Not a Creature Was Purring

by Krista Davis

  She hurried off, and I made a beeline for the food. While I noshed on Swedish meatballs, stuffed mushrooms, and crab crostini, I drifted around the room, listening to snippets of conversations.

  All the locals were talking about the murder.

  I think Rupert must have done him in. If it had been anybody else, someone would have noticed something.

  It can’t have been easy to get that guy in there. He had to be a good two hundred and fifty pounds or more. Nobody picked him up. That’s for sure. You think there could have been two murderers?

  Have you met his wife? I’d have stabbed myself in the back if I had to go home to her every night.

  His granddaughter’s awful pretty. I’m not surprised that Holmes is smitten with her.

  “Holly! Holly!”

  I turned to see a local girl I knew from Café Chat where she was a waitress.

  “Would you mind taking our picture with the Blakester?”

  “Not at all.” I took her phone and snapped shots while Blake posed with her and a young man.

  She retrieved her phone. “I heard the Blakester was in town, but I didn’t believe it. You think he’s the real Blakester?”

  I assured her that I had no idea. When Blake moved on, I asked her who he was.

  “Are you kidding me? He’s like the most awesome trendsetter in the world. You know, one of those people who turn up at all the glamorous events in New York and LA.”

  So he was using his med school tuition money to play the wealthy socialite? “Maybe it’s not him,” I murmured.

  She pulled a website up on her phone and showed me a picture. It was Blake. I had no doubt about it.

  The very next moment I heard Linda say, “You what?” loud enough to silence the chatter in the room.

  Twenty

  Norma Jeanne’s eyes went wide, and she glared at her aunt.

  Sheepishly, Linda said a general, “I’m sorry,” to no one in particular, and the murmur of voices rose again.

  I edged toward them, stopping to add a sausage roll to my plate full of food.

  “Young man,” said Linda, “I most certainly hope that you were joking about quitting medical school. Honestly, you could give me a heart attack just saying things like that.”

  With a smug expression, Tiffany handed her mother a phone. “I knew you were up to something. Who dresses like that?”

  Linda gasped. “Blake! This is you. What does it mean?”

  Her husband, Tim, gazed at the phone over her shoulder.

  Blake flashed his sister a look of daggers. “It doesn’t mean anything, Mom.”

  “It must mean something. This site is all about you,” said Linda. “And that girl whom you don’t even know wanted a picture taken with you. Now explain yourself.”

  “I’m an influencer.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” said Tim. “Is it a computer thing?”

  “It means that a lot of people are influenced by what I do. I set the trends.”

  “Why?” asked Linda.

  “Because I’m cool.”

  “Is that why you insist on wearing these strange clothes?” Tim gestured toward his son’s attire.

  “Dad, you have no fashion sense. This is a very expensive garment. Where’s Norma Jeanne? She would understand.”

  “Honey, are you doing this for money? Is that it?” asked Linda. “Your grandfather wasn’t sending you enough?”

  “Grampy sent him plenty,” said Tiffany. “That’s why he was going to cut him off.”

  Linda’s gasp drew stares.

  “Mom,” said Blake softly, “can we please talk about this back at the inn?”

  Vivienne, who had been standing nearby listening, calmly threw back a cup of punch before saying, “Did you think he wouldn’t cut you off if you killed him?”

  When Vivienne laughed and strode away, Linda said, “Don’t you worry, Blake. We’ll get this all straightened out.”

  Tim gave his son a pat on the back, which caused the loose strings of his outfit to wiggle, which caused dogs to bark at Blake.

  Most people who saw it broke out laughing. Blake was clearly mortified and left in a huff.

  “Wow! You clean up pretty well for an elf, Miss Holly Miller.” Holmes smiled at me. “Have you tried the bourbon punch? I can recommend it.”

  I couldn’t tell him I felt like I had to keep my wits about me so I could listen in on conversations and observe people. “Not yet. Are you having a good time?”

  “It’s amazing. The whole town turned out. There are people here whom I haven’t seen in years.”

  “A lot of people in Wagtail care about you.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. His smile faded. I felt awful and sought something else to distract him. “Maybe they really came to see what Blake would be wearing.”

  “Never a dull moment around that guy. Speaking of which, any news on Dale?”

  “Not really.”

  “We should put our heads together. We make a pretty good team.”

  Norma Jeanne strolled up. “Holly, I’ve been admiring your dress. Who is it?”

  It took me a second to understand what she was asking. “I really don’t know.”

  She nodded as though I confirmed what she suspected. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “It’s so red. It’s the next best thing to a Christmas sweater.”

  I was fairly sure that was a slap in the face. With a cheery smile, I said, “I heard you learned how to make shrimp and grits.”

  Norma Jeanne’s smug expression faded. “Never again. And no more hiking, either. Did Holmes tell you that his buddies took us on a hike? It was the most excruciatingly boring two hours of my life, and my feet are covered in blisters. I swear I’m going to have to go to a spa to recuperate. No more hiking for me. The only hiking I plan to do is on sidewalks from store to store.”

  “This isn’t really the best time of year for hiking,” I said. “Although the snow is pretty.”

  “That’s not all. Did you tell her?” asked Norma Jeanne.

  “My aunt invited her to go riding.” Holmes’s eyes turned up toward the ceiling.

  I thought he was bracing himself.

  “I swear that horse bucked me off intentionally,” Norma Jeanne declared.

  “Oh no! Are you all right?” I asked.

  “He didn’t buck, NJ.” Holmes spoke in a level tone.

  “He threw me off of him. I call that bucking. I can’t imagine what my mother sees in Wagtail. I think I’m a city girl, through and through.”

  She was. And while I was getting to like her less and less, I didn’t think it was fair of us to judge her for it.

  Trixie ran up to us and placed her paws on Holmes’s legs. He bent to pet her, but Norma Jeanne drew back.

  “She won’t hurt you,” I said.

  “I don’t do dogs.” Norma Jeanne wrinkled her nose again.

  I was in shock. “But your mother has a dog. Maggie. And your great-grandmother has Muffy.”

  “Isn’t it awful? I could not believe they brought them on this trip. Even if I don’t touch them, I end up with fur all over my clothes.”

  Holmes’s brow furrowed, as though it was the first time he’d heard her speak that way.

  I was done being nice. I was through being supportive. “Excuse us.”

  Right in front of her, I grabbed Holmes’s hand and tugged him through the crowd and out the door. Trixie came with us.

  When we were away from people, under the starry velvet sky, I came right out and said it. “You cannot marry her.”

  Twenty-one

  “Holly Miller!” Holmes scolded me. “I thought you, of all people, would understand. You dated Ben, who is the same way. He doesn’t like cats or dogs.”

  I held out my palms. “And do you see me marrying him? I
f you recall, I turned him down. Trixie and Twinkletoes had a lot to do with that. I didn’t want to live my life without animals. No—I couldn’t live my life without animals.” I tried to lower my voice and be more sympathetic. “And I don’t think you want to do that, either.”

  Holmes sighed and rubbed Trixie’s ears. “The odd thing is that I fit into Norma Jeanne’s life in Chicago, but it’s painfully apparent that she doesn’t fit into my life.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, I sort of understood. Life in the city was different. I had loved it. I had been to the grand parties, gone to the theater, shopped in the fancy stores, and taken advantage of all that city life had to offer. But even back then I had done it with a dog. Just because I had elected to live in Wagtail didn’t mean Holmes had to do the same thing.

  “I guess you made that choice when you proposed to her,” I said.

  “Actually, Norma Jeanne was the one who wanted to get married. She suggested it one day and . . . Why do you think this engagement has dragged out so long? I knew there were problems.” He sucked in a deep breath of the cold air. “When my dad was sick and I had to keep coming back here, I realized how much I missed it. For crying out loud, Holly, her family makes dog clothes! You’d think she would fit in here, wouldn’t you? That she would love living in Wagtail.”

  “I think Dale and EmmyLou would fit in. But—” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. He knew what I meant. He was surely thinking it himself. Norma Jeanne would hate life in Wagtail. It wasn’t her thing. No one cared about haute couture here. And there were dogs everywhere. I had serious doubts about anyone who didn’t do dogs, but I couldn’t say that to Holmes. Could I?

  “Sometimes we make sacrifices for the people we love,” I said softly.

  He squinted at me. “So if I truly loved Norma Jeanne, I would give up on my dreams to come back to Wagtail?”

  Actually, I had meant it the other way around. If Norma Jeanne truly loved Holmes, she might agree to live in Wagtail to make him happy.

  And then he grabbed me in a big bear hug. “Holly, you’re absolutely right! I’ve been trying to talk this out with Dave and some of my buddies. Even with Grandma Rose and Oma. And in one sentence, you set me straight. It all seems so clear to me now. Thanks. You’re the best.”

  I had no idea what he meant and was more than a little afraid that he might have misinterpreted what I said. But he seemed very relieved and smiled like his old self.

  “I’m glad I could help.” I said it weakly since I had a bad feeling I had actually made things worse. But then I wondered—worse for me or for Holmes? In the end, he would do what his heart told him to do, and it wasn’t up to me. For someone who had been determined to support Holmes and his decisions, I had made a mess of things. I never should have butted in.

  At that moment, Norma Jeanne tottered out on heels that weren’t meant for snowy paths. “Holmes, honey? What are you doing out here in the cold?”

  “It just got a little bit hot in there,” he said.

  She looked from him to me and back again. “Looks like it’s getting hot out here.”

  On some level, I supposed I deserved that. But our little chat couldn’t have been more innocent. Okay, so I had told him he couldn’t marry her, but it wasn’t like we were smooching or anything. “We were just catching up, Norma Jeanne,” I said. “Holmes has been so busy that we haven’t had time for a chat.”

  “Holmes, would you mind terribly if I headed back to the inn?” she asked. “What with Grandpa’s death, this has been the worst holiday ever. And I haven’t gotten any sleep since I’ve been here.” She glared at me. “Apparently there’s not a decent pair of blackout curtains in this entire town or any potable water, either. My skin is already the texture of sandpaper.”

  She was awful! All those not-so-subtle jabs were like slaps in the face. I reminded myself not to stoop to her level. I had to be kind. After all, her grandfather had been murdered and the whole family had been roused in the middle of the night. I would be a basket case if I were in her shoes.

  “But it’s Christmas Eve,” said Holmes. “You’ll miss the carols and the ringing of the bells.”

  Not to mention that the party had been thrown in their honor. I didn’t mention that, though. It was their issue, not mine.

  “Right now I don’t care if Santa Claus himself comes from the North Pole to ring bells. I’m going back to the inn.” She shot a sly look in my direction. “It’s not like you won’t have plenty of company, most of whom will be telling you lies about me.”

  Whoa! How deftly she planted that seed in Holmes’s head. Very practical. No matter what might be revealed, she could say we were lying.

  I had tried my best to be supportive of Holmes, but in that moment, she revealed the true Norma Jeanne. She was calculating and manipulative. I was done trying to like her.

  Holmes walked her into the house and I followed. He was offering to get her a Wagtail taxi, and then, right behind her, a party host’s nightmare commenced.

  Aunt Birdie and Vivienne saw each other. They stood four feet apart. I knew it was trouble with a capital T.

  “You have some nerve coming to a party in honor of my family,” said Vivienne.

  “I was invited.” Aunt Birdie held her head high.

  “If I had murdered someone, I believe I’d be keeping a low profile.” Vivienne leveled a cold gaze on Aunt Birdie.

  “Perhaps you should take your own advice.”

  “Holmes, do something,” spat Norma Jeanne.

  “I’ll take Aunt Birdie,” I said.

  Holmes tried to get Vivienne’s attention by flattering her, while I took Aunt Birdie’s arm intending to steer her away. But we were too late. Vivienne tossed an entire glass of bourbon cranberry punch at Aunt Birdie, who stepped aside with amazing dexterity. The full force of the liquid hit Norma Jeanne in the face and splashed down her dress.

  The room went silent. Oh no! I cast about for something, anything, to say.

  One of Holmes’s buddies broke the tension. “Funny, I thought the bourbon punch was delicious.”

  I walked away with Aunt Birdie fast.

  “He had filed for divorce,” she said. “He didn’t love her.”

  I placed my hand on her arm. Poor Aunt Birdie.

  She watched the commotion surrounding Norma Jeanne. “Can you believe that he stayed with her for years because of her heart condition? He put her well being before his own happiness. He finally decided he had to move on. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life with her. But he never got the opportunity to enjoy life without her again. She was such a harpy. He thought it would be the last time the family gathered for the holidays. That witch must have been waiting for him outside my door, and when he left, she stabbed him.”

  “That’s so creepy. She was stalking him?” I shivered at the thought.

  “She must have been. How else would she have known where I lived?”

  “It’s not that hard to find addresses on the Internet anymore.”

  “And I suppose she could have asked just about anyone who lives here. I’m fairly well-known in Wagtail.”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Birdie.”

  “Are you, dear? That may be the nicest thing you have ever said to me. But I’m not leaving. I have more right to be here than she does, and I would like to have a word with your grandmother.”

  I watched her walk away as though nothing had happened. Aunt Birdie might be an obnoxious, opinionated character, but she had a lot of pride.

  After Norma Jeanne left, Holmes found me and handed me my coat.

  “What’s going on?” Tiffany whispered.

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” he said, as though that explained everything.

  We weren’t the only ones leaving. There was a mass exodus from the party. People piled out of the house and walked along the street. Holmes and I join
ed Oma and Rose. Trixie and Gingersnap romped ahead on the street as Wagtailites emerged from their homes and merged with the crowd.

  All the homes glittered in their holiday finery. I turned to look at the Grinch. He shone brightly, looking over the rooftops a couple of blocks away.

  In short order, we arrived at the old Wagtail church. Children gathered at the front, all wearing red cloaks. Each one held a candle.

  Ethan Schroeder stood next to his sister and waved at me, calling, “Hi, Holly!”

  Mrs. Carr looked over and smiled at me. “Thank you for being so kind to Ethan. This holiday is especially hard on him.”

  “He’s such an adorable little guy. I can’t believe no one has adopted them yet.”

  “There’s an adoption pending. I was hoping it would go through before Christmas, but you know how slowly these things move. The children don’t know yet.”

  “Who’s adopting them?”

  “They won’t tell me! Isn’t that awful? But I’ll miss those darling faces. I hope they stay in Wagtail. They’d have a built-in babysitter in me.”

  “You didn’t want to adopt them?”

  “Oh, child. I love them to bits, but they deserve a young, active family, not an old lady like me.”

  “You’re not that old!” I protested.

  “Old enough. Little ones are a handful. I’m ready to be the granny, not have full-time responsibility for them.”

  I understood. They were so sweet standing in front of the church, squirming and fussing. But most of the parents were a good thirty years younger than Marie.

  Rupert tended to a little girl, sliding red gloves over her hands. Three other children demanded his attention.

  Teenagers handed out candles to the people who had come to watch. Each dog and cat received a light that could be attached to a collar with a carabiner-style clip. They glowed in the shapes of stars.

  A bell rang once, silence fell over the crowd, and the children sang “Away in a Manger.” And “Jingle Bells.” And even “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” Not a single person in the crowd didn’t smile as they continued their performance.