Not a Creature Was Purring
Page 7
“I try to dress appropriately. Where are we going tonight?”
There wasn’t a good reason in the world that he couldn’t help us. “We’re delivering Christmas dinner packages.”
“Great! Where are they?”
“Inside. You’re just in time to help us load them.”
We entered the registration lobby and walked through the inn. No guests lingered on the first floor. I noted that even Tiffany and Dale had gone to bed. Shelley and Zelda met us at the inn’s big freezers.
They teased Holmes mercilessly about his elf outfit. We loaded carts with boxes filled with turkeys, fresh cranberries, bags of potatoes and sweet potatoes, marshmallows, green beans, elbow macaroni, cheese, milk, butter, heavy cream, pumpkin pies, and gingerbread cookies. Even though the outdoor temperature was freezing, the items that could spoil were packed in coolers.
We rolled the carts through the silent lobby of the inn, with Twinkletoes riding on top of my cart, her tail twitching with anticipation.
Holmes suddenly stopped. “Hold it! Where is Trixie?”
I told them briefly what had happened.
“But she’ll be all right, won’t she?” asked Holmes.
“I hope so. Come on, let’s get this done.” I was already worried enough. I didn’t want to discuss what could happen to her. She had been on my mind since I left her at the animal hospital. We loaded the sleigh, left Twinkletoes at the inn, and set off in the night, admiring the lights that sparkled in the dark.
Our first stop was a tiny bungalow close to the Wagtail Springs Hotel. We carried packages and a cooler up to the house and left them on the front porch.
When we climbed back into the golf cart, Holmes laid a hand on my arm. “Just a second.”
We watched in silence as Vivienne trotted down the stairs of the Wagtail Springs Hotel and set off on foot through the green.
“Wasn’t that the horrible woman we saw at breakfast?” whispered Zelda.
I waved my hand at her not to say anything more. After all, she was going to be Holmes’s grandmother-in-law.
“What do you suppose she’s up to?” Zelda continued.
She didn’t understand my sign language message. I was going to have to come right out and say it. “She’s Norma Jeanne’s grandmother, Zelda.”
Ten
I heard Zelda gasp. “I’m sorry, Holmes. I didn’t mean to insult her but—”
Shelley interrupted, “She’s a dreadful woman!”
Holmes twisted around in his seat. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to anyone, okay? I don’t want to upset Norma Jeanne or her family.”
“Think she’s having an affair?” Zelda asked.
Shelley snorted. “Who would be interested in her?”
“Gee, Shelley. What did she ever do to you?” asked Holmes.
My eyes had adjusted to the dark enough for me to see the pained look on Shelley’s face. “We’d better get going,” I said. “We have a lot of houses to visit.”
Zelda giggled. “You sound like Santa Claus!”
We delivered a few more packages around town, then headed up to some of the outlying farms and homes.
We were spotted by a little redheaded boy at an old farmhouse. He wiped his eyes and yawned as he looked out the window. When we heard his yelp of surprise, we jumped off the porch as fast as we could.
The four of us laughed all the way back to town. Holmes and I dropped off Shelley and Zelda at their homes and parked the sleigh in his grandmother’s garage. Holmes insisted on walking me back to the inn. We strolled through the green, which was blissfully empty in the wee hours of the morning. I missed Trixie running ahead in the quiet winter wonderland.
I couldn’t help thinking there was a spring missing in Holmes’s step as we walked. He was happy about having been an elf, though. I was a little bit jealous of Norma Jeanne. Maybe a lot jealous.
Holmes sucked in a deep breath of air. “Gosh, it’s great to be back home. I really miss this place. NJ was teasing me about knowing everyone. Everywhere we went someone came up and said hello or congratulated us. This is going to sound stupid, but I feel like I’m part of something in Wagtail. Like tonight, for instance. If I dressed in an elf suit in Chicago and ran around leaving boxes of food on people’s doorsteps, I’d probably end up at the police station, taken in for questioning.”
I laughed. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“There’s a spirit here that I miss in the city. You must know what I mean. You lived in a city. I live in a high-rise and barely know my neighbors. A man in my building fell and died in his apartment. No one noticed until the odor started to bother the other residents. That could be me.”
Did he really think that? It wasn’t like Holmes at all. “Holmes! Norma Jeanne would worry. And surely your co-workers would notice your absence.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I feel like part of the community here. That’s something I don’t have in Chicago. I’m just another working stiff there.”
I understood completely. I had a circle of close friends in Washington, DC, but in Wagtail, I had a sense of belonging. Like I was part of the fabric of life.
We were nearing the inn when Holmes grabbed my hand and pulled me behind a park bench. “Squat down,” he whispered.
Our faces were mere inches apart, and my heart raced. Was this a ploy for a kiss?
Apparently not. He paid no attention to me and raised his head just enough to see something.
“What is it?”
He pointed toward the inn. A woman bundled in a coat looked around furtively. The lights were bright enough to make out her face.
I kept my voice low. “It’s EmmyLou.”
Casey opened the front door of the inn for her.
We stood up. I looked at Holmes, who still stared at the inn.
“First Vivienne was doing something at the Wagtail Springs Hotel after midnight, and now EmmyLou is out in the middle of the night,” he murmured. “Makes a person wonder what’s going on.”
“There must be some simple explanation,” I said, trying to make it seem less suspicious. “Maybe they were meeting someone about a special gift?” But my voice trailed off as I spoke. That wasn’t something people did in the middle of the night. There really wasn’t a good reason for either of them to be out running around in the wee hours of the morning.
Holmes looked at me and chuckled. “You can’t fool me, Holly Miller. You don’t believe that for a minute.”
“Okay, you’re right. I don’t. I was trying to be nice. After all, they’re going to be your in-laws.”
“Holly, don’t say anything to Oma and Grandma Rose. Whatever Vivienne and EmmyLou are doing is their business.”
I smiled at him. “Just like Oma taught us when we were kids and saw people sneaking around at night at the inn. No problem. I’ll keep mum. Why don’t you go home? That way EmmyLou won’t see you if she’s still in the lobby.”
“Yeah. That’s a good idea. Night, Holly. Thanks for letting me be an elf.”
“Good night, Holmes.” I walked across the plaza and up the stairs to the front door of the inn. I used my key to open the door, and when I was inside and about to close it, I saw Holmes watching me from the shadows. He waved at me, and I waved back.
I locked the door and turned around, only to find Casey watching me, his arms crossed over his chest. He raised his eyebrows. “Lots of sneaking about tonight, Ms. Elf.”
I glanced around. “Where’s Twinkletoes?”
“Haven’t seen her in hours,” said Casey. “I think your nighttime escapades have interrupted her routine.”
“Casey, please don’t mention anything about the ladies who came in late.”
“You and your grandmother have made it very clear that what guests do is none of my business unless the cops show up. But is it just the ladies you don’t want me talki
ng about?” He winked at me.
“Men, too?”
“While you went over to get the sleigh.” He mock zipped his lips. “That family is a bunch of night owls. Don’t they ever sleep?”
I laughed at him and headed upstairs to bed. But when Twinkletoes wasn’t in my apartment, I started to worry. I walked down the stairs again, calling softly, “Twinkletoes?”
I located her on the second floor. Twinkletoes lay facing a door, with her front paws tucked underneath her body. Her ears were erect and she was focused on the door.
Instead of room numbers, each of our guest rooms was assigned the name of a cat or dog activity. Twinkletoes was fixated on Sniff. I hoped that didn’t mean a mouse had taken refuge there.
I wasn’t far from the inn office. Out of curiosity and a little concern, I tiptoed downstairs and checked to see who was occupying Sniff. It was Tim and Linda Kedrowski.
Twinkletoes’s behavior was peculiar, but it was the wee hours of the morning. Had it been daytime, I would have knocked to see if anything was wrong, but I couldn’t exactly do that at this hour. Maybe one of them was having trouble sleeping. Valerian, a plant that a lot of people took to help them sleep, was a cat attractant, sort of like catnip. Maybe that was what she smelled.
I walked back by Sniff, picked up Twinkletoes, and carried her upstairs to bed.
• • •
I was sound asleep when my phone rang at eight in the morning. At the sound of the veterinarian’s voice, I sat straight up.
“Good morning, Holly. I wanted you to know that Trixie had a great night. She didn’t like being in a cage, but she was thrilled to have so much attention. Except for when we made her throw up, she thought she was having a fun night out at a party. You can pick her up around ten this morning.”
I thanked her profusely and bounced out of bed, much too excited to sleep. I showered and threw on jeans. But memories of Norma Jeanne’s polished look made me change my mind. I donned white tights, a short green skirt, a fluffy white V-neck sweater, and cute ankle boots. I didn’t look city chic, but I didn’t feel shabby like I had the day before. I picked up Twinkletoes. “Trixie’s coming home!”
Twinkletoes didn’t talk much but she mewed softly, and I had a feeling she had missed Trixie. She leaped from my arms and scampered to the kitchen. I knew what that meant. She was reminding me to feed her breakfast before I left.
I peered in the fridge at the dishes prepared by the inn just for cats. “Tuna Party? We are celebrating today.”
I spooned it into a bowl, and from the way she snarfed her food, I knew I had made the right choice. She was still eating when I left. If she felt like socializing, the pet door that led down the back stairs to the private kitchen was open. She could come and go as she pleased. I walked down the stairs, only to be intercepted by Oma.
“You look festive.” She held out her arms for a hug and whispered in my ear, “That wouldn’t have anything to do with Holmes, would it?”
“Oma! Absolutely not.” It was a lie, and we both knew it.
She winked at me. “Thank you for my stollen, liebchen. What a wonderful surprise! Mr. Huckle brought me two slices with my coffee this morning, and they tasted like Christmas. You were so thoughtful to bake the stollen for me.”
I hugged her again. “Merry Christmas, Oma. I’m glad you like it.”
“But our Trixie!” Oma held one hand against her cheek in dismay. “Mr. Huckle told me what happened.”
“The vet just called. She’ll be fine. I can pick her up in a couple of hours.”
“You will bring her straight home so we can make a fuss over her, yes?”
“I will.”
She leaned toward me, grasped my arm, and whispered, “I heard an extra elf joined you last night.” When she released me, she raised her eyebrows with excitement.
I knew what she was thinking. My poor Oma was eager to see a romance between Holmes and me. Sotto voce, I said, “When Holmes heard about the elves, he had to join. Don’t go reading anything into that. You know how he loves to surprise people. He’s such a do-gooder.”
“Ja, ja,” she said with a grin. “That is our Holmes. Did he bring the other woman with him?”
“Oma! No. NJ was not included.”
“Rose and I are very concerned that she is wrong for him.”
“That’s because you’re biased. And because you want him to move back here.” I tried to sound like I meant it when I said, “We have to give her a chance. For Holmes’s sake.”
“It’s not just Rose and me who sense this. I’m sure she is a nice person or Holmes wouldn’t be interested in her. But she thinks we are beneath her.”
“What? I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I fear it is. She and her cousin, the one who wears peculiar clothes, were overheard being quite critical of Wagtail and the residents. They are snobs, Holly, who think they are superior to others. This is not good for Holmes. I fear that her pretentiousness will cause problems in the long run. Our Holmes is a kind and forgiving man. I do not wish for him to end up in a marriage that he tolerates but that causes him great unhappiness.”
“Oma! We hardly know her. Who overheard this conversation?”
“Our own Mr. Huckle.”
Ouch. I wished it had been someone else. In spite of his protests to the contrary, Mr. Huckle was a gossip, but he was notoriously reliable and accurate. He wasn’t in the least prone to drama.
“Let’s say that’s the case. Don’t you think it would be better for Holmes to come to that realization on his own?”
“Of course,” said Oma. “But he might need a little help getting there.”
“Don’t you and Rose dare pull any of your tricks.” I said it with what I hoped was a fierce face. They were known to meddle.
“Me?” She feigned insult. “Would I do such a thing?”
“Yes.” The smell of coffee wafted to me. “You and Rose better not spoil things for Holmes. He would never forgive you two for interfering.” I went straight to guilt. “How would you feel if you ruined his chance for true love?”
Oma laughed. “Perhaps he would be eternally grateful that we saved him from misery. You, my liebling, are far too transparent. You pretend to support Holmes’s choice, but it is no accident that you have dressed this way. Trixie doesn’t care what you look like.” She winked at me again and headed for the office.
I felt very much alone without my little shadow. I passed the Kedrowski family in the dining area. Linda and Tim were eating breakfast with their kids, Tiffany and Blake.
Linda wore a sequined Christmas sweater with a reindeer leaping across her chest.
I couldn’t see Blake’s full attire, but I thought I could get dizzy from looking at his jacket too long. It was a wild zigzag print of gold, white, black, and silver—the only calm spots for the eyes were the black lapels. His shirt underneath was equally busy, bearing a silvery print of what appeared to be llamas. I smiled at them and nodded a greeting to some other guests.
Instead of being waited on, I ventured into the commercial kitchen and snatched a piece of bacon to munch on while I poured coffee into a mug.
“Cranberry sweet roll?” asked the cook.
I eyed the spiral rolls with cranberries peeking out and a sugar drizzle on the tops. “Of course. What else do you recommend this morning?”
“Smoked salmon eggs Benedict.” Cook smiled at me.
My plate loaded with eggs, salmon, and heavenly hollandaise sauce, I returned to the dining area where Twinkletoes usually sat on the hearth of the stone fireplace on cold mornings. Today she was nowhere to be seen. I settled at the table near the fire anyway.
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the Kedrowski family was seated nearby. It was impossible to avoid overhearing and watching what was going on. It was a public place, after all.
“I can’t w
ait to plan your wedding, Tiffie.” Linda stirred her coffee.
“Don’t hold your breath on that, Mom.” Blake sneered at his sister.
Tiffany shot him an annoyed look. “Well, I can tell you that I do not want a ceiling of flowers, nor do I wish it to be the social event of the year.”
“I think Barry wishes Norma Jeanne would change her mind about that.” Tim took a bite of a cranberry sweet roll.
“I understand Norma Jeanne,” said Linda. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing. All women want their weddings to be special.”
High notes tinkled, signaling that a cell phone was ringing.
Linda frowned. “Tim! Not at the table, please.”
Tim glanced at his phone. “I have to take this, honey.” He rose and walked toward the front door. It wasn’t long before he returned.
“Tim, we talked about this. We’re on holiday.” Linda was clearly unhappy.
“It was work. I may not be there, but the Thackleberry plant doesn’t close down in my absence.”
I had just refilled my coffee when a tall man about my age loped in. His blond hair was cut short in the back and on the sides, but the front was long enough to hang down in his eyes. His black turtleneck and trousers emphasized his height and lankiness. With a long face and a pronounced nose, I wouldn’t have called him handsome, but his height and confidence made quite an impression. He wasn’t the type one would easily forget. He strode over to Tiffany, who jumped up to hug him.
“Austin! You’re finally here!”
Blake looked on, his mouth agape.
“Mom, Dad, Blake,” said Tiffany, “this is Austin Conroy, my boyfriend whose flight was delayed.” She shot a satisfied smirk at her brother.
“Austin,” breathed Linda. “We are delighted to meet you. Please join us for breakfast.”
Tiffany’s father, Tim, rose and shook towering Austin’s hand. “Glad to meet you.”
Austin pulled up a chair.
“And this,” Tiffany crowed with glee, “is my evil brother, Blake.”
The two men nodded at each other.
Austin studied Blake for a moment. “You look familiar. Have we met?”