by Krista Davis
In the living room, Wolf poked a fire to life next to the twinkling lights of the tree. The mantel glittered with Laci’s collection of snowmen, and if I hadn’t known better, judging from the way neighbors mingled with drinks in their hands, I’d have thought George and Laci had planned this party.
Smiles and laughter had replaced the unhappy faces we saw earlier. I couldn’t help thinking of the thief as a Grinch and the neighbors as the residents of Whoville whose irrepressible spirit helped them overcome their sadness. The only problem was that I didn’t think our Grinch would come sliding back to join in the merriment.
An hour later, the crowd dissipated, and Wolf reminded me, “I have to get up early to drive to my parents’ house.”
Bleary-eyed, I drove Hannah and Wolf back to Old Town through the snow that continued to fall. When we stepped out of the car, my street was deserted. In the wee hours of Christmas morning, my neighbors slept and traffic had vanished. The air held that special soundless quality that only accompanies snow. Wolf wrapped his arms around me, and freezing bits of ice melted on my flushed face as I turned it up to him.
“Promise me you’ll avoid Kenner while I’m away?”
Like there was any comparison between my Wolf and his counterpart, the dour Detective Kenner. Kenner thought Wolf and I had broken up and had asked me out several times over the last few months. So far, I’d managed to dodge him. Being an event planner didn’t lend itself to dating. I was out most nights working. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” I teased.
“I’m not beneath a little jealousy where you’re concerned. It’s been a long time since I cared about someone enough to be jealous. I kind of like it.”
He kissed me with no-nonsense fervor, leaving me slightly giddy.
“I hate to interrupt, but it’s cold out here for those of us who aren’t in a bear hug, and we’re supposed to be back at George’s tomorrow morning for Laci’s Christmas Day celebration.”
I reached out a hand with the keys so Hannah could let herself into the house, but Wolf released me. “I’ve got to get cracking. I’ll only get a couple hours sleep as it is.”
I wanted to watch him walk away in the snow, but Hannah tugged at me like a bored child. I ran out of adrenaline right about the time I stuck the key into the door lock. Even Mochie, my Ocicat, winding around my legs, and the frantic happy wriggles of Daisy, my mixed-breed hound, didn’t restore my energy. Hannah went straight up the stairs to bed. I tossed my coat over a kitchen chair, let Daisy out in the fenced backyard for a minute, and fed Mochie. Thankfully, Daisy promptly came back, more eager to be with me than to play in the snow. She escorted me up the stairs to my bedroom, and in minutes, Mochie joined us.
Hannah and I slept late on Christmas Day. When Jen phoned and said, “Mom’s putting your cinnamon buns in the oven, aren’t you coming?” I had a feeling the rest of my family hadn’t slept much.
I stumbled down the stairs, started a pot of coffee, and let Daisy out. Mochie sat by his food dish, watching me expectantly, and Hannah staggered into the kitchen like the Bride of Frankenstein.
“Ugh. I am too old to stay up half the night.” She rubbed her face and yawned. “I feel hungover and there wasn’t even any liquor, men, or general debauchery involved. Although that one cop was cute.”
I smiled at the memory of Wolf’s kiss in the falling snow. “Too bad. I called dibs. He’s mine.”
Hannah’s face wrinkled up. “Not that one. The Zack cop.” Her eyes finally opened to a normal width. “Oh! Do you think he’ll be there today? Do you have any cucumbers? I’m all puffy.”
“No cucumbers, sorry. And I doubt he’ll come on Christmas Day. He probably has a police wife and four little police children at home.”
“Did Wolf tell you that?”
I poured each of us a mug of steaming gingerbread-scented coffee. “No. But most people don’t want to work on Christmas.”
Hannah slurped coffee and opened the door for Daisy, who shook snow off her dark coat, wagged her tail, and stared at Hannah hopefully. Hannah bent forward for a doggy kiss. In a sugary voice, she said, “Daisy, you have no idea how glad I am that I don’t have to walk you in this weather.”
“I thought we’d take her with us. If Jen’s full of energy, she can walk Daisy in the snow.” I felt a little bit guilty for leaving Mochie home alone, but then, sometimes I thought he enjoyed a quiet day by himself. And he surely wouldn’t like the snow.
The phone rang again and the two of us looked at each other. “Mom?” I asked.
“I’d bet it’s Laci, you know how uptight she is.”
I finally answered and gave Hannah a thumbs-up. Laci launched into a frenzied explanation of the fact that the thief took food, as though I hadn’t been at her house last night. I promised to bring food with me, and handed Hannah the phone, in spite of the fact that she waved her hands “no.”
An hour later, we’d packed the car with food—frozen, fresh, and leftover—and Daisy, Hannah, and I were on our way back to Chantilly. Hannah applied makeup as I drove, and Daisy, who stood in the back of the SUV, hung her head over the console between the front seats.
“Do you think this is too sappy if Cop Zack happens by?”
I gathered she meant her outfit, a red turtleneck topped by a midnight blue sweater, on which Santa and his reindeer streaked across a sky. “You never know what a guy will like. Jen will adore it, though.”
“I don’t need to impress Jen. Daisy!”
I tried to keep my eyes on the road but prepared to pull over. “What’s wrong?”
“She licked my blush.”
“That can’t be good for her.”
“Her? This stuff costs a fortune.”
I ignored my sister and focused on the road, slick with melting snow. The brief howl of a siren bleated behind me and a flashing light reflected in my rearview mirror. “Oh, crud! Just what I need. Getting pulled over on Christmas Day!”
“You weren’t going too fast, that’s for sure.” Hannah ran a hand through her hair. “A turtle could have passed us.”
I pulled to the side of the road and rolled down the window to gaze up into the gaunt face of Detective Kenner.
“Sophie! I didn’t realize it was you.” He frowned at me. “Did you drink a few mimosas this morning?”
“No!” My voice got a little bit too loud. I might not be perfect, but I never drive after drinking.
Hannah leaned over, dipping a mascara wand into its container. “She wasn’t speeding, either.”
“Were you putting on makeup?” he asked.
“I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m not wearing makeup.”
“Really?” He squinted at me. “I’m afraid you were weaving, Sophie.” He crouched a bit, bringing his face even with the window.
Good-natured Daisy chose that exact moment to growl. Her long jowls drew up to show her teeth, not her best expression.
Kenner drew back—fast. “Impressive guard dog you have there. What is she? Some kind of hound?”
“Hound mix.” I wasn’t about to tell him she was really a sweetheart.
Kenner bounced a fist off the car door. “Then you two have a Merry Christmas, and try not to weave anymore, Sophie.”
Hannah and I wished him a Merry Christmas, and I pulled back onto the roadway before he returned to his car.
“Is that the cop who is jealous of Wolf?”
“Apparently. I find it hard to believe that he’s smitten with me.”
“Me, too. But he must be. You know he pulled you over on purpose when you hadn’t done anything wrong. Not much to look at with those sunken cheeks.” Hannah reached back to stroke Daisy. “Good girl for growling! Is that him following us?”
I glanced in the mirror, but couldn’t tell because the car followed from a distance. It turned off shortly thereafter and we relaxed.
Although the main highways had been cleaned, as we neared George’s neighborhood, I slowed to a crawl since the snow-removal trucks hadn’t been
through yet. It made for a sparkling winter wonderland effect. The huge Grinch still bobbled inside his bubble, and kids dodged around it, throwing snowballs at each other.
I pulled into George’s driveway to leave the street clear in case the county truck came through to clean it. Jen bounced over to the car immediately, snow crystals clinging to her jacket, evidence that she hadn’t managed to avoid all the snowballs pelted her way. Her cheeks glowed from the fresh, cold air, and I was thrilled to see her happy. The Grinch who tried to ruin Christmas hadn’t succeeded. She opened the back hatch, and Daisy leaped out. They chased each other until Jen caught Daisy and they fell, rolling on the fluffy white ground.
The door to George’s house opened. My dad, Paul, still sprightly and good-looking for a retiree, hurried to the car with George. “Thank goodness you’re here. I thought Laci, her mother, and your mom might start a war over food. You have no idea how close we came to eating omelets for Christmas.”
I wouldn’t have minded omelets, actually, and wondered how pleased he would be to find that I’d brought bratwurst and pork chops from my freezer. The leftover goose from the night before wouldn’t be enough to feed everyone.
Dad and Jen, her dark hair shining in the sun that made a brief appearance, carried bags and boxes into the house.
I pulled the Christmas presents I’d planned to give my family out of the car, and asked George, “How did it go this morning?”
“Terrific. The kids have some weird toys, and the snow helped. Tom Thorpe, who lives across the street, played Santa yesterday at the community party, and he still had the suit. He put it on early this morning and went to all the houses with little kids and shook sleigh bells. There are a few who are convinced Santa was here. Then Edward organized a neighborhood snowball fight. It’s actually turned out to be a fun holiday for the kids.”
“Tom sounds like a good egg. Is that the guy Mom likes?” asked Hannah.
“What is it with her? She’s determined to find someone for him. Honestly, it’s embarrassing the way she tries to matchmake for everyone.” George shook his head and led the way up his walk.
I deposited packages under the tree and ventured, with some trepidation, into the kitchen. The heavenly scent of cinnamon and yeast bread lingered in the air. I helped myself to a bun with sugary cream cheese icing, and realized that Dad hadn’t been kidding about the tension in the kitchen.
Strands of hair frizzled around Laci’s forehead and her face flushed redder than the velvet bow on the wreath over the kitchen sink. Unlike Jen’s pink cheeks, I had a bad feeling the mothers were the cause of Laci’s flushed and disheveled appearance.
My brother had married a beauty. Petite and always pulled together, Laci was a bit of a control freak. More than a bit, really. She made lists for everything. A list of contents was taped to her freezer. A corkboard hung in the kitchen with lists for groceries, chores that needed attention, and a gigantic calendar Laci had made on her computer with color-coded information about their activities. At the moment, she stood in front of the stove, holding a list of some sort in trembling hands.
Her sister, Shawna, almost ten years younger, sat at the kitchen table, calmly applying bloodred nail polish, evidently oblivious to Laci’s distress. I knew Shawna from The Laughing Hound, a restaurant near my house where she waitressed. Every bit as beautiful as Laci, Shawna wore her lustrous brown tresses longer and dieted constantly in a never-ending battle with extra pounds.
Mom’s eyes twinkled as she admired Shawna’s manicure. “Shawna’s expecting an engagement ring tomorrow!”
Great. Not that I wasn’t happy for her, but my mother would take every possible opportunity to remind me.
“I thought he would give it to me last night.” Shawna blew on her nails. “Wouldn’t that have been romantic? An engagement ring on Christmas Eve? But he didn’t, so I think he’s waiting for his mother’s big Boxing Day party tomorrow. You won’t believe what she has planned. I don’t want to give away any surprises but it’s going to be sweet! Did you know one out of five men pop the question at Christmas?”
My mom, as petite and uberorganized as Laci, gave Shawna an excited wink. “He’s not joining us today?”
“It’s difficult for people with divorced parents. He’s spending the day with his dad. He’s genuinely relieved that his mother finally met someone, so she won’t be alone today.” Shawna slapped a hand over her mouth and turned her eyes to her mother, Marnie. An awkward silence fell over us. Laci had warned me that this would be Marnie’s first Christmas apart from their dad.
Mom came to the rescue by changing the subject. “I hope you brought cranberries, Sophie. It’s just not Christmas without cranberries.”
“You’re not serving pumpkin pie, are you?” asked Marnie.
Laci gulped and mashed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she snapped, “This Christmas, you just have to eat whatever is served.” She ripped her list into tiny shreds. “It’s not like I didn’t plan a nice dinner.”
“I just don’t want to see pumpkin pie, is all. For the rest of my life, I’ll associate it with the day your father left.”
From the way Laci’s hands clenched the shredded list, I knew I had to find a way to get the moms out of the kitchen—fast. “Mom,” I said casually, as if I hadn’t noticed anything wrong, “Hannah was wondering if she’s dressed right in case that cop, Zack, comes by today. Did you find out if he’s single?”
It was cruel of me to sic her on Hannah, but there was no gift, other than an engagement announcement, I could have given my mother that would bring her more pleasure than the notion that Hannah might be attracted to someone. Amazement flashed over Mom’s face, and she bolted from the kitchen, still wearing an apron.
Marnie was a little tougher since I didn’t know her well. A perfectionist like Laci, she stood in front of Laci’s pantry, scowling. “What an odd assortment of staples you have. If you recall, I offered to buy you a freezer. If you’d taken me up on it, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
I munched on the sweet bun, laden with heady cinnamon and nutmeg, and eyed Marnie, wondering what would prompt her to abandon the kitchen. A little bit taller than Laci, Marnie kept in good shape. She didn’t have a runner’s leanness, though. I would bet on aerobics, yoga, or one of those women-only exercise clubs. She wore a sweater vest featuring polar bears with three-dimensional mufflers embellished with tiny bells. I wasn’t quite sure about the connection to the holiday, but one thing seemed clear to me—she’d worn it for Jen.
“George told me Jen had a great Christmas morning,” I said. “I’m so glad. But she seemed very flushed and wet from the snow when I came in. You don’t think she’s coming down with anything, do you?”
Alarm registered on Laci’s face, and for a moment, I thought my plan to clear the kitchen might have backfired. Fortunately, Marnie proved to be the devoted grandmother I’d suspected. “I’ll check on her, sweetheart.”
I grinned at Laci as her mother rushed from the kitchen.
Laci scowled at me. “Is Jen really sick?”
I shook my head. “No. But the cold air has pinked her cheeks nicely. Just enough to distract a doting grandmother. So what can I do to help?”
Laci looked around her nearly vacant kitchen and then stared at me, speechless. For a moment, I thought she might burst into tears. “I have to learn how to do that.” She blinked hard before moving into boss mode.
By the time our mothers reappeared, potatoes cooked in a huge pot, the remaining meat had been picked off the goose, a green bean casserole baked in the oven, and a pot of red cabbage with heavenly roasted chestnuts cooked on the stove. I tossed chopped celery into a pan of onions sizzling in bacon grease for a quick dressing. Laci peeled sweet potatoes, but I could see her anxiety ratchet again when the moms reappeared.
I quickly sent them off with instructions to take a head count, set the table, be sure we had enough chairs, pour wine, and pass hors d’oeuvres that I’d whipped together out of cream cheese a
nd smoked salmon. Shawna continued to wave her fingers in the air, careful not to smudge her fresh manicure in case a diamond ring would slide onto one of her fingers.
When we sat down to eat, Forrest Chadwick and his son, Edward, joined us. His wife, Ginger, who had been a no-show, waltzed in at the last minute like an auburn June Cleaver, complete with pearls and frilly apron, carrying a hot roast turkey.
With great fanfare, she placed it in front of her husband to carve. “It’s not an expensive, organic, heirloom turkey, like the one I drove four hours round-trip to buy directly from the farm, but at least it’s a turkey.”
Amid the oohs and aahs, I couldn’t help wondering whose turkey we were about to eat. How had she managed to find a thawed turkey on Christmas Day? No one else seemed perturbed, and the mood around the table turned decidedly festive.
We staggered away from our dinner, filled to capacity, in agreement to wait an hour before dessert. Ginger took her leftover turkey home, and Laci permitted our mothers to clean up the kitchen, while she served eggnog and hot chocolate. In honor of the holiday, I blew off all concerns about calories and sipped at eggnog from one of Laci’s Spode old-fashioned glasses adorned with a Christmas tree. I stood next to my brother, George, my back to the large window overlooking the street. The packages had been opened, bows and bright wrapping paper still littered the carpet, and a cozy fire crackled. Jen and Edward sat on the floor playing Clue, and Daisy sprawled next to them.
It couldn’t have been a more tranquil family scene. Forrest lounged next to my dad, but Forrest’s glass held an amber liquid, which I suspected might be Scotch.
“Oh no! Christmas is over,” George grumbled under his breath.
It wasn’t like my brother to be so negative. “Don’t be silly. This is the best part.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He elbowed me, and I turned around to see what he was looking at. An elegant sedan had pulled up in front of the house. Bonnie Scarborough, the local organizing diva who owned the store Clutter Busters, strode up the driveway, her arm linked intimately with that of a man who looked vaguely familiar.
