by Nancy Martin
Relieved to have such expert help in the house, Rose allowed Susannah to do more than her fair share of the work. Together, they baked cookies and shopped for wines, draped the whole house in garlands of fragrant pine and took turns telephoning friends and neighbors to extend invitations. At the end of each day, Rose found herself very tired, and she was happy to allow Susannah to tuck her into a comfortable chair for a nap before dinner.
But Rose did not allow her exhaustion to slow her down for long. She loved holiday entertaining.
The annual Atkins open house was a party that half the town of Tyler made it a point to attend. It was a highlight of the Christmas entertaining season, and Rose took absurd pride in the event.
“Maybe this year we should cut back a little,” Susannah said the afternoon she discovered Rose nodding off at the dining room table, where she’d been tying green satin ribbons around the fruitcakes she gave to her closest friends. “You seem tuckered out, Granny Rose.”
“Nonsense, my dear. I’m just saving up my energy for the party.”
Susannah’s face registered concern. “I’m sure your friends won’t mind if you skip the fruitcakes this year. Eventually, you’ll have to slow down a little.”
“Who says?” Rose challenged her granddaughter, snipping ribbon with renewed vigor. “I’m going to do everything I please for as long as it pleases me—and if it shortens my life by a few months, what does it matter? Having this party makes me happy.”
Susannah laughed. “All right, have it your way. But let me finish these fruitcakes, will you? I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can relax for a little while.”
Despite Susannah’s constant fussing over her health, Rose enjoyed the days she spent preparing for the party. It was a long time since her granddaughter had been home for an extended visit, and they chatted together for hours.
Also, it was a joy for Rose to see Susannah blooming under the attention of Joe Santori. Although Susannah denied any feelings for the man, it was obvious that she was falling in love with him. Rose could see the glow in her granddaughter’s eyes whenever Joe appeared at the door. And when he got into the habit of telephoning each evening on the excuse that he needed orders for the following day’s work, Susannah seemed to take great pleasure in just listening to his voice.
It made Rose happy to see Susannah so taken with Joe. But her granddaughter steadfastly refused his further invitations for dinner or other nightly entertainments.
Wondering if Susannah was still worried about Joe’s relationship with this Angelica woman Gina had told her about, Rose decided to discuss the situation with her friends in the Quilting Circle when they met at Worthington House to finish the Christmas quilt.
“We ought to do something to get Joe and Susannah together,” said Martha Bauer as she slipped her needle in and out of the fabric.
“We can hardly break up Joe and his other girlfriend, this Angelica person.”
“Angelica who?” demanded Inger Hansen. “I never heard of any Angelica living in Tyler. What kind of name is Angelica? She sounds like a floozy.”
“She’s somebody from Bonneville, I suppose. Or Madison, perhaps.”
“A man like Joe Santori ought to be content with a local girl,” Inger snapped. “Not getting his jollies out of town.”
“Don’t be crude, Inger,” said Martha Bauer. “Rose, can’t we arrange a few accidental meetings between Joe and Susannah?”
“They meet every day in my kitchen,” said Rose. “I don’t know what else we can do.”
“A kitchen’s not very romantic.”
“Well, he’s coming to my Christmas party.”
“Is he bringing Angelica?”
“I don’t think so.”
Martha Bauer said, “Would Susannah quit her job at the television station so she could come back to Tyler and marry Joe? I don’t think he’s the type to give up his work for a woman.”
“But Susannah’s a big star!”
All the ladies began arguing about working wives after that, and the discussion became very lively. Rose had her doubts that either Joe or Susannah would give up their work for love, but she didn’t voice her worry. Modern couples managed with all kinds of arrangements nowadays. Why, some wives and husbands lived on opposite coasts and got together only on weekends.
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure Joe meets Susannah under the mistletoe,” said Inger in her loud voice. “But don’t leave them alone together, Rose. We saw what happened the other night when they were parked right outside our front door. These young people today! They don’t have any morals.”
Though she’d known Inger for fifty years, Rose was outraged, and snapped, “Susannah’s morals are just fine, Inger!”
“But we saw them—”
“You shouldn’t have been snooping, you old busybody! What they do in private—”
Martha Bauer patted Rose’s arm soothingly. “Don’t get so angry, Rose. My goodness, your blood pressure! Inger is just picking a fight. Like always.”
“Nobody says terrible things about my granddaughter and gets away with it!”
“Rose, please! Don’t get so angry. It can’t be good for your health.”
“Yes, we’re worried about you,” chimed in another friend. “You don’t look well. Let’s talk about your party instead. We’re all so excited about coming! Judson Ingalls has arranged for us all to ride over in his big car.”
Rose was easily diverted into discussing her Christmas party, but her friends were right. She didn’t feel especially well, and after a while she excused herself early and telephoned Susannah for a ride home.
“What’s the matter?” Susannah asked at once, sounding very worried.
“Nothing’s the matter,” Rose said into the telephone receiver, despite the fact that her heart was thumping so hard it hurt. “I just don’t feel like listening to a bunch of old biddies this afternoon.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“There’s no need to rush. Not if Joe’s there with you.”
“Joe isn’t here,” Susannah said firmly. “I believe he had work to finish at the lodge today. He says the Ingalls family has finally sold the place and he has to hurry with the job.”
“He’ll still be able to come to our party tomorrow night, I hope?”
“I think so,” said Susannah. “Just wait at Worthington House, Granny Rose. I’ll come inside to get you.”
“You don’t have to treat me like an invalid,” Rose said, but Susannah had already hung up the phone.
Rose went home and slept for the rest of the afternoon—something she never did. When she finally woke, Susannah was doubly worried, so Rose made an effort to act as if everything was normal during their light supper. But she felt groggy and went to bed early, telling herself she had better get over the flu—if that was what she had—before the party. Since Joe’s men had finished the kitchen that day, Susannah spent the evening cleaning up the mess and putting the cupboards and drawers in order.
The next day, of course, Rose had no time to think about her health. She wished Susannah happy birthday and shared an extra large banana-nut muffin with a candle in it. Susannah opened her gifts—a pretty gold pendant and a collection of old family photographs that Rose had painstakingly labeled and mounted in a handsome album.
“Oh, it’s wonderful, Granny Rose!” Susannah had tears in her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to sit down with you to learn about the family. Thanks so much for taking the time yourself!”
Rose was pleased that Susannah found the album so precious. It was important to pass along family history, Rose felt. She was glad Susannah felt the same way.
Side by side with Susannah, Rose spent the morning working in the kitchen. In the afternoon, they mixed the punch, set out glassware and napkins, arranged a few extra chairs in the sitting room for the elderly guests and chose the music that would play on the stereo during the party. A dozen phone calls interrupted their preparations, but Rose didn’t mind. Sh
e loved the excitement.
At six o’clock, she dashed upstairs to change her clothes. In her haste, Rose realized that her heart had begun to pound with excitement, so she sat down on her bed for a moment’s rest and promptly fell asleep. She woke an hour later with Susannah gently shaking her shoulder.
“Granny Rose, are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Oh, my heavens, what time is it? I must have dozed off!”
“It’s seven o’clock.” Susannah looked lovely in a red wool dress with her gold pendant around her neck and her fair hair loose around her face. With a worried frown, she said, “Judson Ingalls just arrived with a carload of your friends. Shall I tell them you’re still dressing?”
Rose scrambled off the bed. “It will just take me two shakes to get ready, Suzie. Can you entertain everyone until then?”
“Of course,” said Susannah, turning toward the door. But she hesitated and looked back. “Granny Rose...”
Rose waved her hand to hurry Susannah out. “Don’t slow me down, darling. I’ve got to get dressed. Where’s my slip?”
By the time Rose had put on her clothes, combed her hair and applied her lipstick, the party was in full swing. The house looked lovely and smelled like Santa’s kitchen. Susannah was merrily greeting guests at the door, while soft carols played on the stereo.
Rose arrived downstairs just as Joe Santori stepped in the door, looking quite handsome in a sport coat. Little elves with hammers decorated his tie. Rose saw Susannah give the tie a familiar tweak and make a joke, and Joe laughed, bending close to give her a kiss and wish her a happy birthday. At the last instant, she turned her head to prevent him from kissing her on the mouth. Joe smiled and kissed her lingeringly, anyway. Susannah’s eyes were full of pleasure when she raised her gaze to Joe’s. For an instant, the two of them were completely unaware of the rest of the world.
Then Rose launched herself off the bottom step, crying, “Merry Christmas, Joe! I’m so glad you could come. Do I get a kiss, too, or must I trap you under the mistletoe?”
Joe tore his gaze reluctantly from Susannah’s and laughingly gave Rose an obedient kiss. “Merry Christmas, Rose. I hope your kitchen is open for business tonight.”
“Thanks to you and your men, it is. Thanks for helping me out so quickly, Joe. I won’t expect the rest of the renovations to be so speedy.”
Joe said, “My crew’s finishing up out at Timberlake—we lost the job with the Ingallses—so I’ll be back here tomorrow morning, if you like.”
“What do you mean, you lost the job with the Ingallses?”
“Liza says they’ve sold the lodge.”
“Great heavens! To whom?”
“Edward Wocheck.”
“Eddie—! Why would he want to buy the old lodge?”
Susannah frowned. “Granny Rose, I told you about this when we were baking the other day. Don’t you remember? I spoke with him at Worthington House.”
“When were you at Worthington House?” Rose asked in confusion.
“We saw Edward Wocheck at Worthington House the night we took the tree over there,” Joe explained. “I guess he wants to turn the lodge into some kind of resort. He’s sent a bunch of plans to the town council, and if they approve his ideas on Monday, the lodge will no longer belong to the Ingalls family.”
“How sad,” Susannah murmured. “Timberlake was kind of an ancestral home for them, wasn’t it?”
“Too many bad memories now, I think,” Rose said idly, still worried about her memory lapse. “It’s just as well. I’m sure Eddie will allow the Ingallses free run of the place, if they want it. He and Alyssa Ingalls used to be very close.”
The final sale of Timberlake proved to be the biggest topic of conversation at the party. In the dining room, townsfolk crowded around Judson Ingalls when he finished filling a small plate from the buffet table and began to speak about selling his property. The other guests made appropriate responses to his comments, and Rose was relieved that nobody asked him any uncomfortable questions.
Except for one person. Fortunately, crotchety Inger Hansen was in the kitchen when she said loudly, “I wonder if Judson’s selling the place to cover his tracks.”
“Hush, Inger!” Rose turned from the oven where she was removing a tray of hot toast points. “Keep your voice down. I won’t have you making a scene tonight!”
“It’s not a scene if it’s the truth,” snapped old Inger, selecting a plump apricot cookie from the plate waiting on the counter. Munching it, she said, “A lot of people are saying that Judson killed his wife—the police proved that was her body they dug up last summer, you know. He’s probably unloading Timberlake so he can take his money and run off to South America!”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Inger.” Rose hastily left the kitchen, hoping that Inger wouldn’t spread such awful gossip if she didn’t have anyone to talk to. Maybe the old biddy would eat all the apricot cookies and make herself sick.
But as Rose pushed through the swinging door, she nearly collided with Liza, Judson Ingalls’s granddaughter. The tall young woman looked especially lovely in a short, loose-fitting dress over a pair of skintight bicycle pants. It was an outfit more suited to a cosmopolitan party in a big-city high-rise, but Rose was rather pleased that Liza had chosen such an outré ensemble for that evening. She lent a certain sophistication to the party.
But from Liza’s expression, it was obvious that she had overheard Inger’s thoughtless talk. Seeing her stricken look, Rose said quickly, “Don’t listen to Miss Hansen, Liza, dear. You know she’s not right in the head.”
Liza swallowed hard. “But it’s what everybody’s saying, isn’t it? That my granddad killed his wife.”
“Liza, don’t think about the past. Just put it out of your mind. You’ve just married a very sweet man, and—”
But Liza shook her head. “I can’t forget the past. I wish I could! But the police investigation is digging into the whole awful business. I’m so afraid! I just... It’s...”
Rose set down her tray of hot canapés and took Liza’s arm. She guided the tall young woman into an alcove before the other guests noticed her momentary loss of composure. For an instant, Rose feared that Liza was going to burst into tears.
“There, there, sweetheart. It’s not so bad....”
Liza gathered her poise and managed a halfhearted smile. “I’m not myself these days. I never was the most stable person in the world, but this has really sent me over the edge! I just...I’m afraid for my grandfather, that’s all. I don’t want him to go to jail. Not now. So many things are finally going right for our family....”
“Judson won’t go to jail,” Rose said firmly.
“How can you be so sure, Mrs. Atkins?”
“Because I’ve known him a lot longer than you have, young lady. And I knew Margaret, too. I’m sure he didn’t kill her. Why, he loved her very much! She just wasn’t right for him, that’s all.”
“Did you believe she’d disappeared?”
Unwillingly, Rose shook her head. “No, I never believed that. Margaret wasn’t the type to just vanish and start a new life somewhere. She would’ve come back to town to show off. No, I suspected your grandmother had come to a bad end, Liza. I’m sorry, dear.”
“But if she was murdered, who did it?”
“Oh, there were lots of possible suspects around in the old days. She ran with a very wild crowd. Perhaps one of her beaux decided to kill her when she refused to divorce Judson.”
“Would you recognize some of her boyfriends?”
“Well, they’ve all aged, I’m sure, and—”
“No, no,” said Liza. “I brought those old photos I told you about.”
Remarkably, Liza began to rummage in her handbag and came up with a packet. Rose accepted the handful of fragile old photos and stepped closer to the light to examine the faded faces that looked up at her. “Why, yes,” she said softly, gazing at many of her old acquaintances and letting the memories swim up in her mind. “Here’s yo
ur grandmother,” she said to Liza, pointing to one picture. “Wasn’t Margaret a beauty? She looked very much like you, dear.”
Liza pointed to one of the men standing by Margaret’s chair in the photograph. “Who’s that?”
“Roddy,” Rose said promptly. “I forget his last name, but he was one of Margaret’s friends from Chicago. A wonderful dancer and quite a card player, I recall. He and Margaret were...well, very close.”
Bluntly, Liza asked, “Was he her lover?”
“I’m not sure,” Rose said uneasily. “But probably. My dear, Margaret had many friends. If you’d like me to keep these pictures for a while, I’d be happy to try to remember the names. But I didn’t know Margaret intimately. I don’t know who killed her, if anyone did. I only know it couldn’t have been Judson. He’s a kind man. And he loved her.”
Liza shivered. “Then maybe there’s a killer still on the loose in Tyler.”
Rose gave the young woman a small smile. “I’m sure there are a great many secrets floating around Tyler, my dear. Some of them are best left buried.”
“And that’s what Chief Schmidt was doing,” Liza murmured softly. “He was stalling the investigation. Sometimes I wonder if Granddad asked him to take it easy.”
“That’s possible,” Rose replied, for she knew Judson Ingalls and the police chief had been good friends for many years. “But the chief may have been doing Judson a favor, you know, without being asked.”
“What’s going to happen now that he has retired?”
With a sigh, Rose said, “Your guess is as good as mine, Liza. I doubt that Brick Bauer and the newly appointed head of the Tyler police substation will be as easygoing as Paul Schmidt has been over the years.”
“Maybe Granddad is in a lot of trouble.” Liza hugged herself to suppress more shivers of fear. Half to herself, she said, “I’ve got to do everything I can to protect him.”
