by Krista Davis
“He told me he misses Wagtail.”
At that moment, a little girl ran up to us. “I lost my doggy!”
Dave sounded reassuring when he said, “I’ll help you find him.” But before he walked away, he looked at me and said, “Wagtail isn’t all he misses.”
I strolled home with my heart beating way too fast. Surely he couldn’t have meant what I hoped? That Holmes missed me, too? Still, a tiny ray of hope lingered in my head.
I made it back to the inn in time for lunch. In spite of my big breakfast, I was starving and knew Trixie would be, too. I picked her up at the inn office where Oma and Rose were discussing the recent rash of thefts in town. Trixie and I ventured toward the dining area.
In the lobby, the Kedrowski family and Austin were clustered around the Christmas village that Linda was arranging. In just a few hours, she had created a charming tableau.
“Linda, this is beautiful,” I gushed. “I can’t believe the details.”
She had set up a little village with railroad tracks, stone bridges, and an ice-skating pond.
Linda beamed at the praise. “It’s not finished yet, but I’m having such a fun time. I’m in my element.”
Tiffany backed up and aimed her camera at it.
“Oh, please,” moaned Blake. “This is the height of kitsch. Must you photograph it?”
Tiffany snapped the picture, stepped away, and turned her camera to capture him with the village. “Why are you such a Scrooge? It’s so pretty, and Mom worked hard on it while you were out doing heaven knows what this morning.”
“How is it possible that we’re related?” Blake groaned. “You and Mom have questionable taste. Really, only Norma Jeanne and I appear to have gotten the gene for culture and style.”
“I beg your pardon? Have you looked in a mirror, Blake? Your jacket shines brighter than the sun.” Tiffany acted like a 1940s drama queen, holding her hand to her head in agony. “Oh, oh! I need my sunglasses.”
“Honestly, it was so pleasant when the two of you were out running around,” their father groused. “Can’t you try to get along?”
They were adults, so I presumed they knew better than to behave so snarkily toward each other.
The front door opened. A German shepherd trotted inside, a small bandage on her front paw. She headed straight to Trixie, wagging her tail. They sniffed each other politely.
EmmyLou and her husband, Barry, followed.
Tiffany shrieked and ran to the German shepherd. “Maggie! I didn’t know you were here.”
EmmyLou smiled wanly. “She wouldn’t miss Christmas.”
“Where has she been?” asked Linda. “I wondered why you didn’t bring her with you.”
EmmyLou and Barry exchanged a look.
Thirteen
“Where is Norma Jeanne?” asked Barry.
“I haven’t seen her. What’s going on?” Linda frowned at them.
EmmyLou mashed her lips together and appeared to be on the verge of tears.
Barry placed an arm around her shoulder. “Maggie has been at the animal hospital having some tests done.”
“She doesn’t look sick,” said Tiffany, “except for her leg. What happened?”
“Her leg is fine. The bandage is just where she had an IV. We can take that off in an hour or so,” Barry explained. “They did all kinds of tests. We’ll know more in a couple of days.”
EmmyLou covered her mouth with her hand and walked slowly toward the elevator as though she were the one who was sick. Maggie followed, sniffing the inn as she went.
“Oh no, is it something bad? This must be devastating to EmmyLou,” said Linda softly.
Barry nodded. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Norma Jeanne. This is a special holiday for her. We don’t want to spoil it for her. Norma Jeanne isn’t crazy about Maggie anyway. We don’t want Norma Jeanne’s joyous time here upstaged by a dying dog.”
Tiffany gasped. “Dying?”
“We took Maggie to our vet at home because she was limping. That turned out to be nothing, but an ultrasound turned up something far worse. He sent us here for more tests. We’re going to pretend as though it’s nothing for now. We want all of you to have a fun Christmas. EmmyLou and I will baby Maggie while Norma Jeanne and Holmes enjoy their engagement.”
They all nodded in agreement.
He frowned. “Assuming that EmmyLou can stop crying.”
I left them to their family matters and grabbed a quick lunch of macaroni and cheese with a to-die-for crunchy, salty topping. Trixie snarfed the spaghetti and meatballs. I felt a little guilty for indulging, but Trixie and I were going to spend the afternoon outside in the Christkindl booth. We needed sustenance against the cold.
The bald man who had told me about the Thackleberry fabric problem was eating by himself at a table near the fireplace. He nodded to me in greeting.
After we ate, I filled a thermos with sweet hot tea and dressed Trixie in a down coat. I wrapped up in a heavy sweater and a down vest. We walked outside and replaced Shelley, who was glad to see us.
“I’ve been spying on the Thackleberry family for you,” she said.
“Shelley!” I scolded. But I wanted to hear what she knew.
“They’re actually fairly nice people, except for that guy, Blake, who acts like he’s some kind of superstar who is too good to mingle with us peasants. Norma Jeanne is a big shopper. She’s visiting every store with Blake, but they can’t carry their purchases. Everything must be delivered to the inn for them. Tiffany hates Norma Jeanne. You can see it in the way she looks at her.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, the horror! Cousins and siblings spatting with each other. And Norma Jeanne likes to shop! They sound fairly normal to me.”
Shelley laughed and took off, eager for a warm lunch.
Trixie amused me by visiting the other stalls. I knew what my rascal was doing—begging for treats. After she made the rounds and came back to our booth, she stood outside on her hind legs, placed her paws against the glass cookie case, and gazed at them longingly.
“I’m quite sure you have had enough for the time being,” I told her.
She wagged her tail and smiled at me hopefully.
I found the tiniest cookie we had, very thin and no bigger than the nail on my pinkie, and used it to coax her inside. “No more cookies for you, Miss Cookie Monster.”
Around one in the afternoon, EmmyLou came by with Maggie. Much like Trixie had, Maggie placed her paws on the cookie display and gazed at them.
“Holly,” said EmmyLou, “I want to apologize for being such a mess. I thought I would be able to hide my sadness, but as you know, that didn’t work out.”
“No problem at all, EmmyLou. I was a basket case last night when Trixie was sick.”
“We’re waiting for the report on the cells they extracted from Maggie’s kidney. I don’t know whether it’s worse to wait or to get the bad news.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Our doctor at home was nice, but his words, you may not want to fix this dog, keep going through my head.”
“That’s awful!”
“I know he didn’t mean to sound so callous, but that’s what he said. There are two major organs involved, a kidney and the liver, and, well, I know everyone expects the worst.”
I sought something hopeful to say to her. “If anyone can help, it’s the doctors in Wagtail. They’re outstanding.” They were hollow words, even if they were true.
EmmyLou nodded. “I know. That’s why we brought her to a specialist here. My dad and I have been coming to Wagtail for a long time. Even before it became a pet resort. And now so many of the stores carry our products that we have a reason to visit. We always made a point of having at least one meal out on your terrace overlooking the lake. This is our first wintertime visit. Maggie loves c
oming here where she can run around off leash and go hiking in the woods.”
“Which cookie flavor does Maggie like best?” I asked. “Peanut butter, gingerbread, carob, cheese, or bacon?”
“Definitely bacon!”
Maggie didn’t seem one bit sick when she focused on the cookie and extended her head as far forward as possible to reach it. I handed over a bacon-flavored dog cookie in the shape of a Santa hat.
She munched it on the spot.
Tiffany strode up, carrying a stack of papers, and promptly hugged Maggie. “How’s our favorite girl?”
EmmyLou did her best, but I could tell she was trying hard not to cry.
“EmmyLou, I’m glad I caught up to you. I know you have a lot on your mind, but I’d like you to take a look at this.” Tiffany handed her the papers.
While EmmyLou examined them, Tiffany gazed at our wares. “Are those our dog dresses?” she asked.
“They are! I hadn’t realized how many Thackleberry dog and cat garments I own. You definitely make the cutest ones on the market.”
“Thanks! I’m glad to hear that.” Tiffany glanced around before asking, “Has anyone brought them back or complained about them?”
I thought it best to be truthful, even if it hurt. This was their livelihood, after all. “None have been returned, and I have not received any complaints. But a guy stopped by yesterday and said something about them making dogs itch and lose their fur.”
Tiffany groaned.
EmmyLou handed the papers back to Tiffany. “I don’t understand. How can animals be allergic to our fabrics all of a sudden? Did we change suppliers?”
Tiffany shook her head. “I talked to Grampy about it last night. The really bad news is that someone started a website for complaints. I checked with some stores in Wagtail yesterday. They’re not sure if they’ll reorder because people are refusing to buy our products.”
EmmyLou wiped hair out of her forehead. “This is a nightmare. Have you seen Dad? I’d like to talk with him, too. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“I spent the morning with Austin. If I see Grampy, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”
EmmyLou checked her watch. “I’ll see if I can find him. How about meeting us at three o’clock at Café Chat?” She and Maggie left immediately.
Tiffany sighed. “Can you believe this? A business crisis over our Christmas holiday and Norma Jeanne after my boyfriend!”
“But she’s engaged. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”
Tiffany eyed me. “You obviously don’t know Norma Jeanne. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do to get what she wants.”
Funny, I was under the distinct impression that what she wanted was Holmes.
Tiffany mashed her lips together. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Norma Jeanne or Austin for a while. Excuse me.”
She passed Holmes on her way to the inn. I couldn’t help noticing the difference in their attitudes. Tiffany appeared to be in a panic, moving swiftly, while Holmes loped toward me, stopping to greet people and grinning like the happiest man on the planet.
He finally reached the Christkindl booth. “This market is so cool. Grandma Rose says it’s going to be an annual thing.”
“It’s been a lot of fun. Even though it’s cold outside, it’s great to get out of the inn and do something different.”
“Holmes!” Norma Jeanne shouted from the porch of the inn. She waved, holding papers in her hand, and hurried toward him. “Honestly! I keep losing track of you.”
“Want to amble through the Christkindl booths with me?” Holmes asked.
“We don’t have time for that. After we missed each other this morning, I printed out a schedule for the day. We have facials at two and massages at three thirty, which will just give us enough time to change into dinner attire before Yappy Hour.” She thrust a schedule at him.
Holmes frowned as he looked at it. “I was planning to see some of my friends. Why don’t you do those things and then meet us at Hair of the Dog?”
“I have to go all alone?”
“Maybe Tiffany or your mom would like to go with you.”
I felt a little guilty for listening to their discussion. But I was trapped. It wasn’t like I could move away.
“Holmes!” She placed her hand on his jacket and made a pouty face. “This is our special time together. You’ll spoil the whole holiday if you don’t come with me.”
“NJ, I think you know I’m not a facial kind of guy.”
“You would love them if you just tried.”
“I’m sorry, I promised some old friends I would meet up with them.”
“You should have told me so I could have planned accordingly. You know how I hate to deviate from a schedule.”
“Hair of the Dog. Anyone can tell you how to get there. Just come when you’re ready.”
Obviously miffed, she turned on her heel and marched away, her head held high.
“You’re in big trouble,” I joked.
“It’s a little odd being told what to do on your own stomping grounds. I never gave her obsessive planning much thought in Chicago. But last night she didn’t want to stop by to see my folks just because it wasn’t on her schedule and hadn’t been planned in advance. My own parents!” His eyebrows dipped in the middle. “Not sure I like this regimentation when I’m home. I’d like to kick back and visit with friends and family.”
“She wants to be with you.”
His lips pulled tight. “You’re saying I’m being a jerk. I’m not going to stand up the guys. But I’d better be a gentleman and smooth things over. See you later, Holly.” He ran after her calling her name.
Great job, Holly, I thought. They had an argument and somehow, I managed to convince him to settle it. I was beginning to think I was my own worst enemy and should do what everyone had suggested—pull pranks on Norma Jeanne.
At three thirty, Zelda relieved me so I could take a break. Trixie and I nabbed some cranberry scones and tea and settled at a table in the dining area of the inn to warm up.
I saw Linda first. She walked through the lobby slowly, as if she were looking for someone. When she saw Tim, they exchanged a few hushed words. Then Tim strolled through the dining area, gazing around, and walked into the library. Very peculiar.
I didn’t see Tim, Linda, Holmes, or most of the Thackleberry clan for the rest of the day. The Christkindl booth and my duties at the inn kept me busy, and Rose had arranged for activities and a special dinner for the Thackleberrys. But I couldn’t get Dave’s words out of my head. Holmes missed something besides Wagtail. It could be his parents, or his old pals. It could be hiking or the mountains, which were oddly addictive.
Just before midnight, I changed into my elf suit again, dressed Trixie in hers, and headed for the golf cart sleigh.
It was the night before Christmas Eve. Many of the people who owned cabins on Wagtail Mountain had arrived for the holiday. At Christmas, cities were stunning with all the glam and glitter, but there was something special about the coziness of a cabin in the snowy mountains for the holidays.
Even though it was past midnight and the crowds had dwindled, couples walked hand in hand through the green, which was quite romantic decked out in snow and sparkling lights on the trees. Trixie ran ahead of me, showing no ill effects from her poor dining choice the night before. Tonight’s elf mission was to deliver bulky necessities to seniors in need. The Sugar Maple Inn handyman had received donations from stores around town and stashed them in the sleigh so it would be ready to go. As I understood it, there were vacuum cleaners, at least two small garden tillers, a couple of humidifiers, a chain saw, four giant cat trees, and a puppy corral. They didn’t seem like much, but they would be cherished by those who needed them.
On the way over, Trixie stopped, lifted her nose, and sniffed the air. I stopped too
, and sniffed the air. Did she smell a fire? All I could pick up was the lovely scent of fireplaces in use.
She took off running.
“Trixie!” I called.
There was no stopping her. I ran after her awkwardly in my elf shoes. Fortunately, she was going in the direction of Rose’s house, where the sleigh awaited us.
But then she veered west and kept going with me stumbling after her and calling her name. She led me straight to Rupert’s house, where she barked at the Grinch. It stood tall and dark in the night. Rupert had abided by Oma’s rule that he turn off the music and the lights.
The trouble was—that wasn’t Trixie’s ordinary bark. It was the bark that sent chills through me. The one I had come to know all too well. It meant something was very wrong. Dead wrong.
I hoped no one had hurt Rupert.
“Trixie, shush. You’ll wake the entire neighborhood.” She kept barking at the Grinch, running around it, and sniffing at the base.
I tried to grab her, but she pranced away from me and continued to bark.
“Trixie, there’s nothing here. It’s just a blow-up Grinch. You saw it before.”
She didn’t listen to my reasoning. She darted away from me every time I got near. But her focus never strayed from the Grinch.
Was it because the light wasn’t on? Surely not.
“What’s goin’ on out here?” Rupert walked toward me.
“I’m so sorry. I hope she didn’t wake you.”
“Naw. I’m puttin’ a mane on a rockin’ horse.”
I glanced at him in surprise. “You’re like Santa!”
He gestured toward me. “You oughta know, Ms. Elf.”
“I can’t imagine what set her off.”
“Maybe a critter got inside there and can’t git out.”
“Inside the Grinch?”
“Sure. That’s where the lights and everything are. I’ll get a flashlight.”
He was back in a snap. “Let’s have a look.”
He led me around to a nearly invisible door and opened it. Trixie scrambled past our legs in her zeal to enter.
Rupert shone the light inside. I stepped over the rim of the base to enter. Even in the semi-darkness, I could make out Trixie’s white fur as she sniffed something.