everything else for the cookies. You girls wash your hands and we’ll get started.”

Mother and daughters worked happily for the next hour or so, and the fragrant smell of the baking sugar cookies filled the house. Bailey nibbled on a piece of star that had broken when she tried to slide it off the cookie sheet too soon. “Stars taste so good,” she said and smiled.

“They look good, too,” Alexis said. Both girls giggled.

Bailey tossed the remainder of the star cookie to Pip Squeak, their little, brown dog with floppy ears and curly fur. He sprung into the air and snapped up the broken cookie bit, tail wagging. No one at the shelter knew what kind of dog Pip Squeak was. Someone found him under the bridge and brought him there. Pip sat down again and lifted his paw, staring at Bailey, as if to say “Please, that tasted good so give me some more.”

Marilyn laughed and shook her head at her daughters’ and Pip Squeak’s antics. “Pack your cookies, girls.”

Each girl had a large, old-fashioned cookie tin with holly on the lid in which to store and serve their own special cookies. Their friends ate them when they came by on Christmas day to compare what everyone had gotten for Christmas.

“Now, time to freeze them until Christmas Eve,” Marilyn said. She took the tins and placed them in the small, stand-alone freezer in the corner.

“Mom, do you remember how exciting Christmas Eve was when we waited for Santa Clause? I never could sleep,” Bailey said.

“I remember,” Marilyn said as she put the dirty utensils in the sink. She chuckled. “I remember one Christmas Eve when you two stayed awake until four in the morning.”

Bailey and Alexis giggled.

“I really thought I heard reindeer hoofs and jingle bells on the roof,” Alexis said.

"Imagination is a wonderful gift,” Marilyn said. “Don’t ever lose it girls.” She poured herself a mug of coffee and sat with her daughters.

“Mom,” Bailey said solemnly, “is it kind of true? What you told us?”

“What did I tell you?”

“That Santa Clause really does bring the presents as long as you believe he does. It was great, believing in Santa. You and Dad were clever about it too.”

Marilyn smiled a sad smile. “Thank you. We tried to make Christmas Eve fun.”

Bailey wanted to hit the thief who took their memory tree.

“It’s fun now, too, Mom,” Alexis said. “I love to wrap the presents and give them to each other. That reminds me, Bailey, we have to wrap the presents we bought this afternoon.”

“First, clean up this mess,” Marilyn said. “Then, you can wrap your presents.”

Alexis walked to the countertop. She picked up one of the mixing bowls. “It’s a tasty mess.” She rubbed a finger around the bowl and licked off the green cookie dough stuck on her fingertip. She then scraped some red icing from another bowl. “Want some Bailey?”

Bailey smiled, stood, and walked toward her sister. “We promise to clean up as soon as we lick the bowls.”

Marilyn laughed. “I have some laundry to do.”

Washing and drying the dishes took only a little while. Bailey looked out the window in the kitchen door. “I hope it snows.” She squinted at the amassing gray clouds.

“You and your snow,” Alexis said. “I hate snow. It makes a big mess.”

Bailey continued to gaze out the window. “Snow is magic and it reminds me of Dad, like the memory tree did. That’s why I’m going to find whoever took it and make sure he gets punished.” She twirled a finger around a strand of her short, black hair.