Not a Creature Was Purring

by Krista Davis

  He looked down at his boots. “I guess I feel a little guilty, too.”

  “Why? You’ve been a complete gentleman. Haven’t you?” Uh-oh. What if there was someone else that I didn’t know about?

  “Because I’ve been wracking my brain for a reason to break off the engagement.” He mussed his sandy hair. “I’m a crumb. Since we set foot in Wagtail, all I’ve done is think of reasons to break up with Norma Jeanne. That’s almost as bad.”

  “You’re inventing guilt! She just handed you the best reason ever.”

  “But would she have done that if I had been more attentive?”

  “Holmes, it doesn’t matter. When did you get to be so wishy-washy? You didn’t create this situation. I was there the day Austin walked in and she saw him. I knew there was still something between them.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “Would I do that?”

  “Yes.”

  Okay, that was true. I would. “Not this time. Their eyes met and it was obvious.”

  “My family went to so much effort,” he griped.

  “Why don’t you pay for the party and the Thackleberrys’ bill at the inn?”

  “I could do that! Grandma Rose and my folks were going to pay for their lodging. What a great idea. That would make me feel a lot better.” He swung his arms around me in a big hug. “Merry Christmas, Holly.”

  I swear there was a new spring in his step as he crossed the green on his way home.

  I tiptoed up the stairs for my final duty as an elf. I retrieved the envelopes Dale had given me. With Trixie and Twinkletoes at my feet, I carefully checked the names and deposited them in the appropriate Thackleberry stockings.

  • • •

  I woke early to a winter wonderland. Snow covered everything. Wagtail sparkled in its finery. It clung to the branches of the evergreens and blanketed the rooftops. The sun shone in a vivid blue sky, and the world seemed crisp and clean.

  After a shower, I dressed in a white sweater and a flared red skirt. I slid a red velvet collar with white accents over Twinkletoes’s head. She sat proudly, as if she knew it was special.

  Trixie wore her sparkly red collar. Feeling quite festive, we all went downstairs to the early brunch.

  Gingersnap greeted us first in a green velvet collar, her tail wagging nonstop.

  “Want to come, Gingersnap?”

  The Closed sign hung on the front door. It was the first time I had ever seen it used. Our buffet was only for inn guests, invited friends, and the inn family today. I walked outside into the brisk morning with the dogs. The sidewalks had been cleared. In spite of the snow, or maybe because of it, most people were walking their dogs off leash. They bounded through the green, jumping and playing with glee.

  It wasn’t easy to coax Trixie and Gingersnap back inside. But the promise of cookies did the trick.

  Many of Norma Jeanne’s relatives clustered around the tree in the Dogwood Room. Norma Jeanne wasn’t there yet. I wondered if she was hesitant to show her face after her scandalous behavior the night before.

  Blake lazily made his way down the stairs. For the first time, he wore regular clothes—a forest green turtleneck and matching green trousers.

  “Merry Christmas!” I called to him.

  “Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas,” he mumbled.

  He went straight to his stocking and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto a chair. His long fingers zeroed in on an ordinary white envelope. He ripped it open and pulled out a sheet of paper. As he read, his complexion went ashen.

  He reread the note, turned, and said loudly to his family, “Is this some kind of joke?”

  Twenty-three

  Tim raised his coffee in a toast. “Merry Christmas.”

  “This must be Vivi’s idea,” said Blake. “Where is that Scrooge?”

  “She hasn’t made an appearance yet.” Tim looked exhausted, as if the steam had gone out of him.

  EmmyLou and Maggie approached me. “Holly, I have spoken with your grandmother, but I wanted to apologize to you, too. I can’t imagine what Norma Jeanne was thinking last night, and I can only hope that Holmes will forgive her and that they will reconcile. I hope you will forgive us, too. Her behavior has been simply abominable.”

  “No need to apologize, EmmyLou. You’d be surprised how often things like this happen in an inn.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “I guess you do see a lot of inappropriate dalliances here. There’s something about getting away from home that makes us lose sight of our morals. Please don’t think ill of Norma Jeanne. Her grandfather’s death has her so rattled that it impaired her judgment.”

  I doubted that, but I wasn’t about to say so to her mother.

  EmmyLou smiled wanly. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go see if my grandmother, Doris, needs any help.”

  It wasn’t easy to tear myself away from the drama in the Dogwood Room. But Rose seized my arm when she saw me. “Is it true?” she whispered.

  I didn’t know exactly what she had heard, but I nodded. “You mean about Norma Jeanne?”

  She picked up two glasses of mimosas, handed me one, and clinked them. “This is the best Christmas ever!”

  “Shh. They’ll hear you.”

  “Holmes was there?” she asked. “He saw with his own eyes?”

  “I’m afraid so. He took it pretty well, though.” I didn’t know how much I should tell her. If Holmes wanted to share the fact that he would have broken off the engagement anyway, that was up to him.

  Rose looked at the ceiling and raised her glass like she was toasting. “Christmas wishes do come true!”

  Shelley and Zelda arrived with Dave and gushed to Rose about the party thrown by the Richardsons the night before. I hustled to the kitchen to help Oma and the cook.

  I carried dishes out to the buffet and arranged them—honey-glazed ham, peppered country bacon, smoked salmon, biscuits hot from the oven, wilted winter greens with citrus, individual spinach and red pepper quiches, a wreath of praline French toast with syrups, fresh fruit salad, scrambled eggs, Cointreau mimosas, an assortment of bagels and breakfast breads, chocolate mousse, and—could it be? Was that really Fluffy Cake?

  My mouth watered.

  “No turkey?” asked Tiffany.

  Oma overheard her question. “We will have turkey, goose, and stuffing for dinner tonight at The Blue Boar.”

  A blast of fresh air hit me when Holmes arrived with Mr. Huckle. Much more cheerful than Blake, Holmes said, “On my way over I saw Ethan outside showing off his new bicycle. The sidewalks look pretty good. It’s a little icy to ride on them yet, but he couldn’t stop parading the bike around. You’ve never seen a happier kid! This is a holiday that he’ll remember.”

  I had a feeling we would remember this Christmas, too. But not for the same reasons as Ethan.

  Tim and Tiffany were the first to sit down at the tables. EmmyLou helped Doris to a seat. Tim watched them, then raised a mimosa glass to Doris. I retrieved bowls with Christmas brunch for Muffy and Maggie. The dogs were having scrambled eggs with fresh salmon, wilted winter greens, and a sprinkle of bacon.

  I had to coax Trixie away from their food. “I’m bringing you a bowl, too. I promise!”

  The tables in the dining area had been arranged in a big rectangle so everyone could fit and there would be no division of families.

  I suspected the Thackleberrys might not like eating Christmas brunch with a cop, but Dave had been invited long before Dale’s murder.

  Aunt Birdie arrived, wearing a red plaid dress and bearing an armful of gifts.

  There was a long moment of awkwardness as Norma Jeanne and Austin chose seats. Norma Jeanne sat near her mother, but poor Austin appeared to be at a loss.

  I suspected he wouldn’t be comfortable with Tiffany and wasn’t sure how well
received he would be by Norma Jeanne’s family. Feeling for the poor guy, I ushered him to a seat near Dave, Zelda, and Shelley.

  Holmes, his parents, and Rose sat close to Oma and me.

  I finally fetched Christmas brunch bowls for Gingersnap, Trixie, and Twinkletoes. They dug in right away.

  Christmas carols played softly in the background, loud enough to spark the holiday spirit but not so loud that people couldn’t hear one another speak. A fire blazed in the big fireplace, and lights twinkled on the tree.

  When most people were seated, two chairs were empty, but I couldn’t put my finger on who was missing.

  Oma rose from her seat. “Thank you all for joining us at the Sugar Maple Inn this holiday. You may notice that we have left one chair empty in remembrance of Dale Thackleberry, who was taken from us far too soon. I like to think he is here with us today in spirit. May we all find peace and joy in our hearts in spite of his absence.” She lifted her mimosa glass. “Merry Christmas.”

  It was a somber way to start the meal, but EmmyLou mouthed her thanks in Oma’s direction. It had been the right thing to do.

  While our guests helped themselves, Oma leaned toward me and whispered, “Is it true that Norma Jeanne was playing hanky-panky with Austin?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Oma smiled and threw her hands in the air. “What a relief! She was not the right woman for our Holmes.”

  “Don’t get too excited. Norma Jeanne’s mother hopes they will reconcile.”

  “No! We cannot allow this to happen.”

  Everyone appeared to be having a great time. The food was delicious. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had French toast and ham on the same plate, but it was a combination that I gobbled up. Before venturing toward the Fluffy Cake, I made rounds filling mugs with coffee and tea. As I refilled coffee for the Kedrowskis, it finally dawned on me that it was Vivienne who had not come down to brunch.

  I leaned over to her son, Tim, and spoke softly. “Is everything all right with your mom?”

  Linda overheard me. “Maybe we should check on her, Tim. It’s not like her to miss free food.”

  Tim sighed. “You know why she’s not here. How could she show her face after what she did?”

  I was itching to ask what exactly she had done, but it probably wasn’t any of my business.

  “I’ll face her,” said Tiffany. “I’m not afraid of her.”

  Linda nodded. “I’ll come with you, but if I know Vivi, she won’t answer the door.”

  “I can open it if you’re worried,” I offered.

  Linda glanced at Tim, who shrugged. “Maybe that’s wise,” she said. “That way we won’t worry if she’s just sitting there being grumpy.”

  They followed Trixie and me to the inn office, where I fetched a ring of room keys in case we needed them. We walked up the stairs to the Swim guest room.

  I knocked on the door. “Mrs. Thackleberry?”

  There was no answer.

  I tried again, rapping as hard as I could to wake her. “Mrs. Thackleberry?”

  Still nothing. I slid the key into the lock and turned it. Pushing the door handle down, I swung the door open.

  Twenty-four

  The bed was made perfectly. The curtains were open.

  “Either she’s meticulous about making the bed or she didn’t sleep here last night,” I said.

  Linda and Tiffany said simultaneously, “She would never make her own bed.”

  “What did she wear to the party? Do you remember?” I asked.

  Linda blushed. “She didn’t make a point of telling you all about her couture dress that she bought from the designer at a fashion show?”

  Tiffany scowled. “It drives me batty that she spends so much on clothes for herself but she threw a fit when Grampy gave to charities.”

  “She puts Scrooge to shame,” said Linda, “and takes miserliness to new lows. For years I packed extra gifts so you kids wouldn’t think she had forgotten you.”

  “I didn’t know that,” said Tiffany.

  “Dale used to sneak them under the tree with your names on them. When you were older, he started giving the envelopes, which bypassed her entirely. Your grandmother is a pill. Do you know why you call her Vivi? She didn’t want anyone to think she was old enough to be a grandmother. Can you believe it? Most women take pride in their grandchildren. Not Vivi.”

  I peeked in the bathroom quickly to be sure she hadn’t fallen. “I guess we might as well go back and have dessert.” That gorgeous Fluffy Cake was uppermost on my mind.

  Linda nodded. “Vivi will have to turn up eventually to face what she did.”

  As we walked along the hallway, I asked, “Should we mount a search for her?”

  “Goodness, no.” Linda laughed. “You wouldn’t come to Christmas brunch either, if you had taken away all the gifts and left the stockings empty.”

  “I don’t understand. I saw Blake’s stocking. It was full of goodies.”

  “That’s because I filled them. If it had been up to Vivi, we wouldn’t have received Christmas gifts at all. But Dale always gave each of us something special,” said Linda as we walked. “A trip or a new car, something sort of pricey. But this year, the envelopes contained notes welcoming us all to the real world.”

  “Everyone has been cut off,” Tiffany explained. “In addition to gifts, each family member received extra annual income from the profits of the business. But not anymore. Even if the company survives, we’re entirely cut off.”

  Uh-oh. Those envelopes were from Dale. I had inserted them into the stockings myself. Unless Vivienne removed them and replaced them with her own, they were from Dale. I wondered if I should mention it to them but thought better of it. I left it with a simple, “I see.”

  “She’ll have to come back eventually. By then, we will have adjusted to the disappointment.” Linda wrapped her arm around Tiffany’s shoulders.

  We were walking down the grand staircase when Linda said, “Tiffie, would you run ahead and tell your dad that Vivi isn’t here?”

  As soon as Tiffany was out of earshot, Linda placed her hand on my arm. “We had a very special gift for Tiffany, but it disappeared this morning.”

  Uh-oh. Not an allegation of theft. I hated when that happened. “When did you last see it?”

  “She, actually. We’ve lost her a couple of times. I guess we feel so at home that we leave the door ajar and she runs out.”

  “She?”

  “A kitten. A special white kitten. I can’t tell you how hard it is to search this inn. There are a million places a kitten could go. Tim and I have had to sneak around the inn a couple of times in search of that sweet little baby. We didn’t want to spoil the surprise for Tiffie.”

  “So that’s what you were doing!” That explained Tim and Linda’s odd behavior. Unfortunately, I had a feeling I might know who was helping the kitten escape. Twinkletoes had parked herself outside of Tim and Linda’s room because of the kitten inside.

  “She could be anywhere. But let me check one place. If I find her, should I bring her to your room?”

  “May I go with you?”

  “Of course. Come with me.” I led the way up to my apartment.

  When I unlocked the door, Linda said, “This is where you live? Silly me. I never thought about where you and your grandmother might be at night when we’re all in our rooms.”

  I went straight to Twinkletoes’s favorite cushy armchair. Sure enough, she was cuddling a white kitten and washing its head.

  I crooked a finger at Linda.

  She peered over the back of the chair. “If that isn’t the sweetest thing! She’s acting like she’s the kitten’s mother.”

  It was a darling scene. I hated to take the kitten away from Twinkletoes. Reluctantly, I lifted the kitten and handed her to Linda.

  While Linda
hurried out, I spent a few minutes with Twinkletoes telling her what a lovely cat she was to take that kitten under her wing—so to speak.

  I returned to the dining area, but before I sat down, Tiffany whispered to me, “Thank you for seating Austin away from me. I know I invited him, and he’s my guest, but after last night, I wouldn’t mind if he fell through a hole in the floor and vanished.”

  When the last of the Thackleberry clan had finished eating and drifted away from the dining area, Shelley said, “I don’t mean to hurry things, but I’m due at my sister’s house in Snowball in a couple of hours. Let’s clean up so we can get to gifts!”

  “And I have a dog communicating appointment this afternoon,” said Zelda.

  “On Christmas Day?” I asked.

  “They want to know how he feels about his Christmas presents,” Zelda explained.

  I could usually tell if Trixie and Twinkletoes liked their toys. Maybe the people had bought Thackleberry clothes and wanted to know if their dog itched.

  I was clearing dishes when Aunt Birdie gasped. She stood before the tree in the dining area. “Holly!”

  I set the dishes down and strolled over. “Is something wrong?”

  Aunt Birdie’s hand trembled as she pointed to the little felt dog. “Where . . . where did you get this?”

  “Trixie found it. Looks kind of like her, don’t you think?”

  “I do not. It looks like Iggy, the Thackleberry dog.”

  “Dale mentioned having a Jack Russell. I bet someone in his family had this made for him.”

  Aunt Birdie removed the ornament from the tree, closed her hand over it, and clutched it to her chest. “I made it for him. I gave it to him the last time I saw him.”

  Chills raced up my arms. That was the night he was murdered. “Are you sure? Maybe it just looks like the one you made.”

  She turned her head slowly. Her sad eyes met mine. “I think I would know the dog I hand stitched. See? There’s a tiny heart right here on his collar. And I made sure he appeared to be smiling.”

  “Then how did Trixie get hold of it?”