The Herald Angels Sing

by Roxanne St Claire

  Gramma curled her hand into the dog’s fur and turned toward the car like Pru wasn’t even talking.

  “Gramma Finnie.”

  “Hush, child.” She flipped a hand over her shoulder, straightening to walk to the car. “We can do all that whatnot you suggested, but in the meantime, Blue and I will be good friends. Isn’t that right, my love?”

  Pru stood there and watched the old woman and the fat dog walk side by side. Blue waddled a bit with her distended belly, but Gramma still had that bounce in her step. Even more, now. And it was a wonder Blue could even walk straight, because she didn’t take her heterochromatic eyes off her new pal.

  Maybe she was abandoned, Pru thought. If that was the case, this pregnant pupper was coming home to Waterford Farm.

  Chapter Six

  There was a grand total of four houses spread out over the five-mile radius that Pru and Gramma Finnie managed to cover. At one, they met an older couple who were very nice, but had never seen the dog before. Another home had a young mother, alone with three kids, who was hesitant to even open the door. She peeked out and offered no clue who Blue belonged to, but suggested they try a new development about ten miles south where lots of people had dogs. No one was home at the other two places, one a small ranch with horses and a donkey, another just a simple, slightly run-down house that looked almost as abandoned as Blue.

  Pru wrote notes, including her cell number, and left them stuck in both doors, then agreed they should head on to Holly Hills. But it was a wonder Gramma could even drive the remaining miles over rolling, rural hills surrounded by thick woods. She was distracted by the dog and lost all concentration, chattering on about all she knew about border collies, which was a surprising amount for a woman who’d owned setters her entire adult life.

  “And you know what the Irish say about a dog with different-colored eyes, lass?”

  “They see in color?” Pru guessed.

  “Even better.” Gramma sat up and threw a look in the rearview mirror. “’Tis said that when a dog has different-colored eyes, they go to heaven twice. Once while alive and again when they cross the bridge.”

  “You made that up,” Pru said on a laugh.

  “I did not!” On the vehement denial, she turned to check on Blue again, and the whole car veered dangerously out of its lane.

  “Okay, okay, I believe you.” Pru put a gentle hand on Gramma’s arm. “Eyes on the road, please. I’ll watch for a store where we can get Blue something to eat.”

  A few minutes later, they spotted a Dollar Tree and pulled in to get dog food and ask if they recognized Blue. No one did, but outside, the dog inhaled her lunch with gusto.

  Finally, by some miracle and no accidents, they made it to Holly Hills in one piece, but much later than they’d planned. Main Street traffic was already clogged with tourists.

  Only a little larger than Bitter Bark, Holly Hills was in full swing on Christmas Eve. Thousands of lights flickered, despite the fact that it was morning, and every sweet storefront tried to outdo its neighbor with over-the-top décor. Reindeer perched on rooftops, hosts of angels perched on streetlights, and Pru counted four men dressed as elves strolling the main drag. Every other shopper wore a Santa hat, all of them navigating around at least three different groups of carolers who meandered through the town square, providing music and entertainment.

  “This is what Chloe imagined when she started the whole Better Bark program,” Pru mused, remembering how her sister-in-law came up with the idea to change the name of their town for a year, turning it into the number one dog-friendly vacation destination in North Carolina, if not the world. “This is an insane amount of tourists.”

  “Well, ’tis Christmas Eve,” Gramma said, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands as she steered clear of pedestrians and other cars. “And I think Chloe succeeded. Bitter Bark tourism is a crashing success, jam-packed with folk, both two- and four-legged. I think—oh!” She slammed on the brakes when a bike pulled out in front of her, and Blue slid forward on the back seat, giving out a soft yelp. “Is she okay?” Gramma turned, narrowly missing another pedestrian.

  Pru fisted her own hands and realized she’d been holding her breath since…well, since Blue. She exhaled and rooted for calm in the face of Gramma Finnie’s erratic driving.

  “Okay, right after this stop sign, which you will obey by gently tapping the brakes, turn right into the visitors’ parking lot. The jeweler is about two blocks, according to GPS. We’ll walk the rest.” Or kill a tourist if we don’t.

  “I think Blue can walk that,” she said, following directions. “But only if she’s comfortable and happy.”

  “She seems ready to go.” Pru reached back and gave the dog a little head rub, which she took as an invitation to stick her head between the two front seats and rub her cheek on Gramma’s jacket.

  “Oh, my wee button of love!” Gramma patted her head…and drove right by the parking lot entrance.

  They made it on the next pass, though, and soon they had Blue clipped on one of Meatball’s leashes that Pru fortunately had had in her bag, then headed toward the center of town, to Emerald Isle Jewelers.

  The small shop was open and already serving a few customers when they walked in and a blast of heat took the December chill off them.

  “I’m sorry, service dogs only,” one of the clerks called out, no doubt eyeing Blue’s filth.

  “Oh, darn.” Pru took the leash from Gramma. “I’m so used to Bitter Bark, I forgot there are actual places you can’t bring a dog. Should I stay outside with her or—”

  Gramma’s wide-eyed response answered the question. She was not leaving Blue.

  “Then give me the pin, and I’ll talk to them,” Pru finished.

  With a stern look at the clerk that said she did not like their policies or his judgy expression, Gramma opened her bag and pulled out the lace kerchief and handed it carefully to Pru. “Donchya be losing it or changing it, child. See if they have a shamrock to replace the missing one, and if not…” She looked down at it, and her lips pulled in a sad turn for the first time since they’d bumped into each other in the hall. “Then just have them clean it up and keep it as is. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

  For her mother’s wedding? “Yes, it does.”

  “Then be careful with it.”

  Pru eyed the kerchief again, considering all the possibilities. “Are you sure you want to give it to them? It seems like it’s dear to you.”

  She let out a sigh. “Ye have no idea, lass.”

  Something in Pru’s heart twisted at the bittersweet lilt in her words. “Will you tell me?”

  “Let’s get it fixed for your mother first. Go on.” She gave Pru a nudge. “The man’s looking like he’ll help you. I’ll take Blue right out on that bench.”

  “Okay.” Holding the pin, Pru headed to the counter, whispering a silent prayer that these people were really as Irish as the name of the business and would respect whatever history this piece had.

  A few minutes later, she was certain they would. Not one but two clerks had already examined the piece, and the second went into the back to get the jeweler, who had the comforting name of Sean Hanrihan and specialized in Irish vintage jewelry.

  Grateful for that good fortune, Pru spread the lace material on the glass counter, only then noticing the tiny MVB embroidered in the corner. A chill danced up her spine. Mary Violet Brennan, the great-aunt she hadn’t known she had.

  Why would she be wiped from family history? For going off to war?

  Pru ran her finger over the tight, clean stitches, easily seeing that they bore Finola Kilcannon’s signature style and realizing that this piece of linen and lace alone could be the something old if the jeweler didn’t come through.

  “Excuse me, miss?” An older man came out from the backroom, a bald grandfather type with a soft voice and kind eyes. “Are you the owner of this pin?”

  “My great-grandmother, actually,” she said. “Can you fix it?”
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  He had the pin on a piece of black velvet, which he set on the counter, making Pru wish Gramma had stayed with her, because he handled the pin with reverence, as if he knew the treasure’s sentimental worth.

  “I have some glass shamrocks at my studio at home that might fit the space, but it’s going to take a few hours.”

  Her heart dropped in disappointment. “How many is a few?”

  “We close at three today, so I could have it by then.”

  Three? She’d be toast with Mom if she didn’t get home until late afternoon. But if they left at three, they’d be home in time for the Christmas Eve festivities, which would start around five or six. It could work. Mom would forgive her. “Okay, but if you could speed it up, I’d appreciate it.”

  He lifted the pin. “I don’t want to rush this job. It’s a rare style of jewelry you don’t see much anymore.”

  “I know, and it’s going on my mother’s wedding dress as something old, so it has to be flawless.”

  He gave an understanding smile. “Flawless is the only kind of work I do.”

  She thanked him, filled out a form with contact information, and tenderly folded the hanky that had wrapped the pin for so many decades. Holding the delicate cloth to return it to Gramma, she stepped outside to break the news about the delay and call Mom, STAT.

  But a huge group of carolers filed in front of her, filling the sidewalk with bodies and harmonies and bringing everyone else to a standstill. Pru leaned to one side, then the other, getting up on her tiptoes to look for Gramma and Blue on the bench just fifteen feet and forty singing Santas away, but she couldn’t see a thing.

  When they finally passed her, Pru stared at an empty bench. Then looked around. Up and down the street. Left. Right. Everywhere.

  Holy St. Nicholas. Gramma was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  It probably would have been easier to check a weather app, but Molly was halfway between her vet office and the kennel before she even thought of that. If a snowstorm was coming, the dogs would know. And if the dogs knew, her brothers and her fiancé would know. Plus, family offered the added benefit of comfort, which was what Molly needed, along with the assurance that she might be overreacting to this minicrisis.

  But the fact was, Pru hadn’t answered a text in hours, and that just wasn’t like her, no matter where she was or what she was doing.

  As she reached the kennels, the door popped open, and the first face she saw was the man she loved most. Trace Bancroft’s dark eyes inevitably softened when he looked at her or at their daughter. Since he’d returned to Bitter Bark almost a year ago to the day, the sight of this man’s smile, the touch of his hand, and the whisper of his words of love in her ear had brought Molly unspeakable joy.

  Her one-night stand at nineteen in the back of a minivan with Trace had miraculously turned first into Prudence, the world’s greatest child, and then a reunion romance that brought him back into her life. And next week they’d be married and official…except she couldn’t think about that right this minute.

  He reached out a callused hand to touch her face. “You haven’t heard from Pru yet?”

  He knew her so well, it was like she didn’t even have to talk. She shook her head once, not trusting her voice.

  “And she hasn’t texted except that one time to say she and Gramma were running an errand and would be back soon?”

  “At eight this morning,” she said, checking her watch. “It’s been hours, Trace. Gramma’s not able to drive that far. What if they had an accident on the way to…” She grunted and dropped her head back in frustration. “I don’t even know where she is. I took that app off my phone that tracks her, because it took up too much memory, and now I regret that.”

  “This is so not like Umproo,” he mused.

  She smiled at the nickname, a private joke born from Pru and Trace’s first conversation, before either one knew they were father and daughter. “I would normally agree, but…” She shook her head.

  “But what?”

  “Oh, I overheard a conversation she had with Gramma Finnie yesterday, and I think they’re both struggling a little right now. I want to give them time to work things out, but I can’t help but worry that one’s too old and the other’s too young to be out and about without anyone knowing where they are. It scares me.”

  “What scares you?” Liam, her oldest brother, walked out of the kennel, a regal German shepherd gliding next to him. “This dog? Because he should, except watch this. Genghis. Sit.”

  The dog instantly sat.

  “Greet.”

  He lifted a paw as if to shake Liam’s hand.

  “Cry for happiness.”

  Instantly, the dog flattened and let out a musical whine, making Molly laugh despite her heavy heart. “A killer, for sure.”

  “He will be when I’m done with him.” Liam turned his full attention on her, searching her face with knowing eyes. “What’s up, Molly? You don’t look happy.”

  “I’m not.” Behind Liam, she spied Garrett, her brother closest in age. As if he’d sensed an impromptu family meeting was happening, Shane showed up a second later.

  “What’s going on with you?” Garrett asked.

  “Check her feet. They might be turning to ice this close to the big day,” Shane teased as they formed a semicircle around her. The familiarity, love, and support of her brothers made Molly certain again that this response was the real reason she’d gone to the kennels when her low-grade anxiety about Pru grew to real worry.

  “I am not getting—”

  “Are we missing a family meeting?” Darcy called to the group as she and Josh approached, hand in hand. Their two little furballs, Stella and Kookie, broke off and ran toward the pen to play. “Because I do not like to miss family meetings.”

  As Darcy reached the group and she and her fiancé greeted the others, Molly and Trace exchanged a look. He gave a slight nod of agreement to share what, at the moment, only they and her father knew. Dad was in town, but had been no happier about this turn of events when he’d left than Molly was.

  “Gramma Finnie and Pru are…” Missing. No, that would send this crew into a rapid state of organized deployment of search parties and rescue teams. “Out.”

  The entire contingent of Kilcannons reacted with various forms of yeah, and? and so what? expressions.

  “I don’t know where they are,” she added. Which did make them technically “missing,” but not in the sense that it required action. Yet.

  Still, they didn’t look like they understood her concerns.

  “Gramma’s driving,” Trace said, and that, of course, did the trick.

  “Holy cow,” Liam muttered. “That’s not good.”

  “I knew we should have hidden her keys after she got pulled over for doing twenty-five in a fifty-five zone,” Darcy mused.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve caught Pru driving that Jeep a dozen times.” Garrett gave Molly’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “She can drive if push comes to shove.”

  “Push could come to shove,” Shane said, shaking his head. “Last time she drove in the rain, I had to push that Toyota out of the mud when she went left when the driveway veered right. The driveway,” he repeated. “Forget the highway.”

  Molly glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

  “Just saying you’re not crazy for worrying, Moll.”

  She glanced at Trace. “Where could they go and be gone for hours? They left before Dad even got up.”

  “He’s in town,” Darcy said. “Did you tell him to look around for Gramma’s Avalon? They might just be shopping, and if they hit Bitter Bark Yarn and Fabric? Gramma could be lost in there for hours.”

  Molly appreciated the logic and reassurance, but the silent phone in her hand told a different story. “Dad’s looking for them, but I think they’re on a special errand, and it may have taken them out of Bitter Bark.”

  “What kind of errand?” Garrett asked.

  “Something for the wedding,” s
he said. “I gave them what I thought was a simple job, because both of them were unhappy. Pru was feeling left out of the wedding plans, and Gramma was feeling…” She hadn’t heard what was bothering Gramma, but had had a few conversations with her lately that had led Molly to think she might know. “Old and unimportant.”

  “Unimportant?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “This place would go up in flames without her.”

  “And no bread pudding?” Josh looked horrified. “’Cause that’s important.”

  Their laughter made Molly feel a little better. “I’m probably overreacting,” she said. “But I am concerned about the weather.”

  “Me too,” Liam said, absently scratching the head of his current trainee. “The dogs that react to a pressure drop, which is most of them, are definitely on edge.”

  “We’re getting some snow,” Garrett confirmed. “We got a call to pick up a rescue in Boone, and I couldn’t even promise I could make it today. They’re going to get socked in up there.”

  She glanced toward the Blue Ridge Mountains at their horizon. Would Gramma Finnie and Pru drive west for anything? Of course not. They wouldn’t go farther than the next town over. Would they?

  “Chill, baby.” Darcy slipped her arm around her big sister. “Pru’s more responsible than all of us combined, and Gramma’s not going to go far. I’m sure they got caught up doing something fun and forgot the time. And we can all keep calling and texting her, so they know to hightail it back home ASAP.”

  Molly gave her a squeeze and let them all know with hugs and smiles how much she appreciated this family.

  “Don’t worry, babe,” Trace said, pulling her into him. “You can’t change a thing by worrying. You want to take a drive and start looking?”

  She turned over her phone and stared at the text messages again. Delivered. Not read. Why wouldn’t Pru read her messages? What could she be doing? What if she was hurt? Or maybe they were in a dead zone for phone service? But this long? Did that mean they were stuck somewhere, or had an accident?