Dying in a Winter Wonderland

by Vicki Delany

  “But you are,” she said.

  “No. I’m not.”

  The doorbell rang, and we all let out a sigh of relief. I was closest, so I answered.

  Jeff Vanderhaven and his prospective father-in-law stepped into the house. I’d worked in the fashion and design industry in New York City. I know a two-thousand-dollar suit when I see one, and Jeff was wearing one now. His red silk tie was perfectly knotted, and his gold cuff links and handmade Italian leather shoes shone in the light in the hallway. Harvey Ireland was also in a good suit, although not nearly that quality.

  “Sorry about this, Merry,” Harvey said, clearly embarrassed.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  Jeff said nothing. His eyes were dark with suppressed rage and his face was set into tight angry lines. He was, I thought, no longer handsome.

  I pointed to the living room. Jeff marched in, and Harvey and I followed.

  The guests were frozen as if in a tableau. Some people smiled at the new arrivals, some glanced away. Jack studied the label on the brandy bottle, and Russ and Alan pretended to still be taking about baseball.

  “Good evening and merry Christmas.” Dad crossed the room, his hand outstretched, welcoming guests to his home no matter how awkward the situation might be. Everyone else murmured greetings.

  Luanne looked up and blinked. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

  Chris pushed himself to his feet and turned to face Jeff.

  Jeff punched him in the jaw.

  Chapter 5

  Chris fell backward, landing on top of Luanne. Blood streamed from his nose, some of it splashing onto Luanne’s orange dress. Luanne cried out and flailed at the man on top of her.

  Mom screamed. Grace and some of the other female guests screamed. Dad yelled, “Hey! There was no call for that.”

  Russ and Alan leapt forward and grabbed Jeff before he could drag Chris off Luanne and land another punch. Vicky swept up a solid silver candlestick, blew out the candle with one deep breath, and held the weapon high, ready to intervene if necessary.

  Mattie and Ranger barked. Sandbanks woke with a start and joined in the barking.

  Chris rolled off Luanne and got to his feet, keeping his eyes on Jeff the entire time. Jeff struggled against the men holding him and spat at Chris. “You keep your hands off my fiancée.”

  “I didn’t touch her,” Chris said. “Not until you shoved me at her.” He gingerly touched his nose and his hand came away dotted with blood.

  “I’ve got your number, pal,” Jeff said. “You think you can weasel your way into her affections and get her to come back to you. But I’m here to tell you to back off. Or else.”

  “I don’t want—” Chris said.

  “Do I have to call the police, Harvey?” my dad asked in a calm voice.

  “No,” Harvey Ireland said. “We’ll be on our way. Get up, Luanne.”

  She threw a look at Chris.

  “You don’t ask him for permission,” Jeff yelled.

  “Calm down, buddy,” Russ said. “We’re all friends here.”

  “That’s not the way I see it.” Jeff tried to pull himself free.

  Luanne trembled as she started to get up. Chris hesitated, as if wanting to help her, but Mom nudged him aside and held out her hand to Luanne. The look Mom gave Jeff would have curdled the eggnog Dad served before dinner.

  “None of us want any trouble here,” my father said. “But you make one more move against my son or any of my guests, and I will call the police. Russell. Alan. You can let this gentleman go.”

  Russ and Alan stepped away from Jeff, but they kept their feet apart, their hands loose, and their eyes on the other man. Vicky tightened her grip on the candlestick. She had been, I remembered, the star hitter on our high school baseball team.

  “Mr. Ireland,” I said, “why don’t you escort your daughter to your car? You can stop by tomorrow and pick hers up.”

  “Excellent idea.” Harvey grabbed Luanne’s arm. “Let’s go, honey. Your mother and Margaret are waiting.”

  Harvey and Luanne slowly walked out of the room. Luanne sobbed, and Harvey murmured the sounds he’d probably made when she was teething. Jeff stared at Chris. The two men faced each other. Russ and Alan and Vicky didn’t move.

  “If I catch you with my fiancée again,” Jeff said, “I’ll kill you.” He turned and walked away. I heard the front door slam. I went to the window, pulled aside a section of the curtains, and peered out. Jeff marched down the front path and caught up with Harvey and Luanne. Jeff got into the driver’s seat of the Lexus, leaving Harvey to help Luanne into the back. Harvey walked around the SUV as the engine started. His door was barely shut before the Lexus pulled into the street, turned in a sharp circle, and drove away, going far too fast for the quiet residential street. As I dropped the curtain, the headlights of the small dark car parked next door came on.

  Everyone took a deep breath. Vicky crouched down and gave Sandbanks a reassuring hug. Mattie went to check out the floor beneath the dessert table. Ranger’s small body quivered with excitement. Then again, quivering with excitement was Ranger’s normal condition.

  “Goodness,” my mother said.

  Grace studied the leather love seat. “Not too much blood here. Most of it landed on her dress.” She laughed.

  “I’ll get it wiped up.” One of Mom’s friends went into the kitchen for a damp rag.

  “You okay, son?” my dad asked.

  “What a couple of lunatics,” Chris said. Mom handed him a paper cocktail napkin and he dabbed at his face. The bleeding was already slowing, but he wouldn’t look good tomorrow.

  “Good thing,” Vicky said, “you work behind the scenes at the theater. Not on stage.”

  He gave her a weak grin.

  “Is Luanne going to be okay, do you think?” I asked.

  “She’s with her father,” Mom said. “Jeff’s aggression was all aimed at Chris, not at her. I suppose that’s a good thing.”

  “Not for me,” Chris mumbled.

  “He’s not a very nice person,” I said.

  “No,” Chris said, “and I’m worried about her. I don’t think she knows what she wants.”

  “She might not,” Mom said, “but that’s no reason for her to make it our business. I find it interesting that she said her parents want her to marry Jeff, as though it’s not entirely her idea. I wish you weren’t involved in her wedding plans, Merry.”

  “I’ll call her tomorrow and tell her I quit. I want no further part in any of this.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Alan said. “If she does go ahead with the wedding, you might be able to act as a calming influence.”

  “I don’t want to be a calming influence. I scarcely know her.”

  “Well, I want my mince tart,” Dad said. “Christmas isn’t over until I’ve had a mince tart. Anyone else for a brandy? Jack, can I top you up?”

  “Never say no to that,” Jack said.

  Slowly, we resumed our places. Mom’s friend wiped down the love seat and pronounced it clean as new. Second rounds of desserts and coffee and tea were served and enjoyed. Conversation started up again. I tried to join in, but my festive mood had been ruined. I hoped Luanne would tell Jeff the wedding was off. Her parents would be furious at losing their deposit on the hall, not to mention the dress and everything else they’d already paid for, but surely that was better than an unhappy daughter going into a bad marriage.

  Alan caught my eye and gave me a reassuring smile. I smiled in return.

  * * *

  * * *

  Luanne did not call off the wedding. Instead she phoned me shortly after opening the shop the morning after Christmas Day.

  “Two thirty,” she said.

  “What’s happening at two thirty?”

  “We’re meeting with Chef Mark, of co
urse. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, Merry. I told you. He needs to plan the new menu with me ASAP as the wedding’s only seven weeks away.”

  She said nothing about the embarrassing events of the previous night, and I decided not to remind her. If she wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, so be it. But I wanted nothing more to do with her and her wedding.

  “Can’t you and your mother handle it? You don’t need me.”

  “Of course I need you,” she said. “I need your advice on what food will look perfect with the table elements you’re planning on using.”

  “Luanne. Let’s be frank here. You seem somewhat . . . unsure . . . about going ahead with the wedding. I think it’s best if you spend your time today deciding if you want to marry Jeff after all.”

  She sighed. “Jeff and I had a long talk last night. He loves me so much, Merry! He knows Chris and I were a major item back in school.” That wasn’t the way Chris remembered it. To him it was more like a brief childhood fling that ended with no recriminations or tears on anyone’s part. “Jeff’s so jealous. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “No,” I said.

  “This morning, I talked things over with Mom and Dad. Dad’s so happy about this marriage. He calls it a perfect match. And Mom says the Vanderhavens will make great in-laws. They know so many important people.”

  “Luanne. This isn’t the eighteenth century and you are not a Jane Austen heroine. You don’t have to marry a man to improve your parents’ social status.”

  “Please, Merry. Please come. I need . . . someone on my side.”

  “Your parents are on your side. Your mom might not approve of the change of timing, but she supports your decision. Your dad was really worried about you last night. They love you, Luanne.”

  I might as well not have spoken.

  “Dad’s mad because the big wedding’s going to cost so much more, and Mom’s mad because she doesn’t know if some of the people she wants to invite can make it with seven weeks’ notice. Mrs. Vanderhaven says her closest friends will all be in Florida or Arizona and might not want to come to New York in February, and Mr. Vanderhaven called me a”—her voice broke—“silly girl. And then he poured himself another drink.”

  I made one last desperate attempt to get out of it. “What about asking one of your bridesmaids to come with you today?”

  “Judy’s in California, and she’s mad at me because she says she had trouble getting her vacation time in July and now she has to ask to change that, and Ginny works at an electronics store in Rochester. Today’s their busiest day next to Black Friday, and she can’t ask for the time off. Jeff’s sister Amber’s going to be one of my bridesmaids, but I can’t stand her. She always wants to be the center of attention. Besides, I’m paying you, so you have to come. Right?”

  I took a deep breath and braced myself to say no and to tell her I was hanging up now. Because of the incident last night at my parents’ home and the insult to my brother, I couldn’t be involved in this. As for paying me, I hadn’t seen a cent yet.

  But she beat me to it.

  “Merry. Please. I’ve made a dreadful mistake. I know that. The summer wedding in the old inn would have been exactly what I wanted. But then I started reading wedding magazines and looking up weddings on Pinterest and Instagram and . . . and then my mom was complaining about how she couldn’t invite everyone she wanted to, even though it’s my wedding, not hers. And Mrs. V. is being such a witch about the whole thing, so I thought this would make her happier. I hoped the Vanderhavens would help Dad pay, but they’re not going to. I . . .” She started to cry. Big deep racking sobs. “Okay, I made a fool of myself last night at your parents’ place. But I’m feeling so lost and everyone’s so mad at me and . . . please come with me this afternoon, Merry. Mom won’t yell if you’re there.”

  “Two thirty,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  “Yeah! Thanks, Merry. I knew I could count on you.”

  We hung up.

  I looked at Mattie. “Okay, color me a fool.”

  Mattie nodded.

  * * *

  * * *

  “I have to go out this afternoon,” I said to Jackie.

  “Surprise!” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you always go out when we’re busy.”

  “I do not.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Merry. That’s why you promoted me to assistant manager, remember? So I can take over the store in your absence.” Jackie glanced around the shop. We were busy, but not exceptionally so. I’d marked a few items for sale, but as I sell Christmas decorations all year round, I don’t have to clear out my inventory when the season’s over. Crystal was showing two women the porcelain Santa and Mrs. Claus dolls and explaining that their beautiful clothes had been handmade in Upstate New York. No one else seemed to need our attention at the moment.

  “Which reminds me,” Jackie said. “Kyle had an idea.”

  I stifled a groan. “I’m sure he did.” Kyle was Jackie’s boyfriend. He was always full of ideas—ideas for things other people could do, and not one of them had turned out to be at all feasible.

  “Kyle thinks it’s time you started teaching me more about the running of the business.”

  “Like what?”

  “I know people, Merry. Lots of people. I can help you source goods for the shop. I can be your buyer. That’s a job, right? A buyer for a store?”

  “At Macy’s, yeah. Not a two-and-a-half-person store in Rudolph.” Jackie was a great shop assistant. She was genuinely friendly and truly seemed to like helping people. Customers sensed that in her, and they reacted accordingly. She wasn’t the brightest bulb on our town’s Christmas tree, she sometimes had a shocking lack of self-awareness, and she didn’t always know how to properly engage with me, ostensibly her boss, but I forgave all that because she genuinely didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

  “Kyle’s aunt Rosemarie lives over in Muddle Harbor and she makes the most adorable rag dolls. You’ll love them! They’re not expensive, either. As it happens, she’s coming to town this afternoon, but you won’t be here. Too bad. She and I can talk prices.” Jackie beamed at me.

  I could guess whose bright idea this was. Kyle’s. At this very moment Aunt Rosemarie was probably sitting eagerly by her phone, waiting for him to call and tell her I’d gone out and the coast was clear. I’d get back to the shop and find a stack of a hundred or so hastily assembled rag dolls cluttering my counters and a hugely inflated invoice.

  “Nope,” I said. “No staffing changes will be made this year. Let’s discuss it again at your next performance review.” In case that wasn’t clear, I added, “Don’t you dare buy any rag dolls, or anything else, from Aunt Rosemarie while I’m not here.” I gave her what I thought of as my sternest boss stare.

  Jackie had the grace to flush and look away.

  The chimes over the door tinkled and I turned to see my mom sail in. My mom never walks, she sails or floats, or does whatever opera divas do. She wore a black wool cape with fire-engine red frogs, high black leather boots, a black hat trimmed with fake fur dyed red, and red leather gloves.

  “This is a surprise,” I said. My mom, who claims to still live on a performer’s schedule, rarely makes it out of the house before noon.

  “I didn’t sleep at all well,” she said. “After that dreadful drama of last night.”

  “What happened last night?” Jackie said.

  “Don’t you have customers to attend to?” I said.

  “Not right now.”

  I gave her the boss look, and she said “Okay” and scurried away.

  “As I was awake anyway,” Mom said, “I thought Chris might want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t know that there’s much to talk about. Luanne’s unsure about marrying Jeff, and she’s looking for an excuse to get o
ut of it by imagining herself running away with Chris to live happily ever after. He’s leaving tomorrow, and he’ll be well out of it.”

  “Agreed,” Mom said. “But it is weighing on him. You know what a kind heart he has. He was in the kitchen when I came down, and he told me he’s worried about her and feels sorry for her.”

  “She seems to have that effect on the Wilkinson siblings. Despite my intentions, I found myself agreeing to meet her at the Yuletide at two thirty today to talk to Mark about the menu.”

  A well-groomed eyebrow rose. “You said last night you were done with her and her wedding.”

  “Yes, and I meant it. But then the poor little me act started.” I shrugged. “What can I say? Now I’m going. I intend to tell Luanne and her mother, today, that my fee is increasing substantially, as I don’t have much time to do what needs to be done. She can take it or leave it, and I hope she leaves it. If not, I’ll do what I’m hired to do. Let’s change the subject. What are you and Dad up to for the rest of the day?”

  “Nothing in particular. Your father’s lying low in case any children spot him and wonder why Santa’s not resting at the North Pole after his labors.”

  That brought a smile to my face. With his mane of curly white hair, full white beard, rosy red cheeks, and substantial belly, my dad looks like Santa even out of costume.

  “Chris and my conversation was cut short this morning, as he was joining friends for coffee. We agreed to meet for lunch.” Mom checked her watch. “Which is why I popped in here. I’m early.”

  “You can be early sometimes, Mom.”

  “No, dear, I cannot. That would look as though I have nothing important to be doing today.”

  “Which you just told me you don’t.”

  “Force of habit,” she said. “Come to think of it, I do have something important to do today.” She lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Chris gave me these beautiful gloves as my Christmas gift. He has such excellent taste, doesn’t he? I think I’ll pop into Jayne’s to see if they have a similar pair in black.”