“The Poodles have a stocking that we hang with all the others,” I pointed out. “This year, Bud will be included. Do they need a list?”
I took a sip of my hot chocolate. It was rich and delicious. I had to hand it to Davey. The addition of crushed candy cane was pure genius.
“Everybody needs a Christmas list,” he informed me. “Otherwise how will you know what to put in their stocking?”
“Santa Claus knows.” I leveled Davey a warning look. “Santa Claus knows everything.”
Kev frowned as he puzzled something through. Thankfully it wasn’t Davey’s gaffe. “If Santa knows everything, how come we made lists?”
“You guys were being helpful. Santa Claus is very busy this time of year.”
“I know.” Kevin nodded solemnly. “He was in the mall yesterday. Santa is everywhere.”
“Kev was excited about making lists for the dogs,” Davey said. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to be helpful on their behalf too?”
Put like that, what mother could possibly refuse?
I pulled over the pad of paper and uncapped one of the pens. “Okay. Who wants to start?”
“Me, me!” Kevin’s hand shot up in the air. “The Poodles need biscuits and bones, and a new sock with a tennis ball in the toe because Augie threw the last one over the fence.”
I looked up. “He did?”
“It was an accident,” Davey said. “Tar was chasing him.”
Oh. “What else?”
“Bud needs a winter coat,” Kev told me. “Otherwise he’s going to be cold in the snow.”
“Bud has plenty of hair.” I never dressed the Poodles up in clothing or costumes. Dogs in fashionable outfits just weren’t my thing. “Plus, he lives in the house. He never has to stay outside if he doesn’t want to.”
“A coat,” Kev repeated firmly. “Santa will understand. He lives in the North Pole. I bet his reindeer wear coats too.”
“Bud is more likely to chew up a coat than wear it,” I mentioned.
Kevin ignored me. “It should be plaid.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Red and white with silver stars on it.”
“Stars?” I repeated faintly. Where was I going to find a plaid dog coat with stars on it?
Davey was grinning again. He glanced at the paper in front of me. “Are you writing all that down?”
Kevin hopped up from his seat and came to have a look. He couldn’t read yet, but he stared at the writing on the pad anyway. “Does that say plaid?” he asked. “It needs to say plaid.”
PLAID, I wrote down in big block letters. WITH SILVER STARS.
I was pretty sure I was going to regret this.
* * *
Later that night, my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. Everyone was gathered in the living room, watching Charlie Brown and Snoopy celebrate Christmas on TV. I carried the phone around the corner into the hall so I could hear.
“Is this Melanie?” a woman’s voice asked. She sounded older and not entirely sure of herself. I wished she would speak up.
“Yes, it is. Who is this?”
“Stella Braverman. Do you remember me?”
I pressed the device closer to my ear. “Of course, Stella. How are you?”
“I’m well. Thank you for asking. But I need you to do something for me.”
“Oh?”
“Well, not exactly for me. It’s for my neighbor, Betty Dempsey. You’ve met her son, Tyler.”
For a second, my breath caught. “Yes, I know who Betty Dempsey is. What does she need from me?”
“Betty wants to talk to you,” Stella told me. “She wants to know what happened to Pete. She wants to hear it from you. In your own words.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” I said. “Tyler has been very clear about the fact that he doesn’t want me to see his mother. To be honest, I’m not even sure he’s broken the news to her about Pete’s death.”
“No, he didn’t. That coward.” Stella’s voice rose. “But I did. Betty deserved to know.”
Good for her, I thought. Unfortunately that still didn’t mean that I could do as she’d requested.
“I’m not sure how you expect me to get past Tyler,” I said.
“Same way I do,” Stella replied with a snort. “You wait until he’s left the house, then you take my key and let yourself in.”
“Stella, I live in Stamford. Even if you called me as soon as Tyler went out, by the time I got to Stonebridge, he could be back.”
“That’s why I set something up for tomorrow afternoon. Tyler’s going to be called away between two and three o’clock. Can you make that?”
As plans went, it sounded far from perfect. There were a dozen questions I wanted to ask. And probably several good objections I should have made. But I realized immediately that this was likely to be my only chance to hear what Pete and Tyler’s mother had to say about the rivalry between her two sons. And maybe to discover how far one of them might have gone to retain his place in the spotlight.
In reality, there was never any doubt about my reply.
“Yes,” I said. “I can make that.”
* * *
“Again?” Sam lifted a brow later the next morning when I informed him of my plans for the day.
“I suspect this will be my last visit to Stonebridge. I’ve already spoken to Pete’s ex-wife, his business partners, his former best friend, his mistress, his brother, his neighbor, and even his high school girlfriend.” I stopped and sighed. “You’d think I’d have an idea what caused Pete’s death by now.”
“Yes,” Sam agreed drily. “You’re usually quicker on the uptake. While you take another drive up the coast, the boys and I will be doing our bit and covering the office at the Christmas tree farm this afternoon. With Howard Academy having early dismissal on Fridays, I volunteered you to do the same tomorrow. I believe Aunt Peg intends to join you.”
“Oh joy,” I said. “She probably wants to spend the afternoon pumping me for information I don’t possess.”
Sam leaned down and brushed a kiss across the top of my head. “Maybe you’ll learn something interesting today.”
One could only hope, I thought.
Promptly at two o’clock, I pulled into Stella Braverman’s driveway and coasted to a stop. Luckily the short strip of macadam was located on the opposite side of the house from the Dempsey home. Due to the clandestine nature of our business, I thought it wiser not to park on the street where the Volvo would be highly visible to passersby.
As I exited the car, Stella was already coming out her back door. She was dressed in furry boots and a hooded parka and had a determined look on her face. She was holding a key in her hand.
“Good, you’re punctual,” she said. “Let’s go. I don’t know how long Tyler’s going to be gone. Trust me, it’ll be better if he doesn’t see us. Last time he caught me he tried to take my key away. Thank God Betty didn’t let him, or we’d be out of luck today.”
There was a well-worn path in the snow between the back of the two neighboring houses. Stella was spry for a woman her age and she obviously knew where she was going. I was happy to let her take the lead.
She elbowed aside a glass storm door, inserted her key in the lock, then shoved the inner door open. I followed her into a dark kitchen. As we paused to open our coats and wipe our boots on a thick fiber doormat, Stella reached over and turned on the lights.
“Betty?” she called out. “It’s me and Melanie coming in the back door. We’ll be right in to see you.”
“Take your time, dear,” a thin, reedy, voice called back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The living room opened directly off the kitchen. It too was only dimly lit. As we entered the room, a burst of light to one side drew my gaze. A television with its volume muted was showing what appeared to be an infomercial for cooking utensils.
“Turn that thing off, would you? The TV is nothing but an annoyance. I don’t know why Tyler thinks it keeps me company.” Betty Demps
ey spoke up from the opposite side of the room.
A frail woman with gaunt features and wispy gray hair, she lay half-reclining on a low couch. The lower part of her body was covered by a light blanket and her head and shoulders were resting on a plump bank of pillows. She was staring at me with interest.
“You must be Melanie,” Betty said. “Pleased to meet you. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t get up.”
“Of course not. It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Dempsey.” There was an upholstered chair beside the couch. I walked over and took a seat. When I leaned forward, the two of us were on the same level.
“I’ll just give you ladies some time to get acquainted,” Stella said. “If anybody needs me I’ll be in the kitchen brewing some tea.”
“I’m terribly sorry for your loss,” I said.
Betty nodded somberly. “Thank you. My son’s absence has been a hole in my life for these last years. In my condition, the only bright spot I have to look forward to is that I’ll be seeing him again soon. I know you were there when he was found. Would you tell me what happened?”
I took my time relating the story, pausing for Betty to ask questions or add comments. I told her that Pete wouldn’t have suffered. I mentioned that his best friend, Snowball, had been by his side at the end.
That part made Betty smile. She sat up and folded her hands together on the blanket. “That boy always did love animals. Back when he was young, Pete was always bringing home strays and nursing them back to health.”
“What about Tyler?” I asked casually. “Did he like animals too?”
Betty’s gaze narrowed. Her body might have been weak, but her perception hadn’t dulled. “Stella has kept me apprised of your escapades around town. I’m sure you’ve already heard an earful about those two boys and how they treated one another. Now that I have nothing else to do but sit and think, I look back on it and I think maybe that was partly my fault.”
She paused and drew in a deep breath. One hand fluttered upward. She placed it over her heart. “Pete’s birth was the answer to many prayers. I’d had two miscarriages before he arrived. The doctors weren’t sure I’d ever be able to carry a baby to term. My husband and I called him our little miracle.”
It was easy to imagine that Tyler would have found that a hard act to follow.
“When Pete’s drinking spiraled out of control it ruined my life too.” Betty’s voice was growing fainter. I hoped my visit wasn’t tiring her out. “That boy had every opportunity handed to him and he threw it all away. When I was diagnosed, I asked Tyler to try and find his brother. Did he tell you that?”
I nodded in silence. Unexpected tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I had no desire to cover up Tyler’s misdeeds but I couldn’t break this woman’s heart by telling her that shortly before his death, Pete had wanted to come home. And her younger son had prevented him from doing so.
“Tyler thinks he needs to protect me,” Betty said softly. “He’s wrong about that, but he never listens. His father was the same way. He tried to shield me from things he thought I was better off not knowing. But of course I knew anyway. I’ve always known. I could see what was right in front of me.”
She leaned back and rested her head on the pillows. Her gaze grew misty. I had no idea what Betty was talking about. Or if indeed, she was still talking to me at all. She seemed to be lost in a reminiscence of times past.
“What was right in front of you?” I asked.
“Life,” Betty whispered. “Beautiful, miraculous life. A little girl with hazel eyes just like Pete’s, who I never had a chance to know. I should have spoken up, but instead I let time pass. Then it was too late and I had to watch her grow up from afar. Pete should have made things right. That I allowed him not to will always be my biggest regret.”
As she was speaking, Betty’s lips curved in a small smile. I wondered if she was picturing a little girl with hazel eyes.
“I wasn’t aware the Pete and Penny had a daughter,” I said.
“They don’t,” Stella said from behind me. She walked into the room carrying a tea tray. “Betty, how about a nice, warm cup of tea?”
Betty blinked several times before focusing her gaze on her friend. “That would be lovely. Will you pour?”
I turned to Stella. “Betty was just talking about—”
“It’s time for tea,” Stella said. “Then we’ll have to go. We wouldn’t want anything about our visit to upset Betty.”
“No, of course not,” I agreed.
The tea was quickly poured and drunk. Fifteen minutes later, we’d said our good-byes and Stella had locked the door to the Dempsey home behind us.
“You’d better be on your way,” she told me when we reached her driveway. “We don’t want Tyler to come home and find you here.”
Stella kept walking toward her house. I stopped beside my car.
“Betty was telling me about a little girl,” I said.
Stella paused and looked back. “Betty’s on a lot of medication these days. Sometimes her thoughts wander. I’m sure it wasn’t anything important.”
I didn’t believe that for a minute. In fact, I was pretty sure that the opposite was true. It seemed to me that Betty’s memories might be more significant than anything else I’d learned thus far. Now I had to figure out how to make that nugget of information fit with everything else I knew.
On the drive home, I realized the answer was easy. I’d dump everything in Aunt Peg’s lap and let her make sense of it. Friday afternoon at Haney’s Holiday Home was going to be interesting indeed.
Chapter Fifteen
When Aunt Peg blew into the office at the Christmas tree farm the following afternoon, Faith and I were waiting for her.
She was carrying Snowball under her arm and moving with the determined stride of a woman on a mission. It was no wonder Aunt Peg wasn’t walking the silky-haired Maltese on a leash. He probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up.
“Well!” She stopped in front of me and propped her free hand on her hip. “It’s about time.”
It was a good thing there weren’t any customers in the office right then. Anyone with an ounce of sense would have taken one look at the expression on Aunt Peg’s face and run for the hills.
Which said nothing for the quality of my brain cells, because instead I stood my ground, grinned in the face of her obvious wrath, and said, “Time for what?”
Aunt Peg snorted indelicately. She set Snowball down on the plank floor, then unzipped her parka, pulled it off, and tossed it behind the counter. Her scarf and hat followed. Then she turned back to me.
“Is your phone working?”
“I believe so.”
“Can you make calls with it? Send an e-mail? Maybe a text?”
“All possibilities,” I confirmed.
Aunt Peg gazed at Faith who was lying beside the woodstove, and shook her head sadly. Faith flapped her tail up and down in support. “Then for heaven’s sake, what is wrong with you? It’s been how long since we spoke . . . a month?”
“Actually less than a week—”
“Indeed the silence on your end had become so deafening I’d begun to look for smoke signals.”
“Now that’s just silly,” I said.
“You wouldn’t think so if you were in my shoes. Thank goodness for Snowball. Otherwise I’d have been entirely lacking in suitable companionship.”
“I’m going to tell your Poodles you said that,” I mentioned.
Snowball came bounding out from behind the counter. He had his teeth fastened on the end of Aunt Peg’s wool scarf and was dragging it along the floor behind him. As the Maltese went racing by, I leaned down and scooped him up. The scarf came with him.
It took a minute to pry the two apart. By the time I’d succeeded in doing so, Aunt Peg seemed to have settled. She sat down in the rocking chair. I walked over and deposited Snowball in her lap. I’d just reached down to give Faith a pat when the door opened again and a family of four—two smiling ad
ults and two exuberant children—came inside.
Most of the customers I’d dealt with so far were old hands at locating and chopping down their own trees. Many had brought the tools they’d need to do the job with them. This family was similarly prepared. All I had to do was hand out candy canes, show them where the sleds were waiting by the side of the building, and point them in the direction of the Christmas tree forest.
In the brief lull that followed, I quickly told Aunt Peg about my visit with Betty Dempsey the previous afternoon. She sat and mulled that over while I dealt with two more sets of customers, one who needed help getting their tree tied to the roof of their car, and a second who wanted to negotiate a price for the inflatable Santa Claus—a decoration that wasn’t for sale.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked when we again had the cozy office to ourselves.
I lifted a brow and waited. Before voicing my suspicions, I wanted to hear what Aunt Peg had to say. As usual, she didn’t disappoint.
“It sounds to me as though the little girl whom she watched from afar might be Betty’s grandchild.”
“I agree,” I said. “And there’s more.”
This time I backtracked to my conversation with Pete’s ex-mistress, Olivia, about her former lover’s demons. After that, we got sidetracked when I mentioned Rufus the Great Dane. Somewhat predictably that led to a discussion of Aunt Peg’s aversion to dog parks.
Customers came inside to pay for a tree they’d picked out and when they left, I once again picked up the thread of my story. I’d now worked my way around to Pete’s high school sweetheart, Sharon LaRue. By this time, Aunt Peg was sitting up straighter in her seat. Considering the state of the rocking chair, that wasn’t an easy feat.
“There was a photograph on Sharon’s desk,” I said.
“Let me guess.” She placed Snowball on the floor and stood up. “Was it a little girl with hazel eyes?”
“Not quite,” I admitted. “It showed her husband and a grown-up daughter whose eye color I didn’t bother to notice at the time. Sharon told me that she and her husband had married when they were very young. During their freshman year of college, in fact.”
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