by Angie Fox
“Plans change,” I told him, glad to see him whole and mostly well. “Merry Christmas, Beau.” I leaned in and gave him a warm one-armed hug. “Do you mind grabbing this for me?” I asked, holding out my delectable dessert, giving him a whiff.
“Oh, sure, let me just—um—” He juggled the champagne glass like he’d forgotten it was there.
“I can take that,” Ellis said, lifting it right out of Beau’s hand.
Beau was so busy getting a good grip on my dessert he didn’t notice Ellis pouring his drink out into a potted fern. He sniffed at the edge of the tinfoil covering the pan. “This smells amazing. Kind of familiar.” He studied me. “Have you made this before?”
“This is the first time,” I said, directing Ellis to set the covered basket next to the loveseat, almost underneath the Christmas tree. “Come on. You have to taste it,” I said, walking with the brothers into the party and straight to the dessert table.
“What is it?” Ellis asked, dodging around Beau, trying to lift the foil.
“It’s an old family recipe,” I said as Beau set it on the table. I eased the foil from the top, and the scent of freshly baked pear pandowdy filled the air.
I hadn’t been sure about substituting pears for apples at first, but the dish smelled absolutely divine. The fruit was soft and steeped in spices—including cardamom—and the biscuit topping had turned a beautiful golden brown.
“Oh my God.” Beau looked dumbfounded, and Ellis wasn’t far off. “This looks exactly like Grandma Dottie’s apple pandowdy.”
I’d seen a Dottie at the cider mill earlier. “Was Dottie’s mother named Charlotte?” I asked.
“Yes,” Beau said, surprised.
Ellis closed his eyes for a moment, clearly remembering. “We haven’t had pandowdy since Grandma Dottie passed fifteen years ago.” He cracked an eye open and—oh, there was the smirk. “Who have you been talking to?” he asked quietly as Beau began calling over the old-timers.
Thank goodness none of them had left yet.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I said, sparing a wink for Ellis. And I would. I’d tell him all of it—the good, the bad, even the scary. It was past time to talk honestly with each other. We owed each other that.
“I’m glad you made it.” Montgomery’s wife, Susan, bustled over and treated me to a warm hug even though I hadn’t seen her in two years. “You’re always welcome here,” she assured me.
“This had better not be your surprise,” Virginia said from across the kitchen.
“Ignore her,” said Jimmy, placing a hand on the kitchen table and shoving himself up on his cane. He walked straight past Virginia to us. “I’ve missed you, kid,” he said to me with a grin. “You remember my wife, don’t you?” he asked, making room for Great-Aunt Flora. She was a round, white-haired woman whose light-up red and green sweater made her look a bit like a Christmas tree ornament.
“It’s so nice to see both of you,” I said. “It’s been too long.”
“That it has,” Jimmy said, taking my hands in his.
“Stop buttering her up just to get a bigger slice of dessert,” Montgomery joked, cutting in. “Is that a pandowdy you brought with you?”
“It sure is,” I told them.
“It smells just like my mother’s,” he said, delighted.
“If only we’d gotten the recipe from Charlotte before she died,” Flora tsked. “Your sister made a good imitation, but it wasn’t quite the same.”
“Grab the forks,” Jimmy urged.
“This one is made with pears,” I said as a grateful Susan began serving up dessert to the growing crowd.
Virginia remained across the room, glaring at us. Well, that was her choice. She could isolate herself if she wished. I was eager to try Charlotte’s signature dessert.
Jimmy took a big bite and pretended to lose his feet in ecstasy. “It tastes just like my mom’s.”
“I don’t know how you did it,” Montgomery said, closing his eyes as he chewed. “Charlotte took that recipe to the grave with her.”
“I remember that smell,” Ellis’s father said, hanging up the phone and wandering toward the table.
“Have some,” I said, smiling at him.
“Thanks.” He took a plate, and for the first time in years, he looked me in the eye.
Virginia stared a hole in his back as he took a large bite. “Verity Long,” he muttered appreciatively, chewing, “What have you done?”
We’d see.
White wrinkles emerged at the corners of Virginia’s crimped mouth. “And pears, what a great idea,” Leland enthused. “Grandma Charlotte used to make this with apples.”
“It’s just as good,” Uncle Jimmy agreed.
“Well, I happened to have a lot of pears on hand,” I said, sparing a grin for Virginia.
“What else have you got in there?” Susan asked, cutting more, passing out plates.
“Oh, the usual. Sugar, cinnamon, cloves,” I mused. “And a secret ingredient or two.”
Jimmy seemed to be smiling despite himself. “Is that right?”
“A secret ingredient!” Flora crowed, poking her husband gently in the side. “Lord, she sounds just like Charlotte, don’t she? If you can cook like her, we’re lucky to have you here!”
“We are, indeed. Where have you been all night?” Jimmy asked.
I couldn’t exactly explain what had happened earlier with Virginia, not if I wanted to make this a happy holiday. Surprisingly, Beau was the one to step in and help me out. “Verity’s got family in town, Uncle Jimmy, and lots of friends too,” he explained, as charming as ever. “Her time is valuable.”
“Let me guess: time is money?” Jimmy sighed and shook his head. “Where have I heard that before.”
“Probably from me,” Beau said frankly. “Because sometimes I’m an idiot. But what I mean is, Verity is valued by a lot of people, and she works hard to make time for them all. Even when some of us don’t deserve it.”
Aww. I would have hugged him again if he wasn’t hovering over his dessert like he thought someone might steal it from him.
Ellis gently hip-checked his brother. “Get out of the way so I can get another piece.”
“Work around me.”
“I will work right through you if I have to.”
“Boys, boys.” Virginia strolled toward our happy crowd, a wintry smile pasted on her lips. “Do try to act like the adults you should be. And Verity.” If looks could kill, I’d already be six feet under. “Here you are.”
“Here I am,” I agreed. I wouldn’t apologize, but I would include her if she wished. “Would you like some pear pandowdy? I feel like you should get a serving, since I couldn’t have made it without you.”
Virginia shook her head. “Unlike some people here, I have a care for my figure.” She glanced down into the pan with a faint sneer. “Only you could turn those elegant pears into a lumpy dessert.”
Uncle Jimmy, who’d taken a second plate for himself, scooped a bite into his mouth with a sound of pure satisfaction. “Who cares how it looks, when it tastes like this?” he said after he swallowed. “This is amazing. Delicious. Miss Verity, let me shake your hand on a job well done.”
Uncle Jimmy’s seal of approval seemed to change the mood of the party. Between the pandowdy and the special cider Susan dredged up from the basement to go with the family recipe, people were finally gathered together around the table.
“It really does go best with cider,” Montgomery said, toasting an elder uncle as the crowd stood eating and exchanging stories between bites. I listened, satisfied, as they reminisced about the last time they’d had something like this, the way Charlotte used to guard her recipes, and, “Oh, do you remember her roast beef? What about her scalloped potatoes? Do you remember the huge tray of those she used to make when we got together at the old mill? The cider mill! Is it even standing anymore?”
It was.
I was starting to think that cider mill was the heart and soul of the
Wydell family—or at least a place where they could start to remember how close the family used to be.
“If it’s still there, you young ones should have a bonfire out there sometime,” Montgomery suggested.
“I think we all should,” I suggested. “Maybe in the spring.” Once the bears moved on.
I stood next to Ellis in the center of it all, enjoying the fruits of my labor.
“What changed?” he asked, still trying to put it together.
“Nothing. Everything,” I told him.
Virginia had retreated all the way back to the door of the kitchen, deliberately aloof. She appeared absolutely thunderstruck when her husband, Leland, walked up and offered her a plate of pear pandowdy. “Come on. Try it,” he urged her. “I remember once when I was little and I got sick, this was all I would eat.”
“I’m sorry for you and your childhood,” Virginia said, wrinkling her nose.
“It’s tasty,” Leland said, trying again. “Mother got Grandma Charlotte to come over twice that week and make it for us.” He smiled slightly. “I think they used it as an excuse to get together, honestly.”
“I remember that too,” Montgomery piped up. “I made Mama bring me with her so we could play, and I ended up catching your chicken pox. And we both had to wear those awful—”
“Mittens!” Leland said, abandoning Virginia. “So we wouldn’t scratch ourselves raw! Only they were made of wool, and good lord, that made the itching even worse.” The two men broke into hearty laughter while Ellis and Beau stared at their dad like they’d never met him before. Apparently, this was a side of him they didn’t see often.
“Hmph.” A glass of cider appeared in front of me. I turned to accept it with thanks, then almost dropped it when I realized it was Virginia holding it out to me. Oh God. Had she had time to poison it?
“I suppose,” Virginia said, drawing out the pose a bit so that it came off more dubious-sounding, “your dish must taste far better than it looks for Leland to be interested.”
“People do seem to like it,” I said neutrally.
“It would probably have gone over even better if you had bothered to arrive on time.”
“Ah, but then I couldn’t have had the fun of telling you off,” I said and took a sip of my cider—cold and bracing. It really was delicious. “By the way, you owe me one hundred and seventy dollars.”
She stared openly at me and I let her.
“Oh, what the heck,” I said, waving her off. “Forget it. Money comes and goes.”
“Since when have you not worried about that?” she demanded.
“There are more important things,” I said, lifting my glass. “Merry Christmas, Virginia.”
Mouth tight, she spun on her heel and walked away.
“I think that went pretty well,” I said to myself and took another sip of cider.
I couldn’t have a conversation with Virginia without her making at least one attempt to draw blood. But it didn’t matter, not right now. Virginia was not the entire Wydell family, and as long as the rest of them wanted me around, then I was going to be there. They were too important to the people I loved for me to let them go, and I knew now that I could make a place for myself with them.
I didn’t have a chance to get off my feet for another hour, I was so busy socializing.
“Aunt Flora and Aunt Susan both want you to write down that recipe,” Ellis said, at last whisking me away to the loveseat.
We sat down together, and I leaned my head against Ellis’s shoulder while he put his arm around me. “I’ll have to ask Charlotte if it’s all right.”
“I knew it,” he said, trailing a hand through my hair. “Thanks, Verity.”
“I’m glad it worked out. Glad to be here.” But tired, too. Hiking to the cider mill, fumbling around in the dark next to four bears, and going on three different ghostly journeys was finally catching up to me.
“This is the longest any of the aunts and uncles have stayed at this party in almost a decade, I think. You brought some magic with you tonight.”
“I had help,” I told him.
“And I want to know all about that, but first, what’s in the basket?”
“Oh!” I reached over the edge of the seat and lifted the basket onto my lap. I drew back the scarf I’d used to cover it and showed him Lucy, curled up and snoring contentedly, one paw hugging a slice of half-eaten pear.
“You brought a skunk to the party.” He laughed.
“I can’t wait to show your mother,” I joked, but in all seriousness, “I couldn’t leave her home alone, not when she could celebrate Christmas with us,” I explained. “And I knew she’d be too exhausted from meeting her idol to do much more than sleep.”
Ellis raised an eyebrow. “Her idol?”
“Donna Lankin stopped by earlier tonight. She’s the lady who helped me save Lucy.” I stroked a single finger down the bridge of Lucy’s nose, then chuckled when she drowsily covered her whole muzzle with her paws. “She changed my life,” I said. “They both did.”
“You and Lucy suit each other,” Ellis said. “She’s a brave choice for a pet, but then you’re one of the bravest people I know.” He nodded toward the food table, where Virginia was stiffly, but willingly, helping Beau gather plates. “Case in point.”
I smiled at him. “She is who she is, and I accept that. But it goes both ways. I’m going to be exactly who I am as well—in this case, a girl who didn’t want to leave her skunk out of the party on Christmas Eve.”
A sudden movement drew my attention to the window. At first I thought maybe a gust of wind had caught a white shutter, but there was no banging noise. There was something white, though—or actually, someone. Donna stood just outside the house, and as soon as she saw me notice her, she waved again.
“Speak of the devil.” Or an angel was more like it. “She’s here.” I covered Lucy up and got to my feet, bringing Ellis with me. “I’d love for you to meet her.”
“It’d be my pleasure.” He nodded. Although he couldn’t see her or speak to her, a couple of ghost hunters on our last adventure had given us a spectral communication app that sometimes worked. Ellis patted down his pants pockets. “Looks like I left my phone in my jacket, so you’ll have to translate for me.”
I never minded.
“This way.” I led him into the formal dining room, around the kitchen, and finally out to the mudroom, which had a door that led to the back porch. We stepped outside, and goose bumps rose on my arms and legs.
“Oh, honey!” Donna exclaimed. “You did it! You saved the babies and their mama, too. Oh, I could just kiss you!”
“I was glad to do it, although a little warning about what I was getting into would have been nice.” Ellis appeared a tad perplexed. “I’ll explain soon,” I promised him. I made introductions and passed along greetings, and I might have done more if a loud crash hadn’t just sounded from inside the kitchen.
Ellis frowned. “I’d better go see if I can help. Please ask your friend to excuse me. I hope we can talk more next time.”
I nodded. “I’ll be in shortly,” I assured him. He walked away, and Donna chuckled.
“I hate to see him leave, but I love to watch him go,” she said wistfully.
“Donna!” I pressed a mock-scandalized hand to my chest.
“Well, honey, I might be dead, but that doesn’t mean I’m dead. I won’t keep you, but I wanted to make sure everything went all right.”
“It did, although really, about the bears—”
“Oh, that mama was sleeping good. It’s not like moving a pulley makes a lot of noise. Took less than a minute, right? Just so long as you didn’t try to invade her space downstairs. Or wake her or her cubs.” Donna laughed, as if the thought were inconceivable.
“Yes, that would be suicidal,” I agreed.
In the distance, in the direction of the orchard, I saw the flutter of a familiar ghost. Phineas. He tipped his hat to me again before fading from view.
Donna s
miled at his evaporating figure and gave him a mock salute.
“Wait. Were you two working together?” I asked.
“I swear we didn’t manufacture that crisis to get you involved,” Donna promised. “It was a way of killing two birds with one stone, that’s all. I’m not blind to the needs of my fellow man any more than I’m blind to the needs of animals. Animals are just easier to help.”
Maybe that was true, but tonight she’d helped make a positive change for a lot more than the local wildlife. “Thank you,” I said, from the very bottom of my heart. “For everything.”
Donna had put me in the position to save the heart of the man I loved, to salvage the Christmas spirit of a family in need, and to hang on to my own happiness. It had all started with Lucy, but my skunk was just the beginning. A little Christmas miracle, one of many I’d been given. And on this Christmas, as well as every other day to follow, I would be thankful.
* * *
Note from Angie Fox:
Thanks so much for decking the halls and raising a glass with Verity and the gang this holiday season. I’ve been wanting to go back to Sugarland for Christmas, even if there is a trash can to be decorated and a Jell-O salad to be saved. (Okay, now Frankie is pinging me to insist that aspic is delicious. And to his credit, from what I hear, Jell-O salads really were the thing in the 1930’s. Cookbooks of the day assumed you had a mold and knew how to use it!)
The next book in the series is called Southern Bred and Dead. In it, Frankie confronts his killer, while Verity and Ellis work through the stunning revelation Verity overheard in The Mint Julep Murders. It’s never a dull day in Sugarland!
If you’d like a reminder when new books come out, sign up here. You’ll receive a happy note from me on release day, and in the meantime, your information will be kept safe by Lucy and a pack of highly-trained guard skunks.
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Thanks for reading!
Angie
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