The Worst Noel

by Amy M. Reade

  “Hello, Herb. I didn’t get a chance to ask you at the diner the other night—how’s business this season?”

  “It would be better if we could get that vote on whether to allow chain stores on Main Street,” he said, his voice taking on a slight edge.

  “I’m not sure this is the best time or place to discuss the issue,” Lilly replied lightly.

  Herb gestured toward her with his drink, a clear, fizzy liquid with a lime floating in it. Herb was a teetotaler, so Lilly supposed it was club soda in the glass. “You just don’t seem to understand the impact that those stores can have on the rest of us who own businesses in town.”

  “I understand it perfectly, Herb,” Lilly said, a tinge of annoyance creeping into her tone. “But what you don’t seem to understand is that those stores, while they might bring more people into Juniper Junction, would also introduce a host of problems that the town is not equipped to deal with.”

  “You just don’t want the competition,” Herb sneered, keeping his voice low. “Eden was the same way—she didn’t want the big stores in here, either. I can’t believe how short-sighted you are.” He was becoming more agitated as he spoke. Club soda spilled from the top of his glass and he flicked droplets off his shirt.

  For once Eden was right, Lilly thought with a grimace. Aloud she said, “Herb, competition has nothing to do with it. The issue is the integrity of the downtown area in Juniper Junction. National chain stores will change the atmosphere of Main Street—permanently and not for the better. Could we discuss this some other time, please?”

  “We’re going to have this out right here,” Herb said, his voice a little louder now.

  “Herb, what are you drinking?” Lilly asked. “Is that vodka in your glass?”

  “None of your business, you pretentious bat.” Lilly looked around for someone who could intervene and caught the eye of George Stone, owner of a men’s clothing shop. George sauntered over, seeing that Lilly might need some assistance.

  “Hey there, Herb. What’s new?” George asked, clapping Herb on the back. Herb fixed George with a withering glare.

  “This dolt won’t admit the real reason for not wanting the chain stores along Main Street,” Herb accused. His voice was loud enough now that people were starting to pause their own conversations to listen to what was going on between Herb and Lilly.

  “Easy there, Herb,” George said. He chuckled. “Isn’t there some deep breathing exercise or pose or something you could do right now to calm down?”

  Lilly watched as Herb put his glass down on the nearest table and took a menacing step toward George. Though he wasn’t likely to do any more than that because of George’s size and proportions, she hurriedly stepped between the two men. “Herb, stop it. George is merely trying to lighten this situation. You need to leave if you’re going to behave this way.”

  Ivy Leachman, a local artist whose paint-your-own-pottery shop was located up the block from Lilly’s jewelry store, walked up to the small group. “Herb is right, Lilly,” she said in her high, tight voice. “We need those stores along Main Street. They can provide us with a much-needed infusion of tax dollars. Those tax dollars can be earmarked to pay for the infrastructure needs of Juniper Junction.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me, Lilly thought. There’s no way I’m going to be in pajamas by eight. “Ivy, as I said to Herb, this is a holiday party. Let’s not ruin the atmosphere by fighting over something that isn’t going to happen in the near future anyway.”

  “But you’re a big part of the reason it’s not going to be happening soon,” Marcia Blakely chimed in. Marcia owned a vintage record store and looked the type. With her long straight hair and rose-tinted glasses, she looked like she had stepped straight out of Woodstock onto Main Street.

  Things were going from bad to worse. “Oh, my gosh. Listen, everyone. Can we have this discussion at our next Chamber meeting? This is not the place to be debating the chain store issue,” Lilly pleaded. “Let’s not ruin the festivities with arguments.”

  Ivy and Marcia turned around, grumbling, and went back to their conversations. Herb scowled at Lilly and followed the women to their table. Though she tried to ignore the three of them the rest of the evening, Lilly couldn’t help noticing the dark looks they sent her way every time she was in their sight lines.

  Not long after that Noley walked through the door of the pub and she made a beeline toward her. She felt a surge of relief.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Noley said, shrugging her coat off. “I was working on a salad dressing and I just can’t seem to get it right, so I’m taking a break.” Noley attended most of the Chamber of Commerce mixers because she sold her baked goods at so many of the shops in town. She was friendly with many of the store owners and liked an excuse to see them socially.

  “I wish I’d been late,” Lilly said ruefully.

  “What happened?”

  “That Herb Knight came up to me and started in again on the chain store thing. I swear, for a yogi he’s the most stubborn, single-minded person I know.”

  “He refuses to sell my stuff in his store,” Noley said. “I came up with a fantastic granola bar studded with dried fruits and nuts, then suggested to him that he provide treats for his customers for an after-workout snack, but he calls baked goods ‘poison.’”

  “And now he’s sitting over there with Ivy and Marcia, no doubt plotting my demise,” Lilly said in a low voice. “I swear, those three are a trifecta of misery.”

  Noley gave her friend a sympathetic smile and took her by the elbow. “You could use another glass of wine and I need something stiff,” she said.

  Servers from the pub were butlering around trays of small hors d’oeuvres and Lilly and Noley helped themselves. Noley bit into a tiny tomato tart and frowned. “Too much salt,” she said.

  “Can you ever just go out and enjoy yourself?” Lilly teased.

  “No. Hence the stiff drink,” Noley answered. “How long are you staying?”

  “I’m going to leave as soon as I can,” Lilly said. “I’m tired and this mixer has not been the festive occasion I imagined it to be.” She lowered her voice. “And Beau is here. I’ve ignored him since I walked in.” She cast a sidelong glance toward the table in the corner where she had spotted Beau earlier. He had left. “Good. He’s gone,” she murmured. “I feel better about leaving now. I was afraid I’d leave and he would come over and start gossiping to everyone about me.”

  She mingled while she waited for Noley to finish her drink and speak to a few friends, then the women left together. They parted ways on the street and Lilly drove home through the lightly falling snow, exhausted and ready to crawl into bed. When she walked inside the kids were fighting over who had to finish the dishes.

  “Mom, I loaded the dishwasher. Tighe has to clean the table and the counters.” Laurel crossed her arms over her torso.

  “I didn’t even eat the gross dinner she made. I had to eat cereal so she should have to finish the dishes herself.” Tighe stuck out his tongue.

  “That’s stupid. It’s not my fault you don’t know good food when you see it.”

  “It’s not stupid. Gran didn’t even want it. She only ate it to be nice.”

  “You’re a jerk!”

  “So are you!”

  “Stop it, both of you. I’ve had a long day and I can’t listen to the fighting right now. Tighe, it couldn’t have been that bad. And even if it was, you should keep those opinions to yourself.”

  “Yeah,” Laurel chimed in.

  Tighe gave his sister a look of disdain and started walking out of the kitchen.

  “Wait, come back,” Lilly directed. “I want you both to finish the dishes. Laurel, you clean the counters and Tighe, you clean the table.”

  “That’s not fair,” Tighe whined.

  “Life isn’t fair,” Lilly answered. “Hustle up. Is your homework done?”

  “Yes,” Laurel answered.

  “Nick came over and they did homework together,” T
ighe said with a sly glance at Laurel. She shook her head ever so slightly and gave Tighe a dark look. He smiled in return.

  “Laurel, you know I don’t want him here unless I’m here. You should have asked.”

  “If I’d asked you would have said no,” she said, pouting.

  “Then don’t bother asking.”

  “But Tighe was here,” Laurel said. “He was watching. All we did was homework, I swear.”

  “I believe you, but I need to know that you’re safe here when I’m at work. I don’t need to be worrying about you on top of everything else.”

  Just then the phone rang. Lilly glanced at the caller ID; it was her mother. She closed her eyes. “It’s Gran. You two finish up and I’ll talk to her.”

  “Hi, Mom,” she answered. The kids turned away and got to work.

  “You’ll never guess who paid me a visit this evening,” her mother began.

  “Who?”

  “Beau. Do you remember him? What a delightful young man.”

  Lilly glanced at the kids, who were not speaking to each other. She didn’t want them to hear this conversation.

  “Just a sec, Mom.” She headed upstairs and closed her bedroom door while her mother waited on the phone. Her mother was clearly having one of her bad days. She must have forgotten, at least temporarily, that Beau had caused no end of misery while she was married to him.

  Lilly sat down on her bed. Often she tried to humor her mother when she was confused, but she couldn’t do it this time. “Mom,” she said in a quiet voice, “you may not remember that Beau and I were married. He was not a nice person and I’m sure he hasn’t changed. I knew he’s come back to Juniper Junction and I’m trying to avoid him. If he comes back to your house I want you to call Bill.”

  “Oh, that’s a good idea. Bill probably hasn’t seen him yet.” Lilly’s mom clearly wasn’t getting the message. Lilly gave up.

  “You know what, Mom? You’re right. It’s been a long time since Bill saw Beau. I think I’ll call Bill right now and maybe they can meet up to talk.”

  “You do that, my dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lilly’s mom hung up. Lilly flung herself backward onto her bed. Life was indeed getting more complicated.

  Chapter 14

  She went back downstairs to put the phone on its cradle and the kids had decided they weren’t mad at each other anymore. Tighe was telling an inappropriate joke and Laurel was laughing. Lilly smiled. At least one thing was going right, even if it did take an off-color joke to get them to stop fighting.

  When they went upstairs Lilly opened the refrigerator door. The dinner Laurel had made sat in a glass baking dish on the middle shelf, congealing into a lumpy, chartreuse mess. Lilly wondered what it was. Against her better judgment, she took a spoonful of it, placed it on a small plate, and microwaved it for a few seconds. Tasting it, she could understand why Tighe had cereal for dinner. Poor Laurel, Lilly thought. She went to all the trouble of making dinner and it turned out awful. Welcome to womanhood, my child. How many times had Lilly made something the kids refused to eat? She smiled to herself. At some point it was every parent’s joy to know that what goes around, comes around. But still, Tighe should have been nicer about it.

  Lilly picked up the phone again while she was scraping her morsel of dinner into the trash. She dialed Bill and wasn’t surprised when he answered on the first ring.

  “What’s up?” he asked in greeting.

  “Beau went to Mom’s house.”

  She knew Bill was waiting to compose himself before saying anything. After several long seconds he spoke. “When was this?”

  “Earlier tonight. I just got off the phone with her.”

  “How did he get in?”

  “I didn’t ask. I’m sure she let him in. She doesn’t remember that he was my husband. She called him ‘delightful.’”

  “I’m going over there right now. Going into a public place to talk to you is one thing, but showing up at Mom’s house is another. I’ll call you when I’ve talked to her.” He hung up.

  Lilly knew another restless night lay ahead. Armed with a book, the house phone, and her cell, she crawled into bed to wait to hear from Bill.

  It wasn’t long before he called back. “I talked to Mom,” he began. “She doesn’t remember talking to him. Doesn’t that figure?”

  “I’m not surprised. She’s not having one of her good days.”

  “Do you suppose she thinks he visited when he really didn’t?”

  “It’s too coincidental, don’t you think? I mean, he shows up out of nowhere for the first time in years and suddenly she thinks he’s been at her house when she probably hasn’t given him a thought in the last decade? I doubt it. I’m sure he was at her house. The question is, why would he go over there?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll be looking out for him, though, and when I find him I’ll tell him to stay the heck away from you and Mom and the kids and everyone else.”

  “Maybe we won’t see him again,” Lilly said, a trace of hope in her voice.

  “Don’t count on it,” Bill advised. “Make sure your doors are locked.”

  “I did. I told the kids I want the doors locked at all times when they’re home, too.”

  “Good.”

  That night Lilly was haunted by a dream that had been a recurring one a long time ago. The kids were tiny. Beau had just left and she wondered how she was going to raise her babies on her own. In her dream, the kids would both cry and Lilly couldn’t get them to stop. No matter what she tried, they kept wailing. When she jerked awake from the dream, her own cheeks were wet with tears. She sighed and turned over to go back to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. Finally she went downstairs and put on the coffee pot, then went to her desk in the den and returned to the kitchen with a sketch book. She drank several cups of coffee while new ideas for jewelry designs emerged from the tip of her pencil. This wasn’t the first time she had designed jewelry in the middle of the night—in fact, some of her customers’ best-loved designs were born in the wee hours of the nights Lilly couldn’t sleep.

  The next day Lilly got to work a little later than usual. She had drunk several cups of coffee in the night and her stomach was feeling the effects. She took an antacid when she got to work, then turned on the lights and unlocked the front door. She had turned toward one of the jewelry cases toward the back of the store when the door jingled. She turned around to greet her first customer of the day.

  Her stomach sank. It wasn’t a customer, but two police officers. One of them walked up to her while the other stayed at the front of the store.

  “Ms. Carlsen,” he began, “we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “How can I help you?” she asked, her stomach twisting.

  “Do you know a Herb Knight?”

  “Yes. He owns a yoga studio in town.”

  “Were you with him last night?”

  “I saw him at the Chamber of Commerce mixer at Pine Tree Pub. Why? Is something wrong with Herb?” She swallowed hard, dreading the answer.

  “He’s dead.”

  Chapter 15

  Lilly gasped. “What happened? How did he die?”

  “That’s what we’re hoping you can help us determine,” the officer answered. “Did the two of you speak last night?”

  “Yes.” Lilly wrinkled her brow, thinking back to the unpleasant conversation.

  “And what did you talk about?”

  “Herb was angry because I’m opposed to national chain stores coming to Juniper Junction. He wants to allow them.”

  “So you argued with him?”

  “It’s more like he argued with me. I was trying to get him to stop arguing and talk about the issue at a town council meeting or a Chamber of Commerce meeting. Last night’s function was really supposed to be a holiday mixer, not a time to discuss business.”

  “How did the argument end?”

  “George Stone sort of came to my rescue. He’s a pretty big guy and I think he intimidated Herb just
by his physical presence. Eventually Herb stopped bothering me and he and two other women went to sit down.”

  “Who were the other women?”

  “Ivy Leachman and Marcia Blakely. They’re friends with Herb.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I don’t know, but they were shooting me some pretty hateful looks. I didn’t talk to any of them for the rest of the evening.”

  “And how long did you stay at the party?”

  “I didn’t stay for much longer after that. My friend Noley came in and I waited for her to have a drink then we left at the same time.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I went home. I assume Noley went to her house, too.”

  “And you were alone when you went home?”

  “I was in my car by myself, then when I got home my kids were there.”

  “And they can confirm this?”

  This is sounding more and more like the questions the police asked when Eden died, Lilly thought. “Of course they can,” she said.

  “Where were you between seven and eight o’clock this morning?”

  Lilly narrowed her eyes. “Am I a suspect?” she asked.

  “Not at this time, ma’am, but we do need the answers to these questions.”

  “Should I call a lawyer?”

  “That’s your decision, ma’am.”

  Lilly thought for a minute. She didn’t have anything to hide; all she could do was tell the truth.

  “I was at home, getting ready for work.”

  “Can your kids confirm that?”

  “No, sir. No one can. The kids left for school before seven.”

  “Neighbors? Anyone?”

  For the second time recently, Lilly found herself hoping Mrs. Laforge was up to her nosy activities. “You can check with my neighbor, Mrs. Laforge. Her house is to the left of mine. She seems to know everything that goes on in the neighborhood.”

  The officer made a notation in his notebook. “We’ll speak to her.”

  “Would you mind coming down to the station to make a statement?” the officer asked.