Purring Around the Christmas Tree

by Liz Mugavero

  She turned to go back to the kitchen when her cell rang in her pocket. It was Betty.

  “Can you be at the town hall meeting room first thing in the morning?” she asked. “We have to have an emergency Christmas committee meeting.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Honestly. The tree is lit. All is well in the Christmas realm. Why are we even here?” Izzy muttered in Stan’s ear, handing her a coffee. “There’s a murdered man and two missing men, and we’re still talking about the Christmas celebration. It’s one of those things I’ll never get about places like this. People sure do get depressed about their traditions getting messed with.”

  Stan accepted the coffee gratefully and sank into one of the folding chairs that had been set up in the town hall meeting room to accommodate this emergency meeting. She glanced around to see who was in attendance. After Jessie’s outburst last night, she felt like she might get hauled off to jail just for sitting next to Izzy, who remained with Lester at the top of the suspect list in Harold’s death. She’d called Char this morning, and her friend was out of bed, but listless and distracted. Stan had no idea how to help her. Kevin, Seamus’s mysterious friend, had been asleep on her couch. So basically, all was weird in the world.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I got the same call as you.” She’d been relieved that her duties on this committee were coming to an end. Now it appeared they’d been extended. To say the Christmas holiday was important in Frog Ledge was a gross understatement.

  Izzy swept her braids up into a ponytail. She literally looked like she’d rolled out of bed and come straight here. She wore leggings and a flannel shirt, and despite the cold weather, she had no socks on with her sneakers. Her scarf didn’t match her coat, either, which was so not Izzy. It was probably just the stress of this murder. It was getting to everyone.

  “I remember the first year I was in town, the city council voted against Christmas lights, to save money, and there was a huge uproar. You’d have thought they voted to cancel Christmas altogether,” Izzy went on.

  “Voted against Christmas lights? Who does that?” Stan shook her head.

  The door blew open and Kyle appeared, carrying a tray of cookies. Izzy’s eyes narrowed. “What does he think he’s doing?”

  Kyle saw Stan and made a beeline for her, oblivious to Izzy’s death stare. “Hey,” he said, sliding into an empty chair next to Stan. “Where should I put the cookies?”

  Stan’s gaze dropped to the tray overflowing with cheerful, yummy-looking Christmas cookies—wreaths, presents with bows, Christmas trees with frosting lights, reindeers and candy canes and snowmen. The only thing missing was … Santa.

  “I left it out on purpose,” Kyle said, reading her mind when she lifted her gaze to his. “I figured people may not want a reminder.”

  “Did someone ask you to bring cookies? Because that’s my job,” Izzy said.

  Kyle looked instantly contrite. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought people might need something this morning, and I know it was a last-minute meeting.”

  “Are you even on this committee?” Izzy asked.

  “Izzy. Jeez. Relax,” Stan said. “Did you bring anything?”

  “No,” Izzy said. “I had no time. And I don’t do things last minute on people’s whims anymore.”

  “Okay then. Why do you care?” She couldn’t help it—she was losing patience with everyone. And with Izzy so distant and … secretive lately, she felt no remorse about it.

  “Good morning, everyone!” Betty Meany had arrived and was holding court at the front of the room, saving the moment from deteriorating even further. Kyle slipped away to put the tray of cookies on a table to the side of the room. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve brought us all together, since technically our celebration is over.”

  A murmur of agreement rippled through most of the committee members. Only Curtis Wallace, Stan’s least favorite councilman, looked smug. Like he’d had something to do with this. The door opened again and Tony Falco came in. He nodded briefly at the group, then took a seat next to Stan and Izzy.

  “Morning,” he murmured. “What’s going on?”

  Stan shrugged. “We’re about to find out.”

  Betty waited until everyone had settled down before speaking again. “I gathered everyone because I wanted to talk about doing a second holiday stroll. Since the last one was a bit … disrupted. And I know one of our merchants”—here she found Stan and beamed at her—“is working on new dates for her official grand opening. Curtis and I have discussed this and we think it’s a viable solution. It would also bring added revenue to the town. So what does everyone think?”

  “And it’s more work for everyone,” Mona Galveston chimed in. “During a very busy time of year. That should be taken into account.”

  “Agree,” Emmalee Hoffman said. “Plus it feels a bit disrespectful. Given … everything going on. Do we really need to do another event?”

  “We have a very good reputation in the area for having one of the best Christmas celebrations, despite our size,” Curtis Wallace said in that pinched, nasally voice that reminded Stan of nails grating on a chalkboard. “Our celebration this year was lacking, to say the least. We have a chance to repair the situation.”

  Cyril Pierce slipped in just in time to catch that quote. He made a beeline for Stan also. “What’d I miss?” he whispered loudly, pulling out his notebook.

  Stan was busy texting Brenna that she’d be late to the store and didn’t answer.

  “They want to have another holiday stroll,” Izzy muttered. “Because they’re crazy.”

  “We had a man killed, for goodness’ sakes,” Neil, the guy who ran the laundromat near Izzy’s, pointed out. “I think maybe people will forgive us for the celebration being a bit rushed.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Stan could see Cyril furiously scribbling in his steno pad. She could see him pulling at least three stories out of this meeting—one, a report on the town’s Christmas celebration and the conflict surrounding it; two, a reason to speculate on the missing men and the toll it was taking on the townspeople; and finally, an update on the murder itself and the reaction to Harold Dewey’s death. How Santa dying would affect the town for generations to come.

  Good Lord. She was starting to think like Cyril.

  “Besides,” Mona continued, “if we go through the motions of a stroll again, we’ll need a Santa, and we’ll need a signature event. Have you given any thought to that? Where will we find another Santa?”

  Blank stares all around. “You think Seamus will turn up by then?” Neil asked. “I’m sure he’ll do it.”

  “Yeah, but someone might try to kill him. I mean, isn’t that what they’re saying? That Santa got killed because they thought it was him?” Tom, a long-term Christmas committee member and volunteer at the town’s historical War House, asked.

  Stan rose to her feet, unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. “Hey. You haven’t even picked a date for this thing. Maybe do that before you argue about Santa?”

  “And that’s what we’re trying to do,” Curtis Wallace said, his tone snotty. He hadn’t liked Stan much since she’d questioned him about his relationship to someone who’d ended up dead last summer. “But we need a Santa.”

  “Well, pick one you know is available,” she said, exasperated. “Unfortunately, no one knows where Seamus is.”

  “When’s your grand opening, Stan?” Betty asked.

  “Next Saturday,” Stan said.

  “Great. We’ll do the stroll next Saturday, then. What about Paul McGee for Santa?” Betty suggested, turning back to the rest of the committee. “Seamus has always done it, but Paul would be wonderful! He’s such a kind man. And he loves children.”

  The group seemed to agree on that. Satisfied, Betty turned to Stan. “It’s settled. Stan, will you do the honors?”

  “What honors?” Stan asked.

  “Ask him, of course. You’re practically related
,” Betty said with a laugh.

  Stan bit back a sigh. She loved Betty, but sometimes she could be too laser-focused on her town duties. “Guys. Come on,” she said, trying for a reasonable tone. “The man’s brother is missing. The whole family is stressed. You really want me to ask him to play Santa? Can’t we think outside the box here?”

  Betty’s lips pushed together in a pout. “Paul is a wonderful man who’s able to put aside his feelings to help people. You know that, Stan. I’m sure he wouldn’t take offense at being asked.”

  “Maybe so, but …”

  “Excellent. So we have a plan. Is everyone willing to pick up their former responsibilities? Except for those associated with the tree lighting, of course. I have plenty of new jobs for you. See me when we’re done and I’ll get you assigned. We should do some things differently. Like have carolers going around to all the stores. And maybe a front window competition for the stores. I’ll get an entertainment subcommittee going.”

  Next to Stan, Izzy’s phone dinged. She checked it, then stood up and slipped out of the room without a word.

  “Stan?” Betty demanded.

  “What?”

  “Will you help with the entertainment?”

  “Betty, I don’t know if I can—”

  “Great. Thank you. Anything else? No? Well, that was productive. Everyone have a lovely Monday!” With that, she dismissed them.

  Stan turned to Tony, who offered a sympathetic smile. “At least you’ll have a subcommittee,” he said.

  “Yeah. Great.” She blew out a breath, then looked at Kyle. “Can you work with me on Saturday?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  That was a relief. “Thank you. Truly.”

  Neil made his way over to them and sat in the row in front of Stan. “Hey. Meant to ask. No word on ol’ Mackey yet?”

  Stan shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

  “You think he’s having a midlife crisis?” he asked earnestly. “I mean, these things happen, you know?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No. That’s not Ray.”

  Neil laughed. He reached over and patted Stan’s hand as if to reassure her that she knew nothing about the ways of men. Stan felt her free hand instinctively close into a fist.

  Kyle saw it and leaned forward too, cutting off any further commentary the guy had. “Hey, man, I’m new to town and all, but maybe those rumors would be more directed at you?”

  Neil’s smile faded. He frowned, opened his mouth, then closed it again before he whirled around and marched out the door. Kyle winked at Stan. “Much as I’d love to see you lay someone out, it’s probably not the time,” he said. “We’ve got to get your grand opening planned and find our friend Ray.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Stan drove straight to the patisserie, her mind spinning with all the new chores this revised holiday stroll would add to her already stretched to-do list. Really, she wanted to shake some sense into Betty, but it would be no use. Once Betty got an idea in her head, she wouldn’t let it go. So, she was helping plan another Christmas stroll.

  Stan let herself in the back door. The scent of cinnamon and pumpkin hit her full on.

  “Morning!” Brenna called. “I started a few batches.”

  “As usual, thank you.” Stan dropped her bag and took off her coat. “Sorry to be late.”

  “The meeting, I know.” Brenna grinned. “What’s going on?”

  “They want to have another Christmas stroll. Which they’re timing around my grand opening next weekend. I mean, we’ve got one dead guy and two unaccounted-for guys, and this is what they’re worried about. So now the committee has more work to do. What’s next on the list?”

  Brenna handed her the day’s recipe list.

  “And now I have to ask your dad to be Santa. Because we still need a Santa.” She grimaced. “I would think most people wouldn’t want to see Santa at this point.”

  The bell out front rang, signaling a customer. Stan checked her watch. “Yikes. Almost ten already. I keep losing my mornings.” Stan hurried out front to greet whoever had arrived.

  Emmalee Hoffman and Ted Brahm were in the entryway. “Hey, guys,” Stan said. “How’s it going? That was quite the meeting this morning, huh, Emmalee?”

  Emmalee shook her head. “I’ll tell you. There’s no need to make everyone do all this work a second time, but there was no getting around it gracefully. And in case he hasn’t told you himself, Tyler is available to help you again. Whether it’s with the entertainment you were vol-untold for, or your grand opening. I know you need a photographer and a number of other things done.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Stan said. “He’s on my list to call, but I just haven’t had a chance. Do you know if he can come by this afternoon?”

  “I’ll text him right now.” Emmalee pulled out her phone. “I’ll tell him to bring Eddie too.”

  “Eddie?” Stan asked.

  “Eddie Crookshank. Lester’s boy? He and Tyler are friends. Tyler’s been trying to help him through some tough times lately. It will be good for him to do something constructive. He can help with the manual labor portion.”

  Tough times. Lester’s boy was having problems of some sort. Stan wanted to ask more about it, but didn’t know if Emmalee would think her interest was odd. But she wondered if the problems had anything to do with Harold or working on the farm together. She made a mental note to try to find that out. In the meantime, she needed to act like the store proprietor. “Great. Thanks. So what brings you here?” she asked, smiling brightly. “Treats for the cat? Or the farm animals?”

  Emmalee smiled. “Neither. Well, of course we can get treats for the cat. But …” She looked up at Ted, beaming. “We’re adopting a dog.”

  “You are! That’s wonderful. What kind? From where?”

  “He’s a golden retriever. Only a year old. From a golden rescue, way down the other part of the state,” Emmalee said. “We’re very excited. His name is Ollie.”

  “Congratulations. When is he coming home?”

  “Today,” Emmalee admitted. “And we realized we have no idea what to do for food. Of course, Tyler reminded me about your meal plan for dogs. I’m not sure how I’d forgotten about that, but that’s what happens when you get old like me.” She smiled. “Anyway. Can you recommend some meals for him? We’d love to sign up for the monthly plan. We know how important good food is to these babies.”

  “Of course. We can get you going on that. Why don’t you sit and I’ll bring over the menus?” Stan pointed toward a table on the human side of the café. “I’ll be right back.”

  She slipped out back to get the booklet Brenna—thank God—had gotten made for her, which outlined the meal choices and delivery plans she offered. “Guess what!” she said in a stage whisper to Brenna. “The Hoffmans want a meal plan! They’re adopting a dog. This is the first real meal plan customer I’ve had! Besides Char, who I always thought was buying them just to be sweet.”

  Brenna dropped her mixing spoon and clapped. “That’s amazing! And Char buys them because she knows it’s the best food for her dog, silly. Here’s your book.” She winked. “Aren’t you glad I had you put it together?”

  “Totally. Thank you so much. I’d be lost without you.” She hurried back out to her guests. “I wish I had some coffee to offer you,” she said, sliding into a chair. “But I didn’t order any from Izzy today.”

  Ted winced a little at that. Stan covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. Are you doing okay, Ted?”

  Emmalee rubbed his arm. “He’s so upset. Aren’t you, dear.”

  “It’s just very sad,” Ted said. “I can’t believe it. Harold wasn’t a bad man. I mean, I’d only come to know him last season after I moved to town, but he was always very helpful. He spent some time on the farm with us.”

  Stan remembered what Tyler had told her, about Emmalee giving Harold a break while his father had less patience for him. Ted apparently had the same good heart as his wife
.

  “He got a bad rap around town,” Emmalee confided to Stan. “Especially thanks to those cousins of his.”

  “Cousins?” Stan hadn’t heard anything about Harold having relatives around Frog Ledge.

  “The O’Sullivan sisters. Vivian and Victoria.” She shook her head. “They treated him so poorly. I mean, it wasn’t his fault that their mother left him a portion of the property the sisters felt they had a claim to.”

  “Wait.” Stan held up a hand. “Harold was related to Miss Viv? Seamus’s Miss Viv?”

  Emmalee nodded, pursing her lips. “Yes.”

  She sat back, her head spinning. Why on earth had no one mentioned this? Like Jake? “Do a lot of people know?”

  “I’m not sure they do,” Emmalee said. “It’s not like the ladies ever wanted to acknowledge him, especially given his challenges. But their mother always felt sorry for him. He was her sister’s son, you see, and her sister had her own problems. So Viv and Victoria’s mother, Louisa, basically raised him and always felt responsible. My mother was close to her. She died about a year ago, and her will really sent everything into an uproar. Once Harold found out he was an heir, he requested the money for his portion of the property.” Emmalee shifted in her chair, leaning forward as she got to the juicy part. “The ladies wanted to buy him out, but they couldn’t afford it. So they were forced to sell most of the land. They made some money, but had to sink it into house repairs. So out of their parents’ formerly immense acreage and share of the town, they’re basically left with that drafty old house. A developer bought the rest. I think they’re putting up condos or something. The work started in the fall. I’m sure it’s eating away at them, watching that construction day after day.”

  “The land that Kyle wants to build his restaurant on,” she said, half to herself. “It’s zoned commercially because Harold made them sell it? Wow. So they had a good reason to hate him.”

  Emmalee shrugged. “You could say that. If money is a good reason to hate someone. Although I guess on their part it was more the nostalgia factor. They wanted to keep the land in their family. And losing it to someone they consider a worthless drunk has stuck in their craw, for sure.” Her phone dinged. She glanced down at it and smiled. “Tyler and Eddie will be here for you at four. Does that work?”