Gillian opened the front door of her large Victorian house and emerged onto the porch carrying a silver-plate tray loaded with a teapot and five pottery mugs. “Oh, it’s so dark already. The winter solstice is almost upon us, so I’ve made us some soul-warming herbal tea,” she announced, setting the heavy tray down on one of the wicker side tables. “Gather around and inhale this fragrance. While you sip, be grateful that we’re not looking at the winter as the famine months as our ancestors would have done.”
“When it comes to your teas, I might prefer goin’ without.” Bennett took the top off the teapot and sniffed. “Lord help us! What are you tryin’ to sneak down our throats, woman? Fresh mulch tea? Ugh!” He grunted as Gillian lifted the teapot and placed it directly beneath his nose. “This stuff smells like my backyard.”
“Excellent olfactory observation. I am so proud of you for activating your other senses!” Gillian replied. “This is pine needle tea. It’s very high in vitamin C and helps relieve congestion. You sound a bit stuffed up to me, Bennett. If you lack the confidence to experiment with a new taste, then I’ll give you some leaves to take home. You can take a nice pine needle tea bath and all your aching joints will be soothed. Isn’t nature incredible?”
“How’d you know my joints were sore?” Bennett looked at Gillian in surprise.
“You know how intuitive I am,” Gillian stated. “When I was in my mid-twenties, I took yoga classes from a very spiritual woman. She told me that I was deeply in tune with my inner—”
“I brought something to warm us up too,” Lucy interrupted, gesturing at a large metal thermos resting on the porch floor. “Hot buttered rum. It’s a recipe my folks have used for years to make it through the cavalcade without turning into human ice sculptures. It’ll send a shot of heat right down your gullet and straight to your toes.”
“Now that’s more like it. Hit me with a cup of that brew.” Bennett pointed at the thermos. “Look there! I think our first vehicle is comin’ down the road.”
The five friends moved to the edge of Gillian’s porch and cheered at the sight of a Shenandoah County recycling truck.
The Christmas Cavalcade was established fifteen years prior in order to encourage hometown pride. Each of the Quincy’s Gap municipal departments decorated a vehicle of their choice with Christmas lights, garlands, ornaments, plastic statues, stuffed animals, and anything else they felt would spread holiday cheer. Members of each department hung out windows, sat inside trunks, or perched on top of the roof of their cars, trucks, vans, or buses in order to distribute goodies to the multitude of children who flocked to Quincy’s Gap in hopes of filling paper lunch bags with free holiday treats.
Gillian’s house was perfectly situated for viewing the cavalcade. She lived in the heart of the downtown historic area, and all the parade vehicles would begin their journey at the old courthouse, which was two blocks north of her three-story, pink and green home.
As usual, dozens of bystanders had set up folding chairs and portable heaters on the sidewalk in front of the house, for Gillian had always been gracious about allowing the spectators the use of both her lawn and her bathroom. One year, she had even baked Christmas cookies for the cavalcade observers, but most of her organic, gluten-free goodies had found their way into the storm drain at the corner. Out of kindness, one woman had told Gillian that the children got enough treats during the event and didn’t need any more sugar.
“We don’t want ’em to be spoiled,” she had said tactfully. “You don’t need to bake them anything when they’re gettin’ all this candy already. But thank you so much for bein’ so kind.”
Gillian restricted her cookie making to an even dozen, which she now shared among her friends. They all hated the cookies, but were unwilling to offend their hostess by leaving them uneaten. This year, however, James had a plan in place in order to avoid having to chew on a baked good that tasted remarkably like chalk. He took two cookies from Gillian’s multicultural holiday platter, which showed a rainbow of children’s faces around the border and a dove carrying a holly branch in the center, and stuffed them into a snack-sized plastic bag that he had placed in his coat pocket earlier that evening.
James thought that he had slipped the cookies into his jacket undetected, but Lucy sidled up to him and said, “Smooth move. Got room for mine?” She unfolded her fist in order to reveal a pair of crumbling cookies resembling a blend of Milkbone biscuits and cow dung.
“Sure. Come closer and drop them into my pocket. I’ll throw them out at home later on.”
“Like I said. Smooth move. This is just your way of getting me near you,” Lucy teased. “But I’m glad you came prepared. You ever heard the term ‘meadow muffins’? That’s what Gillian’s cookies taste like.”
James laughed and then, as Lucy placed her hand in his coat pocket, grew serious. “Actually,” he whispered, “I did want to talk to you about, ah, the two of us starting over.” He leaned his head closer to hers as the garbage truck roared in front of the house. “I’d like to take you out on a date. Not like the dates we had before, ah, before …” he trailed off.
“Before I got crazy obsessed with Sullie and drove you into the arms of Murphy Alistair?” Lucy asked, her cornflower blue eyes glinting.
“Exactly.” James exhaled. “I know we’ve been taking it slow—that we’ve been working our way into trusting one another, et cetera. But I’m ready, Lucy, and I want to prove it to you.” He turned to her, blocking her view of the green pickup truck from the Shenandoah Parks Department, which carried an enormous fir tree decorated with garlands of red berries and strings of glowing pinecones.
“That’s wonderful to hear, James.” There was a smile in Lucy’s voice. “We should find a way to celebrate, because you know that I’ve been ready since this summer!”
“A celebration.” James repeated the word, reveling in the positive images it evoked. “That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about. I’d like to do something especially romantic. Not a simple dinner and a movie or watching TV at your house like we used to do. Something memorable, so that we’ll always remember how we began our fresh start.” He lowered his voice even further. “Lucy, I’d really like to take you on—”
“Hey!” Gillian exclaimed and poked James in the back. “They’re throwing seedlings strapped to teddy bears! I didn’t get one last year and I so wanted to plant a tree near the corner of my front porch.” She set down her teacup and, seeing that James didn’t share her enthusiasm, grabbed Bennett’s arm instead. “Please, Bennett, can you catch me one? Hurry!” When Bennett nodded his agreement, she yelled, “The truck is going to pass us by!”
James turned away from Lucy in order to watch his friend sprint down the sidewalk as quickly as he could in a pair of heavy black boots. He shoved his way through the crowd and chased after the departing pickup, determined to get the attention of one of the men riding in the pickup’s bed.
“Yo!” Bennett waved his arms and hollered at one of the Parks Department’s employees. “Hit me with a teddy bear, man! The lady in the pink house has gotta have one!”
A brown Smoky the Bear was hurtled through space too far to Bennett’s right. James watched as Bennett dove for the bear, stretching out his arms as far as he could. Unfortunately, he landed with a thud on the cold asphalt and the bear fell onto the sidewalk several feet away. The crowd cheered at Bennett as he leapt to his feet and shoved the plush animal inside his parka.
“Woman!” Bennett growled, stomping onto the porch and presenting Gillian with her prize. “Gimme a little more notice next time you want me to beat my way through a crowd of women and kids and try to catch somethin’ that my grandma could have thrown with better aim.”
“You’re my hero!” Gillian hugged Bennett and then pointed at the bear. “Look! There’s a blue spruce sapling tied to this Smoky. I can plant it and we can all sit out here, spring after spring, sipping on a lovely cup of vanilla lavender tea, and watch it stretch its branches skyward.”
&
nbsp; “Who is ‘all of us’?” Bennett scowled. “Does your boyfriend like vanilla lavender tea?” He made a big show of dusting off his coat sleeve, his pride clearly wounded as a result of making a dramatic but ineffective diving catch in front of his closest friends and about two hundred parade bystanders.
“As a matter of fact, Detective Harding does like tea,” Gillian replied smugly. “He’s very open to new experiences.” She refilled her cup. “And he’s not my boyfriend. We haven’t pigeonholed our relationship by trying to define it using conventional terms. We’re merely enjoying one another’s company by living in the now.”
“I’m surprised he has time to drink tea,” Bennett persisted. “Sheriff Jones tells me that she’s keeping him pretty busy.”
Gillian frowned. “I don’t think the detective is kept occupied by your girlfriend’s insistence, but because he’s passionately devoted to protecting the good citizens of Abington County.”
Bennett poured himself another tumbler of hot buttered rum. “Ms. Jade Jones is not my girlfriend. She and I … we’re …” He pulled at his toothbrush mustache and intently searched his mind for the correct term.
Lindy held out her hands. “Enough! You two can tease one another about the romantic partners you collected at the Hudsonville barbecue festival this summer all you want after the cavalcade is over, okay? Besides, all this talk about boyfriends and girlfriends makes me miss Luis.”
“Where is the dashing Principal of Blue Ridge High again?” James inquired.
“He went to Mexico because his mama’s really sick,” Lindy answered sadly. “He’s her only son and he’s devoted to her. I hope she gets better soon, because I really miss him. He’s promised to bring our relationship out into the open at school. I can’t wait to see the looks on certain fellow teachers’ faces when they realize he’s now off the market.” She drained her glass and looked at the empty contents with a smirk. “Lucy, can you pour me another? These rum things are so delicious that I can almost forget about Luis bein’ gone and that my feet are too numb to be cold.” She smiled crookedly and touched the tip of her nose. “Shoot. I’m not cold anywhere. I’m feelin’ good all over! How much rum is in here, Lucy?”
Lucy laughed. “Enough to make me wanna run out to the street and see what the convicts are tossing from that bus!”
The white bus in question was crammed with jail inmates. The group of men, who wore orange jumpsuits and red Santa hats, waved and blew kisses to the crowd as they threw penguin finger puppets from the windows and into the hands of eager children.
“You’re probably responsible for several of those incarcerations,” James cautioned Lucy. “They might throw something at you besides a penguin.”
“They got themselves into those jumpsuits,” Lucy retorted firmly. “And only those who committed minor offenses get to ride in the parade bus. All the same, I think I’ll wait for the firemen. They’re a lot better looking than those jailbirds, and I hear they’ve made frosted gingerbread cookies shaped like dalmatians. One of those would go nicely with my hot buttered rum.” She grabbed Lindy’s hand. “Come on, Gillian. Let’s go ogle some of the men in yellow.”
The three women joined the crowd in order to whistle and coo at the burly, handsome men poised on top of their newly washed fire truck. On the roof were two wooden cutouts. One was of Santa. His rear end was on fire and his mouth formed a pink o of surprise and dismay. Standing alongside Santa’s burning bum was Rudolph the Reindeer, who held a bright red fire extinguisher between his two front hooves but seemed unable to use the device. The Quincy’s Gap Volunteer Fire & Rescue had used the same cutouts for years, yet they never failed to make the children laugh.
In addition to Santa and Rudolph, the fire truck was decorated with blinking chili pepper lights and was towing a small trailer bearing a burning Christmas tree and a pile of smoking presents. A lone fireman sat on the edge of the trailer and held up a sign reading Don’t Forget to Unplug Your Tree!
The fire truck was followed by the county’s only street cleaner. It moved at a snail’s pace while the driver tossed out small bags of coal (which were really black gumdrops) and cheerfully admonished the throng to clean up after themselves. “I’m goin’ on vacation!” He yelled over the roar of his machine. “And I don’t wanna be cleanin’ up after y’all at five in the mornin’!” He punctuated his message by stepping on the street cleaner’s accelerator, creating a puff of foul-smelling black smoke.
The children were delighted. They begged for a repeat performance while simultaneously stuffing their mouths with black gumdrops. When the voter registration vehicle came along, sending out voter application registrations in the form of paper airplanes, the children stuck out their black tongues until the woman in the passenger seat, who appeared harried by the entire experience, frantically flung out a large portion of her supply of candy canes in lieu of voting paraphernalia.
“Too much candy will rot your teeth!” she shouted as she hurled candy canes at a row of preteens.
“They’re too young to vote anyhow!” Bennett shouted in the children’s defense.
After three glasses of hot buttered rum, James found himself laughing at everything the cavalcade had to offer. He even managed to choke down one of the three cookies left on Gillian’s platter—a feat so impressive that Bennett offered to eat the remaining two. He had just swallowed the second when the snow began to fall. What began as a few flakes blown lazily around the porch by the wind quickly morphed into a genuine snowfall. Within minutes, the flakes seemed to grow smaller and multiply in a steady march toward the ground.
“Oh!” Lindy clapped her mittened hands. “It’s beautiful!”
Everyone agreed. The first snow of the season, illuminated by the twinkling colored lights entwined around Gillian’s railings, seemed magical. For the spectators gathered on the sidewalk, however, the precipitation became unpleasant in a hurry. The wind whipped cold snowflakes against their cheeks and noses, making them red and chapped. Moist bits of snow sneaked under scarves and wriggled down the front of jackets and planted wet kisses on exposed wrists.
“Good thing we’ve almost reached the finale,” Gillian said as she pointed at the crowd. “I believe those children by my front gate are turning blue.”
“Nah,” Bennett argued. “They’ve just got cotton candy all over their faces.”
“I feel sorry for their parents. How are they ever going to get those kids to sleep? They’re totally hopped up on sugar,” Lindy remarked with ill-disguised glee.
“Speaking of sweet,” Lucy gestured across the street, where a minivan had come to a stop in a parking spot reserved for event volunteers. “Isn’t that Milla?”
Beneath the sheen of a streetlamp, it was easy to recognize the lavender hue of Milla’s van as well as her vanity plate, which read LV2COOK. James groaned. “Oh no. She’s brought her sister, the harpy, with her. Brace yourselves, my friends. This woman is as fork-tongued as a serpent.”
“Oh come on.” Lindy swatted James with the end of her crimson scarf. “How can anyone related to Milla be mean? You must be exaggerating.”
“Trust me. Paulette Martine is Queen of the Shrews,” James answered nervously as Milla, Paulette, and Willow crossed the street and headed toward Gillian’s house.
Lucy, who had been watching the newcomers’ arrival with interest, gripped James by the hand when he mentioned Paulette’s name. “You didn’t tell us Milla’s sister was the Diva of Dough! Oh, James! Do you think she’ll be baking cakes while she’s here? I watch her TV show all the time. Man, oh man …” She paused to lick her lips. “You know frosted cakes are my big weakness, and this woman makes them like nobody’s business. How lucky for you that she’s related to your daddy’s future wife!”
“Yes, I’m feeling really lucky about having her join the family,” James mumbled caustically as Milla stepped onto the porch.
“Hello, my dears!” she shouted merrily, but James sensed that her smile was partially forced. “I’m so s
orry to barge in on your fun like this. Normally, I’d be all snuggled in my nightgown with my darling Sir Charles the Corgi at my feet and a Nora Roberts novel in my hand, but my sister was just dying to witness our little event, so here we are. Did we miss the whole thing?” she asked anxiously.
“It’s just about done,” Lindy answered regretfully. “That’s the Department of Finance limo,” she explained to Paulette and Willow, who had yet to speak. “They toss chocolate coins to the kids along with little slips of paper telling them that it’s never to early to open a bank account.”
“How quaint,” Paulette responded flatly, and then pursed her lips. “And this ‘assemblage’ is what passes for entertainment around here? You voluntarily stand out in the frigid cold while vehicles decorated with as much kitsch as can be found in your ‘dollar’ stores pass by distributing stale, tasteless confections.”
Bennett leaned over to Lucy and whispered, “Does she talk like that on her show? All highfalutin and frostier than a snowman?”
Lucy nodded, surprisingly unruffled by Paulette’s criticism of their holiday event. “The Christmas Cavalcade is pretty creative,” she explained to their guest and gestured at the street. “Here comes the Sanitation Department. They’re one of the crowd pleasers because they throw out these little rubber frogs called Mistle Toads. They’re stuffed with gooey chocolate and when you squeeze their bellies, it oozes out of a tiny hole in their mouths. No one knows how the garbage men manage to get the chocolate inside the frogs.”
“How fascinatingly repulsive,” Paulette replied with a frown. “All I really wanted was a cup of hot tea with my sister, but the establishment masquerading as my hotel is only stocked with Lipton. No Ashby, no Mariage Frères, no Tazo—not even a packet of humble Twinings. There’s simply nothing suitable for me to drink in that hovel and I didn’t even ask for coffee.” Paulette indicated Willow with a nod of her chin. “And my assistant was incapable of procuring us a suitable rental car for this evening so that she could track down some essentials, so Milla agreed to pick us up in her uniquely colored van and take us to the home of someone who purportedly had good taste in tea.” She scanned her audience. “Is it possible that one of you has a sophisticated palate?”
The Battered Body Page 4