by Kathi Daley
Naomi Potter owned the shelter, and Hancock was Naomi’s sort-of boyfriend. Actually, when Naomi had mentioned him to me, she’d referred to him as her lover.
“So, what is this guy’s deal anyway?” I asked. “I know Naomi said he is in Naval Intelligence, but he seems to pop in and out without notice, and he never really says where he’s been or how long he might stay.”
Cass shrugged. “I don’t know any more than anyone else does. The guy just showed up in town one day, met Naomi, and they hit it off, so in spite of the fact he comes and goes like a thief in the night, they’ve settled into a relationship of sorts. He obviously is not at liberty to say where he has been or where he might be headed next, so those of us who know him, simply don’t ask.”
I supposed that if Naomi was okay with the arrangement, I was as well, but the whole thing still seemed really odd to me. “I’ll take care of the dogs and cats, and you can take care of the rest of the crew,” I suggested, remembering the hard time Naomi’s llama, Harry, gave me the last time we helped out.
“Sounds like a plan,” Cass agreed. “I’ll start with the horses.” In addition to the dogs, cats, puppies, and kittens always in residence, Naomi currently had a pen full of mules, a couple of cows, two horses, and Harry, who, as I understood it, was here to stay. “Two of the dogs need medication, so I’ll take care of that as well,” he offered.
“Yeah, that might be best,” I agreed.
Cass and I had helped out with the feeding and tucking in of the animals on several occasions, so I was familiar with the routine, but I wasn’t all that skilled at administering medication. Other than the meds, and the ornery llama, it was pretty easy since Naomi always left instructions for each animal in terms of the type and amount of food to be presented at each meal pinned to the board in her office. We just needed to distribute the food, check everyone’s water supply, clean up any messes we came across, and make sure everyone was tucked in and locked up for the night.
Once that was done, Cass and I usually grabbed a pizza or burger together. Tonight, we opted for pizza. Cass’s dog, Milo, was with us as he was most days, but since he was an official police dog, he was allowed to lay quietly under the table while we ate. The restaurant Cass chose was one of my favorites. It had a genuine Italian feel to it, and if you weren’t in the mood for pizza, they served pasta dishes as well. Like most of the other businesses in Foxtail Lake, Luigi’s was all decked out for the holiday.
“Did you hear that Secret Santa struck again?” the waitress, whose nametag read Giovanna, asked Cass when she came over to take our order.
“I hadn’t heard. Who was the lucky recipient this time?” Cass asked.
“Grover Wood. You know how he lost his contracting business a while back when he couldn’t continue to do heavy labor after his snowmobile accident.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I had heard that. I hope he had savings to see him through.”
“He had some, but not enough,” Giovanna answered. “In fact, from what I’ve heard, he was on the verge of losing his house and had even been looking for a place to move to when he found out that Secret Santa had made all his back payments and even paid his mortgage three months ahead.”
I realized this meant that someone at the bank probably knew who Secret Santa was. The odds were that Secret Santa had written a check, which could have been mailed in, or he’d made the payments in person. Perhaps a chat with our friendly bank manager was in order.
“Grover is about as happy as I’ve ever seen anyone,” Giovanna continued. “I don’t know who is doing these good deeds, but I sure am thankful. Grover is a good guy. He didn’t deserve to lose his home.”
“It does seem as if Secret Santa knows just what to give those most in need,” Cass agreed.
“He’s been a godsend, that’s for sure. Everyone is talking about the gifts and the people they’ve helped. Some are referring to the Secret Santa phenomenon as The Foxtail Lake Miracle.”
“I guess Foxtail Lake was due for some good karma,” I said. “I know Tracy’s death was hard on everyone.”
“It really was,” Giovanna agreed.
“Any idea who Secret Santa might be?” I figured I had to ask.
She vigorously shook her head. “No idea.” She looked directly at me. “And even if I did know, I’d never tell.”
I had a feeling that protecting the identity of Secret Santa had become a popular trend.
“Seems like your crusade to identify Secret Santa isn’t going to make you any friends,” Cass pointed out after Giovanna took our order and left.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” I’d chatted with him about the series of articles Dex wanted to do leading up to the big reveal and how this could be good for both the newspaper and for me while we’d been playing with the dogs. “I really want to be the one to do the series. Dex is going to do it with or without me, so my refusal to reveal Secret Santa isn’t going to keep his identity a secret. And the story idea was mine in the first place. I should be the one to see it through. But I do realize that by outing Secret Santa, I could be damaging my popularity in the community, which is also important to me.”
“It does seem as if you are in a tough spot. Any idea what you are going to do?”
I groaned as I leaned back in the booth. “Not really. I suppose I’ll just do the first article, which is about the gift recipients, while I continue to look for the man, or woman as it may be, behind the whole thing. And then, once I figure out who Secret Santa really is, I’ll decide what to do. Maybe Secret Santa wants to be found. Maybe Secret Santa is actually after the publicity and will be happy to do the interview.”
“Then why all the secrecy?” Cass asked.
“I suppose it could be possible that Secret Santa just wants to build hype.” Even as I said this, I knew that it most likely wasn’t the case, but it certainly would make things easier for me if Secret Santa did want me to out him at some point before my deadline rolled around. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything?”
Cass paused, looking me in the eye. “I do hear things from time to time, but I’m not sure I want Secret Santa to be unmasked any more than the rest of the town does.”
I slowly exhaled. “I get it. I do. But I could use some help. Dex really wants this series for the Post. It’s a big deal for him. It’s a big deal for the newspaper. It’s even a big deal for me.”
Cass laid his hand over mine. “I know. And it is pretty awesome that the Post is interested in running the articles. I’m sure Dex is over the moon at the opportunity to put the Foxtail News on the map.”
“So you’ll help me?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’ll help you, but keep in mind that finding out what really happened to Buford has to be my priority.”
“I know, and I respect that. If you need to toss around ideas relating to Buford’s death, I’m more than happy to help you with that as well. It seems to me that the real challenge here is going to be to investigate the case while keeping Mayor White off your back.”
I didn’t know Mayor White well. He hadn’t been mayor when I’d lived in Foxtail Lake before, but in the two months since I’d been back, I’d definitely decided that the guy was not someone I respected. It seemed to me that he cared a lot more about keeping up appearances than he did about getting to the truth. I understood that Foxtail Lake was popular with the tourists from the valley due to its small-town appeal and that a murder in the idyllic small town put a damper on the image he was trying to project, but to manipulate the facts relating to a murder just to keep up appearances was downright unethical in my book.
“He has been pretty vocal about the fact that he doesn’t want to stir things up now that everything is starting to settle down following Tracy’s murder,” Cass agreed.
“Personally, I wish the guy would realize that finding justice for Buford if he was murdered is more important than keeping up the illusion that our little town is above such ugliness, but I guess in his mind, keeping his c
itizens happy is what is going to get him reelected.”
“And I suppose to a point, he is not wrong in that assumption.” Cass took a sip of his beer. “Let’s not ruin our meal with talk about politics. How is Gracie doing with her co-chair responsibilities?”
“Okay,” I answered. “The committee that Gracie is co-chairing with Hope Mansfield is handling all the holiday events for the town. The tree lighting is Friday, followed by the opening of the little Santa’s Village on Saturday. The Santa’s Village will run all month, and the big Christmas in the Mountains event will take place on Main Street the following weekend. It’s sort of a big deal, but I guess you know all this since they have done it for years, and you have lived here forever.”
“It is a big deal and a lot of work.”
“It is. I sense that Gracie is excited about the holiday this year and happy to be involved, but I also get the feeling that now that it is here, she is beginning to feel the pressure of being one of the chairpersons. I plan to help her as much as I can. I think she has the events for this weekend covered, but I suspect she’ll need help with the event on Main Street two weekends from now.”
“Gracie is one of the most organized and energetic seniors I’ve ever met. I’m sure she’ll do fine, and Hope tends to help chair most of the events in town, so she knows exactly what to do. Since the tree lighting is this Friday, are you still planning on volunteering at the shelter?”
I nodded. “Actually, I am. The tree lighting is at six, so I’m going to go straight over there from the shelter. Maybe we can go together and then grab dinner after.”
“I’d like that. Assuming things go smoothly at the tree lighting and I don’t have any arrests to process.”
I raised a brow. “Do you generally have arrests to process after the tree lighting?”
“Not normally, but there was one year when some college kids from out of town decided to show up blaring their own music. This angered those who were trying to enjoy a holiday moment, causing a rumble of sorts between the locals and the valley kids. And then there was another year when two of the guys from the lodge got into a fistfight over the correct words to one of the carols sung by the group.”
“You’re kidding,” I chucked.
“Dead serious. Folks around these parts take their carols seriously even if they don’t always know the words as well as they think they do. Most folks won’t haul off and punch the person next to them if they mess up the words, but it has happened.”
“Okay. I’ll try to be sure I sing the appropriate words if I am going to join in. If I don’t know the words, I’ll keep quiet. The last thing I want is to spend the weekend in jail for brawling in the street.”
Chapter 4
Thursday
The snow had begun to fall with impressive intensity by the time Thursday rolled around. It would actually be a perfect day to snuggle up by the fire with Alastair and read, but I had a story to write and a deadline to meet. I’d worked on outlining the first article, which was due on Monday, yesterday, and my plan for today was to interview as many of the gift recipients as I could. I’d called and made appointments with Billy Prescott, Connie Denton, and Gilda Frederickson, and was waiting to hear back from Donnie Dingman and Grover Wood.
“Something smells good,” I said to Gracie after coming down to the kitchen.
“I’m baking muffins. The tree lighting is tomorrow, and the Santa’s Village opens on Saturday, not to mention that Christmas in the Mountains is in less than two weeks, so the planning committee is meeting to go over everything. I offered to bring muffins. The meeting is at the inn, so Ida and Maude are supplying the coffee.”
Ida and Maude Cunningham owned the local inn. I suspected that Christmas in the Mountains was a real moneymaker for them since the inn usually filled up on the weekend of the event.
“I’m really looking forward to all the community events this year,” I commented. “I know I said I’d help out, and I know I haven’t gotten around to volunteering for anything specifically, so just put me where you need me. I’m planning to make myself available to you for the entire weekend of Christmas in the Mountains.”
“Thank you, dear. That is very generous. It might be a good idea to try to attend the volunteer meeting Hope and I are planning for Saturday morning. I suspect that everyone will choose their volunteer duties then.”
“Okay. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”
“The library at ten a.m.”
I supposed that made sense since Hope ran the library and would probably need to be nearby in the event one of her volunteers had a problem. “Are we still going to decorate the big tree in the living room after that?”
“We are. I’m really looking forward to it.”
I smiled. “Me too. I haven’t had a Christmas tree since I moved away from Foxtail Lake, and now this year, I have two trees to decorate.”
“So, what are your plans for today?” Aunt Gracie asked.
I poured myself a second cup of coffee and then sat down at the kitchen table. “I have a series of interviews set up with Secret Santa recipients. I’m doing my column on how these gifts have affected the lives of those on the receiving end. I’m going to pick Paisley up from school after that. We have a piano lesson today, and then I thought I’d help her with her homework.”
“I’m making a big pot of soup for dinner if she wants to stay,” Gracie offered.
“That sounds perfect. I’ll ask her. I know how much Paisley appreciates the fact that we’ve integrated her into our family. I think she is happy here. I know she loves her grandmother, but I think there are times that Paisley feels like she’s a burden.”
“I doubt Ethel feels that way.”
“Maybe not, but Paisley is a smart girl. I’m sure she understands that having a ten-year-old underfoot is not always easy. Of course, Paisley is the most mature ten-year-old I’ve ever met. I actually think she helps Ethel more than she realizes.” I glanced out the window at the steadily falling snow. “I guess I should head up and take a shower. My first interview is less than two hours from now.”
“Who are you speaking to first?” Gracie asked.
“Gilda Frederickson. She was given an entire season of snow removal. I’m not sure that I’ve met her before.”
“She moved to the area a few years after you moved away. She originally came to Foxtail Lake to help her mother after she had a hip replacement. Gilda’s mother passed away maybe five years ago and left her house to Gilda.”
I pulled up the address in my mind and tried to recall who used to live there. “Are you talking about Mrs. Ewing?”
“Yes. So you do remember her. Gilda is Mrs. Ewing’s daughter. She’s a very nice woman. She does a lot of volunteer work in the community. I guess she fell and broke her hip a while back. She is doing better but still has a long recovery ahead of her, which is where the help with the snow removal comes in.”
“So, Gilda must be around seventy?”
Gracie nodded. “Yes. I’d say around that. Maybe a few years younger. She worked as a librarian before she moved to Foxtail Lake. After her mother recovered from her surgery, she worked part-time with Hope until she decided to retire and focus on volunteer work. I think you’ll enjoy speaking to her. She is well-read and seems to know something about a lot of different topics.”
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy getting to know her.”
“Maybe you should take her some muffins,” Gracie suggested. “I have plenty, and I think she might enjoy them.”
“I will. Thank you. Muffins will serve as a great ice breaker.”
“Be sure to dress warmly,” Gracie cautioned. “The high temperature is going to be in the single digits today. In fact, I think the high is supposed to remain in the single digits for the entire weekend, but I understand there will be a slight warming trend next week.
Well, that was something, at least. I had to admit the bracing cold of a Rocky Mountain winter was going to take some getting used to, but
I was still happy to be back in this little town that was feeling more and more like home. During my years in New York, I’d been happy. I’d been chasing a dream that seemed to be within my reach and rarely thought about the mountain home that I’d left behind or the people who lived there. But since my return, I’d found myself wondering why I’d ever wanted to leave in the first place. There are places in the world that I’d enjoyed, but Foxtail Lake was the only place that had ever felt like home.
When I arrived in my bedroom, I found Alastair sleeping on the bed. I felt a little bad that he’d started sleeping with me after I’d arrived back home. He was, after all, Gracie’s cat, and I was sure she enjoyed his company. I’d asked her about it early on, and she’d said she was fine with him sleeping with me, but now that I was staying, I sort of felt like I should give him back. Of course, I hadn’t done anything to lure the cat to my room, and Gracie hadn’t said another word about it, so perhaps I’d just leave well enough alone.
“Cords or jeans?” I asked the cat, holding up two pairs of pants. The cords were old, and I was pretty sure they were out of style by this point, they were dark brown, and lined with fleece, which made them extra warm. I supposed they’d look cute tucked into boots with a wool sweater to top them off.
Alastair yawned but didn’t reply or get up, so I settled on the cords, found a sweater to match, gathered my underthings, and headed into the bathroom to shower. By the time I got out of the shower, dressed, and dried my hair, Alastair had joined Gracie downstairs. I was about to head back down myself when I noticed a book lying on my bed. It was a book from my childhood that I was pretty sure had been packed away years ago.
I picked the book up and opened it to a colorful page near the middle. The story was about a young girl who lived in a town that had suffered a great loss and had fallen into darkness. The girl’s mother had taken the loss of the town’s light hard and had fallen into a state of deep depression. The girl wanted to cheer her mother up and bring the smile back to her face, so she devised a plan to give her a very special gift. The problem was, she didn’t have money to buy a gift, so she set out to earn some by doing small chores for her neighbors.
