“Yoo-hoo! Mallory!” The owner, Nina Adams, waved from behind her perch at the cash register. She spoke to an assistant and handed off her duties to make her way over to the door.
“Just finishing off the last touches for Paws and Poinsettias?” Nina had to speak up over the chatter in her shop. It was a small space, and the dozen shoppers inside filled the space to nearly bursting. The shop was already cheerfully cluttered with a passel of intricate ornaments and decorations lining the shelves, bursting from barrels, and occupying themed displays. The store was almost a museum to holiday bric-a-brac, and I smiled thinking how fun it would be to visit, even when it wasn’t December.
We made our way to the back of the shop, where Nina ushered me into a small storeroom. I could hear the tones of Perry Como singing about a white Christmas more clearly without the customers’ exclamations. Nina proffered a large box and beamed. She folded her plump hands together and brushed back a lock of her flyaway blonde curls.
“Thank you for putting these favors aside.” I knelt to check the contents of the box. “These bells are the perfect touch to finish off the decorations.” I’d waited with bated breath for the favors to top each place setting for Paws and Poinsettias. The tiny baubles featured a row of softly jingling sleigh bells on a red satin ribbon. Upon closer inspection, guests would see the sleigh bells themselves were molded in shapes of little cats and dogs.
“The purrrrfect touch.” Nina laughed at her pun and gave a ribbon a shake, a delicate silver trill rippling through the air. Her rosy cheeks glowed with mirth. The storeowner was decked out in a reindeer sweater to match her front window display, complete with a blinking Rudolph nose.
“I can’t wait!” I beamed and placed the bells in the box. “Thank you for your help. You and your daughter have as much to do with the success of Paws and Poinsettias as my sister and I.”
Nina was the mother of Lacey Adams, the March Homes stager Goldie seemed to favor but Clementine did not. I’d had a lot to do for the Paws and Poinsettias auction and was happy to share some of the elaborate planning with the March family’s own employee. There would be a pet fashion show, the auction itself, heavy hors d’oeuvres, and sparkling spirits befitting the holiday. It was useful to bounce ideas off Lacey since she knew what her employers favored when it came to decorations.
Well, that was what I’d thought before I’d heard Clementine trash Lacey’s designs. I squirmed inside as I thought back to just an hour ago, when Clementine and Goldie were airing their company’s dirty human resources laundry and sparring over whether Lacey’s work was up to par or not. I was startled out of my thoughts as Nina turned around to pick up a carafe shaped like a snowman.
“Peppermint hot chocolate?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” The warm drink chased away the chill of my concerns, and I relaxed for the first time in days. But it was short-lived, as Nina seemed to pick up the vibe I was giving off about the March family.
“I’m so thrilled March Homes is moving into Port Quincy.” Nina took a sip of her own cocoa. “Not everyone is happy that some of the undeveloped land will be turned into houses, but I’m happy my Lacey will be working closer to home. She has even put her townhouse in Pittsburgh on the market. She thinks March Homes will be developing in Port Quincy for the next three years, at least.” Nina’s cherub face dimmed a degree. “Not that moving back to Port Quincy will really ensure that I see Lacey more. The March family runs her ragged. She spends more time with Goldie March than with me and certainly more time with Goldie than Goldie’s own daughter.” She seemed to spit out the last pronouncement before blinking and tossing back the rest of her cocoa. I blanched at her censure of Olivia and rushed to defend my friend.
“Olivia is quite busy with her work. As is Goldie, it seems. I think Olivia and her mom will be spending more time together now that Olivia has moved up her wedding to the end of December.” At least I hoped Olivia and her mom could grab a few minutes in the coming weeks to make some decisions regarding her rushed nuptials.
A barely perceptible cloud seemed to sweep over Nina’s cheerful cherub face. I thought I’d imagined it. But then Nina’s hand wavered, and the last bit of cocoa sloshed from her cup and doused her jaunty fur-lined moccasins. “Oh dear!” She tut-tutted looking for a tea towel in the back room and knelt to mop up her shoes. I rushed to wipe up the cocoa from the floor as well.
“I’ve been working so hard this December, I don’t know where my mind is.” She sighed and placed the tea towel on a metal shelf. “And if I’m being honest, I’d hoped Lacey could help out a bit with the store when she moves back to Port Quincy. I miss my daughter. People should slow down and spend more time with their families instead of being workaholics.”
I squirmed anew, thinking of how I’d just taken on a wedding due to go off two days before Christmas. I wasn’t sure how I’d break the news to my boyfriend, and my mom was only okay with it because she thought I could get her an elusive stager position. Lacey’s position, in fact.
“Of course, this store wasn’t even meant to be mine.” Nina’s pretty round eyes grew wistful. “Candy Cane Lane originally belonged to my eldest daughter, Andrea.” She nervously twisted a snowflake pendant around her index finger and then made the sign of the cross.
“I’m sorry.” Something had obviously happened to Nina’s other daughter, and I didn’t want to pry.
“I’m sorry, too. But I still have my Lacey.” Nina seemed to steel herself and changed course. “I do have to admit I’m surprised March Homes can even make a foray into Port Quincy. Half the land for the five developments is their own, from the hunting grounds they’ve owned forever. But the other half comes from the Gibson farms, and no one ever thought they’d sell.”
“Five developments?” I nearly spit out my cocoa. I’d known the Marches were ambitious, but five new housing plans would change the face of Port Quincy.
“The March family doesn’t do anything by half measures,” Nina stated with some bitterness. “And the Gibson land was supposed to go to the family’s son. The kid is a real hothead. He was furious when he found out his parents sold to March Homes.”
Furious enough to vandalize Olivia’s car?
I was sure Truman was on top of it but decided to run the theory by him later anyway.
Nina began to gossip anew when the door to the retail portion of the store opened. Her assistant beckoned her back, and I slipped out the rear door with my box of favors.
I headed to March Homes headquarters, lost in thought. Not everyone in Port Quincy wanted to welcome the March family. The temperature had dropped, and an icy gust of wind ripped through my wool coat. I wondered if Olivia’s family would win everyone over with their holly jolly celebration—or come up cold.
CHAPTER THREE
The next day dawned cold and clear. The chilly sleet was gone, and the sun blazed in a cloudless periwinkle-blue sky. Frost glittered on the blades of grass, and each inhalation tickled my nose with fresh, frigid air. Rachel and I loaded the Butterscotch Monster with the last few bits and bobs for Paws and Poinsettias.
We were happy to help the March family in their mission to ingratiate themselves with the people of Port Quincy. And not only would I be assisting Olivia’s family, but I’d also be helping out some furry friends in need. The Paws and Poinsettias auction and evening of dancing and merrymaking would benefit the Port Quincy Animal Shelter. My sister had started nudging me in the spring to expand our event planning repertoire beyond weekend and Friday weddings, and I was now thrilled to plan new kinds of events.
“I never thought they’d finish in time.” I scanned the street for a spot near March Homes’s headquarters. Rachel let out a low whistle at the now-gleaming building. The March family had bought a dilapidated old eyesore of a building anchoring Main Street at the corner of Poplar. The edifice had once held a Gimbels department store, and according to locals, had been unoccupied since the 1980s. My friend, the contractor Jesse Flowers, and his crew had cleverly re
stored the building in quick fashion. And the development company quickly hired a fleet of employees to get to work on making the new developments a reality.
The swift hiring boom in construction had helped to win some fans of the company. Port Quincy was already going through a bit of a renaissance. A hundred years prior, the population had been three times the size it was now, filled with families and workers employed by the massive glass factory. When it closed, Port Quincy contracted. But it was growing again at a slow and sensible clip, bolstered by the giant hospital complex that kept expanding. The hospital was just outside the orbit of the bigger hospitals in Pittsburgh and was able to pick off prospective patients from nearby Ohio, West Virginia, and the tip of Maryland. Slowly more and more downtown buildings were being revitalized. The flourishing antique shops featured glass once made here, and I had a steady stream of brides from Pittsburgh and beyond. I was thrilled to be part of the mini boom.
I bit my lip as I maneuvered the boat of a car into a tight space. Rachel thankfully waited for me to cut the engine before she pulled my mind from my warm musings about my adopted hometown.
“Did you hear something last night?”
Our eyes met in the rearview mirror.
“It’s an old house. I hear lots of things in my sleep.” I didn’t like where this was going.
Rachel shook her head, her giant marcasite chandelier earrings softly jingling. “I thought I heard someone on the back stairs.” She took in my worried look and shrugged. “Then again, it could have been a dream.”
We gathered steaming travel mugs of coffee and shouldered last-minute bags of items. I held the door open for my sister and smiled as she gasped at the decor. That was just the reaction I was looking for. Lacey and I had worked long and hard to create a dazzling display for Paws and Poinsettias.
I followed my sister in through the glass doors and let out a gasp myself. And promptly dropped my coffee, where the travel mug shattered on the marble floor.
“What in the heck is going on here?”
My voice rang out louder than I’d intended. The servers setting up the tables of glittering crystal and delicate china swiveled their heads to take in my coffee-splattered self. I hadn’t dropped a mere slosh as Nina Adams had yesterday. My suede boots were soaked with peppermint latte. But I barely saw the surprised onlookers. I instead took in the former department store lobby, meticulously decorated over the last week, completely undone.
Where there had once been four stately pines anchoring each corner of the room, decorated in fanciful ornaments with animal themes, now there stood bright tinsel trees in turquoise, magenta, lavender, and green. The hundreds of red poinsettias I’d helped lovingly arrange had been replaced with cream, white, and light pink versions. The place settings of miniature gingerbread doghouses and whimsical cat condos were nowhere to be seen. Instead, each table bore a cut-glass bowl filled with glittery tropical fruit.
Oh no she didn’t.
The color scheme and props had my mother written all over them. Rachel hadn’t imagined a set of footsteps sneaking through the mansion in the wee hours.
“Isn’t it marvelous?” Clementine March sidled up to me and wrapped a green-tipped manicured hand around my arm. I felt my mouth open and close, with no sound emanating from my throat. My mother’s antics had rendered me speechless.
“I hope you like it.” Mom emerged from the shadows, a sheepish yet proud smile settled on her face. She had the good sense to dampen her grin when she took in my and Rachel’s expressions, and a slow blush climbed up her neck.
Clementine seemed to cotton on to the tension and gave my arm a squeeze. “You and Lacey did an admirable job, Mallory. But I was so taken with your mother’s ideas yesterday that I decided to enlist her help at the eleventh hour.” She bestowed my mother with a winning smile and dropped my arm to step back and further survey the room.
It was marginally less hurtful that my mom had undone all of my and Lacey’s work at the official behest of March Homes. I grudgingly admitted in some distant part of my brain that the room looked great. I felt an alarming blend of appreciation, annoyance, and delight. But mostly annoyance.
Goldie appeared on the scene, her countenance far less cheery than her mother’s. “I didn’t authorize this change, Mallory, just so you know.” Her announcement was couched as a whisper, but came out more like a loud hiss.
“Mom, could we have a word?” I pasted what felt like a pained smile on my face. My mother took a step closer to Clementine, as if seeking protection. Rachel nimbly pinched our mother’s elbow and nearly dragged her over to the magenta tinsel tree.
“Ouch! Rachel Marie Shepard, you don’t need to manhandle your mother.”
“I think you’re pretty familiar with manhandling, Mom. Just look at what you did!” I did manage to keep my voice low, but just barely. I had a flashback to my mother helping to redo my diorama for drama class while I blissfully slept, unaware of her unauthorized changes. I’d been furious at her overstepping then, as I was now. A wave of realization crested and crashed over my shoulder blades.
“You did this to audition for a staging position at March Homes!”
Bingo.
My mother finally appeared properly chastened. Her green eyes studiously fixed their gaze on the floor.
“Mom, did you approach Clementine first with this idea, or did she approach you?” Rachel demanded an answer with a tap of her silver stilettos and a hand on her hip.
But before we could get to the heart of the matter, Lacey Adams tore into the room. I’d regretted my over-the-top reaction of dropping my coffee in surprise, but I had nothing on Lacey. She glanced around the room and let out an actual screech, drawing all eyes her way.
“Who did this?” She scanned the high-ceilinged space and found me in her field of vision. “Mallory, I thought we were a team.”
I blanched as Lacey made a beeline to where I stood. The servers had stopped pretending to set tables and stared in frank curiosity at the accusations flying around the room.
“I had nothing to do with these changes.” I gestured helplessly around me and felt my mother take a step back.
“Well, who did then? This wasn’t what we discussed.” Lacey’s pretty amber eyes were alight with fire and rage. I anticipated Lacey finding out the vigilante decorator’s true identity and attempted to soften the blow.
“I guess we had a little help.” I couldn’t meet the stager’s eyes.
More like abject steamrolling.
“Lacey, you need to control your temper. You’re out of control. March Homes doesn’t need to be associated with this kind of behavior.” Clementine arrived to chastise Lacey, but the stager wouldn’t be shushed.
“Did you have something to do with this, Clementine? Because Goldie, Mallory, and I worked tirelessly to plan this event. Why—”
“It was me.” My mother finally owned up to her hand in the redecorating debacle and emerged from behind the magenta tree. “I’m so sorry, Lacey. I was under the impression that my daughter Mallory had designed this event and wouldn’t mind a bit of reconfiguring.”
I felt a flash of exasperation. It wasn’t okay to redo my plans even if I hadn’t been working in concert with Lacey.
“That’s even worse!” Lacey shook her head and narrowed her eyes at my mother. “You shouldn’t have overridden your daughter. But I’m sure Clementine put you up to this, too.”
Instead of seeming contrite, Clementine cast Lacey a haughty look, giving her all the confirmation the stager needed. Lacey flounced off, and the large room was silent for a moment before the servers resumed their amiable conversations. My mother seemed to deflate before me. Rachel looked torn between comforting her and telling her off for redoing our event planning. I was about to break my silence, my internal volcano of annoyance and frustration brimming to the top.
“Lacey doesn’t have the chops to pull off something this daring.” Clementine beamed and clasped her hands together. “Don’t mind her, Caro
le. I think you did a marvelous job.” Olivia’s grandmother swanned off, leaving us three Shepard women alone once more.
“I really messed up.” My mom dragged her eyes to meet mine with twin beads of tears gathering at the edges. “Clementine called me last night and said she desperately needed the decor for Paws and Poinsettias changed. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known she was doing it to upset that poor girl.” My mother took a deep breath, the wreath pendant on her evergreen sweater set rising and falling. “Clementine said it hasn’t been working out with Lacey lately anyway. But there will be so much work to do here. If I were to be hired, there’d be room for several stagers. I didn’t mean to usurp her.”
A plan seemed to be emerging. Clementine seemed hell-bent on driving Lacey out of her family company, without outright firing her. This seemed like an over-the-top and unnecessary coup to pull on the day of the Marches’ entree into Port Quincy society. I wasn’t sure I’d want my mom to work for such an unstable and over-the-top employer like Clementine.
“Are you sure you still want to work for the Marches?” I blurted out the question before I could stop myself. Seeing my mother’s seemingly contrite tears momentarily stifled my urge to give her a piece of my mind for changing my decorations.
My mother cocked her head, her shoulder-length cut dyed to match Rachel’s natural shade of honey caramel. “It was stressful running my own staging business when you girls were younger. You two understand now as businesswomen yourselves. Things can be unpredictable, with boom and bust times. I do want to come out of retirement and stay busy. But not be as stressed as when I was running my own show. You can understand, right? And I’m so sorry, Mallory. I realize I should have refused Clementine’s request.” My mother looked utterly miserable, the exact opposite of how she usually was during the holiday season.
Marry Christmas Murder Page 4
