Christmas Card Murder

by Leslie Meier

  After inspecting her ham, Mona closed the oven. “Needs about twenty more minutes.”

  “Can you ever see yourself forgiving him?”

  Mona wiped her hands with a dish towel and then discarded it on the counter as she stared at Hayley, thinking. After a few moments, she nodded. “I think I already have.”

  Hayley sighed. “Well, that’s a relief. I honestly can’t see you and Dennis apart.”

  Mona gave Hayley a curious look. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve been together for such a long time, gone through so much, raised an army of kids.”

  “Sit down, Hayley,” Mona instructed.

  Suddenly wary, Hayley plopped down in a chair. Mona sat down next to her. “I said I forgive Dennis. That doesn’t mean we’re going to stay together.”

  “What?” Hayley croaked.

  Mona took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ve been thinking about things for a while now. Ever since you, me, and Liddy went to Salmon Cove not too long ago and I ran into my old childhood friend—”

  “Corey,” Hayley said softly.

  Mona teared up at the mention of his name, but managed to stay strong and not break down. “Yup.”

  Hayley knew Mona had fallen hard for the handsome lobsterman, with his bedroom eyes and intoxicating smile, who had taught her everything she knew. He had a big pickup truck and a sweet dog named Sadie. What wasn’t for Mona to like when reuniting with him in Salmon Cove after not having seen each other since they were teenagers?

  As if on cue, Corey’s lovable, lumbering golden retriever trotted into the room and made a beeline for Mona, who gently stroked Sadie’s head. She had adopted the dog after Corey’s untimely passing.

  “The time I spent with Corey was awfully special,” Mona said, eyes fixed on the floor. “It made me realize . . .” Mona stopped as if afraid to say it out loud.

  Hayley leaned forward. “What, Mona?”

  “I deserve better,” she muttered.

  They sat there in silence as they listened to Randy launch into a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells” before he was joined by Sergio and Rosana. They also heard one of Mona’s kids, one of the boys, yell from the den, “Keep it down! We’re trying to watch a movie!”

  Hayley returned her attention to Mona, who now had her elbows on the table, her hands on her face, staring into space as she spoke. “I deserve someone who will always be there for me. I’m not talking distance. Dennis is never more than a few feet away down in the basement.”

  “I know what you mean, Mona.”

  “I’ve always tried to be a good wife, always be there if he needed me, but this whole Carol Waterman train wreck really opened my eyes. It’s all one-sided. Dennis has never really been there for me, at least not in a very long time.”

  Hayley reached out and took Mona’s hand. She was a little surprised when the typically emotionally reticent Mona didn’t immediately yank it back and bark at Hayley to stop being silly. In fact, Mona squeezed Hayley’s comforting hand.

  Mona shrugged. “I guess I was afraid of losing him and so I hung on, worried that once all the kids were gone, I’d be alone if Dennis wasn’t around. But I’m not afraid anymore, Hayley.”

  “You work so hard, Mona, you’re a good mother, nobody deserves to live their best life more than you.”

  Mona couldn’t fight it any longer. Her eyes welled up with tears and it ticked her off. “Stop being so mushy, Hayley!”

  Hayley threw her hands up in surrender. “Sorry!”

  Mona wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and cleared her throat, anxious to wrap up, in her mind, this overwrought conversation. “I’ve given him until New Year’s Day to get packed up and be gone.”

  Hayley sat back, stunned. She hadn’t expected such an accelerated timeline. “Wow!”

  “Why drag it out? We both need to move on. He’s already got a lead on a new place. He’ll still be around to see the kids. I can keep raising them and running the business. I’ve been pretty much doing it solo, up to this point anyway. Not much is going to change, to be honest. It’ll be good to be on my own for a while.”

  Hayley cracked a smile. “Or at least until you meet the one—”

  “Now don’t go squawking about dumb things like that. I am way too old to start dating. Besides, after putting up with Dennis for so long, I’m done with men! You hear me? Finito!”

  “Whatever you say, Mona,” Hayley said.

  “I’m serious, Hayley. Wipe that stupid grin off your face right now. I don’t want you fixing me up with anyone, least of all some local yokel. And if you sign me up for one of those dating apps like Splinter—“

  “Tinder,” Hayley corrected her.

  “Whatever! Well, I won’t have it, you hear me?” Mona wailed. “Not for me!”

  Bruce wandered into the kitchen carrying three drinks in his hands. Hayley popped up from her chair.

  “Let me help you,” Hayley said, taking her rum and eggnog.

  Bruce handed a rose-colored drink to Mona. “Vodka cranberry, I presume.”

  “Now there’s a man who knows what I want,” Mona barked.

  “What are we talking about?” Bruce asked, left with his own cocktail, a gin on the rocks.

  “Nothing!” Mona snapped.

  Bruce held up his glass. “Merry Christmas, and here’s to a happy new year!”

  Hayley and Mona both raised their glasses to their lips, but stopped short of taking a sip, because Bruce wasn’t quite done with his toast.

  “In the words of Benjamin Franklin, ‘Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.’ ”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Hayley said, winking conspiratorially at Mona, who was not having it.

  “You’re acting ridiculous, Hayley!” Mona cried before turning toward Bruce. “And what kind of idiotic quote is that? What are you trying to say? I’m not looking for a better man!”

  “It’s just a toast, Mona,” Bruce said, thoroughly confused.

  “And what the hell does Benjamin Franklin know anyway? Didn’t he go out and fly a kite in a friggin’ thunderstorm? I mean, come on, who does that?”

  The more Mona protested, the more Hayley’s excitement grew for all the exciting possibilities on the horizon for her best friend in the brand-new year.

  Island Food & Spirits

  By Hayley Powell

  Since the past few weeks have been so hectic, I decided this past weekend I needed to relax a little bit and do some restorative baking therapy to calm the mind. I settled upon a cheesecake recipe, which just happened to be the favorite of Mona, one of my BFFs. I figured it would go a long way in cheering her up after a rather traumatic holiday season. Who wouldn’t feel better after a slice of yummy cheesecake, am I right?

  For her part, Mona brought over some of her delicious hot buttered rum to enjoy with the cheesecake. After thoroughly stuffing ourselves, we came to the conclusion that instead of wallowing on the couch watching a Lifetime movie, we should get some fresh air and walk off all those calories. Mona’s younger kids had earlier left their house to go snow sledding at Little Bunker Hill, located at the Kebo Valley Golf Club, so we headed in that direction.

  The golf course has two sledding hills, Little Bunker, a small slope, perfect for younger kids, and the much steeper Big Bunker, a faster, more rigorous, narrower stretch downhill. It has been a long-standing tradition in the winter, for as far back as anyone can remember, at least a century or more, for local kids to drag their sleds to Kebo for some winter fun down one or both of the inclines.

  Another tradition was for the older teens, and maybe a few irresponsible adults, to pile up mounds of snow near the bottom of the imposing Big Bunker to make a jump so that the braver souls could aim their toboggans and sleds directly at it. This way, they could see if they could ride their sleds right off the ground, become airborne without flying off and breaking an arm, or worse, crashing into one of the ta
ll, imposing trees that lined the hill.

  I was around twelve when I started begging my mom to allow me to ride down Big Bunker because all my friends were going. I didn’t want to be the only one regulated to “the baby hill.” After much pleading and whining and promising not to be reckless, my mother finally relented. I had a green light to go down Big Bunker with “the big kids.”

  Finally, when Saturday arrived, I was up early, ready to go, impatiently waiting for my mother to give me a lift to Kebo, where I was to meet Liddy and Mona for our first ride down Big Bunker. That’s when my mother dropped a bomb on me and informed me that she had to go into work for a few hours and needed me to keep an eye on my little brother, Randy. There was no way I was going to be stuck with him all day, but before I could open my mouth to protest, my mother said I had to take Randy with me or stay home. So I took him with me.

  Randy wasn’t happy about the arrangement, either. He would have preferred staying home and watching his favorite Saturday-morning cartoons, like ThunderCats and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. He grumbled and complained while Mom bundled him up in his snow pants, jacket, hat, and gloves.

  Mona and Liddy were already waiting when we pulled into the driveway of the golf course, and I jumped out, angrily dragging my sled and my pouting little brother behind me. That’s when I heard my mother call to me from the car, “Hayley, don’t forget, you have your little brother with you, so no going down Big Bunker today!”

  What?

  I whipped around, cheeks red with fury, and was about to argue, but I took one look at my mother’s stern face, and I knew I had lost before I had even begun. I just nodded glumly and said, pouting, “Okay.”

  I stomped over to Mona and Liddy, who were surprised to see Randy in tow, and reported the bad news. No Big Bunker today. It was official. Randy had ruined my life.

  After a couple of dull runs down Little Bunker, I could see Mona and Liddy staring longingly over at Big Bunker on the other side of the golf course. We could hear the excited screams and raucous laughter from the older kids who were whizzing down the snow-packed hill. They all seemed to be having the time of their lives. At one point, I spotted my archenemy, Sabrina Merryweather, with a few of her older junior-high cohorts, standing atop Big Bunker, pointing and laughing. I can’t be 100 percent sure she was pointing and laughing at us, but I had endured enough humiliation. I grabbed Randy’s mitten and told Mona and Liddy to follow me.

  Dragging our sleds behind us, we trudged across the golf course to Big Bunker. Randy tried to protest, threatening to tattle to my mother, but I just ripped his mitten off his free hand and stuffed it in his mouth. I figured he’d have so much fun going down the big mountain the first time, he’d want to do it again and again. Then he would back me up when I lied and told my mother that we had stayed at Little Bunker the whole morning.

  All four of us piled onto Mona’s wooden toboggan, with Mona in front, then Liddy, Randy, and me bringing up the rear. A high-school boy, whom Liddy was smitten with, offered to push us off, and we took off down the steep incline. It was exhilarating! We were all screaming and laughing, the cold wind freezing our cheeks! Even Randy was giggling uncontrollably as we shot toward the bottom of the hill at lightning speed.

  Unfortunately, what we hadn’t realized, since it was our first time, was that someone needed to steer the toboggan to the left, otherwise we would directly hit the piled-up snow jump.

  Well, as you can imagine, the next thing we all knew, the toboggan hit the jump. We went sailing high into the air, with a clear view straight across the golf course of a spazzed-out woman standing atop the smaller hill, waving her arms and yelling. She looked exactly like my mother did when she was really angry.

  Well, you can probably guess by now, it was my mother. She had come back to pick us up a little early, just in time to unfortunately see Randy fly off the toboggan and land with a painful thud on the snow-covered frozen ground. When the toboggan crashed down, the remaining three of us tumbled off and rolled over each other, winding up on our backs, as if we were about to make snow angels. Meanwhile, the driverless toboggan continued on its way until it finally slid to a stop halfway across the golf course.

  I clambered to my feet and ran to check on my brother, who was holding his arm and crying in pain. I slowly turned to see my mother slipping and sliding across the golf course, frantically trying to reach us.

  Later, it turned out Randy’s arm had been broken. He was forced to wear a cast for the rest of the winter, which he was actually elated about because now he didn’t have to go outside in the cold and could stay home and watch his cartoons. So in my mind, I had done him a favor. Sadly, my mother didn’t see it quite that way and I was informed that my days of sledding on any hill, large or small, were over for at least a year.

  Hot Buttered Rum

  Ingredients:

  2 ounces dark rum

  1 small slice of butter

  Pinch of cinnamon

  Pinch of nutmeg

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  Boiling water

  Add your butter, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla to a mug and mix.

  Add the rum and boiling water and stir well until all combined.

  Serve on a chilly day and enjoy!

  Mona’s Favorite No Bake Cheesecake

  Ingredients:

  Crust

  2 cups plain graham cracker crumbs

  ½ cup butter melted

  Filling

  3 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese, room temperature

  1½ cups powdered sugar

  1 tablespoon vanilla

  1 cup heavy whipping cream

  Combine your graham crackers and melted butter in a bowl. Pour into a 9-inch springform pan and press into the bottom of the pan and up the sides about 1 inch.

  In a stand mixer, or large bowl with a hand mixer, beat the cream cheese until smooth.

  Add the sugar and vanilla and beat until smooth.

  Add the cream and beat on low until fully incorporated and smooth.

  Pour the cream cheese mixture into the prepared crust, cover, and refrigerate for 6 hours or, even better, overnight.

  If desired, serve with whipped cream or your favorite berries over the top.

  DEATH OF A CHRISTMAS CARD CRAFTER

  Peggy Ehrhart

  Acknowledgments

  Abundant thanks, again, to my agent Evan Marshall, and to my editor at Kensington Books, John Scognamiglio.

  Chapter One

  “All I can say is, she must have very nimble fingers!” Bettina Fraser held up a tiny sweater, too tiny even to fit a doll. It was complete with ribbing at cuffs, neckline, and waist, and was fashioned in alternating red and green stripes.

  “Very nimble,” Pamela Paterson agreed. “And Sorrel’s knitted creations make perfect Christmas tree ornaments—so colorful, but light enough that they don’t weigh down the branches.”

  “They’ll go fast,” Bettina said. “We’d better put some aside if we want any for our own trees.”

  Pamela nodded, but she was distracted by making change for a woman who had just handed over a fifty-dollar bill for a knitted scarf that Pamela herself had knit.

  “You always have such nice things at this booth,” the woman said. “I know I can find all my last-minute gifts here.” She tucked the scarf, indigo blue and featuring a lacy stitch that Pamela had enjoyed mastering, into a canvas tote and held out a hand for the twenty and the ten Pamela offered.

  It was the first day of the Arborville Holiday Craft Fair, held in St. Willibrod’s church hall, with proceeds going to the Arborville High School art, drama, and music programs. Pamela was the founder and mainstay of the town’s knitting club, nicknamed Knit and Nibble, and the group had organized a table selling yarn creations. Many of the creations had been made by Knit and Nibble members, among them Bettina, who was also Pamela’s neighbor and best friend.

  Pamela surveyed the large room, which echoed with conversation, laughter, and Christmas music. Resid
ents of Arborville, as well as people from neighboring towns, browsed from table to table, admiring—and buying—the offerings: fanciful pottery creations, wall plaques with inspiring sayings, handmade aprons and children’s clothes in gay prints, jewelry fashioned from exotic and not-so-exotic materials, bowls carved from intricately gnarled wood, dolls with whole wardrobes of fashionable clothes, and much, much more. There was also food: Christmas cookies, of course, and cakes and pies and muffins and brownies and homemade candy.

  The tables were ranged around the periphery of the room, and in the center a giant Christmas tree decorated with ornaments made by the children in the St. Willibrod’s grammar school lent its piney aroma to the scene.

  Pamela’s gaze roamed here and there, but her eyes lingered for a moment on a small dark-haired figure in a violet jacket, a young woman who was just turning away from a table across the room. The table was bare except for a small stack of boxes, the sort of boxes that might contain Christmas cards.

  The young woman surveyed the room too, and when her eyes met Pamela’s, her already bright expression became even brighter. Bettina exclaimed, “Penny’s here!”

  Penny was Pamela’s daughter, home from her college in Boston for Christmas vacation. She waved and then began making her way through the crowd. She was carrying one of the boxes, and as she got closer, she held it up.

  “I hadn’t seen Karma’s Christmas card yet,” Penny said as she got even closer. “It’s really good—but I’m kind of sad because it might be the last one.”

  “Karma” was Karma Karling, one of the art teachers from the high school. She’d been Penny’s favorite teacher when Penny was a student there. Every year since Karma had been at the high school, she had designed a Christmas card to benefit the art program. The cards were sold all around town starting in early November.