by Meg Macy
I admired the rest as well, bright yellow stars, Santa faces with scrolled beards, and reindeer with cherries for noses and piped icing harnesses. I hoped Mary Kate had a few leftover cookies at the Bear-zaar’s end, so I could buy extras.
For my secret emergency stash.
Chapter 8
By the time I returned to the Silver Bear Shop display, my sister had almost finished setting up. Maddie fussed over where to place the various Christmas bears and stashed the wizard bears on a shelf behind the table.
“Remember, we’re only taking orders.”
“Yep. Are we guaranteeing delivery before Christmas?” I asked.
“We’d better, or no one will want one.” Maddie readjusted the lights, switched them on and off a few times, draped more on either side of the crimson cloth-covered table, and at last pronounced it finished. “But I think we need more tinsel.”
“I’m gonna check out the other booths before the Bear-zaar opens.”
I rushed off before she could send me home for that tinsel or other decorations. I thought the booth looked fine. Dressed as Santa, Dad straightened his “throne” in a corner next to a stack of colorful wrapped presents and a droopy Christmas tree with faulty lights.
“Can you unplug that strand for me, Sasha?”
“Why not toss another set of lights on instead?” I’d spotted a new box under our table and managed to spirit it away while Maddie was distracted. Then I unwound the strand from the plastic holder. “Easier than trying to replace bulbs.”
“Thanks.” Dad connected the lights to a working set and then filled in some of the bare spaces. “Dave Richardson’s still sick, so I’m filling in for him in the kitchen.”
“But—”
“Mrs. Claus can sit here, if any kids want to give Santa their list.”
I suspected that Dad didn’t mind missing Sherry Martinez’s company, who was never a bundle of joy. “I hope you’re not gonna wear that suit, or you’ll cook from the heat at the grill.”
He stripped off the white beard and mustache. “You’re right.”
Dad headed off to change, so I wandered around the aisles to see the other vendor displays. The church’s Bear-zaar was always popular, with people coming from miles around Southeast Michigan to peruse the hand-crafted items.
One young man set out exquisite pottery on shelves, some as translucent as china. A middle-aged woman’s booth displayed lovely knitted and crocheted items. Her daughter had filled the next booth with elaborate hand-sewn doll clothing. And an elderly man with gnarled fingers, wearing a red baseball cap and a shirt with OLD GEEZER spelled out on it, sat behind a table displaying realistic carved birds and animals. Some were highly polished to show off the natural wood grain, while other colorful Santa Claus figurines, teddy bears, angels, and snowmen were cleverly painted.
The tantalizing scent of simmering spices drew me to the booth across the aisle, where a slow-cooker held hot apple cider. “These packets have fresh-grated cinnamon and sticks of cloves.” The bearded man pointed to small tins. “I also have holiday spiced teas.”
“It smells divine.”
I bought five packets of the cider mix and moved on to see a woman dripping with gold and silver chains and sporting rings on every finger. She stood behind a glass counter filled with gorgeous jewelry, some vintage, all unique.
“How much is that silver teddy bear?” I asked, pointing to the pins on display.
“He’s darling, isn’t he? His arms and legs swing back and forth.” She retrieved the pin and flicked a finger to show the tiny bear’s movements. “Only twenty-five dollars.”
“Sold.” I paid for the bear and then pinned him to my name tag. “I manage the Silver Bear Shop and Factory, so he’s perfect.”
“Indeed! I love your shop. Are those wizard bears new?”
“Yes, our Beary Potter wizard won the Teddy Bear Keepsake contest for the Child’s Play Toy Box Co.,” I said. “Their main branch is in Cincinnati. We have an exclusive contract to produce them for the company.”
“If I did order a bear, would it arrive in time for Christmas?”
“The cutoff date is December fifteenth, so you’re good.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “I’ll get two bears for my niece and nephew who are big Harry Potter fans. I’m booked every weekend this month, and traveling in between, so I won’t have much time for Christmas shopping. I’m always looking for unique things.”
“Me too.” I dug out a card from the dozen I carried in my pocket. “Stop by anytime today at our booth, over by the entrance, and you can fill out an order form.”
“I will. Thanks so much!” The jeweler leaned forward to whisper. “I heard a rumor that the village mayor was murdered on Wednesday. Is that true?”
“The police are still investigating.”
I slipped away before she could press the issue. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss Cal Bloom’s death, and preferred to focus on the festive atmosphere. In the next aisle, Cissy Davison caught me by the arm. Her sweater was festooned with sequined red and white candy canes and her blond hair glistened with rhinestone-studded pins.
“I’ve got to talk to you, Sasha. It’s important.”
She half-dragged me toward the farthest corner of the Fellowship Hall, close to the kitchen with its wide serving window. A line of people waited for coffee. Leah Richardson wiped tears with a sleeve while she arranged donuts on a platter. Oddly enough, she wore a turtleneck sweater, which had to be stifling in the hot kitchen.
“Leah, what’s wrong?” I asked.
She sniffed. “Nothing.”
“Is there something I can do to help?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m okay.”
“You don’t look okay,” I said flatly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I feel so bad. My kids told me how all the little ones at the parade were so disappointed when Santa Bear wasn’t in the parade. And Dave is so sick, he couldn’t be Santa Claus, either. Everything’s such a mess.”
“Things will get better.”
“I’m so worried.” Leah filled cups from one coffee urn, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Now that the mayor’s dead, what will Mrs. Bloom do with the funeral home?”
“Get a grip, Leah.” Cissy waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s the only one for miles around, so I highly doubt Alison Bloom would close it.”
“I hope you’re right, but what if she decides not to sell after all? And I’m swamped here in the kitchen. My girls have a school fundraising project today. I’ll never be able to handle this crowd by myself!”
“I’m here to help.” My dad squeezed through the narrow doorway into the hot kitchen, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and began measuring coffee grounds into two other stainless steel coffee urn trays. “I’m glad Dave’s home recovering. He needs to stay in bed.”
Leah blew her nose and then washed her hands, although she swiped her face with a sleeve. “Yeah, he’s running a fever and has a terrible headache. Thanks, Mr. Silverman.”
She snapped lids on the coffee cups, apologizing for the delay over and over to waiting vendors who swarmed the table and grabbed donuts as well. Cissy Davison pushed me into an alcove far away from the kitchen.
“Really, Sasha, you’ve got to help me. Have you seen Maggie’s dump of a shop? It’s filled to the rafters with trash. She’s ruined what I worked so hard to establish, and that parade float was a joke. Our family’s the laughingstock of the village.”
“I doubt that,” I said. “You’re blowing it way out of proportion.”
“You haven’t heard the gossip! Stuff is piled so high, the fire department issued her a warning.” Cissy snorted. “Unbelievable, really. Can’t you talk to her?”
“Me? Why—”
“Maggie won’t listen to Mom, me, or Gus,” she interrupted, “no matter what we say. Mayor Bloom asked her to put half of her stuff in storage to make it easier for people to walk in the shop. Now he’s dead. Mom and I thought you could talk
to her, and maybe explain how the village has a reputation to uphold. For quality.”
“I think her shop is really cool. I had no problem walking around.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Cissy said impatiently. “I’ll ask Maddie, then. She’s an artist. She would understand at least about that awful float.”
Cissy stalked toward my sister, who’d somehow found more tinsel garlands to hang over our booth. I knew Maddie wouldn’t agree with her. She supported all artists, whatever their odd quirks, but Cissy and Barbara Davison probably didn’t realize that. I checked my cell phone. Five minutes before the doors opened. I stashed the cider packets under our table, straightened the chairs, and suppressed a grin while Cissy explained about her flighty cousin.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Maddie said. “I went to school with her, and I’d never insult the Magpie’s Nest. It’s a perfect haven for vintage collectors. We both love her shop.”
“Clearly you have no taste whatsoever.” Cissy tramped off, fists clenched, high heels clicking on the tile floor. Maddie snickered.
“What a trip and a half. Digger showed me a racy photo of her a week or so ago, half-naked. Cissy’s the last person to talk about taste.”
“You’re kidding! How did he get that kind of a photo?”
“He never said directly, but probably Cal Bloom.” My sister lowered her voice. “Digger would get in real trouble if Cissy knew.”
“What if her fiancé found out? Ugh.”
I imagined Gus Antonini would be livid. Why would Mayor Bloom have shared a photo like that with anyone? And how did he get it in the first place? Too creepy. Maddie quickly changed the subject.
“Last-minute check, Sasha. Is the iPad charged? Did you run through a transaction to make sure we have internet access? Never mind, I can do it.”
“Hurry up, because the stampede has begun.”
A huge crowd streamed through the double doors, the majority women, although a few men with children in tow headed for the kitchen to buy coffee, cider, and donuts. Maddie and I handled a steady influx of customers over the next few hours. We sold bears so fast, I had to call the shop to replenish our supply within the first hour. Tim Richardson and Deon Walsh arrived with several large boxes, followed by Aunt Eve with extra logo bags. Her dangling Christmas tree earrings swung back and forth when she surveyed our depleted shelves.
“I hope we brought enough bears. Here’s more order forms, too.”
“Good. People are going gaga over the Beary Potter Keepsake wizard bear.” I handed her the forms we’d already filled out and then stacked fresh ones on the table. “I only hope we can get them all done in time for Christmas.”
Maddie quickly slit the tape on a box and handed me various bears to set on the shelves behind our table. “Did you bring any of our smallest size, Aunt Eve?”
“I’ll send Deon and Tim back for them. I had to leave Joan in charge of the shop. Oh, Sasha! Where did you get that darling little silver bear pin?”
“Over at the jewelry booth.” I waved past the busy kitchen with its line snaking around the basement. “Good luck finding a way over to it, though.”
“I’ll check it out while I’m here.”
Aunt Eve merged into the crowd, looking smart in a black cloche hat with a sprig of holly on the brim, red slacks, a black wool pea coat, and sensible boots instead of heels. I knew she’d love the vintage pins and necklaces. My mother suddenly appeared and overtook her. I hadn’t noticed when she’d arrived, but turned back to the onrush of new customers.
“Good thing we restocked,” Maddie said when the crowd finally thinned. “Santa will be leaving a lot of them under Christmas trees this year. The tea room hosted half a dozen baby showers since they opened.”
“They’re doing well.”
“Too bad Trina and Arthur didn’t have a float in the parade. I wish you’d gone with me to that shower for Cheri Furness. Remember she married your friend Rachel’s brother. They want to wait until the birth to find out if it’s a boy or girl. She loved our largest silver bear inside a bassinette. It looked more like a big basket, and so adorable with pink ribbons.”
“Aww. Sweet.”
I sighed, wishing my future wasn’t so bleak when it came to a family. Jay and I were committed in our relationship, but we hadn’t discussed marriage. Or children. We both loved our families and traditions, and shared so many interests—books, movies, games, friends, and more. Ever since Thanksgiving weekend, when we’d stolen a few days together, our busy schedules prevented more than a ten- or fifteen-minute phone chat late at night. Jay didn’t expect to come home until Christmas Eve, if then. The weather this year didn’t help, either.
“Is it snowing again?” Maddie pointed to wet puddles on the tile floor from the crowd’s boots. “I’ll get some paper towels before someone slips and falls.”
She rushed off toward the bathroom. Grateful for a lull in customers, I tidied up our table and the cash box. Mom hurried over, one hand on her hip.
“This is terrible! I don’t know what to do.”
I hoped she wasn’t referring to Alison and Kristen Bloom, or the investigation into Cal Bloom’s death. “What’s terrible?”
“Your uncle! He wants to get married by Judge Starr at the courthouse and skip any kind of reception or family dinner. How can we celebrate their second wedding? I wanted to have it during the staff party. That would be perfect—”
“Mom, I know they don’t want a big fuss.”
“But what better way to observe such a special occasion, with everyone there? We could have a wedding cake, and poinsettias on all the tables. Maybe silver bells, too.”
“It’s their decision, Mom.” Maddie had returned from wiping the wet floor. “Maybe they don’t want anyone feeling obligated to give them a wedding gift.”
“Oh, pooh on that. Nobody would mind in the least.”
I groaned to myself. Mom often ran roughshod over other people’s feelings or desires when she immersed herself in planning something. The day Eve showed off her engagement ring, Mom had started gushing over plans—and we both knew she was capable of taking over everything. Dad was usually able to talk sense into her, but apparently he’d failed making any headway. And while my aunt no doubt appreciated help, she had her own ideas.
While Maddie handled a new order for the wizard bear, I packaged up a red and white Christmas sweater for a large teddy and swiped the customer’s credit card on our iPad. Once she signed, I had her fill in the email address on the line for a receipt.
“Thank you! All this new technology is so convenient. And my grandson will love this sweater for his bear.”
“I hope he enjoys it, and thank you.” Once she walked away, I nudged my sister. “Uh-oh. Big trouble.”
“What?”
“Someone’s not a happy camper, that’s what.”
Lois Nichols stood before the Fresh Grounds booth, glowering at Mary Kate, hands on her hips. Lois had formerly worked in the factory and had given Uncle Ross a hard time about work conditions, pay, and benefits. Now Wendy Clark argued right back at her, shaking a fist. Mary Kate’s soothing words didn’t get either of them to stop. Lois’s face turned purple.
Maddie raised an eyebrow. “She looked that way after we fired her.”
“You stole my cookie recipe!” Her screech stopped people in their tracks, but Lois didn’t seem to notice. “Why don’t you come clean and admit it?”
“I didn’t steal your recipe.” Mary Kate sounded calm. “Mine is traditional shortbread from Scotland. You bragged the other day that yours is from Pinterest.”
“So? Maybe the recipe is different, but you stole the name. Sugar Plum Teddies sounds exactly like my Sugar Plum Teddy Bears. And you expect to win the contest because you’re best friends with Sasha Silverman!”
I hurried over, leaving Maddie to cover our booth before the situation got out of hand. “My friendships will not be a factor in judging the contest, Lois.”
“So you
say! I’ll sue you if you win, Mary Kate. Wait and see.”
“You can’t sue anyone, Lois,” she replied with a small smile. “You signed the entry form to accept the judge’s decision.”
“That’s true.” My mother had joined us. “No lawyer would take your case on those grounds alone, Mrs. Nichols.”
Lois waved a hand. “I’ll sue the Silverman family business, too, if I can prove any hint of favoritism in judging.”
“The entries won’t have the baker’s name on them,” Mary Kate said.
“Like that matters. Some of those entries aren’t even bear-shaped cookies! What kind of teddy bear bake-off contest is this supposed to be, anyway?”
“The cookies can be any type,” I said, “according to the contest rules.”
“The fix is in. Everyone in the village knows it.”
Chapter 9
“That’s ridiculous.” My mother sounded firm.
“Some of those entries aren’t even baked cookies,” Lois retorted, remaining calm.
“We hired a pastry chef and two other people to judge,” Mom said. “They have no ties to our family or friends in Silver Hollow. They’ll choose five entries today in the final round, and those five will be judged for the final winner.”
“We hired—Oh, we did.” I nodded, hoping Lois wouldn’t catch my slip. Maddie and Mom hadn’t told me of this plan, and it meant I’d miss out on taste-testing. Dang. “That’s as fair as possible.”
Lois continued to scowl. “I’ll only be satisfied if my Sugar Plum Teddy Bears make the final round.” She stalked toward the exit.
“Oh, brother.” I breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I have a bad feeling this isn’t over, not by a long shot.”
Mary Kate agreed. “We won’t mind if we’re not in the finals. My Christmas Scookies are selling like crazy. We can’t bake them fast enough.”
“Wow, what’s a Scookie?”
“Sort of a hybrid cookie, cakelike, shaped like a scone. I use flour, sugar, buttermilk, eggs, both baking soda and baking powder, plus raspberries. I’m sure Lois only wants to win the bake-off contest as a way of getting revenge against you and Maddie for firing her.”
