by Kacey Gene
“Yeah,” Jennifer says, “we kind of ran into some trouble.”
Mrs. B eyes Jake, who gives her a smile. “I don’t know if you remember me,” he says.
“You think I’d forget you, Jake?” Mrs. B says, pulling him into a giant hug. “You brought me those bags of cherries from Michigan the spring you visited Jennifer on break. I don’t forget a man who brings me cherries.”
Jennifer beams up at Jake and loves that a blush comes to his cheeks.
“Although, you had another visitor tonight,” Mrs. B says, turning serious eyes onto Jennifer. “Two of them, and they were not here to deliver cherries. More like they were here to deliver trouble.”
“I had visitors?” Jennifer asks. She spins through her mental Rolodex of people who might come to see her, but no one even knows she’s here yet.
Mrs. B walks back behind the front desk, which is curved and made of gleaming mahogany wood. “Yep. He wouldn’t give me his name, nor would the girl who was with him,” Mrs. B says, grabbing a sticky note and reading it. “But he had blonde scraggly hair, and he was wearing a black stocking cap. Showed up maybe twenty minutes ago, with two dogs, I might add.”
Jennifer almost drops the box of jam she’s holding. “Junior,” Jennifer says, looking up at Jake. “Did he leave a number or a message or say anything?”
“Nope,” Mrs. B says, shaking her head. “Came in, asked for you, dodged all my questions, and then he, the girl, and those adorable dogs ran right out of here.”
“How would he even know where you lived?” Jake asks.
Jennifer shrugs. She didn’t give him this address. “What did the girl look like?”
Mrs. B raises her eyebrows. “She was odd. Didn’t talk much. Seemed a bit sad. All I remember is that she had brown hair and round glasses.”
“Wendy,” Jake and Jennifer say in unison.
“That’s how they got the address,” Jennifer says. “I gave it to Wendy when we were at the bookstore.” And then it all clicks together. Wendy’s dad put her in that bookstore because she was dating someone he found unfit. That “unfit” person must be Junior. That’s why Wendy was shocked and frightened when Jennifer told her Junior got arrested. And now they’re together. And looking for her.
“If they come back, let them up to my mom’s place,” Jennifer says, not wanting either of them wandering the streets of Chicago at night.
“I can let them up, but you know how your mother feels about animals in her place,” Mrs. B says. “And you also know how she feels about tardiness, so you better get up stairs. The party started over an hour ago.”
****
When the elevator doors open to Eleanor’s penthouse, Jennifer and Jake are almost thrust back from the sounds and sights before them.
There’s a four-piece band -- including a piano player, a bass player, a singer, and a man on trombone -- smack in the middle of the main room directly behind the open foyer. More than that, there are people everywhere. The women are dripping in jewelry that accents their shiny dresses, red lips, and sculpted hair. The men are in suits that are perfectly structured around their shoulders and hug their waists in a way that’s customized to them. And everyone has a drink, which sparkles through the crystal glasses they’re sipping out of.
Every surface -- from the catered food stations to the silver trays filled with champagne that is being served -- is covered in garland, poinsettias, candles, white doves, or small holly berry shrubs.
“Does she do this every year?” Jake asks, leaning into Jennifer. Neither one of them have stepped off the elevator, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t gotten the stink-eye from people passing by them.
“Every year,” Jennifer says.
But she knows this is just the beginning. In the library that’s off to the right of the main room will be the decorative Christmas tree -- at least twenty feet tall and perfectly trimmed in lights, ribbons, and coordinated ornaments. And in the sitting parlor to the left of the main room will be their family Christmas tree -- usually standing around nine feet tall and covered in the handmade ornaments Jennifer and her brother, Michael, made throughout the years. That’s where they always have Christmas, in front of the large hearth and snuggled on the large, puffy couches that easily seat ten people.
“Oh my goodness,” Patrick, Eleanor’s assistant, says when he sees Jake and Jennifer standing in the elevator like a pair of scared squirrels. “You are over two hours late,” Patrick says, unburdening them of their bags, and looping them around his own body.
Finally, Jake and Jennifer step out of the elevator and into the glowing lights of the foyer, which has white marble floors, gold mirrors on each of the four columns that define the circular space, and a glass table in the middle of the space that has an ice sculpture in the shape of a bell on it.
Yet, by the concerned and somewhat disgusted look on Patrick’s face, Jennifer worries that the chandelier dripping with crystals that lights the foyer is really just spotlighting her and Jake’s disheveled states.
“My dear,” Patrick says with a gasp as he looks at Jake. “What in the world happened to your forehead?”
“It’s a long story,” Jake says, “But, it would be great if I could get a bandaid to put over it.”
“Oh, dear,” Patrick says. “That is not a solution. We will get that fixed up in no time.” Patrick turns his attention to Jennifer. “Miss Hunter, your dress is hanging in your room, and I don’t think I need to stress the urgency of a hasty change.”
“Got it,” Jennifer says, knowing that even though Patrick is delivering these instructions, it is her mother who’s dictating them. “And, Patrick,” Jennifer says, “please call me Jennifer.” Jennifer has known Patrick since she was sixteen, but seeing that a year after they met Jennifer went to college, they’ve never been close.
“Patrick nods, and then he side-eyes Jake’s forehead with worry as he escorts him to his room.
When Jennifer gets to her bedroom, which she hasn’t called her bedroom in over seven years, she throws her body down on the fluffy white bed. The silk duvet cover feels cool and relaxing against her skin, and as Jennifer looks around the rest of her room -- wallpaper covered in hummingbirds, plush cream carpeted floors, Tiffany lamps, and art that looks fit for a museum -- she wonders if her mom is ever going to change this place.
And then she sees her dress hanging from the white armoire across from her bed. The dress is a deep red color, almost a pomegranate. It’s long-sleeved and has a beautiful black satin trim around the high neck and at the ends of the sleeves. Below the dress are a pair of black, sparkling high heels that will make her mother smile and make Jennifer wince in pain after ten minutes of trying to walk in those heels. But, still, they are beautiful.
Remembering Patrick’s “urging” for her to hurry, Jennifer takes a sip of the tea that’s been left on the beverage cart next to her bed, and she runs to the shower.
Within twenty minutes, she’s cleaned, her hair is blown out, her light make-up is on, and she slips into the red dress that fits her perfectly -- hugging her in all the right places and flowing right above her knee. The red velvet of the dress massages her skin, and the shoes aren’t quite as uncomfortable as she imagined.
She smoothes the dress, gives her lips another round of gloss, and heads out to the party.
She moves through person after person and couple after couple, barely recognizing anyone. Not that she’s upset by this. Her only goal in this moment is to satisfy her growling stomach, seeing as her and Jake haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.
Moving toward the carving stations that have overflowing plates of turkey, roast beef, and skirt steak, Jennifer is quickly distracted by the large, shiny silver bowls that are filled with coconut shrimp and crab claws on ice.
Those are two of her favorites, and she closes her eyes as she pops shrimp after shrimp in her mouth followed by as many crab claws as she can fit on the small crystal plates her mom has stacked throughout the food stations.
“Champagne?” a woman she’s never seen asks her. The tray the woman is holding has at least a dozen flutes bubbling with golden champagne and each glass has a bright red raspberry or a group of pomegranate seeds at the bottom of it.
“Actually, I’d love a water,” Jennifer says, feeling her throat scratch with thirst.
“Sparkling or still?” the woman asks.
“Sparkling would be lovely, thank you,” Jennifer says.
The lady nods to a man who is standing next to the table full of cheese, nuts, and different bowls of honey to drizzle on both. The man moves into action, carrying a tray of champagne flutes that are full of clear, rather than golden, liquid.
Within seconds, Jennifer feels the refreshing bubbles of water move down her throat and is ready to turn all of her attention back on the seafood. But then, she sees the dessert station.
The vision of cakes, tarts covered in berries, gourmet cookies, bowls of fruit, chocolate covered strawberries, and truffles hypnotize Jennifer. If there’s one thing Jennifer can’t resist, it’s any type of sweet. When she gets to the dessert station, she feels a grateful warmth move through her when she sees a dozen of the Christmas cookies she made sitting on a plate next to the dark chocolate truffles drizzled with a raspberry sauce.
That’s the thing about her mother. She may be surrounded in wealth and sophistication, but she’ll never sacrifice her family for it.
“I knew I’d find you with the desserts.”
Jennifer’s smile grows even bigger when she hears Jake’s voice.
She turns around and is almost stunned by the sight of him. His tall body is perfectly trimmed in a navy and white pin-striped suit. The silky navy tie that pops against the crisp white button down shirt he’s wearing perfectly matches the navy pocket square he has. And his shoes, a deep brown that shine in the chandelier light above them, are the perfect finish to the suit. And somehow, Patrick has worked his magic on the goose egg Jake had. It’s barely noticeable now.
“You knew I’d be by the desserts, huh?” Jennifer says, slyly popping a truffle in her mouth. “You know, you should really be a detective.”
Jake lets out a sarcastic chuckle, and then he lets his eyes take in every part of her. A blush comes to his cheeks as he says, “You look really...amazingly beautiful.”
“Thanks,” Jennifer says. “You think I’ll still be beautiful if I shove that entire piece of chocolate cake in my mouth?” she asks pointing to a large triangle of cake covered in thick icing.
“Uh, then you’ll be gorgeous,” Jake says, smiling and also turning his attention to the desserts. “I’m so hungry,” he says, but then all of his hunger stops when he sees the cut glass bowl that’s at the edge of the dessert table. “Are you kidding me?” Jake says.
“What?” And then Jennifer sees what he sees. It’s a giant bowl of pudding. Brown, unappetizing, and will-never-be-the-same pudding.
Jennifer links her arm through Jake’s. “On second thought,” she says, “let’s go to the carving station.”
They both turn around, but they don’t make it one step. Right in front of them is Eleanor, and although she’s surrounded with holiday revelry, she is anything but joyous.
Chapter Thirty-Two
An Interrupted Holiday Mingle
Eleanor’s dress is more like a gown. It’s fully black, long-sleeved, the hem dusts the ground, and there is a large key hole cut out on the back of the dress. She’s wearing her tear drop diamond earrings that match the diamond necklace that shines against the black, matte fabric of her dress. Her blonde hair is pinned up in a simple twist, her lips are a deep red, and there’s a sparkle about her that comes out whenever Eleanor is entertaining.
“You look beautiful, darling,” Eleanor says, leaning in and kissing Jennifer on the cheek. “I knew that dress would suit you perfectly.” And then she turns her eyes to Jake. She scans over his suit, his stance, and his smile. “Looks like you polish up nicely,” Eleanor says. “Now if we could only get you two to arrive on time.”
“I’m so sorry, mom. We were totally sidetracked at this bookstore, and--”
Eleanor holds up her hand, silencing Jennifer’s story. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, when we don’t have guests. Plus, you’re here now. That’s all that matters,” Eleanor says. She grabs Jennifer by the hand. “Now, come with me. I want to introduce you to some people.”
“Some people” turns into ten, then twenty, and then thirty people. Jennifer isn’t sure she can smile anymore, and she keeps catching Jake eyeing the food that their “introductions” keep them separated from.
“Mom, Jake and I really need to eat something. Is there any chance we can take a break from the mingling?”
“Just one more introduction,” Eleanor says, untucking Jennifer’s hair from behind her ear. “Then I will turn you loose on all the food. Your Christmas cookies look beautiful, by the way,” her mom says, giving Jennifer a warm and thankful smile. “You know I love the white trees.”
Jennifer sees a glimmer in her mom’s eye when she says this. This party, or more importantly, Jennifer being at this party, means a lot to her mother, so Jennifer takes a deep breath and gets ready for the next round of small talk. But before the next introduction can happen, Jennifer’s brother, Michael, and her sister-in-law, Julie, are right in front of them. They all exchange hugs, and as soon as Jennifer pulls back from her hug with Julie, the inquisition begins.
How did the tree skirt turn out? Did you finish the baby’s stocking? Have you seen the carving stations? Have I told you I’ve gone vegan; it’s so much better for the baby. I’m surprised you didn’t wear your hair up. You always look more put together with your hair up. And I hope the jam you made isn’t strawberry. Strawberries make me sick now, thanks to this little bundle.
Julie puts her hand on her belly when she says this last sentence, and Jennifer looks at the bump curving out of Julie’s black dress that’s fully outlined in a silver trim. Although Julie is always pretty -- with her dark black hair that hits right at her shoulders and that she always wears perfectly straight, her athletic body that shows her discipline and strength, and her perfectly sized straight teeth that shine under her big smile -- now that she’s four months pregnant, she looks radiant.
Jennifer, although she doesn’t want to, feels a tinge of envy. Julie is a year younger than Jennifer; yet, she’s already married and with a baby on the way. Jennifer wishes things like that didn’t get to her; she knows she has such a great life in Middlebridge, but when she sees Julie lean over and kiss Michael, it uncovers a small emptiness in Jennifer’s heart that she didn’t know was even there.
“Come, dear,” Eleanor says, as if she knows the uncomfortable sadness Jennifer is feeling. Jake must also sense it because he puts his hand on the small of Jennifer’s back and smiles down at her while Eleanor weaves them through more people, who all say hello and tell Eleanor what a great party it is this year.
“You just need to say hello to the Morgans,” Eleanor says, but Jennifer is no longer listening. Because across the room Jennifer spots a girl in brown clothes and a long, drab down coat that’s fully unzipped.
“Wendy,” Jennifer whispers to herself, but Jake snaps to attention when he hears that name.
“Where?” he asks. He scans the room and sees Wendy frantically weaving through the guests and sticking out like a moth in a butterfly garden.
“Wendy,” Jennifer says, this time her voice at full volume. She doesn’t care that her loud voice attracts the attention of those around her or elicits a disapproving look from her mother. All that matters is that Wendy follows the sound of that voice and makes her way straight to Jake and Jennifer.
“They took him,” Wendy says, as soon as she gets in front of them. “They took him, and I can’t get to him.” Her voice is panicked. Her eyes are on the brink of crying. And every part of her is shaking.
“Who took whom?” Jake asks, but Jennifer already knows the answer.
Junior.
Someone has taken Junior. Immediately, Jennifer thinks of how scared Junior was when he showed up at Jake’s house, like he knew someone was coming after him.
“I...I...don’t know who took my dad. It was two men I’ve never seen before, but he’s gone.”
“What?” Jennifer asks, not expecting this answer. She reaches out and tries to comfort Wendy, but there’s no comforting anyone in a situation like this. “Did they also take Junior?”
Wendy shakes her head. “Junior is downstairs. They wouldn’t let him come up with the dogs, and Junior won’t separate from the dogs. Not after what happened earlier.”
Jennifer’s mind races trying to piece everything together. Wendy’s dad is missing. No, her dad was taken. Junior is downstairs, having run away from the police, and somehow he has the dogs with them.
“Why would someone take your dad?” Jake asks. His face is coated in concern. He wishes they could go somewhere secluded to talk -- without Eleanor standing next to him or the people from the party listening in. But, this situation is too urgent to interrupt.
Wendy looks up at him, and her voice shakes when she says, “The book.” Her chin quivers and her eyes brim with tears. She turns those tear-soaked eyes on Jennifer. “They’re after the book I gave Alexa. They think my dad has it.” And then she breaks out into full sobs.
None of this makes sense in Jennifer’s mind. They have their culprit. John was the one collecting the books, so if he’s in police custody, then any concerns about those books should be literally off the shelf.
Unless, Jennifer thinks, feeling her stomach turn over on itself. Unless they’ve arrested the wrong man.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Pudding Confession
With every cry Wendy lets out, more and more eyes from the party turn on her.
