Mrs. Morris and the Ghost of Christmas Past

by Traci Wilton

  “Okay—but I wanted to let you know that we have dinner plans with that detective tonight.”

  “You do?”

  “You too, don’t be silly. He’s very nice and was so helpful when he gave us a tour of the police station.”

  Her stomach tightened. “What? A tour?”

  “I wanted to know how the investigation was going, and you’re right, Charlene, he wouldn’t reveal a thing. Tight-lipped, like he was guarding national security or something.”

  She cringed, envisioning the scene. “How did that end up as dinner plans?”

  “Well, I think he felt bad and so he suggested that we make a date for dinner.”

  A date, huh? Very sneaky, Sam, she thought. “I have guests and I need to be at the bed-and-breakfast in case I’m needed.”

  “I thought of that, so we’re going to order barbecue from a ribs place that is supposed to be amazing.”

  “Mom!”

  “It’s a done deal, Charlene—he’ll be over at six, after he gets off work. He has to run home and feed his dog, and it won’t take long, he assures me. We ordered extra in case you have other guests—already paid for.”

  Charlene sat back in the chair, not sure if she was angry at her mom for being so pushy, or at Sam for outmaneuvering her and getting a date. But she liked ribs as much as the next red-blooded American, so she decided to just roll with it. “See you at two—send me the address.”

  She ended the call, realizing with the coconspiracy between Sam and her mom she’d been outplayed.

  A knock sounded on her door, and she answered quickly.

  Minnie waited on the other side. “Sorry to bother you—I heard you talking?”

  “Yes, Mom. She invited Sam over for dinner tonight, and she’s ordered ribs.”

  Minnie hid a smile. “Barbecue is delicious—but I don’t know that I’d consider that date food.”

  “It isn’t a date.”

  Jack’s presence chilled behind her. He hadn’t been privy to her mother’s conversation.

  “I think your mom is taking matters into her own hands.” Minnie snickered. “I like Sam, and you’re a single woman. A little flirtation won’t hurt.”

  She thought about Jack’s wrath. “That’s true, I suppose. Only five more days, right?”

  Minnie winked. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I have to leave early—one of the grandkids caught the flu, and my daughter asked if I could sit with them—she has to work.”

  “Oh sure, that’s fine. Where’s Avery?”

  “I’ve got her dusting in the living room. She’s on a ladder, doing the higher shelves. I told her to leave the mirror.” Her grin revealed her side tooth missing. “Sweet thing is being so careful.”

  “You like her then?”

  “I do.”

  “Me too. Go take care of your grandchild. I hope everyone is feeling better before Christmas.”

  Minnie thanked her and hurried out.

  Charlene found Avery safe on the ground, studying the books on the shelves she’d dusted. “You are welcome to borrow any that strike your interest.”

  She tugged her earbuds out—they dangled down the front of her shoulders, attached to something in her back pocket. “Really? I love to read, but I get most of mine from the school library. Have you read all these?”

  “Pretty much, some were my husband’s. I tend to buy most of my books online, but once in a while it’s just nice to browse a library. How’s school going? Pamela, Mrs. Avita, mentioned you were doing a project?”

  “I have to, for extra credit, or else I won’t pass.” Avery rolled her eyes. “Math. My worst subject.” She lifted her shoulders with a shrug. “Why do we need to know that stuff? I mean, everybody has a cell phone.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” She smacked her back pocket. “It’s not a cool one, but I can text, that’s all I need it for.”

  “That, and math?” Charlene teased.

  Avery giggled. “You know what I mean. Math is going to be like learning cursive—not necessary anymore. And when is someone like me gonna use geometry or algebra?”

  “So, what’s your project? Can I help?”

  “Nope, I got it done. It ticks Mrs. Avita off so bad that her kid is in the same remedial class as me.”

  “Why would that make her mad?”

  “Her kids transferred this year from private school—like they were so smart, but her son is a junior, like me, and needs tutoring. She doesn’t like the public school and expects them to be head of the class or something.”

  “Does she have two sons?”

  “Nope—her daughter is a freshman. She’s pretty and popular and has all the best stuff—she had no problem fitting in.” Avery twirled an earbud. “Even her dumb son has friends. Amazing what having money can get you.”

  “Not everything,” Charlene promised. “And real friends don’t care about that. Do you have anyone that you’re close to? I saw that you knew Kyle the night of the auction.”

  “Yeah, we used to hang out and smoke.”

  Charlene’s brow lifted.

  “Don’t worry, I can’t actually afford cigs—and I don’t like them, anyway, but it was cool to sneak around the back of the school building and share a cigarette.”

  Charlene hadn’t had a chance to do any parenting, but she was pretty sure that Avery had really wanted a pal. “Do you still see Kyle?”

  “Sometimes at the beach on the weekends—but he’s working now, at the Green Market, so he doesn’t have time to hang out as much. He’s kinda cute, I think.” She shifted her feet, her sneakers black and white Converse. “I can’t believe I dropped that plate. Of course, he saw it.”

  Did Avery have a crush on Kyle? A rebel with a motorcycle—probably Kyle was popular with the teen set. “I felt really bad for Kyle that night. You too.”

  “I know, right?” Avery ruffled her spiky hair. “David didn’t have to be such a jerk—not to me, not to Kyle, and not to all those people he gypped with those checks. I saw Mrs. Winters and Mrs. Avita—they were really bummed.”

  Charlene recalled looking for Avery that night, but she hadn’t seen her and had assumed she’d gone home. “Did you see anything that night, Avery?”

  “You mean the hit-and-run?” She shook her head. “Nah, I was pretty upset about being asked not to come back—embarrassed in front of everyone: Kyle, Mrs. Winters, and Mrs. Avita. I was going to help her with the baskets out to the car, but Dalton snagged me back in the kitchen to tell me about Kyle.” She chewed her lower lip. “Kyle, well, he blew off some steam about David occasionally, but he loved his dad.”

  This is interesting. “You know what Dalton said about Kyle?”

  “Yeah—he’s a major douchebag,” Avery informed her. “He let Kyle take the rap for something . . .” She trailed off and didn’t say what. “That was high school, right, so it doesn’t matter anymore, but you can’t trust someone like that. And after this latest thing? I don’t think they’re friends anymore.”

  Good, Charlene wanted to say. The two walked to the kitchen and Charlene put on the electric kettle for tea. “Do you like Kyle?”

  Avery turned scarlet. “No!” She studied her short fingernails, painted black. “Maybe—but he has a thing for Jessica, even though she’s, like, way older.”

  Young love. “Want some tea or hot chocolate?”

  Avery pulled her cell phone from her back pocket—it was one that you could pay for the minutes as you used them and wasn’t fancy or a name brand. “I still have an hour of work and a list of things that Minnie gave me to do before I go, so no, thank you. I really like this job, Charlene.”

  Charlene resisted giving the girl a hug—but just barely. “I’m glad—in that case, I will continue making phone calls to these businesses for fund-raisers. I don’t want to let Felicity House down.”

  Avery popped in her earbuds and gave Charlene a nod before heading back to the living room.

  “I can’t quite figure her
out just yet,” Jack said from his place at the kitchen table. “Don’t be fooled by a teenaged con artist, okay?”

  “Stop it,” she whispered. “She’s been very hardworking.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She gave him the eye and he disappeared—literally, fluttering a stack of paper napkins on the table in his wake.

  Charlene made it all the way through the G’s on her list when it was time to take Avery home and pick up her parents. Feeling very good about her new employee, she signed Avery in and made plans to pick her up on Friday, then drove to the Lobster Shack.

  Her parents were bundled up on the bright, cold afternoon, waiting on the sidewalk for her. Charlene parked. They got in—her dad in the front this time and her mom in the back. “Would you like to check out Vintage Treasures?”

  She could see her parents and Archie getting along famously.

  Her mom didn’t look so good and lay down across the back seat. “Can we go home? I think I overstuffed myself on the lobster rolls—they were soooo good.”

  “No problem—are you feeling okay, Dad?”

  “Right as rain, but I stopped before I burst.”

  “Just be quiet, Michael,” her mother droned.

  “Should we cancel dinner tonight?” Charlene asked. Sam would understand. That would free up some time to finish making phone calls for the kids—Christmas was only three days away.

  “Maybe we should reschedule for tomorrow,” her mom said in a sad voice.

  Charlene nodded. Instead of phone calls—what if she appealed to Tori on a personal level? Make her listen to reason regarding Felicity House. And maybe Tori would know how Charlene could contact Freddy. She wouldn’t be gone long, and her dad could handle the guests if there was a problem.

  “I have some local peppermint tea that will make you feel much better, Mom. And then I can run some errands this afternoon, Dad, if you don’t mind manning the place?”

  “I’d be happy to,” he said.

  Her mom groaned, and Charlene actually felt sorry for her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Charlene brought her parents home and made her mother the peppermint tea, then got back in the car and drove to her favorite local florist. She knew she could do better fund-raising in person than over the phone.

  Witches Bloom was decorated festively with fanciful wreaths and garlands, and she was hit by the smell of evergreen, pine, and cinnamon. While she waited to speak to the manager, Margaret Tissel, who was busy ringing up a big order, Charlene chose a centerpiece for her dining room table—long and narrow, with three red candles and greenery, red berries, and pine cones.

  She thought of Tori, and how to get the woman to open up to her. Who didn’t like getting flowers? And since she wasn’t going to the funeral service, it would be appropriate to bring flowers to Tori’s home.

  Charlene grinned as she picked out a flashy gold Christmas tabletop arrangement and stepped up to the counter with her arrangements. She had a standing monthly order for flowers for the foyer.

  Margaret, who had just turned sixty, had a long gray ponytail that dangled over one shoulder and black-framed glasses on her slender face. She was tall, possibly five foot ten, wearing a long, flower-patterned skirt, a long-sleeve tee, and three ropes of multicolored beads, which swayed when she moved.

  “Hi, Charlene. These are lovely. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

  “Actually, there is.” Charlene took a brochure for Felicity House out of her tote. “A few days ago, this organization was expecting a rather large check, one that would enable them to build a new wing and house another twenty needy children, and it didn’t happen.”

  “God, I heard,” Margaret said, lowering her voice. “I know Alice and she told me what happened to poor David, run over that way. Who would do such a thing?” She glanced at the brochure. “How can I help?”

  Charlene’s shoulders relaxed. “If you’re willing, you can either make out a check to Felicity House or send one directly to them. If you’d prefer to donate toys for the children, that would also be appreciated. We want to make sure they don’t go without this Christmas.”

  “Wait a sec. Let me get my checkbook.” Margaret wrote it out for two hundred, and Charlene put it into a special brown envelope she kept in her bag.

  “Thank you so much, Margaret.”

  “Do you need help getting your items in the car?”

  “No—thanks, though. And Merry Christmas.”

  A few minutes later, Charlene had the arrangements in the back and drove to Tori and David’s address that she’d found in the online Salem directory. Tori’s was a modest home, on a very nice street, but not flashy like she’d expected.

  Pre-lottery, she thought. It was a two-story with white siding, black trim on the shutters and doors, a double paved driveway, and a pretty walkway framed by dozens of poinsettias and holiday lighting. An oak tree in the center of the lawn had a flower bed underneath, with evergreen bushes poking out of the remnants of snow left over from the rain. A giant metal moving box was to the left of the driveway.

  She parked, took out the smaller gold arrangement from the back of her Pilot, braced herself for a heated argument, and knocked on the door.

  No one answered, but she saw someone peeking out the framed living room window, so she knocked louder.

  Tori opened at last, wearing leopard-print tights and a loose black knit sweater, drooped to expose one slender shoulder. “What are you doing here?” she drawled.

  Charlene put on her best Mary Poppins smile and thrust out the floral arrangement. It had red carnations, a gold candle, and gold ribbons amid green ferns.

  Tori eyed it warily before accepting it. “Thank you. What’s this for?”

  “An apology,” she said, attempting to sound genuine. “I won’t be able to attend the Christmas Eve service. I have a house filled with guests and—”

  “Ah, geez. As if I cared.” Tori held the arrangement in one hand, her nails a bright blue, her hip jutted forward.

  “Tori, you don’t have to pretend with me. I saw you the night David was killed. You were hysterical with grief.” Charlene poured sincerity into each word. “I know you were planning on leaving together. You’re probably heartsick.”

  “You don’t know nothin’.”

  Charlene stepped back at the poison in her tone.

  Tori stared at her. “You want something? I already thanked you for the flowers.” She fluttered her hand in the air. “Now you can turn around and say goodbye.”

  “Tori.” She reached for her bony wrist, hoping she could appeal to the Tori who didn’t have to work so hard at being perfect. The little girl who maybe knew what it was like to go without. “Can I come in for a moment? I really am so sorry about David.”

  Tori looked from the flowers to Charlene. “Okay. But no guilt trip, got it?”

  “Okay.” Charlene realized that she had one chance to reach Tori and maybe get her to fund the check for Felicity House. She followed Tori into the living room. There was a brick fireplace against one wall and two matching striped beige and gray sofas with a large ornate armchair facing the fireplace. A square onyx and glass coffee table sat in the center. There was no clutter. The only personal photo was of Tori and David on the mantel. No books, just a Shape magazine that looked well leafed through, under the glass table.

  “I just put it on the market, which is why it’s so boring.”

  Charlene knew that to sell the home she’d probably packed up all the personal stuff. Realtors were big on de-cluttering, making the house more appealing to prospective buyers.

  “I like it,” Charlene said.

  “Seriously? I prefer modern.” Tori put the flower arrangement on the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa.

  Unasked, Charlene sat down on the edge of the heavily cushioned armchair. Three small round pillows were tucked in the back. “My house goes back a few hundred years.”

  Tori twirled a short blond wisp around her fi
nger. “To each his own.” She gave Charlene a calculated look. “So why are you here? You expect a confession or something?”

  “No, you didn’t kill your husband.”

  Tori’s bare shoulder eased an inch or two. “So? What do you want with me, then?”

  Charlene knew she’d have to tread carefully if she wanted to make any headway with the young widow. She gestured to the photo. “Just an answer to a few questions. I’m curious by nature.” She smiled, but Tori didn’t join her. “How long were you and David married for?”

  “Two years, but what’s it to you?”

  “I want to know who killed David, don’t you?”

  “Not really. I just want to get the hell away from here.” She sighed, admiring her long, painted fingernails. “I loved him, but we had no passion. When we first met? It was hot and heavy. When you’re sneaking around with another woman’s husband, things tend to be exciting. All those secret phone calls late in the night . . . meeting in strange places. Doing it anytime you can.” Tori raised a slender arm on the back of the sofa and folded one leg over the other. She looked smugly at Charlene, as if daring her to say anything.

  Charlene didn’t shock easily—not anymore. “I’m sure it was fun for you. Not so much for Linda, though. Probably broke her heart.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You and everyone else.” Tori leaned forward. “You guys think you’re all so smart. As if you know me and get to judge. Well, I might not be a saint, but neither is Linda.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlene edged closer—she’d liked the nurse.

  “I mean that Linda was cheating on David before I ever got involved. Her and Vincent were going at it like two cats in an alley.” She gave an ugly laugh. “Yeah, that’s right. David came crying to me one night at the gym, and I felt kind of sorry for the guy. One thing led to another. We went out for drinks. Then we started having drinks more and more often. He’d show up at my apartment and we’d get it on. Yeah, it was hot. Affairs always are. Marriage kills passion.”

  Charlene touched her heart-shaped diamond studs. The last gift that her beloved Jared had given her. And he’d given her so much . . . all his devotion, all his love. “I never thought marriage was boring, not for one second. I loved my husband and trusted him completely. We didn’t need anyone else.”