“It’s all right,” Stella told him. “I told Savannah that she wasn’t to mention this box or anything in it to anybody, and she promised not to. My granddaughter is a girl of her word.”
“Just like her grandma,” Manny added.
“I’m not just playing with it, Sheriff,” Savannah said. “I’ve got a good reason to go through it. Granny says I can pick out the jewelry that Miss Carr’s going to be buried in.”
Manny gave Stella a questioning look.
“She has good taste,” Stella said. “And besides, she feels she owes a debt to Miss Carr, and this’ll be her last chance to pay it.”
“Then by all means,” Manny said. “Have you decided on something yet?”
“I have.” Savannah picked up a pair of pearl earrings, a pearl necklace, a small gold ring, and a matching gold bracelet. As she showed the pieces to them, she said, “The ring and the bracelet are because she had a heart of gold. Some people may not have seen it, but I did, when she was nice to me. I picked out the pearls because they go with everything. But mostly because I heard that pearls stand for purity. I’m thinking maybe now that she’s passed on, her spirit is all pure. Maybe she didn’t know no better when she was here on earth, but now that she’s in heaven, she’s smarter about some stuff.”
Stella took the pearls, the ring, and the bracelet, held them tightly in her hands for a moment, then wrapped them in a clean napkin. “I think that was a fine choice, Savannah girl. Fine, indeed. Well done.”
Turning to Manny, Stella said, “I’ll get these over to the funeral home right away. I know he intends to bury her this afternoon.”
Manny held out his hand. “I’m going right by there. Let me take care of it. One less thing for you to concern yourself with.”
Gratefully, she gave the folded napkin to him, and he tucked it into his inside jacket pocket.
Savannah began to gather up the jewelry and replace it carefully, piece by piece, in the box.
Stella grabbed the coffeepot and started to fill it with water. “How’s the case going, Sheriff?” she asked.
“Frustrating,” he replied. “I feel like a rubber-nosed woodpecker in a petrified forest.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I had a jail full of suspects and not one shred of solid evidence on any of them.”
“Had? You let ’em go?”
Manny shrugged. “It’s Christmas Eve. They’ve got families.”
“I understand.”
“Besides,” he said, “most of the wives aren’t even speaking to their husbands, so they probably won’t murder ’em. Unless they glare ’em to death.”
Stella looked at Savannah and realized she was all ears. She decided to change the subject. “You’re gonna stay and have some cake with us, aren’t you?”
He glanced over at the cake on the counter. “It’s tempting, to be sure. It’s one of Elsie’s, isn’t it?”
“It is. Compliments of Florence.”
He consulted his watch. “I really can’t, Stella. I’ve gotta get back to the station. I just came by to drop off those cubes and to give you some good news.”
He glanced over at Savannah, then looked questioningly at Stella.
“You can speak in front of my eldest,” Stella told him. “About most stuff, anyway. As you can tell, she’s old beyond her years.”
Manny gave the girl a kind, sympathetic look. “You’ve had to be, haven’t you, honey?”
“Kinda,” Savannah whispered.
“Well, as it turns out, you’re going to get the chance to just be a kid and not have to worry about grown-up problems anymore.” He turned back to Stella. “I just came from Judge Patterson’s house. He let me bend his ear for nearly an hour, even though it’s Christmas Eve. I told him about last night. I filled him in on everything that’s been going on with Shirley. I even let him know that your son, being such a hard worker and all, is hardly ever around. Anyway, when all was said and done, the judge said I could assure you that if you want sole custody of your grandkids, he’ll make sure you get it.”
Savannah gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth.
Stella nearly dropped the coffeepot.
“Really?” Stella set the pot on the counter and ran over to him. “Are you sure, Manny? Not just them staying with me while she’s in jail, but real custody?”
“Real custody, Stella May,” he said, smiling down at her. “Yours, all yours. To love and to raise as you see fit.”
She threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Oh, Manny! Bless your heart! Thank you!” she cried, burying her face in his chest.
He laughed and stroked her hair. “Wow! I haven’t been tackled that hard since homecoming my senior year, when Jimmy ‘the Refrigerator’ Scognamiglio nailed me on the ten-yard line!”
A moment later, he had another Reid female to contend with. Savannah had grabbed him around the waist and was sobbing along with her grandmother.
He held them both for quite a while. The weeping didn’t abate. In fact, it got harder and louder.
Finally, he pulled back, looked down at them, and said, “You two are crying because you’re happy, right?”
They both nodded vigorously.
“Oh, okay,” he said, pulling them back into his embrace. “Just checkin’. Carry on.”
* * *
Half an hour later, Stella and Sheriff Gilford had informed the living-room troops of the good news, which had received the same enthusiastic reaction as had occurred in the kitchen.
Having placed the star upon the Reids’ Christmas tree, Manny was ready to go.
“I’ll walk you out to your car,” Stella told him, grabbing her coat.
“I won’t keep you from it,” he replied.
After giving and exchanging hugs all the way around, he was on his way, escorted by Stella.
“I’m glad you came out with me,” he told her as they walked to his cruiser. “I don’t know how to say this, but . . . I was wondering if I could help you in any way. I looked around Shirley’s place to see if maybe she’d stashed some toys away for the kids, but there wasn’t anything there.”
“That’s how she is. How she’s always been,” Stella replied. “I crocheted them some stuff. Got ’em some candy treats.”
“I was wondering if you could use some, I mean, if I could help with . . .”
“They love the Rubik’s Cubes, Manny.”
“I’d like to do more, if you’d let me.”
“That’s plenty, really. But thank you so much for offerin’.”
He looked so disappointed that she searched her mind for an answer and found one.
“There is one thing,” she said.
“Name it.”
“I was stupid and got myself in a bit of a pickle.”
“You? Stupid? I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe it. You see, I bought this old, used swing set at a garage sale. I brought it home in bits and pieces and painted it and put it together there in my storage shed, so’s they wouldn’t see it.”
“It’s too big to fit through the door?” he asked, smirking.
“No, Mr. Smarty-Pants. I took that into consideration. What I didn’t think about was how heavy and awkward it’d be to move. I don’t reckon I can shift it on my own.”
He laughed. “Is it made of steel?”
“It sure is.”
“Then no, I don’t suppose you could.” He thought for a moment. “What time do they go to bed?”
“Eight thirty for the little ’uns. Nine for the three oldest.”
“Then about nine thirty or ten, I’ll get Jarvis to come here with me, and the two of us will get it out of there and put it . . . Where do you want it?”
“On that patch of grass between the garden and the chicken coop.”
“Consider it done.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble, it bein’ Christmas Eve?”
“No trouble at all. Jarvis doesn’t have a life, so
he won’t mind. As for me, I always wanted a chance to play Santa Claus.”
Stella thought of Lucy. Of how they had been hoping to start a family.
It was a shame, she thought, because Manny Gilford would have made a wonderful father.
“Thank you, Manny,” she said. “I owe you so much.”
“I’d like to have your friendship for the rest of my life. But you owe me nothing.” He bent his head and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Merry Christmas, Stella.”
“Merry Christmas, Manny,” she replied.
As she watched him drive away, Stella wondered why she felt sad rather than happy. Heaven knows, she had every reason to be shouting about her latest blessings from the rooftop. Whose life had ever turned so quickly for the better than hers just had?
But she couldn’t stand there and wonder for long.
She turned and walked back to the house.
She had seven children to raise.
Chapter 23
Stella awoke on Christmas morning in the center of a bed filled with grandkids.
Having retired with only Alma and Vidalia, she opened her eyes to find the two of them still on either side of her. But Marietta and Jesup had shoved the two convalescing sisters toward the middle and climbed in beside them. Cordelia was perched precariously on the edge of the bed next to Jesup.
They were all sleeping deeply, no doubt because they had stayed awake so late, straining to hear the jingling of sleigh bells.
Stella wasn’t surprised that Waycross had not joined his sisters. He was taking that “man of the house” business quite seriously these days, and part of his duty was sleeping in the living room, where he could fend off the super-villain, Skeletor, if he should come charging through the front door.
Lying there on the soft featherbed, her grandchildren safe and snug around her, Stella felt a bit like Farmer Buskirk’s old calico cat.
When Stella was a child, Mr. and Mrs. Buskirk were her neighbors. One day, Mr. Buskirk found a litter of puppies left in a box by the side of the road near his farm. He rescued the pups and introduced them to his old barnyard cat, who happily accepted them as her own and raised them in a snug box filled with hay in the horse stable.
Farmer Buskirk proudly showed young Stella the cat and her adopted babies when Stella brought his ailing wife some pumpkin bread. Stella had never seen a more contented creature in her life as that mother cat.
Stella had always wanted to feel as happy and peaceful as that old calico at least once in her life.
That Christmas morning, she remembered the cat, remembered her wish, and reveled in the fact that it had been fulfilled.
Other than the fact that a couple of the pups grew into dogs who occasionally mewed when they begged for food, all of them lived happily ever after. Stella hoped she could do as well with her “litter.”
Feeling something warm and soft at her feet, Stella looked down and saw that Savannah was stretched across the foot of the bed, her eyes wide open, watching her.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Stella whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Granny,” was the soft, somewhat subdued reply.
Since when wasn’t her oldest grandchild a giggling mess of excitement on Christmas morning? Stella wondered. Being a giddy wreck of happiness on the morning of December 25 was practically mandatory in the Reid clan.
“You okay?” Stella asked.
“Yeah,” was the unconvincing reply.
Stella searched her mind for what might be bothering the child, then decided that she must be worried about what Santa might have brought—or not brought—last night.
Savannah had never been materialistic, had never demanded or even expected a bounty of her own. But every year for as long as Stella could remember, she had worried that her younger siblings, who still believed in Santa, would be crushed if he didn’t pay a visit to their house.
Most years, he would have bypassed their place if Stella hadn’t dropped by late on Christmas Eve with gifts and sneaked them to Savannah, who had carefully arranged them on the sofa, to be discovered the next morning.
Savannah was a bright kid, and Stella was sure it had occurred to her that the dramas of the past few days might have interfered with any preparations for a visit from jolly ol’ Saint Nick.
Carefully, trying not to disturb Vidalia or Alma on either side of her, Stella sat up in bed. She crooked her finger, beckoning Savannah closer.
With her mouth an inch from Savannah’s ear, she whispered, “Santa Claus came last night. He left something in the backyard.”
Savannah looked moderately pleased, a bit relieved, but it wasn’t the happy reaction Stella had hoped for.
She decided to try again. “Are you happy about what the sheriff told us yesterday, darlin’? Do you think it’s a good idea, you all living with me from now on?”
There it was. The dimple-deepening grin that she’d been hoping for.
“It’s the best ever, Granny! I’ve been hoping for this my whole life, and now it’s happened. Like a Christmas miracle!”
“It is a Christmas miracle! We have a lot to be thankful for today.”
“We do.”
It took only a few seconds for the newfound smile to disappear, replaced by the same sad, worried look the girl had worn before.
“Is something troublin’ you, child?” Stella asked.
Savannah hesitated, and Stella’s grandmother intuition told her that she was trying to find an answer that was truthful but not revealing. “I’d like to get up and go to the kitchen,” she said at last. “I could use a drink of water.”
“Okay.”
No point in pressin’ that any further, Stella told herself. When that child has a mind to, she clams up tighter than a bullfrog’s keister in a bucket of ice water.
Savannah wasted no time getting out of the bed and making her way to the kitchen.
Stella decided to follow her. She could use a cup of coffee herself, and maybe a mug of hot chocolate would loosen the kid’s lips.
It took her a while to wriggle out from under the covers, down to the foot of the bed, and across to the side without waking the “puppies.”
They’d be live wires soon enough. A few moments of peace would be nice before the Christmas morning mayhem began.
To her surprise, when Stella entered the kitchen, she found Savannah on her hands and knees under the table.
“Whatcha doin’ down there?” she asked.
Savannah jumped and looked up at her with guilty eyes. “Nothin’!” She reconsidered. “I mean, I was just looking for something, but . . . it’s not . . .” Scrambling out from under the table, she headed for the sink. “I’m gonna get that glass of water now, Granny. You want one?”
“No, sugar,” Stella replied, studying her with as sharp an eye as Sheriff Gilford had ever used on a suspect. “I’m gonna make myself some coffee. How about a cup of hot chocolate with some marshmallows on the top as a little Christmas mornin’ treat?”
“That’d be nice, Granny. Thank you.”
Stella walked to the window and looked out at the backyard. The swing set was sitting exactly where she had requested, glowing like a handful of giant red-and-white candy canes.
They would be pleased with it, she was sure, and that made her happy. So did the fact that during the night, a few inches of snow had fallen, decorating everything with sparkling white frosting, like that on one of Elsie’s coconut cakes.
What a nice Christmas this was shaping up to be.
Or at least it would be once she figured out what was wrong with her granddaughter, who was sitting quietly at the table, a troubled look on her face.
Yes, she was in bad need of chocolate . . . a female’s cure for most of life’s ills.
But no sooner had Stella set the coffeepot on the stove and filled the teakettle than there were rumblings from the rest of the house.
“Oh, well. So much for our calm before the storm,” she told Savannah. “They’re gonna be
shriekin’ like a pack of hyenas in ten seconds.”
It took only five for the house to erupt into utter chaos. Stella heard them racing to the living room to see if there was any treasure to be had beneath the tree.
Knowing that nothing new had been added to the simple homemade gifts of hers, she hurried into the room and announced, “Santa came!”
“No he didn’t,” Marietta argued. “There’s nothin’ here but those presents from you, and we all know what they are. Silly ol’ hats and mittens and—”
“Marietta Reid, you shut up!” Savannah yelled. “You don’t have the sense God gave liverwurst, and your heart’s nothin’ but a thumpin’ gizzard. Granny works hard on what she gives us, and the rest of us love her presents!”
Some of the more tenderhearted among them jumped in.
“Yeah, Mari, if you can’t say something nice, keep your trap
shut,” Waycross told her.
“A Grinch and a Scrooge all rolled up into one stingy green ball of humbug,” Vidalia added. “That’s what you are, Marietta.”
“You’re probably the reason Santa didn’t come,” Cordelia whined. “He found out that you’re livin’ here now!”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Stella shouted to be heard above the din. “Quiet!”
Once the room was silent, she said, “It just so happens that Santa Claus did stop by this house last night. He left y’all somethin’ in the backyard. But you’re gonna have to put on your coats and shoes and bundle up good before you go out. Look outside and you’ll see why.”
They all ran to the window, looked, and went crazy.
“Snow! Snow! It snowed!”
“I wanna make a snowman!”
“I’m gonna hit Marietta in the face with a big, wet snowball for sayin’ that mess about Gran’s mittens,” Waycross muttered.
“Nobody’s hittin’ nobody with nothin’,” Stella said as she hurried to her closet and pulled out her warmest, most substantial pair of shoes. She handed them to Savannah and said, “Here, sugar. Wear these.”
“I can’t. They’re your good Sunday shoes.”
“And you’re my good everyday granddaughter. They’ll be too big, but if you get some thick wool socks outta my dresser drawer and put ’em on, they should do. Hurry up! Time’s a-wastin’.”
Murder in Her Stocking Page 24
