This was a waste of time. Tilda nodded. “Okay, well, thank you.”
He nodded in return. “You catch whoever did it. And tell Donaldson I’m not buying any more damn candy canes.”
He shut the door and Tilda went down the steps thinking that if anyone ever did a remake of It’s a Wonderful Life, old man Werner would make an excellent Mr. Potter. She walked back to the carnage in front of the Donaldsons’ and squatted to inspect the footprints in the snow. There appeared to be three sets. One was larger than the other two. One big guy and two smaller ones? Even if she had dental stone, she doubted it would do much good in this stirred-up mess. She did pull her cell phone out of her coat pocket to take some pictures. That probably wasn’t worth the effort, but if Maddy Donaldson was watching from her window—and no doubt she was—she’d at least feel the cops were doing something. The evidence wasn’t any better at the house where the reindeer had been assaulted and, like the Werners, the residents there hadn’t seen anything, either. The best Tilda could do was call Enrico, who was on second watch that night, and fill him in on the latest fun and excitement in her new neighborhood.
“I can swing through a couple of times tonight,” he said. “Sure can’t figure who’d want to be out freezing their butts off just to mess with some Christmas decorations.”
It was a mystery, but one she wasn’t going to worry about on her day off. She had other things to ponder—like buying a new stove, a project that required family assistance. Back home she showered and dressed in jeans and her favorite black T-shirt. Then she pulled on her parka and boots and drove to her mom’s restaurant.
Her cousins Georgie and Caitlin had already scored a table at Pancake Haus. Along with her cashmere sweater, Georgie was wearing enough jewelry to start her own store. Caitlin wore her red hair down and it fell in a perfect sheet to her shoulders. She’d accented her white blouse with a red fringed scarf. They both looked like fashion models. If you asked Tilda, they were a little overdressed for stove shopping.
“You two going to a fashion show after we’re done?” she asked, sliding into the booth next to Caitlin.
“Just trying to be a good example for you,” Caitlin retorted.
Georgie eyed Tilda’s naked fingernails. “We should all get manis and pedis today.”
Tilda snorted. “Yeah, pink fingernails will really make people take me seriously.”
Georgie obviously didn’t buy that argument. “What have you got against being a girl, anyway?”
“Nothing.” She was a girl. The red lace under her jeans proved it.
“We know you can dress hot when you want to,” Caitlin said.
Georgie raised both carefully penciled eyebrows. “She can?”
“I’ve seen it. Back when you were after...”
“Enough.” Tilda cut her off. She looked around. “Where’s Mom?”
“Betts said she didn’t come in today,” Georgie replied. “She’s sick.”
“She is? This is the first I’ve heard about it.”
“She’s got a cold,” Caitlin added.
Tilda shook her head. “I told her she needs to slow down.”
“And we all know how well Aunt Dot takes that kind of advice,” Caitlin said.
“She never listens to me,” Tilda complained. “She makes me crazy.”
“You were already crazy,” Caitlin kindly pointed out. “Hurry up and order your pancakes. I’m ready to go shopping.”
“It’s not that exciting shopping for a stove,” Tilda informed her. Although secretly she was kind of pumped about getting a shiny, new stove for her kitchen. Maybe she’d even learn to cook on it.
“Are you sure you want to go to Arvid’s, though?” Georgie asked. “I checked and he doesn’t have the best rating.”
“Of course I do,” Tilda said. “This is my town. I support my local businesses.”
“Even Arvid can’t screw up delivering a new stove,” Caitlin said.
“Let’s hope,” Georgie muttered. “Betts,” she called to their waitress. “We need pancakes for Tilda.”
Georgie was so darned bossy. “What if I wanted eggs?”
“You always order pancakes.”
“Well, this morning I want eggs.”
Georgie shrugged. “Make that an egg-white omelet.”
“Make that a regular omelet,” Tilda amended. “And bacon. And pancakes,” she added. Georgie was right; she did like pancakes.
“Why aren’t you fat?” Caitlin said in disgust.
“Clean living.”
“That means no life.” Caitlin heaved a sigh. “That’s me these days.”
“I have a life,” Tilda insisted.
“Being one of the boys doesn’t count as a life,” Georgie said. “You need a man.”
You could say that again. “All the good ones are taken,” Tilda grumbled.
Georgie flicked back a lock of perfectly highlighted blond hair. “I still think you and Jamal should get together.”
“That can’t happen when you’re partners.”
“Then ask for a new partner,” Georgie said.
“Or, better yet, give him to me,” Caitlin said.
Georgie took a sip of coffee. “You two need to get online. That’s where everyone finds a match these days.”
It was where Georgie had found hers. But... “I don’t know. Finding someone that way just seems too efficient or something. Not very...” Okay, she was going to look like a total cream puff if she said that word. Maybe, deep down, she was.
“Romantic?” Georgie supplied as if reading her mind. “You think Jay and I don’t have any romance?”
“I didn’t say that.” But meeting Mr. Perfect via laptop seemed pretty darned sterile. Lurking at the back of Tilda’s mind was this image of someone big and strong flirting with her in line at Bavarian Brews, or hitting on her at Bruisers when she was doing her workout.
Or showing up at her house to hang Christmas lights. No, no, no—who invited Devon Black to sneak into her fantasies?
She was suddenly aware of Georgie snapping her fingers. “Hello, are you paying attention?”
“Of course I’m paying attention.”
“What’d I just say?”
“You and Jay are romantic,” she guessed.
“That’s right. We’re absolute soul mates. And we might never have found each other if we hadn’t been deliberate about it. Going online you weed out all the losers. You guys should both try it,” she said, and the look she sent her sister said, “Especially you.”
“I know,” said Caitlin. “I sure can’t pick ’em.”
“I hope you’re better at picking stoves than you are men,” Tilda said as Betts arrived with their breakfasts.
As it turned out, she was. Caitlin zeroed in on a stainless-steel model with a glass cooktop. “This one’s nice.”
“And self-cleaning,” Tilda read.
“They all are these days,” Georgie said.
“Not that you need that feature since you’ll hardly ever use the thing,” teased Caitlin.
“I’ll be using it Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah, that could be a mess. On so many levels,” Caitlin said with a grin.
“It’s got a warming drawer, too,” Georgie said.
“I’ll get it,” Tilda decided.
“Don’t you want to look at some of the other models?” Georgie asked.
In Tilda’s opinion, when you’d seen one stove you’d seen them all, but she dutifully checked out a couple of other brands. “I think the first one is fine.” And the price was right. The more bells and whistles, the higher the price. She wanted to be able to cook a turkey, not have a show on the Food Network.
“It’s going to make that old, white fridge of yours look pathetic in c
omparison,” Georgie said. “Why don’t you replace that, too?”
“Uh, because I don’t want to wipe out my savings.”
Caitlin waved away her logical reasoning. “Savings, schmavings. That’s what credit cards are for.”
“Easy for you to say,” Tilda responded.
“Yeah, it is,” Georgie put in. “Hers are all maxed out.”
Now Arvid himself was with them. The middle-aged shop owner was a tall, scrawny guy with straight hair and the kind of rodent-like face that would have qualified him as an extra in a Western movie, one of the bad guys who was always taking shots at the hero from the roof of the saloon.
“Hello there, ladies. See something you like?”
“This one,” Tilda said, giving the stovetop a friendly pat.
“Very good choice.” He nodded approvingly. “And it’s got a one-year parts-and-labor warranty.”
“Wow. One whole year,” Tilda said.
Arvid either missed the sarcasm or chose to. “We can deliver it next week.”
“That’s good, because I need it by Christmas.”
“No problem,” he said. “Now, did you see this refrigerator?”
“Yes, I did. Let’s just get the stove today.”
“I’ll give you a deal,” Arvid persisted.
“On the stove? Great.”
“On the fridge if you buy it now.”
Arvid sure had great hearing when there was a potential sale involved. “Nice try,” Tilda told him. “Let’s stop with the stove.”
He shrugged as if to say, “Oh, well, I tried,” and ten minutes later Tilda was the proud owner of a new stove and Arvid was about to own a piece of garbage with only one working burner.
“Which he’ll pretty up and sell to some poor sucker for a small fortune,” Georgie predicted as they left the shop. “There’s something oily about that guy.”
“He’s been here for years,” Tilda said. “Mom bought her washer and dryer from him.” Hmm. “It did take him a long time to get someone out to fix the dryer when it broke.”
“Oh, well. You’re not going to have problems with a new stove,” Georgie said. “At least not before Christmas. Unless it’s operator error,” she added.
“You two sure are funny,” Tilda said with a frown. “Remind me again why I hang out with you.”
Caitlin gave her a friendly nudge. “’Cause no one else will put up with you. Well, other than guys who are stalled out at fifteen and want to play video games all night.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a gamer,” Tilda said.
“And there’s nothing wrong with hanging out with men who want to play slightly more grown-up games, either,” Georgie said.
She’d tried that. And lost. “Let’s not talk about my love life again, okay?”
“Nothing to talk about,” Caitlin teased. She threw an arm around Tilda. “We’re sisters in celibacy.”
“Like I told you,” Georgie said, “you need to...”
“Go online,” Tilda finished with her. “I’ll think about it.”
“Let’s both start an online hunt,” Caitlin suggested. “We can compare notes.”
“After Christmas.” She had enough stress over getting ready for Christmas dinner. She didn’t need to be worrying about impressing a man.
“Okay, that’s a deal,” Caitlin said with a smile. “My New Year’s resolution is going to be to find someone who’s not a waste of my heart.”
“A very good resolution,” Georgie said. “You two both deserve the best.”
“We sure do,” Caitlin agreed. “So let’s go to Gilded Lily’s.”
Where Tilda would get talked into parting with more of her hard-earned money. “I should visit Mom.”
“You can see her when we’re done,” Caitlin said, and steered her toward the shop.
All of downtown was now teeming with visitors enjoying the holiday atmosphere. And Icicle Falls provided plenty of atmosphere. Little trees in front of all the shops wore twinkling white lights, and the streetlights sported fat, red bows. In the town-center gazebo, Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus were taking toy requests while the Icicle Falls Glee Club, all dressed in red, sang Christmas songs. Come five o’clock, the famous tree-lighting ceremony would begin with a ho-ho-ho or two from Santa, a prayer by one of the local ministers and a community Christmas-carol songfest. Then there’d be the big countdown and the giant tree in the town square would come alive with an uncountable number of colored lights. All the other Christmas lights would be set ablaze, and the entire downtown would glow like a giant open treasure chest nestled among the mountains.
Tilda had been going to that tree-lighting ceremony since she was a kid, and even though it was the same hokey thing every year, she never got tired of it. The event had become so successful that the town now staged one every Saturday in December, and it was the bait that drew visitors from all over the country to enjoy the holiday celebrations and check out all the cute shops.
Gilded Lily’s was a favorite female destination for locals and visitors alike, and it was all decked out for the holidays with a wreath on the front door and the mannequins in the store window modeling holiday finery. They seemed to be whispering, “Think how good you’d look wearing this outfit.”
Tilda knew she could look good when she tried, but sexy clothes only took you so far when a guy was determined to chase after a cream puff. She’d pretty much sworn off Gilded Lily’s after things imploded with Garrett. Still, as she entered the shop, it wasn’t hard to get in touch with her feminine side.
By the time she was done, she had black leggings, a midnight-blue jacket and a light blue chambray blouse that Caitlin insisted had to be left unbuttoned down to... “Whoa, what’s this?” she asked, peering at Tilda’s lacy bra. “You are a real girl, after all.”
Tilda clutched the blouse to her chest. “Don’t be cute.”
“When did you start wearing Victoria’s Secret?” Caitlin demanded. The minute the words were out of her mouth, her face turned red. It wasn’t hard to figure out, and nobody wanted to remind Tilda of her romantic failure.
Georgie rushed in to smooth over the awkward moment. “Okay, now we really need to find you a man. You can’t be wasting your inner sex goddess like this.”
“I don’t have an inner sex goddess,” Tilda mumbled. If she did, she would’ve snagged Garrett.
“Of course you do,” said Caitlin, trying to fix her misstep. “I suspected it all along. Otherwise, you’d never have bought that leather jacket and those red heels.”
Way back. A million years ago. “Those didn’t work out,” Tilda said. Why she still had them in her closet she had no idea.
“You used them on the wrong man,” Georgie said. Thankfully, that was all she said.
Both cousins had known about what she’d hoped was her blossoming relationship with the sexy fireman, a relationship that ended up going nowhere. And after a night of helping her forget with wild huckleberry martinis at Zelda’s, neither of them had ever brought up the painful subject again.
“You just wait until the New Year. We’re going to find you someone who really appreciates you,” Georgie promised.
Maybe it was that easy. Go online, put in your order for a perfect match and bam. There he was. Part of her wished she already had that perfect man, someone to watch Christmas movies with, to kiss under the mistletoe Georgie had hung up, someone to bake cookies for.
You baked cookies for Devon Black.
Not him! Her hormones needed to get a grip.
“Hey, it’s way past lunchtime,” Georgie said. “Let’s go over to Zelda’s and get something.”
“I’ll pick up a salad for Mom while we’re there,” Tilda said.
They were just leaving as Maddy Donaldson and her daughter entered the shop. “T
ilda, hello,” Maddy greeted her. “Have you made any progress on our case?”
“Not yet, but we’ll have a patrol car come by tonight.”
“Good,” Maddy said with a nod. “I hope you catch those rotten kids before they do any more damage.”
“We’ll try,” Tilda said, careful not to make any promises.
“What’s that all about?” Caitlin asked as they left.
“Someone’s trashing candy canes,” Tilda said.
“Did they steal your T. rex?” Georgie asked.
“No.”
“Too bad.”
“Hey, he’s cute.”
“Tacky,” Georgie said, rolling her eyes.
“The picture didn’t do him justice,” Tilda said. “You have to see him in person.”
“No, I don’t.”
“So, getting back to the candy canes,” Caitlin said. “Is that all?”
“Pretty much. They’ve stomped on a few. Tied a blow-up Santa in knots.”
“Weird,” Caitlin said. “Who’d want to mess around with the stuff on Candy Cane Lane?”
“Who’d want to mess with Maddy Donaldson?” Tilda said. “When it comes to all that Christmas stuff she’s... I don’t know, Queen of the Street or something.”
“Protecting her turf?” Caitlin guessed.
“That’s about it,” Tilda agreed.
“Her daughter looked a little embarrassed by the whole thing,” said Georgie.
“She’s about the right age to be embarrassed by her mom.” Tilda remembered the time she’d commanded hers to drop her off a block away from school. Commands didn’t work with Dot Morrison. “Too bad your mom’s not Cybill Shepherd,” Mom had said. “Deal with it.” And then she’d dropped Tilda off right in front of the school. How humiliating.
Now Tilda was nothing but proud of the woman. Tilda’s dad had died when she was in high school. Dot had picked up the pieces of their shattered lives and forged them into a family of two. She ran a successful business and made a habit of helping anyone and everyone who needed a job, a fresh start or simply an infusion of cash into their business. Yeah, she was one zany old broad, but there wasn’t anyone in town who didn’t love her. And that included her daughter.
Christmas on Candy Cane Lane Page 17
