Gwen arrived in the kitchen as I poured hot chocolate into mugs with candy-cane handles. I plopped a dollop of whipped cream into each mug and handed her one.
All we needed were napkins and something to nosh on.
“Are you hungry?” I asked. “It’s dinnertime.”
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Patty protested.
“No trouble at all,” I assured her, pulling steaks, mushrooms, and carrots from the fridge.
She sipped her hot chocolate. “I feel terrible. You left your party because of me.” Patty set her mug on the counter. “I could go out for a while, and you could go back.”
“Don’t be silly.” I cleaned and sliced the mushrooms. “I’m sure Gwen will understand.”
Patty warmed her hands on the mug and assessed me, her brown eyes cautious. “No. She won’t. You don’t know her well, do you?”
“They only moved here a few months ago.” I stopped peeling carrots and met her gaze. “Is there something I should know?”
“Other than the fact that she’s a liar and phonier than a two-dollar bill?” Patty slapped a hand over her mouth. “I don’t believe I just said that. I don’t even know you. You must think I’m a horrible person.”
I sliced the carrots and tossed them into a pot. “I don’t think anything of the sort. I’m beginning to think you have a problem with Gwen, though.”
She sagged into one of the chairs by my fireplace. “She ruined my life. And now she’s destroying my children.”
“I gather you were Baxter’s first wife?” I cut up sweet potatoes, tossed them with oil, rosemary, and salt, and popped them in a hot oven.
“And I have all the bruises to show for it.” She glanced up at me. “Oh, not physical bruises—he was never violent. I meant I got beat up by an ace divorce lawyer. After twenty years of marriage and two kids, all I have left are memories. His lawyer got him the kids. I couldn’t afford to fight him. Plus he and Gwen made me sound like a nut. I mean, who doesn’t act a little crazy when another woman comes along and steals your husband, then takes your kids, too? Right?”
“That must have been very hard for you.”
“It was! It would have been hard to raise them as a single parent, but not to raise them at all?” Patty sniffed. “It’s brutal!”
“You do get to see them . . . ?”
“For a few weeks during the summer.” She pushed her dark brown hair behind her ears. “This is a perfect example. I drove all the way from Chicago, and now that I’m here, Gwen won’t even tell me where they are! Not that I don’t appreciate your kindness to me, but I’d like to see my children!”
I could understand that. I joined her at the table. “You came to visit them for the holiday?”
She sighed. “Gwen and Baxter take advantage of me because they know I don’t have the money to contest anything. It’s not fair because they push me around and do whatever they want, and I just have to take it. They were supposed to send the kids to me for Christmas this year, but Gwen said I couldn’t have them. How rotten is that? They’re not her children! I can’t believe that Baxter would be so cruel to me. And to them! Don’t they have a right to spend some holidays with their mom? And then Gwen sent that Christmas letter.”
Patty leaned over the table. “Homeschooling?” she snarled. “It’s sure not Baxter who’s going to stay home and teach Bethany.” Her hand shook when it touched her forehead. “Can you imagine the kind of education she’ll get from Gwen? I’m no genius, but at least I recognize my own limitations. I am not letting her homeschool my child!”
She frowned and stared at the floor. I wondered what I could say to console her. I rose to start the mushrooms and press cracked pepper into the steaks.
“And think what she’ll miss by not being in high school. Prom and graduation with her friends, all those junior and senior traditions that mean so much to teenagers. This is such an important time for her. I have to stop this nonsense. It would be different if she were a little kid or if Gwen were . . . smarter. But at this point, Bethany should be taking important classes. I never could grasp calculus, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Bethany struggled with it, too, but I hardly think Gwen will be able to do better than an experienced teacher.”
The kitchen door burst open. Mochie lifted his head to observe the commotion Nina and Liza made coming through the door loaded down with shopping bags.
Nina set hers on the floor. “Look at this! Gwen had shopping bags made in her pink and orange theme for everyone to take home their cookies.”
Liza sniffed the mushrooms that were cooking.
“You’re back awfully soon,” I observed.
Nina snickered. “Things went downhill fast when you left. Gwen threatened to put a picture of Natasha on Facebook. Her hair was standing on end from static. It was hysterical!”
Liza continued the story with the drama of a natural storyteller. “Natasha issued a few choice threats to Gwen, who retaliated by calling Natasha a ‘domestic deadhead.’ Then she went for the jugular, saying Natasha couldn’t even get Mars to marry her. Natasha stormed out. It was like an episode of Desperate Housewives! And I thought living on this block was boring.”
“Everyone was very uncomfortable, and the atmosphere was deadly, so we packed it in. You should have seen Twiggy. I thought she would collapse. I don’t think she’s used to shouting and ugliness,” said Nina, handing me a bag. “We brought you your share of the loot.”
“Have a seat.” I threw on some extra steaks. “We can sample some of the cookies for dessert. Hot chocolate doesn’t really go with steak. Would anyone like wine?”
“I would!” Nina selected a bottle.
I fetched red cut-crystal wineglasses. “Is anyone onto you two?” I asked.
While they filled Patty in on their trick of buying bakery cookies instead of baking their own, I slid the steaks onto a platter and placed the mushrooms, carrots, and roasted sweet potatoes on the table with red dinner plates and green napkins.
“The only problem was appending a recipe for them,” said Nina.
Liza pointed at Nina. “She’s so devious! She copied a recipe off the Internet and pretended it was for her cookies.”
“Nina!” I cried. “What if someone tries that recipe? What a surprise they’ll get when they turn out completely different.”
“No one will care except for Natasha, and you know she won’t bake them. In fact, I don’t think she took her share of the cookies home with her.”
Patty had been surprisingly quiet but wore a Mona Lisa smile. “What a shame that Gwen ruined the party.”
“Isn’t it funny that none of us knew Bethany and Bradley were Gwen’s stepchildren?” Nina poured the wine.
With a heavy sigh, Patty launched into her sad tale.
Liza said, “Why don’t you call Baxter? Maybe they’re with him.”
I loaded a plate with a variety of cookies to try and brought it to the table for dessert.
Patty’s mouth shifted. “He’s the reason I’m in this mess. We don’t communicate very well. I tried calling the kids from the road, but they don’t answer, and their mailboxes are full.”
Nina cut a bite of the steak on her plate. “Sounds like the evil stepmother took their cell phones away.”
Liza snorted. “I’d like to know on what planet Gwen looks too young to have teenagers. If anything, she looks too old to have a six-year-old.”
“She’s in great shape,” I said. “Maybe she’s younger than we think.”
“Hah! Gwen’s had work done. I’m sure of it. She’s not as young as everyone thinks. I’ve seen her up close without makeup. I bet I’m happier, though, and I never go to the gym.” Liza stuck out the tip of her tongue in disgust. “Stinky, sweaty places where everyone wears spandex and makes you feel bad for not being a size two. No thanks!” Liza reached for a second helpi
ng of mushrooms.
“Did either of you see my kids there? Maybe they’re home and hanging around upstairs in their rooms.” Patty seemed hopeful.
“I didn’t see them,” said Nina. “If I had been them, I would have been downstairs sneaking cookies.”
Patty laughed. “That’s what my kids would normally be doing. If . . . if Gwen hasn’t turned them into little robots.”
A siren pealed outside, too close for comfort. We peered out the bay window in my kitchen and watched an ambulance as it came to a halt.
“That’s my house!” screamed Liza.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dear Natasha,
You are always on the cutting edge with clever, fresh ideas. I love Christmas lights, but I’m tired of the same old thing. All the houses look alike. Help!
Christmas Elf in Joy, Illinois
Dear Christmas Elf,
Use rope lights to write a holiday message on your house. Naughty or Nice come to mind!
Natasha
Liza ran out the door with the rest of us trailing behind her. For someone who disliked gyms, she could move pretty fast in an emergency. She yelled, “Luis! Luis!” as she sped across the street.
We piled into Liza’s living room. Three emergency medical technicians surrounded Luis. One was checking his blood pressure.
Luis perched on the edge of a leather sofa, holding up his hands as if he wanted everyone to go away. “I’m okay,” he insisted. But he spoke in a weak voice and rubbed his chest.
“What happened?” demanded Liza. “You better not be having a heart attack! It’s the job, isn’t it? The new job. I knew it was a mistake.”
Baxter looked on over Liza’s shoulder. “He got shocked putting up Christmas lights.”
“What?” Liza placed her palms on the sides of her face, her long sparkling white nails jutting out well beyond her fingertips. “The lights? Who gets shocked by those flimsy lights? You scared me half to death.” She gazed at an EMT. “How bad could it be? Those lights barely carry any electricity in them.”
“You’d be surprised how often this happens, ma’am,” he responded. “People think that they’re not dangerous, but they can pack a punch.”
Baxter gazed over at us. His eyes widened, and he looked as though he’d had a shock when he saw his ex-wife, Patty. He did a double take. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see my children.” Patty crossed her arms over her chest defiantly and lifted her chin.
“Where are the lights?” asked Liza. “I’m throwing them out right now.”
“No, no, no.” Luis hadn’t moved, except for the hands that scratched his chest.
Liza narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “If you’re not having a heart attack, how come you keep massaging your chest?”
“It itches.” Luis unbuttoned the top of his shirt.
“Good grief!” Liza pushed aside the medical technician. “What did you have for dinner?”
“Oh, Liza. Don’t start.” Luis sounded tired.
“I’ll get it out of you. You might as well tell me now.”
“Looks like an allergy?” asked the medical technician.
“He’s allergic to soy.” Liza shook her finger at him. “It’s in everything now. Even in salad dressings! Who would suspect that?”
Baxter asked, “Where’s the fuse box? After I make sure there’s no juice, I’ll climb up there and take those lights down.” He pointed at Patty. “And then you and I will have to talk.”
“No!” Luis started to stand but fell back onto the sofa. “Still a little dizzy.”
“It’s all right, Luis. I’ll just remove the lights that caused the problem, okay?” said Baxter. “Where are the breakers in this house?”
Liza led the way, and I followed them but stopped in the kitchen to stuff ice cubes into a plastic bag.
In a hallway off the kitchen, Baxter said, “Hah! Look at this. It threw the switch. Don’t worry, Liza, we’ll get you straightened out.”
I returned to the living room and handed Luis the ice. “This might make you feel better.”
He held it to his forehead. “Thanks, everyone. I’m not going to the emergency room. I’ll be fine. Really.”
The glint in Liza’s eyes suggested she didn’t agree. “You’re such a stubborn old goat. It’s a good thing you’re gorgeous or I would have left you years ago.”
A glimmer of a smile crossed Luis’s lips. “Really,” he said to the EMTs, “you guys go on and help someone who needs it.”
Liza pulled one of them aside. “Is he going to be okay? Should I drag him to the hospital?”
“It’s always wise to get checked out. His vital signs are normal, though.”
The EMTs were packing up when Baxter returned. “I’ve switched the breaker back on.” Baxter held a string of Christmas lights in his hand. “Guess this was the culprit. There’s a long spot where the coating over the cord is missing.”
One of the EMTs asked, “Were the lights on something metallic?”
Baxter seemed surprised. “How did you know?”
The EMT nodded his head. “We see it every Christmas. Faulty lights can charge a metallic object. It’s usually a metallic tree, but it could be anything.”
“Who knew?” asked Baxter. “I’d better tell Elvin. He’s been stringing lights on things for as long as I can remember, and I bet he never knew that. I think he even dressed up in them once as a gag. Luis had these wrapped around a real fancy metal railing up on the roof.”
“Sounds like the widow’s walk,” the EMT clarified.
Liza clasped her hand to her bosom. “Widow? I don’t want you up there again, Luis.”
“Liza, calm down.” Luis sounded tired.
“Maybe we should go,” I said, motioning to Nina and Patty.
Nina reached for Liza’s arm. “I’m right next door. Call if you need anything.”
We walked outside and clustered in the cold as we watched the ambulance drive away.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” asked Baxter.
“It was a last-minute thing.” Patty sounded defensive. “Could I please visit with my children now?”
“Well, sure. I don’t see why not.”
Patty flashed a look of surprise my way and grinned. She walked next door with her ex-husband. Nina and I scurried across the street to my house and finished our dinner.
“Is it just me, or has this been a very strange few days?” asked Nina.
“I was just thinking the same thing. Too many odd accidents seem to be happening.”
“It’s this crazy Christmas decorating contest that has people scrambling around on rooftops. I’m glad I’ve hired someone to do my decorating. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a strand of Christmas lights quite the same way again.” Nina slid on her coat and picked up her shopping bag loaded with cookies. “Liza forgot her cookies.”
“I’ll bring them over to her tomorrow. I’m sure cookies are the last thing on her mind right now.”
“Don’t forget, lunch with Liza at The Laughing Hound tomorrow.”
“Assuming she’s still up for it,” I said.
Nina hustled home, and I turned my attention to Mochie, who waited patiently next to his empty food dish.
“Turkey or tuna?” I asked.
He stared at me like he thought I should know the answer without having to ask. I went with tuna. Apparently, I was right. He dug in immediately.
I took homemade chicken broth out of the freezer to let it thaw in a pot for a hearty chicken stew so Patty would have something to eat the next day.
In the meantime, I was itching to decorate my sunroom. Years of worry about the heat drying out a live tree in that location had prompted me to capitulate and buy an artificial tree for the sunroom. It was one of the first joys of Christmas ea
ch year to decorate it with a garden and animal motif.
I couldn’t help thinking of Luis when I plugged in the tree. White lights glowed, reflecting in the wall of windows that looked out over my backyard. I climbed a ladder to attach the topper, a white dove of peace my niece had made for me.
To reach the top, I had to go past the rung marked “do not stand above this point” and lean a bit. Probably not the smartest thing to do. I could see how easy it would be to fall. Happily, I didn’t. But I climbed down with great care. And then I examined the rungs. They were metallic. What would happen if I held a string of lights while on the metallic ladder? How many times had I unwittingly wrapped lights on metal railings?
I opened a large red box, weathered with age, that held the ornaments for the tree in the sunroom. Garlands of red berries lay on top. I pulled them out and lay them across branches, circling the tree. After that, the very best part – revisiting memories with each ornament. The cute ladybug, the blown-glass squirrel and chipmunk. The funny bird with a long feather for a tail and the kitten that looked just like Mochie. Santa had left glitzy butterflies, light as air, in my stocking last year. They sat on top of branches where other ornaments would have been too heavy. I chuckled aloud when I found the two gray mice with Christmas ribbons tied on their tails.
It didn’t take long to finish the tree. Mars and I had hung a wreath on the door the day before. A classic red amaryllis sat on the coffee table next to a roughly cast angel meant to be outdoors in a garden. The battery-operated candle inside a red lantern with a heart motif had already turned itself on.
I retrieved tan and red pillows that bore images of bright red cardinals and holly berries. With only the tree and the candle glowing in the night, I plumped up the cushions and placed them on the love seat and the chair.
Pleased with the results, I returned to the kitchen to slice leftover chicken breast into bite-sized pieces for the stew. I added cooked egg noodles and sunny yellow corn to the pot and tasted it. A sprinkle of salt and a good pinch of black pepper were all it needed.
Diva Wraps It Up, The Page 10