Holly and Homicide
Page 26
“You’ve got hosting parties down to a fine art. But, in all honesty, Audrey, that just doesn’t sound easy to me.”
“Maybe not in your current circumstances. I’m just really, really grateful that you and Steve are coming up tonight, despite everything.”
I winced a little, truly wanting to be excused from that obligation. Truth be told, what I’d wanted the most for Christmas was simply the opportunity to spend Christmas Eve at home with Steve and Hildi.
“Erin, your being there for the inn’s opening gala means the world to me.”
“You’re playing me, aren’t you,” I stated.
“Like a fiddle. But I sincerely do need you there for emotional reasons that I’m not willing to delve into just now. So humor me, as a personal favor.”
“But Audrey—”
“Erin, this is all I want from you for Christmas. Please.”
“I’d just been thinking the same thing, in reverse.”
“Lucky for me, then, that I said it first.” She winked at me, and I knew that once again, she was going to win this argument. She pointed at the bag in the chair beside me. “Could you grab me some more candy canes? And then tie one to each cookie packet?”
Chapter 34
A light snow was falling as Sullivan and I made the drive up the mountains. The guests would be arriving shortly after us, thanks to my shameless procrastination.
I hadn’t been back to the Snowcap Inn since my battle at the top of the stairs, five days before. Steve had promised me we’d leave the party no later than midnight, and that he’d drive us back down to Crestview. The traffic at that hour, he reminded me, would be light. We’d be home by one-thirty on Christmas morning.
Audrey had taken off about four hours earlier and probably had everything under control by now. Still enthused about being a part owner of the inn, she was saddened by my abhorrence of the place. Knowing her, however, she was also confident she could change my mind eventually. There seemed little point in explaining that I was already battling nightmares every time I fell asleep and that I didn’t feel safe in Snowcap.
A couple of hours later, the party was in full swing. Audrey, Steve, and I had alternated taking guests on tours of the house, starting at the pear tree and zigzagging our way through the house till we reached the twelve drummers in the master bedroom. On each of my three turns as tour guide, my thoughts had been fully occupied with the task at hand, and I only felt myself growing anxious afterward, whenever I found myself standing at the top of the stairs.
Audrey’s miniature ornaments echoing our theme were also a big hit. I was admiring the tree decorations up close when a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Erin.”
I turned and said, “Hi, Carol.” I wondered if Mildred was here, too. “I was just thinking that I like Audrey’s turtledoves better than the two pillows I got for your room.”
“Oh, that’s not my room. Didn’t Henry tell you? That room’s going to be the inn’s overflow guest bedroom. I’m happy living with Mildred. I don’t want to make this a live-in position.”
“I’m out of the loop. All Henry told me was that the art gallery was going out of business, and you’d agreed to take over Mikara’s role. Also that you were a brilliant manager.”
“Yes, well … it’s been all of two days so far.”
“I’m sorry to hear about the gallery closing. I hate to see anything having to do with the arts go under.”
“Me, too. But the fact is, Mildred and I were in the red all this past year. When we heard about Mikara’s confession, well, Mildred threw up her hands. She said she’d been working by her side in that store all those years, and she was fed up. She announced she was going to retire and read books all day long. And finally take cello lessons.”
“You weren’t ready to retire yourself?”
“Not by a long shot. Then, wouldn’t you know, Henry came into the gallery, only an hour or so after I’d put the ‘Going Out of Business’ sign in the window. He was desperate, and he offered to hire me on the spot. Frankly, I leapt at it. Not to brag, but I’m perfectly suited for this job. I’d been wanting to open a small B-and-B myself, but I hadn’t the heart to desert Mildred and the gallery. I’d been green with envy when Mikara got this job. Now I’m managing the Snowcap Inn. Mildred’s retiring and closing up the gallery for good the end of next month. And Mikara’s in jail for her heinous, horrible crimes. Everything’s as it should be.” She smiled, but it started to fade a moment later. “Or rather, almost everything is.” She was staring past my shoulder, and I turned and followed her gaze. Chiffon had latched onto Henry’s arm.
“Those two are dating again?” I asked.
“No sensible person would bet on their union lasting beyond New Year’s Eve.”
Or beyond Christmas Eve, for that matter. I watched as the front door opened. “Oh. Ben’s here. I’m going to say hi.”
By the time I’d crossed the crowded central hall, Ben was chatting with Chiffon and Henry. I joined the trio, and we exchanged greetings, Chiffon’s somewhat cool.
“I’d better go work the room,” Chiffon said to Henry. “I’ll look for you again in a few minutes.” She gave his arm a squeeze, then headed toward a pair of elegantly dressed couples who were standing near the partridge in the pear tree.
“We’re back together again,” Henry explained, superfluously.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” Ben said.
“Yeah. Can’t say as I blame you, with my track record,” Henry replied.
“Did you hear my news?” Ben asked him.
“I heard what I’d hoped was a false rumor,” Henry said. “It’s not true, is it? You’re really leaving Snowcap after all this time?”
“You are?” I asked, already happy for him.
“Yep. I rented a little house in Denver as of the first of the year …got hired by a first-rate contractor.”
“Hate to see you go.” Henry shook his head. “I don’t know how they’ll replace you.”
“They?” Ben repeated.
“Wendell and company. Here at the inn.”
“I’m sure they’ll manage just fine,” Ben snapped. “Anyway. I actually have other plans tonight. I just wanted to stop by. Season’s greetings, Henry.”
“Hey, you, too. Good luck to you.” They shook hands, then Henry said, “I’d better go work the room myself.” He headed for a group of people standing at the opposite side of the room from Chiffon.
I gave Ben a hug and wished him a merry Christmas. I urged him not to hesitate to let us know if he was available to work on the occasional remodel job. He cast one last sad look in Henry’s direction, then headed for the door.
As the night wore on, Audrey, as usual, was the perfect hostess, and Wendell was fully in his element. None of the people who’d booked rooms were from Colorado, a fact which gave Wendell the opportunity to pontificate on “champagne powder” and the wonders of “a Colorado Christmas.” From my perspective, though, the conversation was tedious, and I was relieved when Wendell discovered that one of the couples had yet to go on what he’d termed “the official Twelve Days tour,” and whisked them off.
Audrey escorted me to a quiet corner near the kitchen and asked in a low voice, “You’re still not terribly fond of Wendell, are you?”
“What matters is that you like him, so I’ll try not to be anything less than gracious when we’re together.”
“Have no fear, Erin. Wendell and I have had our fun, and there are no hard feelings, but he was never going to be the one to spend my golden years with me.”
“Really?”
“You’re trying hard not to sound relieved, but you can go right ahead and admit it.”
“Okay, yes, I’m very relieved.”
She pursed her lips. “You weren’t actually worried that I’d fallen for him, were you?”
“We can’t always control our feelings for people. Sometimes you can find yourself drawn to someone you don’t even like.”
“True, b
ut that type of attraction never lasts for long.” She searched my eyes and gave me a smile that struck me as maternal. “I don’t mean to monopolize your time, though. Excuse me.” She whirled around and headed through the kitchen doors. As I watched the doors wave back and forth in her wake, I wished once again that Henry hadn’t insisted on keeping the stupid things; they’d forever reminded me of the saloon doors from Gunsmoke.
I was puzzled by her abrupt exit until I turned and saw Steve approach, wearing his coat. I returned his smile and said, “You’re carrying my coat. No wonder Audrey fled the scene when she spotted you. You’re ready to leave already.”
“Actually, I wanted to get some air, so I thought we could take a quick stroll around the grounds first.”
I hesitated. I had a sudden fear of seeing another body strangled with Christmas lights on the footbridge. Not giving me much choice in the matter, though, Steve helped me with my coat and ushered me toward the kitchen. We exchanged a few words of small talk with yet more guests in the kitchen, then slipped out the back door.
The chill air was invigorating, the stars were out, and the blanket of snow seemed to take on an ethereal glow. Directly ahead of us, the lights on the gazebo sparkled. Henry—or more likely Ben—had hooked up the speaker wires. One of my favorite carols—“O Holy Night”—was playing at a soft volume. “The gazebo looks really pretty,” I said, happily lacing my fingers through his.
Steve gave my hand a squeeze as we crossed the yard. “It really does. You know, I barely set foot in the thing till this evening, when I came out to sweep the snow off the floorboards.”
“That’s the thing about most gazebos, especially in winter. They’re seldom used. Most of them make you feel like you’re on a ministage in the middle of somebody’s backyard.”
Despite my words, Steve was leading me right toward the gazebo. We climbed the three steps. I was starting to get suspicious, but said nothing. “I hung one last Christmas decoration here,” Steve said. “I’ll show it to you.” He led me to the center of the octagonal floor and said, “It’s kind of corny, I know, but look over your head.”
I gave him a wry smile, still gazing into his eyes and not overhead. “Mistletoe? From you, Sullivan?” I looked up and was momentarily startled. A small gray-and-red toy rocket dangled from a thread. Suspended beside it was a pink balloon, shaped like a foot, with red and green ribbons tied around its big toe. I laughed. “Missile toe.”
I lowered my eyes to look at him and gasped. He’d dropped to one knee. He was holding a blue Tiffany ring box. My eyes filled with tears.
“Before I met you, Erin, I was alone. Since then, there has always been somebody trying to take you away from me. You’ve told me more than once that the Fates are aligned against us. I can’t believe that the Fates are that foolish, but in any case, my love for you is a stronger force. Please say that you’ll marry me. Allow me to be your husband for the rest of my life.”
I hesitated, but only because I was too choked up to speak.
“Please say yes, Erin. I’ll let you keep the missile. And the balloon.”
My laughter mingled with my tears as I said, “Well, in that case, yes.”
Steve slipped the stunning ring on my finger, and it fit perfectly. He stood up and swept me off my feet into his arms. Behind us, I heard cheers, and was now certain that Audrey had known about Steve’s plan all along; it explained why she’d been so adamant about my coming up to the inn tonight.
Very soon, I intended to turn around and acknowledge Audrey and our fellow partyers, who were no doubt lined up along the windows, watching us embrace. But for this one moment, I was already with my entire world.
about the author
LESLIE CAINE was once taken hostage at gunpoint and finds that writing about crime is infinitely more enjoyable than taking part in them. Leslie is a certified interior decorator and lives in Colorado with her husband and a cocker spaniel.
Holly and Homicide is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Dell Mass Market Original
Copyright © 2009 by Leslie Caine
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Dell, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DELL is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-440-33892-5
www.bantamdell.com
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books By This Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
About the Author
Copyright