Not a Creature Was Purring

by Krista Davis

  “We meant well. Truly we did. Now we have no choice,” Rose blathered.

  “We should not have waited so long. The day has arrived. There is no time left,” said Oma.

  I watched them like a ping-pong game, my heart beating faster and faster in fear of what they were going to say. Was one of them ill?

  A look flew between Oma and Rose, and Oma finally blurted, “The Thackleberrys have arrived.”

  What was wrong with that? “I met Dale a little while ago. He seemed very nice.”

  “We couldn’t be sorrier,” said Rose.

  My eyes narrowed as I observed them. They weren’t making any sense. Why would they be sorry about the Thackleberrys? I knew they were coming and had even received packages for Dale. Ohh, maybe it had something to do with the woman who had snatched back the tip? “You’re making me a little crazy here. Could you be a bit more specific? What’s wrong with the Thackleberrys?” I held my breath.

  “Nothing,” Oma spoke hastily. “Dale and his daughter, EmmyLou, have stayed with us before. They are lovely people.”

  “Lovely,” Rose echoed as though she wanted to reinforce that image.

  “Holly.” Oma clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “The Thackleberrys will be Holmes’s in-laws. His fiancée and her family are coming from Chicago to meet the Richardson family, and . . . they’re spending Christmas here.” Oma heaved a sigh so big that she shuddered slightly.

  Holmes’s fiancée? I felt like someone had punched me right in the gut. I wasn’t sure I could breathe anymore. So that’s how things were. Holmes was definitely going to marry that girl. I felt so stupid. “She’s a Thackleberry?” I stammered. “I thought her name was Norma Jeanne Blume.”

  Rose cocked her head in sympathy. “Her mother was a Thackleberry before she married.”

  For a very long moment, I absorbed the news. And then I reached deep to pull up a smile. My voice didn’t sound quite right when I said, “That’s all? I thought one of you was sick!”

  I stood up and called Trixie. Still faking a smile, I said lightly, “No big deal.” And I left the room.

  If I knew Zelda, she had been eavesdropping. She seized my arm when I tried to pass. “We could play pranks on her.”

  “No! Don’t you dare do that.” I hurried away because I really didn’t want anyone to be sympathetic to me at that moment. I walked out the sliding doors and into the cold where I took some deep breaths.

  I was not going to cry. I wasn’t much of a crier anyway, but at the moment I was on the brink, and it wouldn’t have taken much for tears to flow.

  I walked along the Christkindl market booths, the noise and crowds and colors all a blur. My life was taking a major turn. Everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same.

  And then, as I stood at the base of the giant Christmas tree in the center of the green, drawing huge breaths of fresh air, I realized that I was wrong. Nothing would change. It had been silly and unrealistic of me to imagine that Holmes would ditch his fiancée and move back to Wagtail. It had been nothing but a dream. Just a bubble of fantasy that burst in one second and was gone. It didn’t impact my life at all, only my wishful thinking.

  All things considered, it was okay. I had anticipated something far worse. I was enormously relieved that neither Oma nor Rose were ill. I should be grateful that they were well. We would be fine. I had Trixie and Twinkletoes, and after all, the holidays were about making other people happy, not about living our dreams.

  As my thoughts gelled, I watched the Schroeder children excitedly telling someone about the tree that Santa had left at their door. The death of their parents was a life-changing event, yet they were managing. Just seeing them made me understand that my silly dreams about Holmes had been nothing but fantasy.

  Ethan Schroeder, a cute fellow with a mop of uncontrollable curls, ran toward me. “Holly! Holly!”

  “Hi, Ethan.” I expected him to tell me about the visit by Santa’s elves.

  “I need a job.”

  “You do?”

  He glanced back at Marie Carr. “My sister and I want to get Granny Carr something special for Christmas. She never buys anything for herself, and she’s been real good to us since . . . since . . .” His little head fell forward for a moment.

  “I understand.” He meant, but had trouble saying, since his parents died. “How much money do you need to make?”

  “A lot!” He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and showed them to me. “The sweater we want to buy is sixty dollars, but all we have is nine dollars and—” he reached into his pocket again and pulled out coins “—forty-eight cents.”

  “I see the problem.”

  “I know how to sweep. And I could walk Trixie.”

  At the mention of her name, Trixie waggled and sniffed his hands for treats.

  “I’ll tell you what. I really need someone to help me in the Christkindl booth for a couple of hours. Do you think you could do that?”

  “Sure!”

  “Go tell your Granny Carr and make sure it’s okay with her.”

  Ethan ran back to Mrs. Carr. After listening to him, she smiled at me and waved.

  Ethan grinned as he returned to me. He chattered happily as we walked to the booth.

  Ashamed by my childish reaction to the news about Holmes, I tried to focus on the here and now—the things in life that really mattered.

  Mr. Huckle welcomed Ethan warmly. “I was going to offer to stay and help Miss Holly, but I see she has an excellent assistant.”

  While Ethan looked around the booth in awe, Mr. Huckle whispered, “Do you need a hand?”

  I thought it far too cold for him to be outdoors any longer and shooed him back to the inn.

  A sweet couple holding hands studied our wares. The girl shyly asked to see the blown glass wedding couple ornament. The groom was dressed in a tuxedo, and the bride wore a white gown.

  Ethan climbed on a stool and handed it to her.

  She beamed when her boyfriend paid Ethan for it. As I observed them, it dawned on me that this Christmas would be a very special time for Holmes and his fiancée. I would do my best to bite my tongue and keep any snarky opinions to myself, even if I thought she was completely wrong for him. I would hold my head high and be a cheerful little elf, because there were others whose holidays wouldn’t be as lovely as mine. This Christmas was about Holmes, not about me.

  I let out a long breath of air as I came to grips with the new development.

  Two hours later, Zelda, bundled up in a vintage gray and white sweater with her long blonde braid hanging over her shoulder, scurried by the front of the booth and let herself in through the hatch in back.

  “Have you met Norma Jeanne?” Her eyes were wide. “Holly, she’s the spitting image of you.”

  “Who is Norma Jeanne?” asked Ethan.

  I gave Zelda a sideways glance. “She’s a brunette?”

  “Well, yes. But that’s not all. She’s petite like you and . . . Wait until you meet her. She’s not as pretty as you are, but the resemblance is uncanny.”

  I hugged Zelda. What a sweet thing to say, even if it most likely was a bald-faced lie. “She’s just a visitor,” I told Ethan.

  While Ethan, a natural salesman, showed a woman Christmas collars for her dog, I whispered to Zelda, “Now you listen to me, Zelda York. This is the girl Holmes loves, so we’re going to make this the best holiday ever. No being mean to her. Okay? We have to do this for Holmes.”

  “But he’s making such a big mistake. We should stop him!”

  “Zelda! We don’t know that. If Holmes loves her, then she must be nice. Promise me you won’t play tricks on her.”

  “Mmmf.” Zelda chomped on a gingerbread cookie in the shape of a Santa boot.

  Trixie jumped up and watched Zelda with a frantic look.

  “Calm
down, little one. I brought a cookie for you too, Trixie.” Zelda bent to hand her a teensy dog treat in the shape of a bone. She straightened up. “Oma said not to forget to get the sleigh ready for Mr. Thackleberry.”

  I looked at my watch. “Of course.” I had been so absorbed in thoughts about Holmes and Ethan that I had forgotten all about it.

  “Ethan, you have done such a great job today. I think we sold more than ever! How about we go get that sweater for your Granny Carr before someone else buys it?”

  “Really?” His cheeks had flushed red from the cold air, and he looked just like a painted doll.

  “C’mon, Trixie.” I waved to Zelda and the three of us left.

  Ethan held my hand and skipped all the way to Houndstooth, an upscale clothing store. He ran directly to the sweater display and pulled out a red sweater. The saleswoman joined us.

  “Do you know if this is the correct size for Marie Carr?” I asked.

  “It is,” she said. “But I think she might like this one in beige better.”

  Ethan looked at her in shock. “It has to be the red one!”

  I shot the saleswoman a pleading look.

  Fortunately, she didn’t push him. We paid for the sweater and asked her to wrap it super festively. Ethan walked out carrying a box wrapped in glittering silver paper and a giant red ribbon. I had never seen a happier child.

  Trixie and I walked him home to be sure he made it there safely. Not that we had that kind of problem in Wagtail. It was still a town where kids could ride their bikes all afternoon without their parents worrying. But I was responsible for him and wanted to be sure he actually went home.

  When he was safely inside the house, we hurried back to the inn office, where I had stashed the boxes Dale Thackleberry had sent ahead. I opened some, packed a slew of toys in a huge red bag, and hoisted it over my shoulder.

  It weighed a ton. I staggered out to the reception desk, bent over under the weight, and was headed for the sliding glass doors when I heard someone say, “Holly? Is that you?”

  I knew that voice. Holmes! I swung around and found myself face-to-face with Holmes and the woman who had stepped out of the elevator and asked me for directions.

  Holmes cocked his head to look at me in my twisted state. “Norma Jeanne, this is Holly.”

  In spite of what I’d said to Zelda, I desperately wanted to hate her. She was lovely in that winter white outfit. And at the moment, I was hunched over like Quasimodo.

  “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. Holmes talks about you all the time,” she said.

  “Do you need a hand with that?” Holmes asked. “It looks heavy.”

  “I’m good. Thanks,” I lied, eager to get away from them. “Nice to meet you, Norma Jeanne. Excuse me.” I was about to topple over, but I managed to deliver the bag to the green sleigh with plush velvet seats that waited just outside the door. Someone had tied a festive bow to the front of it.

  The driver of the horse-drawn sleigh, Buck Bradon, was dressed in red and green elf garb. He jumped off to take the bag from me. “Whoa, Nellie, but this thing is heavy. I’m surprised you could carry it. Is there more?”

  I nodded and stretched my back. “The rest is in boxes. Be right back.”

  When I returned to the reception lobby, Dale Thackleberry had joined Holmes and Norma Jeanne. From his shiny black boots to his round belly, white beard, and sparkling eyes, Dale made a perfect Santa. No cheap costume store getups for him, that was for sure.

  “Wow. You’re the best dressed Santa I have ever seen.”

  “Thank you, Holly. I had this custom made for me at our factory. Always thought we should expand from dog and cat clothes to costumes for people.”

  A petite woman, frail with age, stood next to him, steadying herself with a cane. Her white hair was pinned up in a bun. She wore a red velvet dress with white faux fur trim that was worthy of any Mrs. Claus. An orange Pomeranian with bright, smart eyes peered out of her stylish green velvet purse.

  Trixie danced below the bag, her nose pointed upward, eager to meet the new dog.

  “And you must be Mrs. Claus?” I asked.

  Dale beamed. “My mother, Doris, is coming along with me today. That’s her favorite child in the bag, Muffy.”

  Doris laughed. “Don’t you believe him! Although Muffy is usually better behaved than the rest of the family.”

  I wondered if she meant Blake, but didn’t think I should point out his absence.

  His grandfather clearly hadn’t forgotten. “I had no idea you would have to load the sleigh.” He shook his head. “Blake should have given you a hand.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” He sounded like Scrooge. “My grandchildren have grown up having everything done for them. No one should think he’s too good to offer a helping hand.”

  Norma Jeanne sighed and seemed bored, as though she had heard that line before.

  On my next trip in from the sleigh, Blake had finally shown up with a short woman whom I guessed to be in her late twenties—the same woman who had been spying on him earlier in the day. Long dark blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she had the same distinctive nose as Blake. She was nuzzling with Muffy.

  Unlike Norma Jeanne, who looked like she was ready for a photo shoot, this girl wore a long baggy sweater over blue leggings that emphasized her pudginess. “Selfie with Santa,” she cried, holding up her phone.

  Blake groaned and raised his hands in protest. “Not me, Tiffany. This is so cheesy that I may perish. Thankfully, we are in the wilds at the end of the earth, where few will see us. The last thing I want is to memorialize this humiliating affair.”

  She made a snarling face at him. “You’re such a snot, Blake. You used to be so much fun. Norma Jeanne?”

  Norma Jeanne winced. “I’ll take the photo, Tiffany.”

  I hustled to the closet for the boxes.

  Holmes followed me.

  When I bent to pick one up, he asked, “So what do you think of NJ?”

  “NJ?”

  “She hates her name. You know, the whole Marilyn Monroe thing. She prefers NJ, but her family insists on calling her Norma Jeanne. I know you’re going to get along. She’s a lot like you.”

  Not much, she wasn’t. I immediately chastised myself for thinking that. “She seems very nice. Thanks for helping me with the boxes.”

  When we walked out of the office, Dale bellowed, “Blake, you’ve got two arms. Get over there and help them.”

  Blake’s expression was priceless. “I’m sure they don’t need me. Right, Holmes?”

  Holmes clearly wasn’t onto Blake’s hands-off way of life. “They’re right there in the office, Blake.”

  Holmes and I handed the boxes over to Buck. They embraced like old friends and agreed to meet for a drink. When we returned for more boxes I noticed that Blake had conveniently disappeared, but I said nothing.

  When the sleigh was loaded, Dale hopped up into it and looked down at me. He whispered, “Blake better enjoy himself while he can, because he’s in for a much bigger humiliation. I’m cutting him off.”

  “Because he’s not helping you?” I asked in surprise.

  “Naw. I’m not a petty man. It’s because he’s been lyin’ to me and taking money on false pretenses. If there’s one thing I don’t abide—it’s bein’ lied to.”

  Six

  Dale turned, faced forward, and shouted, “Ho ho ho! Let’s go, Rudolph!”

  Bells tinkled as the horses walked. Holmes, NJ, and Tiffany emerged from the inn to join Trixie and me. We waved as the horses pulled away with Santa Thackleberry and his mom, Doris, in the sleigh. Trixie didn’t actually wave, but I held her up so she wouldn’t get underfoot.

  “Is he headed to the green?” asked Holmes.

  I nodded.

  Holmes looked down at NJ’s hi
gh-heeled boots. “Are those made for walking in snow?”

  Tiffany laughed. “They’re not even made for walking, let alone snow. Can I go over with you, Holly?”

  “Sure.” The two of us and Trixie followed the short path past The Blue Boar Restaurant and walked toward the green. “I gather Dale is your grandfather?”

  “In spirit, but not biologically. My biological grandmother, Vivi, married Dale. But he’s the only granddad I’ve ever known.”

  “He seems like a great guy. So how are you related to Norma Jeanne?”

  “Oh gosh. It’s complicated. Dale and his first wife had a daughter named EmmyLou, who is Norma Jeanne’s mom. My dad is Vivi’s son.”

  “So you’re cousins but not biological cousins?”

  “Pretty much. Step-cousins, maybe? When Dale married my grandmother Vivi, our families kind of merged.”

  “All of you live in Chicago?”

  “Everyone except my brother, Blake, who is going to med school in Grenada.”

  “That explains his tan!”

  She gave me a sideways glance, but before she could say anything, a woman with short layered hair held out her arms. “There’s my baby!”

  “Hi, Mom.” Tiffany hugged her mother. “This is Holly. She works at the inn.”

  “Holly!” She gave me a hug, too. “I’m Linda Kedrowski, Tiffie and Blake’s mom. EmmyLou! Come meet Holly!” she called.

  The woman who had been crying in the Dogwood Room joined us. “You’re Holmes’s Holly? My goodness but we’ve heard a lot about you. So you must be the famous Trixie?” She squatted to Trixie’s level and petted her. “I hear you have quite an unusual talent.”

  Of course. I should have realized that Holmes would have told them about Trixie’s knack for finding bodies.

  “I am so excited about being in Wagtail for Christmas. Vivi usually insists on a cruise or someplace perfectly dreadful,” said Linda.

  “A cruise doesn’t sound too bad,” I said.

  “Hah! One year we were afraid we would have to row the ship.” Linda laughed. “I don’t know why we can’t stay home for Christmas like other people. Of course, this year is an exception for Holmes and Norma Jeanne.” She stroked her daughter’s hair. “Tiffie, maybe you can find a nice boy like Holmes while we’re here.”