Opening the door to the warehouse took several attempts. She had to turn backward, get her hands on the doorknob, then use her body to help turn it. She would never take her arms and hands for granted again. When she finally got the door to open, she tumbled out, and landed on the ground. She heard voices in the distance.
“Siobhán? Siobhán?” It was James. She wanted to cry. “How did you know I was here?”
“I heard you talking on your mobile,” Gráinne said. “I heard something about a warehouse.” Her sister actually did listen sometimes.
“This is the only warehouse I could think of,” James said.
Another Christmas miracle. “Here,” Siobhán said. “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” She began to laugh into the ground, and the more she tried to stop, the harder she laughed. Soon her entire brood was surrounding her, including Trigger, who licked her face as James and Eoin began to undo the knots.
“Are you drunk?” Gráinne said.
“No,” Siobhán said. “I’ve just been waiting my whole life to say that.”
Chapter Fourteen
The abbey positively glowed in the night. Hundreds of little white lights adorned the surrounding trees, and candles glowed from tables set in the field. The snow machine was running, sending magical flakes raining down on upturned, little faces. At least fifty Santas roamed the grounds, ready to hear children’s wishes. Gráinne, despite her hard exterior, had a soft heart, and she hadn’t been able to reject a single Santa, so she’d hired them all. If there was any year they needed a village of Santas, it was this one.
Dave Healy had taken a bus out of town, and was quite surprised to see a blockade set up and a line of guards ready to arrest him when it pulled up to its first stop. Siobhán and her brood had personally brought Adam to the festivities, and everyone in town had agreed not to mention that his uncle was the killer. He was told the bad guy was from out of town, he was caught, and he would never hurt anyone again. When he was older, he would learn the truth, but enough of his childhood had been stolen, and no one wanted him to feel any burden for his uncle’s actions. This was the main reason Ed Healy was going to continue with Dave’s last gift: the rehabilitation facility. Adam’s face was beaming as he passed around the shining star he’d found in his nutcracker. Made of tiny crystals, it positively glowed as he passed it from person-to-person while chattering about the new skills he would be learning at the rehab center. Siobhán knew this was a kid who was going to go far. He deserved it.
Siobhán brought glasses of bubbly over to a quiet corner where one Santa was planted, as if keeping an eye on the festivities from a distance. “Champagne?” she offered to the Santa.
“T’ank you.” His voice was deep but muffled behind his fake beard.
“You’re welcome.” She sat. “I’d ask who you are, but I’m sure tonight you’re just Santy.”
“Dat’s right.” His outfit was good. Besides the long beard, and overpadded suit, his curly white wig practically covered his face. He wore thick glasses that were cloudy and white gloves.
“So, Ms. O’Sullivan,” he said. “What would you like for Christmas?”
Siobhán laughed softly and pointed to the crowd. “How could I ask for more?”
“Gratitude is a gift,” he said. “But it’s just you and Santa here. There must be something.”
Siobhán hesitated. “There might be someone.”
“And who is this someone?”
“You can’t give me a person, Santa.” She smiled, patted his gloved hand.
“Tell the stars, then,” he said, pointing at a twinkly one above.
She tilted her head up. “Merry Christmas Eve, Dara,” she whispered to the stars. “Wherever you are.”
She stood, kissed the Santa on the cheek, and patted his back. “Come to Naomi’s Bistro for hot cocoa and brown bread,” she said. “We’re staying open late.”
“Not too late, I hope,” he said. “Santa is on his way.”
Her laugh filled the night with warmth. “Not too late, Santa,” she said. “I promise.”
* * *
Macdara Flannery watched Siobhán O’Sullivan walk away, his heart swelling. He’d pretended to grant her a wish, but he’d just been given one. All he wanted in the whole world was to come home. And home, he’d come to realize, was wherever Siobhán O’Sullivan was. He was determined this was the last Christmas he’d ever be apart from her. He continued to watch from a distance as carolers began to fill the night air with song, and children cried out in glee.
“Snow!”
At first, Macdara thought they’d turned the snow machine on, but then he tilted his head and saw the flakes dancing down as the moon shone above. In the distance Siobhán O’Sullivan stood with her brood, swaying as they sang.
“Happy Christmas,” he said as he tipped his Santa cap to the moon.
Hot Cocoa—An Irish Variety
1½ tablespoons of unsweetened cocoa
1½ tablespoons of sugar
¾ cup milk
2 ounces *Baileys Irish Cream
Whipped cream, freshly made
Stir, heat, enjoy! Garnish with chocolate sprinkles, a candy cane, and a good book!
*Can also use Kahlúa, vodka, flavored rum, butterscotch liqueur, any of your favorite spirits.
Happy Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!
CHRISTMAS COCOA AND A CORPSE
Maddie Day
Chapter One
This close to Christmas, I’d assumed we’d have a smooth, joyous next few days leading up to the holiday. But as Mom used to say, to assume only makes an ass out of you and me. She was absolutely right this time.
In my best poetry-reading voice, I began, “’Twas the Sunday before Christmas and all through the country store, tiny lights were atwinkle and in through the door came . . . customers!” I unlocked the front door of Pans ’N Pancakes and pulled it open at exactly eight o’clock. Sure enough, at least ten eager diners waited on the wide covered front porch. I stepped out.
“Good morning.” My breath made little clouds in the air as I viewed the crowd and spied three new faces. “I’m Robbie Jordan. Welcome to my country store.” The last two in line I knew well, Howard and Sean O’Neill. I welcomed a hug from Howard, my boyfriend Abe’s father, and exchanged a fist bump with Abe’s fourteen-year-old son.
“Come on in and sit anywhere.” I followed them into all the delectable aromas of a breakfast restaurant: sizzling meat, sweet syrup, sautéing onions and peppers, pancakes on the griddle. I gazed around my festively decorated store and restaurant, where my assistant, Danna Beedle, tended sausages and bacon at the grill. Greenery swags, beribboned wreaths, and strings of white lights brought the place alive, and the tree in the corner shone with ornaments and colored lights.
I bustled around with the coffeepot and my order pad. I funneled orders for omelets, banana-walnut pancakes, and today’s special, Holiday Eggnog Oatmeal, over to Danna as fast as I could. When I finally neared the O’Neills’ four-top, a gentleman I hadn’t seen before was walking with a shaky gait to the table. He shook hands with Howard and took a seat.
“Coffee?” I asked when I got there.
“Yes, please.” Howard gestured to his cup. “Robbie, this is Jed Greenberg, a former associate of mine. Jed, Robbie Jordan. This is her store and restaurant.”
“Nice to meet you, Jed.” I poured coffee for him, too.
“Likewise.” Jed looked a bit younger than Howard’s sixty-four, and had a permanent frown wrinkle between bushy eyebrows. He didn’t return my smile, instead tapping the table in a nervous rhythm.
“Sean, we’re offering a yummy Mexican hot chocolate this week. Interested?” I smiled at the teen. Since I was a native of California, I was well acquainted with the rich spicy hot cocoa made south of the border. It was going over well as a special drink, and I’d made up packets of the mix to sell in the store, too.
“Sure.” At a glance from his grandfather, he added, “Yes, ma’am.”
Sean’s big brown eyes and dimple echoed Abe’s, but his skinny frame still had some filling out to do.
I held pen to pad. “What can I get you all to eat this morning? The specials are on the board on that wall, Jed.”
He twisted to look. “Eggnog oatmeal sounds terrible. Give me a cheese omelet with white toast and bacon.”
No “please,” and insulting my specials all in one breath. Wonderful.
“I think the oatmeal sounds great, Robbie,” Sean piped up. “Can I have that, please, plus biscuits and sausage gravy and a cheese omelet with a side of bacon?”
Ah, the legendary appetite of the growing boy. I checked with Howard.
“Whatever he wants is fine. For me, the pancakes with the yogurt topping, and sausages, please.” Howard smiled up at me, his appearance how I imagined Abe would look in another few decades: curly walnut-colored hair shot through with silver, the same dimple as Abe’s, and deep smile lines around his dark eyes making the elder O’Neill look kindly even when he wasn’t smiling.
“Coming right up.” I hurried the order over to my tall young co-chef. She’d been my right-hand person since I’d opened more than a year ago.
Danna was a two-armed wonder, pouring and flipping and pushing things around on the grill. “That order needs hot chocolate and two OJs, and that one’s ready to go, too.” She gestured with her chin at the top of the counter in front of the grill, where we set finished plates. “I see Mr. Greenberg is here,” she murmured, her lips curled as if she’d tasted moldy bread.
“You know him?” I asked in a low voice as I ladled out hot chocolate and loaded up a tray.
“Kind of. Wish I didn’t.”
“Tell me later, okay?”
When she nodded, off I went. After I delivered an order of sunny-side up with bacon and a Kitchen Sink omelet to two older women in slightly garish holiday sweaters—one embroidered with dancing elves and reindeer, and one ap-pliquéd with interlocking wreaths—the white-haired one pointed to my lit-up Christmas tree in the corner.
“What’re all them cute cardboard skillets you got hanging on the tree?” she asked.
I smiled. “They’re part of the gift tree project for the Mothers Cupboard Community Kitchen. Each ornament has a child’s first name, their age, and one thing they need or really want. You can take the ornament and donate that item to the charity. They like them wrapped and labeled with the child’s name, but you can also deliver just the gift and they’ll put it in a gift bag.” It had been a no-brainer when the organization asked me if I would be a sponsor for the project. Even people who didn’t donate in any other way during the rest of the year felt the urge to help others during the holidays.
“Is it clothes or toys and such?” the other woman asked.
“Some of everything,” I said. “One of them simply has Books written on it. I have a big box behind the tree if you want to bring stuff back here, or you can take it to their center in Nashville.”
“I’m going to get me one now.” The first woman stood. “Sis, you want I should grab one for you, too?”
“You bet your sweet bippy I do. Helping some poor little children at the holidays. Heck, I’ll take me two.”
“Thank you both,” I said. “It’s a great cause. Enjoy your breakfasts, now.”
When the O’Neills’ plates were ready, I carried them and Jed’s to their table. A tall woman with spiky white-blond hair arrived at the table at the same time. It was Karinde Nilsson, a woman I’d been introduced to when she ate here earlier in the year. I hadn’t seen her since.
“Hi, Karinde,” I said. “Are you joining these gentlemen for breakfast?”
“Hi, Robbie. No, I just need a word with Mr. O’Neill.” She glared at Jed as she spoke, the color high in her cheeks.
Howard stood abruptly. “Let’s talk over there.” He hurried her away from the table.
Sean looked as confused as I felt, but when I set his food down, his eyes lit up.
“Thanks, Robbie. This looks, like, perfect.”
Jed, on the other hand, didn’t thank me. He picked up his fork, but his gaze had followed Karinde and Howard to where they spoke in my waiting area.
Chapter Two
A few minutes later, we had a momentary lull in the action. All our customers were served and seemed content, and nobody new had arrived. Howard had returned to his table after Karinde departed. Clicks of flatware on porcelain, pops of sausages, and the murmur of conversation combined to make my favorite soundtrack.
I looked up at Danna, who was more than half a foot taller than me. Today she was working in a red cotton sweater, an Indian-print wraparound skirt, orange tights, and black Doc Martens, with a green scarf wrapped around her reddish-gold dreadlocks. Plus a store apron, of course, whose royal blue didn’t match any of the rest of her outfit. Me, I settled for a long-sleeved store tee and jeans under my apron. I paired it with blue tennies and threaded my thick curly ponytail through a store ball cap. The store part of the country store did a surprisingly brisk business in the blue shirts and caps. The logo featured a cast-iron griddle held by a grinning stack of pancakes.
“So, how do you know Jed Greenberg?” I asked Danna.
She raised one pierced eyebrow. “My mom doesn’t like him at all.”
Danna’s mom being Corrine Beedle, mayor of South Lick, our town nestled in scenic Brown County, Indiana.
“He owned some piece of real estate, and Mom said he was trying to, like, avoid paying taxes on it or something. She introduced me one time we were out and I hated the way he looked at me. I was only fifteen and it was like I was a piece of meat or something.” She shuddered. “Ick.”
“Ick is right.”
“Plus, I heard a rumor he had some connection with a place where they breed dogs and cats in really terrible conditions.”
“That sounds awful.” I grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter above the grill and then the one next to it. “Connection meaning he owned it, or he worked at it?”
“I’m not sure. I think Mom said nobody found any, like, real evidence to connect him to it, but I’d have to ask her.”
I spied Howard approaching us. “Everything all right with the meal?” I asked.
“Absolutely, Robbie. Delicious, as always. Good morning, Danna.”
“Hey, Mr. O’Neill.” Danna smiled. “How’s the AP bio class this year?”
I knew Abe’s father taught science at South Lick High School, but I hadn’t realized that included advanced placement biology.
“Not as good as when you were in it,” Howard said. “Any college applications in the works?”
“Nah. I’m doing what I love.”
Danna had told me when I’d hired her over a year ago as a recent high school graduate that all she wanted to do was cook. Her mom and her teachers had urged her to continue her academic education, but Danna was firm in her choice to work for me, at least for a while. I couldn’t be happier to have her, even though I knew I’d lose her to either culinary school or a higher-end restaurant one day. I was a decade older and fully regarded her as my equal.
“Good.” Howard turned to me. “Robbie, my wife and I would like to invite you and Abraham to dinner tonight. Can you make it? Fredericka has the house all decorated and wants to share it.”
“That sounds lovely. Have you checked with Abe?” I took a swig from my rapidly cooling mug of coffee.
“Not yet, but I will. I wanted to be sure you were free.”
“I know I am, and I’m pretty sure he is, too. What can we bring?”
“Let’s see. I’m making beef Bourguignon, and there will be six of us. How about a bottle of red?”
“You got it.” I’d been the beneficiary of Howard’s excellent cooking before.
He glanced over at Sean. “And you can meet his Christmas present.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“That blond woman who came in? She rescues dogs, and she has a puppy for us that we’re giving Sean. She’s going to bring it over tonight
.”
Aha. I hadn’t known that about Karinde. “And it’s a surprise?” No wonder Howard wanted to talk with her away from the table where Sean sat.
“Trying to keep it one. Freddy’s idea, of course.” He shook his head, a fond look on his face. “It’s a chocolate Lab.”
A customer held his coffee mug in the air, and a family of six dressed in their church clothes, with ruddy cheeks from the cold, pushed in.
“Thanks for the invitation. I’d better get back to work.”
“Great. See you at six tonight, then. Oh, and I wanted to buy some of your Mexican hot chocolate packs for stocking stuffers.” He gestured toward the display near the door. “Can you add six to my ticket? I’ll pay for Jed’s breakfast, too.”
“Of course. Enjoy the rest of your day and we’ll see you tonight.”
Chapter Three
“So Sean’s with his mom tonight?” I asked Abe as he drove us to his parents’ home that evening.
“Yes, until tomorrow, then he’s with Mom and Dad until I’m off for Christmas. Jan and I alternate years having Sean for the holidays.”
Jed Greenberg and his wife, Willa Mae, had apparently been invited for the meal that evening, too. Abe and I arrived at the same time as the couple, and he introduced me to them on the driveway. We enjoyed drinks in the O’Neills’ living room while Howard put the finishing touches on the meal. Willa Mae’s red wool skirt, which she’d paired with black boots, was festive. Freddy wore a simple green dress with Nordic wool clogs, and I’d selected a red sweater and black pants for the dinner, my hair loose on my shoulders for once.
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