Sharon grimaced as though her knees were hurting, but she lowered herself back down on the wooden planking. A small, mean part of me was gratified to see that she appeared to be in pain. Having threatened to shoot us, Sharon was getting off easy, in my book.
On the other side of the room, Faith was up and moving well. She’d trotted over to the far corner and was busy examining something crumpled on the floor. Satisfied that she was in good shape, I turned to Aunt Peg.
“That was a rash move,” I said.
“But effective. At least you might credit me that.”
“The shot went wild,” I pointed out. “You could have gotten me killed.”
Aunt Peg just shrugged. All’s well that ends well.
It was easy for her to be so blithe about it. There hadn’t been a gun pointed in her direction. Meanwhile the aftershock of my near miss had left me feeling unaccountably grumpy.
“It took you long enough to make your move,” I said.
“I was listening to what Sharon had to say.” Aunt Peg flicked a quick glance my way. “After all, it’s not as though you’ve gone out of your way to keep me apprised.”
“You could hear us from outside?”
“Of course. I was on the porch. This old building is hardly soundproof. Those wooden walls have gaps wider than my little finger.”
I took a sudden look around. “Wait a minute. Where’s Snowball?”
“Don’t worry about him, he’s safe in my van. I stashed him there when I rounded the building and saw Sharon’s car. I thought perhaps I might need to have my wits about me. It’s a good thing I’d done so, because when I heard her threaten Faith, I knew I had to intervene.”
“When you heard her threaten Faith?” As I recalled, that had happened a good minute after Sharon had threatened to shoot me.
“Precisely.” Aunt Peg nodded. “That’s when I knew things were about to get serious.”
I opened my mouth. Then shut it again. Upon reflection, there was absolutely nothing I could say to that. Instead I went to check on Faith.
She was still in the corner, sniffing at something. From afar, it looked like a discarded bundle of clothing. But when I nudged the Poodle aside and took a closer look, the object of her curiosity turned out to be the remains of our inflatable Santa Claus. The bullet Sharon fired had missed both Faith and me, but it had struck Santa directly in the middle of his red vinyl chest.
The cheery, life-size, holiday figure was a goner. Under the circumstances, it seemed like a small price to pay.
Chapter Seventeen
“Do you hear something?” Aunt Peg asked. She lifted a hand to her ear.
Sirens. A minute later, the still-open doorway revealed several sets of flashing lights coming closer through the trees.
Hopefully it was just my imagination that Aunt Peg appeared to surrender the gun with reluctance when the first police officers came through the door. She was enough of a menace when she wasn’t holding a weapon. I hated to think that she might be developing a fondness for firearms.
Aunt Peg and I took turns explaining the situation to the responding officers while Sharon listened in stony silence. Her gun and the demolished Santa Claus were enough to get her taken into custody. In addition, the officers promised to pass along what we told them about Pete Dempsey’s death to their superiors.
Sharon immediately hired a lawyer. Thanks to his quick work, she was out of jail the next day. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of reception she would receive from the good folks of Stonebridge upon her return to town.
Later I heard from Aunt Peg—who followed each new development avidly—that Sharon’s attorney was discussing such things as mitigating circumstances and a conspicuous lack of hard evidence with the DA. Apparently, the blameless life the assistant principal had led thus far would also work in her favor.
Now that the police and the courts were handling things, I put that adventure behind me and threw myself into preparations for Christmas. Better late, than never. Once the upcoming holiday finally had my full attention, it all came together beautifully.
On Christmas morning, everything was perfect. Or as near to perfect as things could ever be in a family with one child starry-eyed over Santa’s visit, a teenager and five Standard Poodles who were all too clever for their own good, a semi-trained mutt, and two adults who had resigned themselves to living in a constant state of near-lunacy.
Of course we were awake early on Christmas morning. That was a given. Several inches of new snow had turned the outdoors fresh and white overnight. When we lit a fire in the fireplace and turned on the Christmas tree lights, the entire living room glowed.
The boys tore into their presents, greeting each new gift with appreciation, even the clothing and books. When Kevin reached for a small box that was tucked way back beneath the tree, Sam and I shared a private smile.
“What do you suppose that is?” Sam asked.
Kev held up the box and shook it, like he’d seen his brother do.
“That sounds like more clothes,” Davey predicted. He was busy examining a new wireless controller with thumb sticks.
“I hope it’s not socks,” Kevin said seriously. “I have lots of those.”
“I don’t think Santa brought you socks,” I told him. “Open it and see.”
Kevin yanked off the bow and opened the box. A peanut butter dog biscuit was sitting on top of a bed of tissue paper. He frowned, perplexed. “Why did Santa bring me a dog biscuit?”
“Maybe it goes with what’s underneath,” Sam said. “Keep looking.”
Davey stopped what he was doing to watch too. So we were all paying attention when Kevin pushed aside the tissue wrapping and began to shriek. Jumping to his feet, he held up a red plaid dog coat decorated across the back with a spray of silver stars.
“Santa brought it!” Kevin exclaimed. “I knew he would.”
Sam had gone from store to store until he’d found the perfect chew-resistant jacket. Meanwhile I’d bought a length of silver fabric and made stars. I’d spent the last several nights, after the boys were in bed, sewing them on. The look on Kevin’s face when he’d opened the present made the extra effort well worth it.
Bud was immediately brought forward and buckled into his new coat. The little dog stood in place for a few seconds, whipping his head from side to side to examine his new outfit. Then he leapt away and began to race around the room.
As Kevin cheered and the Poodles watched in bemused wonderment, Bud shot across the living room floor and gave a sudden flying leap that landed him on the couch. From there, he hopped to a nearby chair, then skimmed across a tabletop before landing on the floor again.
He was about to repeat the circuit of the room when Sam stepped in and scooped him up. “I think we’d better let them take this game outside before the Poodles decide to join in the festivities and they wreck the place.”
Great idea.
Aunt Peg showed up when we were seated at the kitchen table, eating a Christmas breakfast of French toast and slab-cut bacon. Having gone directly from presents to food, we were all still in our jammies. I was surprised Aunt Peg was out and about so early on Christmas.
“I needed to make an early holiday delivery,” she explained as she joined us and helped herself to a plate of food. “Snowball has gone off to his new home.”
“On Christmas morning?”
We were all aware of Aunt Peg’s firm objection to puppies being given as presents on the busy holiday. That she would even consider participating in such a scheme herself came as a shock. Aunt Peg, however, remained unruffled.
She slid another slice of bacon onto her plate and said, “It took this long to get things settled, since nobody seemed to know precisely who Snowball belonged to. Not surprisingly, Pete didn’t leave a will. So I took myself over to Stonebridge and talked to his family. They didn’t want anything to do with the poor little dog.”
I lifted my head in surprise. “You spoke with Tyler?”
&nb
sp; “Of course. You’re not the only one around here who gets to ask questions. I talked to Betty too. She asked me if I might be able to find Snowball a good home. So that’s precisely what I did.”
“But still,” said Sam. “Christmas morning?”
“This was a special case. The Butlers are a retired couple. Their children are grown and have families of their own. This year no one was making the trip home for the holiday. So Ned and Sally would be spending a quiet day by themselves.”
I gazed around our lively table crowded with loved ones. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for anyone who had to spend the holidays alone.
“I’d extended some feelers in the Maltese community,” Aunt Peg continued. “Their local rescue put me in touch with Ned. Apparently he’d proposed to Sally forty years ago on Christmas Day, and sealed the deal with a Maltese puppy. They’d been dog owners ever since, until they lost their last pet three months ago.”
“That’s sad,” said Kevin. The rest of us nodded.
“Recently Sally had indicated to Ned that she might be ready to open her heart to a new dog. At their age, she thought an adult dog might suit better than a puppy. So Ned contacted the local Maltese club. He and I spoke on the phone, then he came and met Snowball. The two of them hit it off beautifully. Ned wanted to surprise his wife on Christmas morning and, under the circumstances, I was happy to oblige.”
“That was a very nice thing you did,” Sam said softly.
I couldn’t seem to talk past the lump in my throat, so I just nodded again. Even Davey looked subdued. Not Kevin. He was shaking his head.
“Ned should have asked Santa Claus for a dog,” he said with impeccable three-year-old logic. “Santa would have brought him one.”
I reached over and ruffled my son’s hair. “But this way Snowball got a great home. And with Aunt Peg helping out, Santa had more time to spend making children happy.”
“Oh.” Kev considered that. The thought of Santa Claus working hard on his behalf made him smile. “Well done, Aunt Peg.”
Well done, indeed.
MELANIE’S FAVORITE CINNAMON COOKIES
These cookies are great for busy moms. They’re delicious and easy to make, and most people already have the ingredients in the pantry. Enjoy!
Ingredients
1¼ cup of butter
⅔ cup of sugar
⅓ cup brown sugar
1 egg yolk
1¼ cup of flour
1¼ teaspoons cinnamon
¼ teaspoon salt
Preheat your oven to 300 degrees.
Mix the butter, the sugar, and the brown sugar.
Add the egg yolk and blend well.
Stir together the flour, cinnamon, and salt. Add the dry ingredients to the creamed mixture and blend well.
Place the dough by rounded teaspoons on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 20–25 minutes. Cool on the cookie sheet for a few minutes, then transfer to wax paper or a wire rack to finish cooling.
Yield: about 3 dozen cookies (unless you make each cookie twice as big as it should be like I do, in which case you will have half that many. )
Wagging Through the Snow Page 13
