Sugarplums and Scandal

by Dana Cameron

  “Hey,” he said, sounding more cheerful. “We got a ride to the towing place. Guess who? Cousin Sue and Ken happened to come by. Well, not exactly ‘happened’—they had to ID the Hat Trick Cafe owner as the guy who tried to blow them up this morning. The FBI are on the way. We’ll be at your house in half an hour, with Cousin Sue and Ken right behind us. Unless they have to go into the witness protection program or something. Ha ha!”

  Shaking her head, Judith decided to put the receiver in the other pocket of her skirt. Who knew, she thought as she went back through the kitchen, what the next call might bring? It was a typical family gathering, with the usual mayhem and madness that beset the Grover clan.

  Madness. Why had that word popped into her mind? Because Uncle Bart had gone crazy after getting kicked by a horse? That didn’t qualify as the kind of insanity that was inherited. Judith tried to put the thought out of her mind.

  After all, it was Christmas Eve.

  “Where’s Baby Jesus?” Renie asked. “Some of the little ones want to know.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know why they want to know,” Judith said, watching Uncle Corky’s grandson, Bingo, use the discarded organza ribbon from Tess’s hostess gift to tie up a wriggling toddler. “Baby Jesus is in the freezer where He stays until after we open the gifts.”

  “Oh—that’s right. I forgot,” Renie said. “At our house, we put Him in the manger before we come here. Premature delivery, I guess.”

  “How’s Mother doing?” Judith asked, finally serving herself some ham-and-macaroni salad and a bit of the Jell-O mold.

  “Fine. She’s only gotten into it twice with Auntie Vance and once with Aunt Ellen. Oh—she ran over Aunt Toadie’s foot with her wheelchair—on purpose, I think. Toadie was trying to catch one of her kids who wasn’t wearing any pants.”

  “Which one?” Judith asked.

  “Marty,” Renie replied. “You’d think now that he’s hit fifty, he’d act more grown up.”

  “Maybe it’s his hemorrhoids,” Judith murmured as she carried her plate to the dining room window and leaned against the antique washstand she used for the guest bar. “Gosh—it’s relatively quiet in here.”

  “That’s because everybody’s full and half asleep—except,” Renie added, “for Uncle Vince, who’s been asleep ever since he got here.”

  “And before that,” Judith noted. “It’s his way of coping with Auntie Vance’s big mouth. Of course he wouldn’t ever do anything if she didn’t nag. Where are all the kids?”

  “Tom and Tony, and our son-in-law, Odo, took them outside, believe it or not,” Renie said. “Don’t worry—they’ll herd them up in time for Santa Bill.”

  Judith looked at her watch. “It’s almost six-thirty. Mike and his family and Sue and Ken should be here any minute. I don’t know why Mike and Kristin had to feed the kids on their way to our place. They knew there’d be plenty of food.”

  “The younger generation,” Renie remarked, “is different.”

  “It always is. Four generations under this roof tonight,” Judith said in a musing tone. “That picture from 1941—think how many people have been added since that Christmas. And how many are gone.”

  Renie nodded. “We were younger then than most of these kids are now. We’re about the same age as our grandparents were in that photo. Where did all the time go?”

  “It went in school and marriage and birth and death. It went with war and peace and laughter and tears.” Judith suddenly felt foolish. “I’m getting maudlin.”

  Renie, however, put a hand on Judith’s shoulder. “Not really, coz. We’re getting old… er. You just described Life.”

  “Yes.” Judith nibbled at her food. She still had little appetite. Too much turmoil, too much noise, too many people—and at the back of her mind, wondering if her mother was losing her grip on reality.

  Raucous sounds erupted from the back of the house. Judith immediately recognized the shouts and laughter of her grandsons, Mac and Joe-Joe. She set her plate down on the washstand and hurried into the kitchen with Renie right behind her.

  And right behind the boys and Mike and Kristin came Sue and Ken, looking, as usual, utterly laid-back.

  Also as usual, Ken was carrying his portable bar—which was one of the reasons he and Sue were always so relaxed.

  The grandsons were in high gear. At seven and five, they not only still believed in Santa Claus, but that the whole world belonged to them. Judith hugged both boys tight.

  “I’ll alert Bill and make sure the rest of the kids are back inside,” Renie whispered to Judith.

  “The bell’s on the back porch by the French doors,” Judith informed Renie. “I’ll round up everybody.”

  Five minutes later, the entire group was jammed into the areas where they could hear Santa speaking from behind the draperies. Judith was standing in the entry hall by Mac and Joe-Joe. They fidgeted and exchanged a couple of punches.

  “Don’t,” Judith whispered. “Santa will bring you coal.”

  “What’s coal?” Joe-Joe asked.

  “I know what coal is,” Mac said with disdain for his younger brother. “You don’t know anything.”

  “Hush!” Judith ordered.

  “How about a knuckle sandwich?” Uncle Al asked, holding out his fist with the big signet ring that had been given to him by the old-timer who owned the local racetrack. “Smell this!”

  The boys giggled, knowing that Uncle Al liked to tease.

  Nervous laughter, shuffling feet, and snatches of whispered conversation were the only sounds in the house. The creatures were stirring, but not breaking ranks.

  Suddenly there was the sound of the old farm bell, ringing in the distance. Judith heard the French doors open. Silence fell over the Grover clan.

  “Ho-ho-ho!” said Santa. “Is everybody here?”

  Judith looked at Renie, who was positioned near the door to the dining room so that she could make her escape through the back when Bill was finished. Renie nodded, the signal that Bill was disguising his voice enough to fool the kids, if not the grown-ups—except maybe Marty, who wasn’t too bright.

  The questioning began, not only for the children, but the adults as well.

  “I hear you’ve been making snow angels, Mac. Why did you put horns on them? Santa doesn’t like little devils. Ho-ho-ho!”

  “I didn’t, Santa, honest!” Mac cried.

  “Well, that’s not what Santa heard,” said Bill. “Joe-Joe, where’s your mother’s pie plate? Is it true you stuck it in your pants because your dad threatened to spank you?”

  “Yes, Santa. I mean… I forget.”

  And so it went, with denials, confessions, repentance, and plenty of laughter. Finally, Santa announced that it was time to move on to his next stop—Saks Fifth Avenue, where he had to pick up a little something for his extravagant wife. “I’m getting her a designer muzzle—size extra large,” he said. “Ha-ha-ha! Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas!”

  The bell rang again; the French doors closed.

  Judith turned around. Renie was gone, on her way to hit the lights before the draperies could come down. The children had broken out into squeals and shouts, waiting to burst into the living room.

  Judith had moved closer to Joe. “Aren’t the boys cute?” she whispered. “They’re practically hyperventilating.”

  Joe turned to look at his boisterous grandsons. “They’d be cuter if they piped down. I may have to arrest them for disturbing the peace.” Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed Bingo, who was trying to crawl under the drapery. “Whoa! You can’t go in there without an escort.”

  Bingo scrambled to his feet and shot Joe a dirty look. “Are you a cop?”

  “Yes,” Joe answered. “I’m also your…” He looked at Judith. “What am I to this kid? Who is he?”

  “Just call yourself uncle. ‘Aunt’ works for me,” Judith replied. “He belongs to one of Cheryl’s twin girls. I think.”

  “Bingo sounds like an alias,” Joe remarked.

>   “It is. His real name is Blaine. I think,” Judith repeated. “What’s taking Renie so long? Can’t she find the switch? Can you see her moving with the flashlight in there?”

  Joe shook his head. “I can’t see her at this angle. The switch is at the far end of the room. Should I check from the parlor? I can see the whole thing from there.”

  “Well… no,” Judith said with a frown. “Wait a couple of minutes. Renie’s not terribly good at complicated mechanical tasks—like flipping a switch.”

  At least two minutes passed before the Christmas lights suddenly glowed from the garlands, the wreaths, and the tree. A huge gasp went up from the assembly. As Joe removed the drapery, the children rushed forward.

  And stopped.

  The room should have been empty. Renie always went out the same way she’d come in, joining Bill and returning to the house via the back door. It wasn’t Renie or Bill who stood near the lighted Christmas tree, but a tall young man Judith had never seen before in her life.

  Except that he did look vaguely familiar and was wearing a green plaid muffler over his camelhair topcoat.

  “Bart!” Gertrude gasped from her wheelchair, which she’d propelled forward in the wake of the children. “Bart!”

  Judith hurried to her mother’s side. “It can’t be,” she said earnestly. “It’s got to be… someone else.” Or a ghost, Judith thought.

  “It is Bart,” Gertrude rasped. “He told me so himself when he came calling today.”

  Joe, who had no idea what was going on, walked up to the handsome young man. “Are you a relative I don’t recognize?” he asked.

  The young man nodded. “A relative of your wife’s—and your mother-in-law. My name is Bart Hofmann. A couple I ran into outside let me in. Apparently, the front doorbell doesn’t work.” He put out his hand.

  Puzzled, Joe shook the other man’s hand. “We probably couldn’t hear it over the din of the children,” he said. “Uh… would you like something to eat?”

  Gertrude rolled up next to Joe. “Tell ‘em I’m not crazy, Bart. I’m just… surprised.”

  Bart bent closer to Gertrude. “You’re not crazy, Aunt Gertrude. I’d have come to see you sooner, but I found out that the spelling of the family name had been changed. You were hard to track down.”

  “Let’s get out of the way,” Joe suggested. The new arrival’s appearance meant little or nothing to any of the children and had only evoked mild curiosity out of the adults—except Aunt Ellen.

  “What’s going on here?” she demanded. “You look like somebody I know. My brother, Al? Or Corky? Well?”

  Judith found her voice, which had been shocked into silence by Bart’s presence. “Let’s go into the front parlor. It should be empty.”

  It was, except for Uncle Vince, who was dozing by the fire.

  “I can’t stay long,” Bart said, standing by the hearth while the others sat and Vince slept. “I have a flight back home to Chicago at eleven. I’ve been trying to trace my ancestry for several years, ever since my father died when I was in college.”

  “He was Great-Uncle Bart’s son?” Judith asked.

  “Yes. His name was Arthur. He had a bad heart and died fairly young.”

  Judith nodded once. Maybe bad hearts, instead of insanity, ran in the family. Her father, Donald, had also died young from heart trouble.

  “Anyway,” Bart went on, “I’ve been traveling on business—computer software. I was in Salt Lake City a few weeks ago, so I spent my spare time using the Mormon genealogy resources. I finally managed to find you, Aunt Gertrude, and made up my mind to visit when I came here next.” He smiled, a very warm and charming smile. “I went to the front door of the house when I arrived late this morning, but nobody responded.”

  “My husband and I must have been out of hearing range,” Judith suggested. “We were all over the place, organizing for tonight.”

  “So I went around back and saw that smaller building,” Bart explained. “And then,” he added with another big smile for Gertrude, “I found you.”

  Aunt Ellen had been listening with her usual rapt attention. “Aha. You found more than my sister, young man. You happened to come upon the whole clan. We came all the way from Beatrice, Nebraska, for Christmas. You could have stayed with us in our tent.”

  “Um… thank you,” Bart said, “but my company pays for lodging.”

  Judith posed another question. “Did you know your grandfather—your namesake?”

  Bart shook his head. “He was in his forties before he married my grandmother. He died before I was born. I understand he also was… a bit eccentric. But I really don’t know much about him except that he… how can I put this? Maybe he suffered from depression. They didn’t know how to treat it in those days, of course. But I heard he talked to himself a lot, as if he were addressing people that nobody else could see. I’ll try to track down the Canadian branch when I go to Toronto in March.” He looked at his watch. “I should call a cab. Sorry for the intrusion, but my time here is very limited. My fiancée will kill me if I miss that flight.”

  “She mustn’t do that,” Gertrude murmured, her expression serious.

  “Oh, I’m kidding,” Bart said, patting the old lady’s shoulder. “I’ll write when I get home. On the next trip here I’ll come at a more convenient time than Christmas Eve. Then I could meet all the other relatives. That should be fun.”

  “Yes,” Judith said, “please do that.”

  “I’ll see you out,” Joe offered.

  “Thank you,” Bart said. “Oh!” He looked embarrassed, as he reached into his overcoat’s inside pocket. “I almost forgot! I wanted to give you this. My father told me that his father carved it himself. My mother found it among Grandfather’s possessions with your name on the box. That’s how I knew your name.” He handed Gertrude a tiny cardboard box and bent down to kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry.” Straightening up, he spoke to Judith. “I should’ve called before I came by.”

  “No problem,” Judith said. “I see you retrieved your muffler.”

  “Yes.” Bart shook Judith’s hand. “You don’t lock your doors around here, do you?”

  “Not during the day,” Judith said.

  Bart smiled again, and followed Joe out of the parlor.

  “Well!” Aunt Ellen shook her head. “That was fascinating. I did Win’s family tree with help from his aunt who was a member of Nebraska’s historical society. Now I’d better start on my own ancestry. Right, Gert?”

  “Don’t bother,” Gertrude mumbled, still holding the box in her hand.

  “Now Gert…” Aunt Ellen began.

  But Gertrude turned the wheelchair on and raced at full speed out of the parlor. Judith hurried after her.

  “Mother,” she said, managing to catch up in the living room by the buffet, “wasn’t it nice of your great-nephew to stop by?”

  Gertrude didn’t answer. She stared ahead with unseeing eyes, oblivious to the gift-giving mayhem that was taking place all over the living room. Renie, as usual, was doling out the gifts with the help of her three children. Bows, ribbons, and wraps sailed through the air as lids were lifted and packaging was undone. Shouts of “Thank you, Vance and Vince!”, “How did you know I wanted this, Uncle Corky?” and “Oh, dear, you shouldn’t have spent so much on a poor old coot like me,” from Aunt Deb.

  Tony Jones brought Judith and Gertrude a couple of presents. “You’re getting behind,” he said. “We’ve got quite a pile for you guys by the window seat.”

  “Sorry,” Judith said in a distracted manner.

  As Tony rushed off, Judith pointed to the unopened box from Bart. “Don’t you want to know what’s in there?”

  Gertrude looked up at her daughter. “Do I?”

  “Shall I open it?”

  “No!” Gertrude glared at Judith. “I will.” Her arthritic fingers fumbled with the lid, but she finally removed it from the box to reveal tissue paper that was so old it had turned yellow. Poking a finger inside, she felt so
mething and shook the item free.

  It was a hand-carved figure of Baby Jesus. Gertrude bit her lip. “Bart broke the real one.” Her voice shook along with her hands. “Temper. Just before… he moved from the farm.” She sucked in her breath and clutched the figure tight. “I expect he carved this in the booby hatch,” she said in her more normal voice. “Why did he wait so long to give it to me?”

  “Well…” Judith began, “he never really had a chance, did he?”

  “Not until today.” Her gaze was far off, perhaps ninety years distant. “Let’s put Jesus where He belongs,” she finally said.

  The last of the presents were being opened—save for Judith’s and Gertrude’s. The timing was perfect. Judith asked Joe to call for silence. Renie, on cue, struggled to her feet from her place by the tree and turned on the CD player. A chorus began to sing “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.”

  Miraculously, the revelers went silent. Even the children stopped squealing and shrieking. Judith moved to the buffet and held her hand out to her mother.

  “No,” Gertrude said. “Let me.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Gertrude’s hand still shook as she held the Infant. “Bart said he was sorry. I forgive him.” She placed the Babe in the crib.

  Judith opened her mouth to say that Gertrude mustn’t confuse the great-nephew with the brother. Suddenly she realized that maybe her mother wasn’t confused—and that in any event, it didn’t matter.

  The music played on:

  And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,

  Whose forms are bending low,

  Who toil along the climbing way

  With painful steps and slow,

  Look now! For glad and golden hours

  Come swiftly on the wing.

  O rest beside the weary road,

  And hear the angels sing!

  Peace on earth, good will to men,

  From heaven’s all gracious King.

  The world in solemn stillness lay,

  To hear the angels sing.

  “Amen,” said Gertrude.

  Chapter 1

  If she weren’t so terrified of the three men circling her, she’d be really angry right now.