“Maybe just a little bit,” she said.
“What?” Oliver asked.
“Nothing. Um, sorry. I’ll just be getting some gravy.” One ladle full. One. That’s all. She dipped the ladle into the gravy, spread the sauce over as much as one ladlefull would cover, and moved on to the drinks.
In the living room, she sat down on the couch and put her plate on the coffee table. In the corner, she caught Thief lying on a blanket, watching her without interest. The last time she’d sat here, she thought that cat was dead and she was sniffing its fur. Bad memories. She decided to move over to the other couch by the fire. As she sat down, she remembered this was where she blew out the seams in an extra small T-shirt when she sneezed over the mayor’s cologne. More bad memories.
Across the rug, there was a nice wingback chair. She moved over there and decided the haunting might cease because she’d never sat in this chair before. She stared at the plate in her hands, but all she could hear in her head was four dress sizes echoing over and over again.
She could do this. She was Melb Cornforth, for crying out loud. A strong woman, and soon to be married to Oliver S. What more motivation did she need? She glanced up, watching Oliver lick mashed potatoes off his wrist before spotting her across the living room and giving her a big grin. She smiled back, but her stomach grumbled its protest that she had forgone the mashed potatoes. Small portions. Chew food until it’s liquid. Don’t eat more than the size of your fist. Drink eight glasses of water. She smiled. This was doable.
Wolfe had never played host in his life, but he thought he was getting the hang of it. He’d offered people drinks, brought others napkins, made sure everyone had a place to sit. He’d even refilled the gravy bowl after Melb Cornforth practically poured the whole thing on her plate after her third pass through the line. He didn’t blame her. Ainsley made the best giblet gravy he’d ever tasted.
He scanned the crowd. Everyone looked happy, and it sort of reminded him of Thanksgiving, minus the sinister plots and not-so-dead cat. Not to mention his near-death experience. Even Alfred looked to be enjoying himself, and he was glad his old friend didn’t have to spend the holidays alone. The mayor looked somewhat perplexed as to why he was eating turkey and stuffing in July, but he was eating nevertheless.
What bothered Wolfe, though, was knowing Ainsley was not having a good time. Though she was able to pull herself together enough to offer that winsome smile everyone came to expect, her eyes reflected disappointment. He knew he had to cheer her up.
His first plan was to remind her of her excellence as a hostess, not to mention her knack for decorating. In fact, he realized, he hadn’t had a chance to admire the special manger she’d set up. After a quick glance around to make sure there were no dire needs, he decided he’d go look at the manger, then find Ainsley and tell her how wonderful it looked.
Over the fireplace, she’d fashioned an amazing setup. A large wooden manger, complete with details like hay and sackcloth, was the backdrop to the story the figurines told … the story of the day the earth’s soul found its worth. Somehow she had used tiny Christmas lights to give the illusion of a majestic glow. In the middle of the manger, a small, bundled baby Jesus lay quietly asleep. Kneeling over him was a serene-looking Mary and a proud-looking Joseph. Between these two, a mighty and beautiful angel hovered, arms swept up in worship, wings spread. To their left, humble and lowly shepherds stood with their staffs in their hands, their animals in tow. Two were kneeling. One stood with his hand over his heart.
And to their right … to their right … nothing. Where were the Wise Men? Wolfe stood baffled. The space was completely empty, as if something had formerly been there, but was now gone. He peeked around the side of the manger, just to see if the Wise Men had somehow gotten distracted and needed to quickly wrap their gifts. But there was nothing. He rubbed his brow line, trying to decide what to do. If Ainsley had indeed forgotten to put the Wise Men out, she’d be horrified to realize that no one had told her. That was not the likely scenario, though. Biting his lip, Wolfe decided he’d better go tell her. She would want to know.
He found her in the kitchen, alone. The guests were happily munching away at Christmas dinner. Ainsley was putting another batch of rolls in the oven.
“Hey,” Wolfe said.
She mustered a smile for him. “Hi.”
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Sweetheart, don’t let this ruin your Christmas. Everyone is happy. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it’s working out.”
“I know,” she said quietly, adjusting the temperature on the oven.
“Then what’s wrong? You look so down.”
She shook her head, staring at the tile beneath her shoes. “This is just very hard for me to take.”
“What? The company?”
“No. Not the company.”
“What then?”
She guided him to the doorway and pointed to the crowd in the living room. Everyone seemed fine. He shrugged, raising his eyebrow to indicate he wasn’t sure what she was talking about.
“TV trays.”
“TV trays?”
She nodded, her words choked. “People are eating off TV trays.”
“And …?”
“And I never would’ve imagined the day people would eat off TV trays in my home. I didn’t even know we had TV trays in this house. Dad said they were Aunt Gert’s.” She looked up at him. “I probably sound like a horrible snob. But to me, a dinner as special as Christmas needs to be shared at the table, with a linen tablecloth, candelabras, wineglasses, garlands fashioned with scented pine cones and silky red ribbon. Instead, I’ve got … TV trays. And a buffet line.”
He squeezed her hands. “You’ve always had such high expectations for yourself. There is no way you could’ve predicted this many people would come for dinner. And the fact that you were able to feed a crowd with no notice is nothing short of miraculous. Everyone will be gone soon, and then we’ll sit in front of the fire, just the two of us, and you can unwrap the gift I got you.”
Through teary eyes, she smiled brightly at him. “I can’t wait. I have a gift for you too!”
He stroked her cheek and then kissed her forehead. And also realized this was not a good time to mention the Wise Men. She retreated into the kitchen, and he gazed at the TV trays in the living room. Frankly, he’d always liked eating off them.
CHAPTER 10
THE REVEREND STOOD near the mayor, who was sitting in a wingback chair reading a book about sailing he’d taken from the sheriff’s library. He seemed oblivious to the fact that the entire room, huddled in several groups in various places in the living area, was staring at him. Their collective breath-holding nearly depleted the room of oxygen.
“Well?” the sheriff asked after a few moments. “What are you waiting for?”
The reverend cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m, um … just a tad nervous. I’ve never done this before.” He looked down at the paper sack he was carrying and carefully began pulling out a book.
“Is that your exorcism book?” Melb gasped, eyes wide.
“No, it’s Wolfe’s fourth book, Spirits Within.”
“What?” Wolfe stepped forward, from behind Ainsley. “What’d you bring that for?”
“Don’t you remember? You wrote an exorcism scene on page 266.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s the only thing I have to go by.”
“But it’s fiction,” Wolfe said. “I made it up!”
The reverend shrugged. “Scared the daylights out of me, so I figure you must’ve gotten something right.”
The room took a step back as the reverend took a step forward. The mayor continued to read about sailing, still unaware that his head might start spinning any second.
After several minutes of unabated silence, the sheriff blurted, “Well, what are you waiting for? Permission from the demon?”
The reverend shook his hea
d, his face dark with contemplation. “There’s just something not right. I’m not quite sure.
The crowd glanced around, and then Oliver suggested with a jab of his thumb over to the stereo, “Maybe we should kill the Christmas music.”
Everyone heartily acknowledged with nods that “Jingle Bell Rock” was probably not setting the right mood for the exorcism, so Oliver turned off the music.
“Okay,” the reverend said. “Let’s just get this over with.” He lifted Wolfe’s book and started reading. “All right. Looks like we get him seated.” He looked up. “Okay, good. Now, it says here that I’m supposed to lay my hands on him and say, ‘Everyone step back. I’m not sure what’s going to happen.’”
The whole room took a giant step backward, except Wolfe, who was standing there looking shocked, and Butch, who’d pulled out some sort of large military knife.
“And then my hands are supposed to tremble because I’m nervous.” Everyone glanced at the reverend’s hands. “Okay, we’re right on track there.”
Wolfe was about to say something, but the reverend continued. “Now, at this point, looks like the demon-possessed is going to struggle and spit on me. Can someone get me a towel?”
Melb ran for the kitchen.
“And I’m supposed to stand my ground, look him in the eye”—the reverend’s voice rose with each word—“and say, I command you, demon, to leave this man now!”
Everyone gasped, waiting in anticipation, but the mayor just continued to read his sailing book. After a few anticlimactic moments, the sheriff asked, “Well? What’s supposed to happen then?”
“According to the book, he’s supposed to turn green, his skin starts to melt, and he talks in a weird voice … and, oh my, well … Let’s just say he curses.”
“Oooooh.” The crowd studied the mayor, then suddenly, all eyes were on Wolfe, who could only shrug.
The sheriff said, “This obviously isn’t working. Maybe you skipped a step.”
“Or maybe he’s not demon-possessed,” Wolfe offered.
A few nods indicated that might be a possibility.
“Well, you’re the expert,” Butch said. “What’s your assessment?”
“I’m not an expert,” Wolfe said, “but I’d say we might be more effective if we joined around the mayor and prayed for him.”
“Ohhhhh,” said the crowd, and by the way everyone scurried toward the mayor, it was evident prayer was a much more comfortable solution than exorcism.
And so, for a few quiet moments, the group prayed for the mayor. Afterward, there was a peacefulness in the room that didn’t come from the Christmas lights or the smell of turkey. Everyone smiled and hugged one another.
And then, from the doorway of the kitchen, Ainsley said in a cheerful voice, “Pie, anyone?”
“Come here,” Wolfe said, beckoning Ainsley to the floor in front of the Christmas tree. As dusk lulled Christmas evening into a quiet slumber, and the entire house was filled with sparkling tree lights and golden-orange sunlight, she fell into his arms, exhausted.
“My goodness,” she sighed. “It can’t already be evening, can it?”
Wolfe smiled down at her. How beautiful she was! He couldn’t wait to be her husband. He looked around and they were finally alone. Butch was passed out on a couch in the other room. Apparently in combat he could fight fatigue off for days at a time, but that’s no match for what turkey can do to you. The sheriff was upstairs, concerning himself with a cat he thought was acting particularly weird because he wanted to lie around all day.
“Here,” he said, handing her a present.
She clapped her hands together like a little girl. “I’ve been waiting for this all day! This doesn’t happen to be a clue to where you’re taking me on our honeymoon?”
“Not a chance! You find that out after you say, ‘I do.’”
After admiring his wrapping job, she pulled apart the bow and opened the package. She covered her mouth and gasped. “Wolfe!”
“Do you like them?”
She held up the diamond earrings, looking at him with tears in her eyes. “I don’t suppose it’s a coincidence that these are exactly like the ones my mother used to wear?”
“I had a designer in New York make them.” He smiled. “I noticed your mother wearing them in that portrait you have of her on the mantel. Your dad let me take the picture to get it copied so I could send it to the designer.”
“They’re exquisite.” She touched them with delicate fingers. “Thank you.” She hugged him tightly, then kissed him. “I am so in love with you.”
“Good thing, since we’re getting hitched in two and a half months!”
She giggled. “Here. Open mine!”
Wolfe copied Ainsley by looking at the wrapping job, which included shiny gold paper, a huge satin bow, and trinkets hanging off the sides. She smiled at him, acknowledging that he’d taken the time to look at the package before ripping into it.
Then he ripped into it. “Mere Christianity!” he exclaimed. “How did you know I’ve never read this book?”
“Because,” she smiled, “every book you’ve ever read is on a bookshelf somewhere in your house. I know you’ll like it. C. S. Lewis is one of my favorites.”
“I’d been wanting to read this! Thank you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “What do you say we just sit like this all weekend until I have to go back to work on Monday?”
She laughed. “It’s strange to hear you talk like you have a regular Monday-through-Friday job.”
“I know. I’ve only been to work one day, though, so I guess I can’t judge it yet.”
“Is Oliver okay to work with?”
“Yeah, as far as I can tell.”
She shook her head. “I have to admit, I have a hard time picturing you selling cars.”
“Maybe that’s because I haven’t sold one yet. I might be good at it, you know.”
“Maybe.” She smiled, and then they held each other and stared into the fire for a moment. But the silence was shattered by a frightened gasp from Ainsley. She sat up.
“Ainsley? What’s the matter?” he asked.
Her mouth hung open as she pointed to the mantel. “Where are the Wise Men?”
Dr. Hass stepped out onto his front porch, which extended the entire length of his new home. He’d only seen pictures, so it was nice to see it in person now. He could eventually hang his sign from the porch using a pole so it stuck out, easily read. He smiled at the thought.
For him, Christmases were usually spent at lavish parties where women wore dresses that seemed to completely undermine the reason for the holiday, yet nobody complained. Now he stood alone in a small town with nobody to party with. He had to admit, the silence was soothing.
A cat leapt onto the porch, its tail strung high in the air. She rubbed against his arm as he leaned against the porch rail. “Good kitty,” he said. “You look hungry.” He started to dart inside for a saucer of milk but then remembered the sheer number of cats in town. He didn’t want to send a message that he was a soft touch, always good for a free meal. The cat purred loudly and made an attempt to come inside, but Dr. Hass stuck his foot out as he opened the screen door. “Nope. Not today, kitty. Go find another home.”
Inside, the house was not empty, thanks to the family who had decided to sell the furniture along with the house. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the old wooden floors. He would buff those, make them nice and shiny. His suitcase and other things were still in the foyer. For a third time on this day, he wandered around the three bedrooms, the two bathrooms, and eventually ended up in his large office, where he knew he would be spending an exceptional amount of time. It was perfect. All the wood was dark walnut, with built-in bookshelves and a nice view of the backyard through a large picture window. From there, he could also see the garage apartment.
But as he stood in his office, one overwhelming thought canceled out all the excitement of his new life. How was he going to make a living? He’d never worried
about it before. Since he was sixteen, he’d managed to make it on his own. But that was always in the big city.
He’d resigned himself to the fact he would no longer be living the grand lifestyle to which he was accustomed. He was okay with that. No more fancy cars, fancy pads, fancy women. But there was still the question of whether he would be able to make a living. That single question had driven him for years and years, far beyond its answer, which was yes. But the fear of not making money made him continue to make money and eventually become the man everyone liked to hate. He sighed, looking around the house once more, and decided to unpack his few belongings. The old life had chewed him up and spit him out. Now he hoped it had regurgitated him into a new life.
Standing in front of the beautiful bay window that gave him a good view of Skary, he reminded himself not to fall into the trap of believing he was going to have to take desperate measures. This was Skary, Indiana. Life was simple here. Things worked out as they should, when given enough time. The pace was slow.
Dr. Hass was turning over a new leaf. He’d said good-bye to his old self. But he knew old habits were hard to break.
“Who would take the Wise Men?” Ainsley’s desperate cry had roused Butch off the couch and brought the sheriff downstairs in a hurry. They all stood in front of the mantel, gazing at the place where the three Wise Men once stood.
“You’re sure you set them out?” Butch asked, a quizzical eyebrow pointed toward his nonreceding hairline.
“Butch! Of course I set them out! Do you think I would forget the Wise Men?”
Apparently Butch was the only man in the room who did. He shrugged and then wandered around, looking for clues. Ainsley just stood there, perplexed. Nobody had any answers.
Wolfe rubbed her shoulders, but she didn’t seem comforted. She turned to him. “I know those Wise Men were there this morning. Somebody took them during Christmas dinner. Who would do that?”
“Maybe it’s intended to be a little joke,” Wolfe said. “I’m sure they’ll bring them back.”
Boo Who Page 7
