We Wish You a Murderous Christmas

by Vicki Delany

  How things change in a year. Jennifer had retired and new management had driven most of the creative staff out the door. My cheating almost-fiancé was now engaged to Jennifer’s spoiled granddaughter. I’d quit my job, moved back to my hometown, and bought Mrs. Claus’s Treasures. The dress was hanging in the back of my closet gathering dust; the shoes had hurt my feet so much, I’d given them to a charity shop. Instead of socializing with the glitterati, I was faced with spending the biggest night of the social year with the TV and a slobbering dog.

  And Vicky. Nothing had been said, but I had sort of assumed that Vicky and I would be watching the ball drop in Times Square together. Now that she and Mark were giving each other expressive looks, I figured there was a good chance it would be just me and Mattie toasting each other at midnight.

  Late Saturday afternoon, the bells over the shop door chimed, the door swung open, and two women came in. They were in their early fifties, both dressed in black coats and colorful scarves. Outside, snow was gently falling, and flecks of white dotted the women’s hair and shoulders. One of them was short with soft, gentle curves and the other what my dad would call “a long drink of water.” They smiled at me, and I smiled back.

  “Welcome to Mrs. Claus’s Treasures.”

  “Isn’t this absolutely darling!” the short one said.

  “This whole town is darling,” the thin one said.

  “Your first time to Rudolph?” I asked.

  “Yes.” The thin one thrust out her hand. “I’m Kathy Bowman. This is Arlene Vigne.” Arlene nodded politely and edged toward the jewelry display. Kathy continued chatting. “I’m so glad we came. I was simply furious when Fred, that’s my husband, announced out of the blue that he had to go away for a couple of days. Imagine, a business trip, right before Christmas. Well, that just wouldn’t do. Not one little bit. Fortunately, the children—I have three, and they’ve given me five grandchildren—aren’t due to arrive until Christmas Eve, but of course there’s so much preparation to be done. The little ones, and even the older ones, expect my traditional Christmas cookies and cakes to be on hand. I was not pleased, let me tell you, but when Fred told me he was coming to Rudolph, New York, America’s Christmas Town, I said, ‘Fred, I insist you bring me with you. Think of the shopping I can get done!’ Isn’t that right, Arlene?”

  Arlene muttered something that might have been “yes” and picked up a pair of delicate silver earrings formed into the shape of snowmen. They’d been made by my part-time helper Crystal, who was planning on going to New York to study art and design next fall. “And then,” Kathy continued, “when Fred relented and said I could come, he told me Jim was coming, too, so I called Arlene right away and suggested we make a holiday out of it.” Kathy beamed at me.

  “How nice,” I said.

  “I’m so glad we did. This is such a wonderful town. I adore Christmas. Can’t get enough of it, can I, Arlene?”

  “Can I try these on?” Arlene asked.

  I made a move to go and help her, but Jackie beat me to it. Leaving me trapped in the tornado that was Kathy’s stream of conversation. “We’re staying at the Yuletide Inn. So charming. We were awful lucky to get rooms, weren’t we, Arlene? They’re totally full up, but they had a cancellation. Nice to see the place is so popular.”

  Which reminded me that I should give Mom a call to check up on Jack. My parents reported that Jack was recovering well from his surgery, and Grace was cautiously optimistic he’d be home before Christmas. As he’d promised, Gord had canceled the regular order from Vicky’s. The town’s rumor mill reported that yesterday Gord and Mark got into a giant blowup when a truck from a national bread chain arrived at the inn. Mark had threatened to quit, and Gord had dared him to go ahead.

  “Of course,” Kathy droned on, “if the inn wasn’t so popular, Fred wouldn’t be wasting his time looking at it.”

  That caught my attention. “Why’s your husband here? What sort of business is he in?”

  Her flat chest might have swelled a fraction. “He’s the manager in charge of expansion for Fine Budget Inns, of course. If we take over the inn, why, we can come here all the time. That would be so darling.”

  “Kathy!” Arlene dropped the earrings on the table. “You can’t be telling folks that! It’s secret.”

  Kathy’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh gosh. I forgot. I got so carried away with myself. Fred always says I’ll dig my grave with my tongue one day. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  “Uh,” I said. I glanced at Jackie. Her mouth was a big O.

  “Fred will be absolutely furious.” Tears welled up in Kathy’s eyes. “He didn’t want me to come. Said I can never keep my mouth shut. But I so didn’t want to be left alone at home again! Not with Christmas coming. Ever since Rhonda, that’s my youngest, got married, the house seems so lonely.”

  “Kathy,” Arlene said firmly, “have a look at that train set on the table over there. Isn’t Jamie’s birthday in January? Wouldn’t it be a great gift for her?”

  Kathy scurried across the room.

  “It’s handmade by a local artisan,” I said. “True craftsmanship, made with love and careful attention to detail.”

  “My granddaughter would love it,” Kathy said. And the shopping frenzy began.

  At last, Kathy and Arlene left, laden with Mrs. Claus’s Treasures’ bags.

  “Was she ever a motormouth,” Jackie said once the door had closed behind them.

  I was so deep in thought, I didn’t reply. So, people from a hotel chain were considering buying the Yuletide Inn, were they? Gord Olsen certainly wasted no time. I wondered if Grace knew about this.

  “I have to go out for a while,” I said to Jackie. “You can mind the shop.”

  I never drive to work as I live only a few blocks away. Today, I wished I had. I pulled out my phone as I broke into a run. “Dad, where are you?”

  “Council offices. I’m about to go into a meeting with the budget chief.”

  “Cancel it. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

  “It’s an important meeting.”

  “Believe me, this is more important.”

  I ran down Jingle Bell Lane and took a shortcut through the park, past the bandstand and the huge decorated tree, toward my house. The snow was picking up, turning the world into a soft white blur. I live in one half of the second floor of a grand old Victorian built in Rudolph’s heyday when the town was an important Lake Ontario port. I belted up the driveway and galloped upstairs. Mattie was in his crate, his ears up, eyes bright, and tail wagging at the sound of my key in the lock and my footsteps on the stairs.

  “Sorry, buddy,” I said. “No time.”

  I grabbed my purse with my driver’s license and car keys and headed out again. I tried to ignore the dog’s plaintive whine when he realized he was being left behind. He couldn’t have sounded more disappointed if he’d found coal in his stocking Christmas morning.

  Dad was waiting for me at the steps of the town council offices when I pulled up. “What’s this about, Merry?”

  “Gord Olsen is in negotiations to sell the Yuletide to Fine Budget Inns.”

  “How do you know this?” It says a lot about my dad’s trust in me that he didn’t even say, “Are you sure?”

  “A chatty woman came into the store. She and her friend are staying at the inn with their husbands. I gather the husbands don’t normally take them on business trips, but as this came up suddenly and it’s Christmas in Rudolph, they did this time. She couldn’t stop herself from spilling the beans.”

  “Jack’s still in the hospital, and his son’s selling his business out from under him. I can’t imagine Grace approving of this.”

  “There’s more. I was at the inn on Thursday morning with Vicky when Gord told her he’s not going to be using her to supply bread. He can get cheaper products from an industrial facility. Mark,
the new chef, threatened to quit, and Gord basically told him to go ahead. If the inn is sold, that means the restaurant will go with it.”

  “Not good,” Dad said. “Fine Budget Inns aren’t bad, but they are budget. We have plenty of reasonably priced accommodations in and around Rudolph. The Yuletide Inn attracts the better-heeled crowd, and its restaurant, as well as A Touch of Holly in town, feeds the special-occasion and fine-dining guests. We need all income levels coming to Rudolph.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I’m going to talk to Grace. She needs to know. If she knows, and approves, then there’s nothing we can do. But if Gord’s acting behind her back . . .”

  I slowed as we approached the inn. “Why does Gord have Jack’s power of attorney and not Grace?”

  Dad sighed. “They didn’t want it to be common knowledge, but Grace had a bout of cancer a couple of years ago. A fairly serious type, not that all cancers aren’t serious. She’s in remission and doing very well, but they felt that if the cancer came back, Grace wouldn’t be in a position to manage the hotel’s affairs.”

  I slowed as we approached the inn’s festive sign and turned into the long driveway. Three cars were pulled up at the side of the road, and a small group of people were standing at the edge of the gardens. Gord and Irene were talking to two men. As we drove by, Gord gestured to the open expanses around them. Gord didn’t notice us, but Irene did. She did not smile or wave.

  “Do you think those might be the guys from Fine Budget?” Dad asked me.

  One of the men was a tall, well-built, middle-aged African American, the other a white guy who couldn’t have been any older than me. “I can’t see them being the husbands of the women I talked to earlier. Although,” I said, “I suppose I don’t really know.”

  “Isn’t that your mother’s car over there?”

  It was, and we found my mom having tea with Grace. The Olsens lived on the property in a charming cottage tucked behind the inn, overlooking a patch of woodland.

  “Noel, Merry. This is a surprise,” Grace said when she answered the door. “Although a pleasant one. Come on in. We’re having tea, but if you’d like something stronger . . .” We followed her into the living room. A fragrant balsam filled one corner, soft white lights burning, decorations shining. My mother was sitting in an elegant wingback chair upholstered in a fine blue fabric. A matching chair was on the other side of a gas fireplace in which a fake log was glowing cheerfully. Candles with the slightest hint of vanilla burned in two sturdy iron candlesticks beside a china tea set laid out on a side table. French doors led to a spacious deck, now empty of furniture and covered in a blanket of untouched snow, an enclosed garden, and dark woods that marked the borders of the hotel property.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Dad said. A look passed between him and my mother, and I saw Mom go instantly on alert. They had a way of speaking without words that always drove me and my three younger siblings absolutely nuts.

  “How’s Jack?” Dad said.

  “Well enough to have been moved out of the ICU,” Grace said, taking her seat. “The doctors are very pleased. It’s amazing how quickly patients are released from the hospital these days. The doctor told me that, if all continues going well, Jack can come home on Monday.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Dad said. “Grace, I realize this is none of my business, but I hope you’ll allow me to be frank.”

  Her hand went to her cheek and her lovely gray eyes opened in fear. “Is it about Jack? Do you know something the doctors aren’t telling me? I’ve been visiting regularly, but I’m finding him very lethargic. That worries me. The doctors say it’s to be expected, but they don’t know Jack. Usually, I find his enthusiasm exhilarating, if not exhausting.”

  “No,” Dad said quickly. “I don’t have any information about Jack. It’s not about him. You know how the Rudolph rumor mill works. I’ve heard the inn is for sale.”

  All the tension left Grace’s face. She fell back in relief. “What a silly idea. Jack and I aren’t even considering selling the inn. It’s his life, you know, and he’s always said he’ll only leave in a wooden box. Gord’s helping out now, but Jack will be back on his feet soon. The doctors say he should be able to resume some work in six weeks or so. When he’s better, I’m determined to try and talk the old fool into hiring a proper hotel manager, which will take some of the day-to-day responsibilities off his shoulders and allow us to take a vacation that lasts longer than three days.”

  “Why are you telling us this, Noel?” my mom asked. She knew that if my dad was repeating it, it wasn’t idle gossip.

  “Two of your hotel guests are from Fine Budget Inns.”

  “The executive in charge of expansion is one of them,” I said.

  Grace waved her hand. “That means nothing. We get lots of guests here, Noel.” She laughed. “I can well understand why someone from Fine Budget would prefer to vacation at the Yuletide.”

  “Perhaps,” Dad said slowly, “you should ask Gord if he invited them. As you say, they might just be enjoying a vacation, but you need to find out. I’ll talk to Gord if you’d prefer.”

  “Mark Grosse is threatening to quit,” I said, “if Gord keeps interfering with the way he runs the restaurant.”

  “He can’t quit. We only just hired him. He has a contract.”

  “Contracts can be broken,” Dad said, “by both sides.”

  Grace reached for the phone beside her chair. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

  My mom started to stand.

  “No,” Grace said sharply. “If Gord’s putting his nose where it isn’t wanted, I’d like you to stay.”

  She said a few words and then put the phone down. “They’ll be right here. Now, I for one have had enough tea. Noel, pour me a scotch, will you? It’s in that cabinet.”

  We made polite conversation while waiting for Gord to join us.

  “Do you have plans for tomorrow night, Grace?” Mom asked. “Noel and I are driving to Rochester in the morning. We have tickets for the opera and then dinner reservations, but I’m sure . . .”

  “Thank you, Aline, but I have some work to do getting the house ready for Jack to come home. I’m looking into hiring a private nurse to stay with him for a few hours a day, so I can spend time at the inn without worrying that he’s here alone.”

  A loud rap and then the sound of the door opening were followed by Irene calling out, “We’re here.”

  “You could wait for me to invite you in,” Grace muttered under her breath. She plastered on a smile.

  “Whoa! Having a party?” Gord laughed, stamping snow off his boots onto Grace’s shining wide-planked hardwood floors. He kept his coat on and didn’t take a seat. “What’s up? I’ve got company. Told them I’d be right back.”

  Irene said nothing. She stood in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Grace.

  Grace smoothed her skirt. “Your father is ill, but expected to make a full recovery. We will not be making any changes around here in his absence.”

  Gord’s eyes flicked toward me. “Merry, you were here the other morning with that bakery girl.”

  “That highly accomplished baker and small-business owner,” I said.

  “If you say so. It’s time to make some changes around here, Grace,” Gord said. “Streamline the operation, cut unnecessary expenses.”

  “Sell to Fine Budget Inns?”

  A twitch started above Gord’s right eye.

  “Who told you about that?” Irene said.

  Grace shrugged. “Irrelevant. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “No need to get upset,” Gord said. Far from being upset, I thought Grace was acting so calmly she might have had ice flowing through her veins. “I’m not planning to sell the business to Fine Budget Inns.”

  “That’s good to know,” Grace said, visibly relaxing.
r />   “It’ll be a franchise operation,” Irene said.

  “What!”

  “We . . . I mean you’ll . . . still own the inn, but Fine Budget will . . . help with management. We can take advantage of FB’s nationwide advertising campaigns, of their practical expertise in years of hotel management, of . . .”

  “No,” Grace said.

  “It’s a win-win, Grace,” Gord said.

  “I won’t hear of it.”

  “Actually, Grace,” Irene said, “it doesn’t matter one bit what you want or not. Gord has his father’s power of attorney.”

  “As long as Dad’s unable to act on his own behalf, I’m prepared to make some hard decisions,” Gord added.

  “Decisions,” my dad said. I thought he showed admirable self-control in not giving Gord a piece of his mind before now. “Sell a man’s livelihood out from under him the minute he’s laid up, you mean.”

  Gord turned to Dad with a smile that did nothing to lessen the hostility in his face. “I’ll take my father’s wishes into consideration at every step.”

  “I don’t think . . .” Dad began.

  Grace lifted her hand. “One moment, please, Noel. I’d like you to explain that statement, Gord.”

  Gord grinned at her. I realized that he was enjoying this. “I told Dad my idea yesterday morning. He said to go ahead.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Grace said.

  “We figured you’d say that,” Irene said. “So we had a nurse come in and be a witness. Show her, honey.”