“Who’s that?” I asked as the man staggered forward a few more steps before leaning heavily on a chair.
“Randy Winter,” she said. “He was Santa in the last dozen or so Christmas productions here, as well as all over town for as long as anyone can remember.”
“I want my job back!” Randy slurred, now pointing at Lawrence. “I didn’t do nothing wrong.” He hiccoughed.
“He was fired for drinking on the job,” Prudence added, though at this point, I think it was pretty obvious.
“Someone get him out of here,” Lawrence said. “Dean!” He pointed at the crewman I’d noted earlier. “Weren’t you supposed to make sure the door was locked?”
“I did, I swear!”
“Apparently, you didn’t.” Lawrence heaved a dramatic sigh. “You can escort Randy off the premises since you clearly can’t do anything else right.”
“But . . .” Dean trailed off, his entire demeanor tensing and then releasing as he slunk down the aisle toward the irate former Santa.
Someone snorted a laugh. When I looked, our current Santa was grinning ear to ear, as if watching the display was the highlight of his day. Already, I wasn’t liking the man all that much. He didn’t exactly fill me with holiday spirit.
In an embarrassing display, the drunken man tried to slap Dean’s hands away, but kept missing, until he finally sagged in defeat. Dean took him by the arm and led him slowly out the doors, and presumably outside.
I felt bad for Randy. If he’d been Santa all these years, only to be replaced, it had to be hard on him. I knew how dedicated actors could be. It probably felt like losing a part of himself not being up here now.
A moment later, the doors were closed and Dean double-checked the lock before hurrying back to his spot at the side of the stage. Lawrence glared at him the entire way, jaw clenched, as if he was fighting the urge not to scream at him more than he already had. He stared at him for a good thirty seconds more before turning back to the assembled cast.
“Now then.” He sucked in a calming breath and let it out slowly. “Time is short and we’ve already had enough delays. Everyone take your places and let’s get started. We’ll begin from the top.” He turned and looked up toward a sound booth where two people—a young man and a woman—were watching. Both were wearing crew shirts, like Dean. “Cue up the music!”
Panic flared through me then as everyone on stage started moving. “I wasn’t given a script,” I said, looking to Prudence for help.
She took me by the arm and gently led me to one side of the stage. Thankfully, Robert was on the far side, though he did keep looking over at me.
“Follow my lead,” she said. “You ever do much dancing?”
“Dancing?” I squeaked as the music started up. Instead of it only being a lead in to a monologue, the cast started moving and singing along.
“Didn’t Rita tell you?” Prudence asked as she spun in a circle. Her eyes glimmered with joy, body moving like she was fifty years younger. “This production is a musical!”
3
Muted sunlight shone in through my window, streaking across my bed and face. I threw an arm over my eyes and groaned, wishing the morning had never come.
“I think this is it,” I said. “I’m a goner.”
Misfit stared at me from his perch on my dresser. He’d started knocking things off it an hour ago, yet I’d made no progress in getting out of bed to feed him. I was normally up long before now, and if I didn’t get up soon, he’d be on the bed, pawing at my face in an effort to rouse me from the dead.
Every part of my body ached. I was sore in places I never thought could hurt. I’d somehow made it through practice without making a complete fool out of myself. I think Prudence had more to do with that than any fortitude of my own. The twisting and gyrating had been far more than my poor out-of-shape body could handle. I didn’t even want to talk about my tortured attempts at singing.
And I was supposed to do it all again that very night.
Another groan escaped me as a couple of coins hit the floor. Misfit’s stare became aggressive, ears pinned back, as he swatted at my jewelry box.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” I muttered, forcing my legs over the edge of the bed. “You’re cleaning that up, you know.” I gestured vaguely at the pile of loose change and other small items on the floor. He’d yet to work his way up to the big stuff, like my alarm, telling me he wasn’t as hungry as he was making it seem.
I limped my way to the kitchen to feed the orange furball, though what he deserved was to be locked out of the bedroom while I stood, soaking in a hot shower. He glared at me the entire way, acting as if I hadn’t fed him in a week. Sure, I might not have given him much more than a handful of dry before collapsing into bed last night, but it wasn’t like he was going to starve. The cat ate better than I did most of the time.
Then again, he was a creature of routine and I was slacking in my duties. I was just as grumpy as he was before my morning coffee, so could I really blame him?
Once his royal crankiness was fed, I lumbered back into my bedroom, grabbed my clothes, and headed for the bathroom. Undressing was a chore, but I managed without too much complaint. I stood under the shower until the water ran cold, letting the heat pelt at me in the hopes it would loosen my muscles. It worked, though I still felt like someone had tried to twist me into a new shape before dropping me from a balcony. How did anyone do this sort of thing for a living?
I tried not to think about how Prudence and the other elves might be feeling. They were used to the torture. I doubted a single one of them had so much as a tweaked muscle in their big toe. It irked me to know Robert had gone through the whole practice without so much as a grimace of pain. If anyone deserved to have their every muscle spasm, it was him.
I spent the next hour trying to get my mind and body back to where it needed to be. Coffee helped. The cookie inside helped even more. By the time I was done, I felt like I could make a go at life, even if it would only last until practice that night. Then, I’d be forced to contort myself in ways no human body should contort.
Well, at least my body.
I considered giving my muscles more time to rest, but decided staying in bed all day would help nothing. Not only would everything tighten up again, I’d likely find it hard to get up and leave later.
“Well,” I said to Misfit, who was cleaning his whiskers while lounging on the couch, “I guess that since I’m going to be in town this year, I should get out the tree.”
Kitty eyes widened as if he’d understood me. He didn’t stop washing, or deign to get up, but I could tell he was interested.
It had been years since I’d put up my Christmas tree. I’d always spent the holidays with my dad, so there was no reason for me to bother. It wasn’t like I ever had anyone over to my place for Christmas dinner or to watch silly holiday movies.
Speaking of which . . .
I turned on the TV and smiled when I saw that Elf was on. I wasn’t normally a Will Ferrell fan, but I did like this movie. I turned up the volume and then headed into the laundry room where I’d stored most of my junk. Shoved into a corner with five totes of things I’d probably never unpack, was the box containing the Christmas tree. It was a little worse for wear, the box faded and torn and taped together in more places than I could count.
With what I felt was a herculean effort, I managed to drag the box from its corner, get it out of the laundry room, down the hall, and into the living room without breaking anything, myself included. I did have to sit down and rub at my back afterward, but that was a minor grievance. Maybe I should call the theatre and let them know I had to drop out due to back pain. It did make me wonder if Mandy’s illness was really just a cover for her not wanting to suffer anymore.
I was about to suck it up and open the box—Misfit was already rubbing against it and purring in anticipation—when there was a knock at the door.
“Sorry,” I said, rising. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes more.�
�
Misfit plopped down with a pout, tail swishing, as I headed for the door. I couldn’t imagine who would be paying me a visit, especially since everyone I knew was working. A part of me was secretly hoping it was the delivery man with a box of chocolates sent straight from my favorite chocolate shop back home. Or Will. Both were just as yummy.
I opened the door and was surprised to find a woman I didn’t know standing on my front stoop.
“Are you Krissy Hancock?” she asked with a smile. She was my height, of medium build. Her short hair had once been dark, but was now streaked with gray, giving her that salt and pepper look some people find attractive. She peered at me through glasses with thick black frames that were actually pretty stylish and went well with her face. Her coat had faux animal fur around the edges, and went down to mid-calf. I could just make out what looked to be a pants suit underneath.
“I am,” I said, hesitantly. There was no car in my driveway, telling me she’d either been dropped off or walked.
“Hi, I’m Jane.” She pulled off a glove and held out her hand to me. “Jane Winthrow.”
I shook her hand, somewhat stunned. “As in, related to Eleanor Winthrow?” I asked, glancing toward my neighbor’s house. Sure enough, the curtain was parted just enough to let a pair of binoculars poke through. I would have been annoyed if I wasn’t already used to it.
“The same,” she said. “I’m her daughter.” She put her glove back on. “I wanted to stop by and introduce myself. My mother has spoken about you quite a lot.” By the grin that spread across her face, I knew what kind of stuff she’d been saying.
“It’s not like that,” I said. “Well, I’m not like that. She thinks I . . .” I trailed off as Jane waved my words away.
“I know how she can get. I never believe more than two words out of her mouth half the time. I prefer to make up my own mind about people, hence my visit.” A frown flashed across her face, and then was gone almost before it could form. “Mom was against me coming, but I assured her you weren’t going to drag me inside and tie me up.”
I nudged Misfit back with my foot as he peered out into the cold. I shivered and stepped back as a gust of wind slapped at my exposed face and hands. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes? I can make a fresh pot of coffee for us.”
“No, thank you,” Jane said. “I can’t stay.” She glanced toward her mother’s house and sighed before turning back to me. “You seem like a nice person. I think it might be a good idea for you two to get together so she can see that. Maybe we can all meet for lunch sometime?”
This time, I picked Misfit up when he made a move for the door. I held him close to my chest as a shield against the cold. “You don’t need to go out of your way,” I said. “I don’t hold any of it against her.” Not really, anyway. She sometimes made my life more difficult with her constant spying, but so far, it hasn’t gotten me into too much trouble.
Jane’s smile tightened somewhat. “I think it would be good for her, honestly.”
I could see some of her mom in her eyes then, a stubbornness that had to be genetic. “If you think she’d be okay with it, I’m willing.” Eleanor and I had definitely gotten off on the wrong foot, and if eating lunch with her would ease some of the tension between us, it would make both our lives so much easier. We did live next to one another.
“Great,” Jane said. “I’ll check with Mom and see when she would like to do this. Do you have any preferences?”
“No,” I said. “I’m on a stay at home vacation, so I’m pretty free. My evenings are booked, but otherwise, anytime should be fine.”
“Okay, good. I’d better get back.” She started to walk away, and then paused to say, “Cute cat,” before heading the rest of the way over to her mother’s house.
I watched her go until Misfit started squirming to be let down. I backed up, closed the door, and then set him down before returning to the boxed tree.
“That was nice of her,” I said. I didn’t even know Eleanor had a daughter. And since she was using her maiden name, I was assuming she’d never been married, or had been and had gotten a divorce. Then again, many women weren’t taking on their husband’s last name these days, so really, anything was possible. She seemed nice enough either way, and I was glad she’d stopped by.
I spent the next hour and a half fighting with my Christmas tree. It was no wonder why I never put the darned thing up. It was one of those fake trees that you screwed in each branch, piece by piece, before fluffing them out. I’d tried to make piles based on the sizes of each branch—they were color coded, which was supposed to make it easier—but Misfit kept diving into them, scattering them all over the living room. I ended up having to go in search of each individual piece every time I snapped one into place.
Once the tree was up—with only one missing branch I assumed had found its way under the couch—I returned to the laundry room for the decorations. I had rope tinsel because it was the least likely to be swallowed by a mischievous cat, though I preferred the loose stuff. The same went for the other decorations. Everything I used was cat safe and approved.
Eventually, everything was up, the movie was over, and Misfit was curled up beneath the tree, asleep. My back was barking at me, but I felt a sense of satisfaction that I managed to get the tree up without a disaster. It gave the room a cozy feeling, one that would have been accentuated by a fire, but since I didn’t have a fireplace, and candles were too much of a risk with a long-haired, curious cat, it would have to do.
But yet, something was still missing. It only took me a few minutes to figure it out.
I hurried to the spare bedroom where I’d put Dad’s and Misfit’s gifts. I pulled them out and carried them to the tree. Careful not to disturb the slumbering feline, I placed the packages underneath. I stepped back and nodded in satisfaction.
“Perfect,” I said. Misfit’s ears twitched, but he appeared to be out for the long haul.
With nothing else to do—shopping for gifts would have to come later—I decided to sit down and watch The Santa Clause. I’d been hoping for something a bit more classic, like the original Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but the Tim Allen flick was the only Christmas movie I could find.
By the time it was over, I was starting to get a little antsy sitting around, doing nothing. I considered calling Dad to see how his trip was going, but wasn’t sure he’d even gotten there yet. Instead, I picked up the phone and called Will. I got voice mail, of course. He was likely at work, though it would have been nice to hear his voice.
Glancing at the clock, I decided I could always head to the theatre a little early. Maybe if I got to know more of the cast better, more of them would help me get through the play without making a complete fool out of myself.
Thinking of the cast, it did make me wonder if I should take the time to buy gifts for some of them. Prudence seemed nice enough, but who else did I really know? Robert was out. He’d take the gift the wrong way. And everyone else was practically a stranger.
No, it would probably be better not to. If I got something for one person, I’d have to get something for everyone.
“You be good,” I said as I put my coat on. Misfit was still zonked out under the tree, but I had a feeling the moment I was out the door, he’d be halfway up the tree, batting at the ornaments. His kitty snores didn’t fool me.
Bundled, I left the house, glancing quickly at the Winthrow place. The binoculars were gone, which felt a little strange. Eleanor was always there, watching. I almost didn’t know what to do with myself without her watchful gaze keeping tabs on me.
I got into my car, started it up, and then reconsidered my plan. I couldn’t take sitting around the house any longer, but it was still too early to go to the theatre. I doubted anyone would be there yet, so I’d end up hanging out alone for at least an hour or two. No, thank you.
It didn’t take me long to figure out where to go, however. After my long day of decorating and indulging in cheesy Christmas movies, I thoug
ht I deserved a reward for all my hard work, and I knew exactly what it was I wanted.
4
“Krissy! What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving town for Christmas?”
“Hi, Jules.” We shared a quick hug. Jules Phan was my next door neighbor, and owner of Phantastic Candies, where we now stood. “Canceled. I’m sticking around Pine Hills this year.”
“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” he asked, brow creasing in concern.
“Not a thing. Dad has a date, so instead of intruding, I get to stay here.”
Jules beamed as if I was the one with the big date. He was wearing an elf costume, which made his smile that much more infectious. “That’s fantastic. Lance,” he called, raising his voice. “We have company.”
Lance Darby exited the backroom, a half broken down box in his hands. “Hi, Krissy.” He was wearing the same elf outfit as Jules, though his fit a bit snugger, thanks to his muscular build. He tossed the box aside and came over to wrap me in a strong hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“You both look great.” Their costumes were far nicer than what I had to wear for the play. It made me a little jealous, to be honest. They looked like movie extras, while the play outfits looked as if they’d come from a cheap Halloween store.
Jules actually blushed at my compliment. “It was Lance’s idea. I was going to come in to work today as Santa.”
“But that’s done to death,” Lance said. “And while elves are also a bit cliché this time of year, I think Jules looks especially nice in tights.”
I didn’t want to say what I was thinking since Lance’s boyfriend, Jules, was right there, so I simply nodded. Let’s just say Lance kept himself extremely fit and he filled out his own pair of tights nicely.
I turned away and looked around the candy shop. “Phantastic Candies is looking great,” I said, impressed by how good the store looked. A waterline had busted a few months back and the store had flooded. Instead of simply fixing things, Jules had decided to do a complete remodel. The colors were more vibrant, the candy displayed in fun ways that would surely make the kids smile. Everything looked just the way it should, much to my sweet-tooth’s relief.
Death by Eggnog Page 3
