by Sara Rosett
Gabrielle glanced languidly over her shoulder at me, then turned to face me with a little sigh. “Ellie, sugar,” she said in a long-suffering voice, “don’t be upset. It’s just business. A little friendly competition.”
Words burbled up inside me, but when I’m upset, I get tongue-tied and all I could do was sputter, “Friendly? That’s not friendly!”
“There are plenty of clients to go around for both of us,” she said in that infuriatingly calm tone.
“Then why are you poaching mine? You’re intentionally going after them, I know it!”
“I can’t help it if they’re not satisfied with your services, now can I?”
The muscles in my core tensed and I felt my face flush. “What you’re doing is wrong. You and I both know that.” I stepped toward her. “I’m a nice person, but I will not let you do this to me.”
Gabrielle’s gaze shifted from my face to the living room. Our house had an open floor plan and I suddenly realized everyone in the living room could see us arguing. The only sound in the room was the faint strains of “Silent Night” playing in the background. Great. I briefly closed my eyes. Everyone had probably overheard us, too.
“Don’t worry, y’all,” Gabrielle called, addressing the room. I opened my eyes to see that she’d swept by me, picked up my mug of cider, and was strutting into the living room. “Just a professional disagreement—Ellie and I could go on all day debating decluttering strategies.”
Every head swung back toward me and I managed to force a smile to my lips. “I think it’s time to start the gift exchange.”
Abby jumped up. “Right! Okay, here’s the rules. Everyone draws a number . . .”
I tuned Abby out and busied myself cleaning up the kitchen. By the time I came back inside from emptying the trash, I felt calmer, and embarrassed, too. I couldn’t believe I’d let Gabrielle get me so riled. From now on, I would avoid her.
I slipped into the living room and watched the gift exchange until it was my turn to open a present. The game was complicated and involved options for swapping gifts and strategies to hang on to the gifts you wanted. I kept losing the gift I opened, a stationery set embossed with prints of holly and mistletoe. Most of the envelopes were missing, which was why it was a white elephant gift.
There were only a few presents left when Gabrielle opened a package that contained a flat box made of rough wood with a long opening a few inches wide near the bottom. “What is it?” she asked. “A birdhouse?”
“Sort of,” a spouse new to the squadron, Cecilia, replied. She was four months pregnant and worked out each day with the neighborhood stroller brigade, which despite having the name “Stroller Brigade,” was a neighborhood workout open to anyone who wanted to join. The stroller was optional and it was such a good cardio workout with a mix of lunges, squats, and push-ups for toning that I still joined them when I could. I had to hand it to Cecilia. There were some days when the power-walking workout left me exhausted. If I had tried to do that workout while I was pregnant, someone would have probably had to wheel me home in one of the strollers. But Cecilia always powered through the workout. She adjusted the portable—and broken—sewing machine that was on her lap. It was the gift she’d “won.” She pushed her glasses up her beaky nose and said, “It’s a bat house.”
I laughed out loud, along with everyone else, over the strange present.
“What?” Cecilia said. “Bats eat mosquitoes—they’re really good to have around.” An outdoor girl who’d grown up on a farm, she was still upset that she couldn’t ride a horse while she was pregnant.
By the time the dust had settled and the game was over, I’d lost the stationery set for good and was the owner of a three-inch-high Lucite paperweight. It was shaped like the classic round-cut diamond with a flat top and faceted sides that narrowed to a sharp point at the bottom. I recognized it. It had been a giveaway from a local insurance agent. His firm, Jim Excel Insurance Associates, was etched onto the top of the “diamond” along with a phone number. We’d had one a few years ago and, after taking it away from Livvy and Nathan several times because the point was so sharp it could cause major bodily injury, I’d tossed it in a box of charity donations. Now I had a new one.
“Oh, but that means I’m left with the bat house,” Gabrielle wailed with a pout when she realized she couldn’t swap with anyone else.
I thought the bat house was so deliciously appropriate for her. Every witch needs a few bats, right?
Nadia shook her head over the white elephant gift she’d won, a jigsaw puzzle of intricately detailed butterflies, which were repeated over and over again to make the puzzle even more difficult. There was a helpful note jotted on the box that stated several pieces were missing. “This one is way too hard for the girls—four hundred pieces—and it’s missing pieces. Imagine how frustrating that would be, to get to the end and not have all the pieces after all that work.”
Abby held up her prize, a wooden duck decoy, and said, “Well, at least I can decorate with this.” Trust Abby to come up with the white elephant gift that could legitimately be turned into home decor. She had great instincts when it came to arranging furniture and accents. I was sure she’d find a place for the duck on her mantel or on a bookshelf and it would look spectacular and no one would ever guess it had been a white elephant gift.
I turned to Marie, who’d won a figurine of an elf with a chipped nose. The hat was held on with a piece of tape. “Guess you can’t decorate with that.”
I expected her to laugh and agree with me, but she said earnestly, “I’ll find a place for it. I’m sure I can use it.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. How could you use an elf figurine? And a broken one, at that? Unless she planned on turning it into one of those funky found-art pieces that recycled trash into sculptures, I couldn’t think of anything.
Hannah, the low-key squadron commander’s wife, won a small painting with flaking paint and an elaborate frame. Unlike the last squadron commander’s wife, who’d become a close friend of mine, Hannah was so self-effacing and quiet that it was easy to overlook her, so I was almost surprised when she called for everyone’s attention at the end of the party. “Don’t forget the squadron Christmas party is coming up. It’ll be at the Peach Blossom Inn and we’re having a gift basket auction to raise money for a terrific local charity, Helping Hands.”
People began to drift back to the kitchen to grab another quick bite of food or refresh their drinks, but the party was waning. It wouldn’t be long before I was distributing coats and waving everyone off. I breathed an internal sigh of relief, a reaction to getting through the party with no major mishaps, except for the spat with Gabrielle, but that was nothing compared to the flaming disaster of our last party.
I relaxed into a newly vacated seat next to Jean and asked how her husband liked retirement. Simon’s last assignment had been at the squadron and he’d had a big retirement party during the summer.
“Loves it. He absolutely loves it.” She leaned toward me, confidingly. “I was so worried that he would go stir crazy with all that time on his hands, but he got involved with Helping Hands and between that and golf—he’s always busy.”
“What is he doing for Helping Hands?” I asked. I knew the local charity, located behind our church, had an annual food drive and ran a food bank all year long. They also built homes for low-income families. It was nothing like the scale of Habitat for Humanity, but I thought building even one or two houses a year was quite an accomplishment.
“He started out helping in the food pantry three days a week. It was like pulling teeth to get him to go with me the first time, but once he got involved, he loved it. He’s on the board as the financial manager now and does just about everything. And,” she leaned in a little closer, “Helping Hands just got a significant donation.” She raised her eyebrows for impact. “Significant. It’s really going to help. This year has been rough for so many people with the economy tanking the way it has. Donations have b
een down all year, but now it looks like we’ll be able to break ground on two new houses. Simon will probably have less free time than when he was on active duty.”
“That’s wonderful about the donation,” I said. “And you’re still doing your online resale business?” Jean combed through garage sales and other online auctions for items she could resell through her own online storefront.
“Yes.” Jean held up the white elephant gift I’d brought, a beat-up set of Hot Wheels toy cars, and said, “These will probably go fast.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I’ll put up a couple of nice photographs and price them right. They’ll probably be gone in a few hours. In fact, a lot of this stuff that people think is trash could sell,” she said.
Hannah held up the painting. “Even this?”
“Maybe,” Jean said. She didn’t sound so sure. “I could give it a try. Want me to list it?”
“Sure.”
Nadia and Cecilia handed off their gifts to Jean and I added the paperweight to the collection. An hour later, I was practically shoving Abby out the door. “I should stay and help you clean up,” she said.
“You already did. All I have left to do is start the dishwasher. Now, go on, you’ve got a babysitter to pay. And don’t forget to lock the house up tonight!”
I couldn’t hear her reply, but it sounded a bit like, “Yada, yada, yada.”
By the time Mitch came home and we got the kids in bed, then did the final post-party sweep of the house and talked a bit about our days, it was nearly one in the morning. I’d just relaxed into my pillow when the phone rang.
Abby’s voice had a tremor in it as she said, “Sorry to call so late. Don’t panic. Everything’s okay, well, except that I’ve been robbed.”
Chapter Three
“Robbed?” I sat up in bed. “Someone broke into your house?”
Mitch clicked on the lamp. I mouthed, “Abby,” at him so he’d know who I was talking to.
“It happened about forty-five minutes ago. I heard glass shatter and called nine-one-one. Whoever it was . . . they were gone before I got off the phone.”
“Oh my God, Abby,”
“I know. It was horrible, but we’re okay and the only thing they took was my cell phone and the GPS. I hate to ask this, but do you think Mitch could come over and board up my window? Jeff has some wood in the garage, but I’m hopeless with the tools. I don’t even know where he keeps the drill. There’s a cordless one . . . somewhere. I know it’s a drive for him and I could ask someone else here on base, but I hate to call and wake anyone else up. Not that I wanted to call you, because I know now I’ll never hear the end of this since you were right about the break-ins and I was wrong, so . . . you know . . . anyway, could he come over?”
“Yes, of course.” Abby might say she was okay, but I knew when she was jabbering away like this, it meant she was extremely upset. I relayed the request to Mitch; he nodded, and climbed out of bed. “You and Charlie should come back here tonight.” I glanced over at Mitch as he pulled an Air Force Academy sweatshirt over his head. I tilted the phone away from my mouth. “Okay with you if they stay here?”
“Sure, yeah. Jeff wouldn’t want them there by themselves.”
“In fact, pack some clothes and stay with us until Jeff gets back.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that—”
“Abby, come stay with us. It’s only a few more days until Jeff returns, right? So stay here with us until then.”
“Well, maybe just for tonight.”
Thursday
“Nathan, brush your teeth and get your backpack,” I said as I slapped peanut butter and jelly on slices of whole wheat bread at seven-thirty the next morning. My eyes were puffy and an ominous pulsing in my temples indicated that a headache wasn’t far off. I shoved the sandwiches in plastic bags, then grabbed apples and mozzarella cheese sticks to add to the four lunches I was packing. “Livvy, let Rex inside for me.”
Dressed in a blue sweater, jeans with rainbow patterns stitched on the pockets, and tennis shoes, Livvy tossed her backpack down by the door to the garage and jogged to the back door, her ponytail bouncing as she moved. At least I had one kid ready to go. She opened the door to the backyard and Rex trotted inside. He paused, sniffed the air, and shot off in the direction of the living room. A puff of white streaked from under the coffee table and ricocheted into the kitchen. Rex jerked to a stop and reversed course, skidding across the slippery kitchen tiles. Abby’s cat, Wisk, vaulted through the air and used the island countertop as a springboard to reach the top of the refrigerator. Rex crashed into my legs, then scrambled back to his feet. He moved back and forth in a half-circle around the refrigerator, nose in the air, barking at full volume. Wisk seemed to expand to about twice his normal size as his fur puffed out.
I grabbed Rex by the collar and dragged him to his kennel in the laundry room, telling him, “You’re a good watchdog, but you can’t eat Wisk.” I felt bad leaving him in his kennel, but I had to get the kids off to school. Wisk paced back and forth on top of the refrigerator, then settled into a tentative, watchful crouch on the high perch, keeping a close watch on the laundry room. Rex’s whines were dying away, but I doubted Wisk would move from his spot anytime soon. I certainly wasn’t about to try and get him down.
Nathan and Charlie had been huddled over their empty breakfast plates, leaning toward a pile of Lego blocks that covered the kitchen table, but now they were laughing as they tried to reenact the chase. Nathan had been surprised to find Charlie curled up in a sleeping bag on his bedroom floor this morning. Both Livvy and Nathan had slept through the arrival of our unexpected guests. It had taken about two seconds for Nathan to go from sleepy to giddy. His friend was in his house at seven in the morning—what better time was there to play with Legos? Who cared about a little thing like getting to school on time? Livvy was playing it cooler than Nathan, but I could tell she loved the company, too, especially Abby, who Livvy thought was the most interesting and fun person around—way more fun than me.
“Nathan,” I said sternly. “Teeth—now! You’re riding to school with Charlie this morning, so you better get moving. You don’t want to make them late.”
“You, too, young man,” Abby said as she emerged from the guest bedroom dressed in a nice sweater and slacks. Both boys grabbed their Lego blocks and headed down the hall. “Sorry about Wisk,” Abby said, “He’s so fast. He was out the bedroom door before I even realized it.”
“That’s okay. Rex is fine where he is for now. Are you sure you should go to school today?” I asked Abby as she picked up the plates and rinsed them at the sink.
“The insurance agent can’t meet me until this afternoon and the security police on base have done everything they can. They checked for fingerprints and there weren’t any. I might as well go to school—you know, keep things as normal as possible for Charlie. It will keep my mind off it, too.”
I nodded as I downed two ibuprofen, then sent Livvy to look for her school library book. Rex’s barks were still ringing in my ears and magnifying the pain in my head. “You don’t need to check the house again to make sure nothing else is gone?”
“After I calmed down last night, I looked around. They just took what I left on the kitchen counter. I think they scooped up everything there, then left as fast as they came in.”
“Thank goodness they left when they did.”
She shivered. “I know. I’m glad I hadn’t gone to bed yet. Can you imagine how creepy it would be to have slept through a break-in?”
I nodded and said, “It seems like a big risk to take for just a few things.”
Abby shrugged. “Well, one of them was my snakeskin purse, so that could have been a big haul if they’d gotten my credit cards and checkbook. And, the duck decoy. They got that, too. Just swept up everything on the counter.”
“Your snakeskin purse? That was your favorite.” Abby had found the slouchy tote at a discount store and she carried it all the time. “You
didn’t say anything about your purse last night—only the GPS and your cell phone.”
“I know. I remembered after I called you. I’d been carrying the snakeskin purse, but I changed to a clutch before I walked out the door for the party. I left the snakeskin purse on the kitchen counter and I guess they scooped it up with everything else.”
I said, “Too bad you didn’t just carry the same purse all day yesterday.”
“The snakeskin didn’t really go with my outfit.”
“Gray snakeskin doesn’t go with black and white?” I asked.
“No, too casual,” Abby said.
“I think you could have pulled it off,” I said. I always deferred to her in matters of clothing, but purses were my department—I loved them. They were my one extravagance. I couldn’t get excited about the latest clothing trends, but I did know my designer handbags and scoured the online auction sites and garage sales for bargains. Abby’s snakeskin purse hadn’t been designer, but it was unusual and stylish and, as far as I could tell, unique. I couldn’t find another one like it anywhere.
Abby closed the dishwasher door and said, “In fact, if I didn’t know you so well, I’d suspect you broke in. You really liked that purse.”
“True. I did love it, but even I wouldn’t go that far for a purse—despite the fact that you did get the absolute last one in the whole state of Georgia. Any hope of the police finding it or the other things?”
“No, I don’t think so. The security police weren’t very optimistic. So there goes my sunglasses and my new Urban Decay lipstick. I didn’t move everything to the clutch.”
“Well, at least they didn’t get your wallet,” I said as I stuffed lunches in backpacks.
“That’ll teach me to put everything away,” Abby said. “I came in from the party and dumped everything on the kitchen counter. I always do that, you know.”
