Carats and Coconuts

by Scott, D. D.

  “I can’t wait for y’all to open up your gifts,” my mom said, pushing back her plate, which I noticed she’d barely pecked at.

  I didn’t like the looks of that one bit. When she was nervous, she didn’t eat. I knew this elf situation was really taking a toll on her, but I didn’t realize just how much till that moment.

  “How ‘bout we don’t wait? I’m dying to see too,” Aunt Tulip said.

  My Dad laughed his turkey-stuffed and forever jolly ho-ho-ho.

  “What do you think, Mrs. C?”

  I loved how my dad’s eyes still twinkled whenever he looked at my mom.

  That’s one of the reasons I knew I cared much more for Roman than I’d let on so far. His dark espresso eyes had that same twinkle in them when he looked at me. I could feel my connection to him being drawn straight from my soul.

  It’s that unspoken understanding two people share that makes for one helluva life partnership. In my world, Mr. and Mrs. Claus were proof of that.

  “I think it’s the perfect time for gifts,” Mom said, taking her napkin and wiping a stray piece of turkey from dad’s beard.

  I watched with a warm heart as each person around our table picked up the gorgeous packages my mom had wrapped just for them.

  Her packages were always so beautiful. Sometimes I didn’t want to open them.

  But if you knew you had a Mrs. Claus original ornament waiting for you inside those little boxes, you couldn’t resist.

  Each member of our family took turns holding up their ornaments to the oohs and ahhhs of everyone.

  For Aunt Tulip, my mom had created a mouth-blown and hand-painted glass spear of asparagus.

  “OMG! I’m going to have to start an Aphrodisiac Produce themed-tree! This is wonderful, Suzie. Really quite extraordinary,” Aunt Tulip said, getting up from her chair to wrap her gypsy-bejeweled sleeves around my mother’s crushed velvet and red suede capelet I’d made for her.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  As each ornament was revealed, the crowd went wild.

  For Grams, there was a lunch box with the name of her diner in my mom’s beautiful print. For Kat, it was a neon-colored cowboy with the name of her saloon on his hat. Lily received a miniature hand-sewn satin bra on a hanger, with the name of her family’s water bra company - Fluid Fulfillment - hanging on a tiny price tag my mom had added. Roxy, of course, got a cowboy boot and stiletto hooked together as if they were about to dance across the pine needles. Jules got one bedazzled and sparkling cupcake. For Audrey, there were baby blue-colored baby booties with the names of her twin sons. And not to be left out, each man at the table got a reindeer to serve as a keepsake from their first Christmas in Witherspoon Whoville. Roman’s reindeer even had a tiny crown resting in its rack.

  “You’ve outdone yourself this year,” my dad said, leaning across his end of the table to place a kiss on mom’s sweet, pink-blushed cheek.

  “This is a special year. Our family has grown, and I wanted to celebrate that.”

  She lifted up her wine glass and toasted us all.

  Following a round of good cheers, the doorbell chimed.

  Who could that be?

  I looked at my mom. It didn’t take but a second or two at most to see fear and panic take over her expression of season-of-giving sweetness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wanda Lu returned to the dining room with a medium-sized box. It was wrapped to-the-nines, although still not as terrifically wrapped as one of my mom’s gifts.

  I studied the lime green metallic paper, covered in what looked to be diamond-encrusted white stars that reflected every bit of light from my parent’s chandelier.

  My mother took the box, and I swear I saw her hands shaking as she looked at the tag hanging over one side of the mystery package.

  “It’s for you, Zoey,” she said, so softly that her voice was almost a whisper.

  My hand had been resting on Roman’s knee, and at the mention of my name as the recipient, I felt his body jerk.

  Roman was smart. He’d more than likely caught onto my mom’s change in mood.

  “Were you expecting this package?” He asked, in a tone that usually indicated the activation of his Dark Knight protective mode.

  “I was not,” I said, looking at my mom, who I knew was begging me with her eyes to be careful with this box.

  “In that case, R, I’d like you to check it out first,” Roman said.

  “I’m way ahead of you, My Prince,” R said, already having taken the package from my mother’s hands.

  “I’m not sure what this is about, but I don’t like it one bit,” my dad spoke-up.

  “Suzie? Zoey? I know something’s up with you two. I’ve known for quite awhile, but I figured you’d say something when you wanted to. However, I’m thinking now would be a good time,” Dad said, setting his napkin on the table and scooting back his chair.

  His large ruby and yellow gold ring caught the light. Noting the familiar cut of the large gem and its unique setting, my stomach flipped circles, and the knots that had been there for months tightened.

  I looked at my mom, who seemed to not know quite where to begin.

  “I agree with your dad, Zoey,” Roman said, raising his eyebrows and looking at me with a stare that left no other options but to spill it.

  In the mean time, R took a small handheld device out of his pocket. The guy always had the exact right gadget at the exact right moment. He then waved the wand-like thing-a-ma-jigger over the sides of the package.

  No warning bells and beeps sounded, so he passed the box to me.

  My hands shook as I looked to Roman and R, who both nodded for me to open the box.

  I lifted the lid slowly, holding my breath the entire time then carefully moved aside the reams of tissue paper.

  As my fingers ran across the shredded bark-like shell of the object inside the packaging, I gasped.

  Could it be?

  OMG! It was.

  A coconut.

  I pulled the coconut out of the box and looked at my mother, whose face was now as pale white as my father’s beard.

  I knew what to do.

  By carefully pulling the cracked seam of the coconut, I opened the shell.

  I didn’t even have to look up to judge my family’s reaction. Their collective gasp filled our otherwise silent dining room.

  “What is our Witherspoon Blue Moon Diamond doing in that coconut? And who just gave it back to us? Better yet…how did said person or people get it to begin with?”

  My dad asked the questions very quietly, which meant he was on the verge of erupting at Mt. Vesuvius levels.

  “I can explain,” I said, and I thought I could, at least in part.

  “That would be prudent,” Roman said, his Dark Knight look now one hundred percent in place.

  “My father isn’t just Santa Claus and an inventor. He’s made his fortune in the gem world. He’s one of the top gemologists in the world. Well…topped only…perhaps…by my mother, who’s the world’s top curator and a damn fine lapidarist of the rarest jewels.”

  Roman and R exchanged looks. Then Roman nodded to R, who suddenly took leave of our table and spoke into his watch for their security team to listen up.

  “A few months ago,” my mother took over from there, “Zoey had a problem with one of our security team members. Basically, the asshole was stalking her.”

  As he wrapped his hands around his dinner fork, Roman’s knuckles turned white. His jaw did that dead serious twitch thing, and he then cracked his neck, which I often noted he did before he was more than willing to snap in two someone else’s neck.

  “One of the elves was after our precious Zoey? And you didn’t tell me?” My dad looked at my mom, the hurt clearly overtaking his anger.

  “You haven’t been feeling well lately, and we didn’t want to worry you, Nick,” Mom said, squeezing his hand for what I’m sure was reassurance.

  “It doesn’t matter how I’m feeling. You two are m
y world.”

  “And mine now too, Sir,” Roman cut–in. “You have nothing to worry about. R and I will take care of this.”

  To me, he added, “Tell me everything I need to know, Zoey. Now.”

  And just like that, we went from Christmas Eve-eve to nothin’ but carats and coconuts.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Twenty-four hours later, while Roman and I stood in my parent’s backyard waiting for my dad and his team to begin their big ride, I huddled into the protective warmth of Roman’s side.

  When a perfect mineral crystal has been cut and polished into a form of amazing beauty by some skilled artisan like my mother, it’s called a gem.

  And I’d indeed found a gem in Roman.

  I also had a gem of a family, and one Roman and I would do anything to protect.

  Of the four thousand known minerals, only approximately fifteen have been made into commercially available gems. There are a few hundred more, that have throughout history, been made into rarer cut stones.

  There is one, however, that is rarer still.

  Probably more valuable per volume than all the artifacts on earth combined. Steeped in the history of kings and queens and exotic places, there is a story of untold riches.

  And that story begins right here in my parent’s – Mr. and Mrs. Claus’ – Whoville.

  But that’s a story for another day.

  Tonight, my father takes flight to treat the kids of the world to their own favorite gems in the form of the toys he and my mother and their elves have made.

  They’ve turned their wealth into a wealth of love that they spread around the globe on this one magical night.

  “I just don’t get it,” Roman said, holding me even closer.

  My dad and his reindeer team waved while passing us one last time on their way to their runway.

  “Get what?”

  “Is your father Santa Claus or not?”

  “I suppose it depends on how much you truly believe,” I said, knowing I’d told him the truth as I knew it.

  “All I know is, I believe in you and our family, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you all safe.”

  And I knew he meant it.

  I kissed his cheek, then turned back to the sound of my dad’s sleigh bells jingling with glee as he called out to Comet, Cupid and Company.

  Roman and I watched as Rudolph and his ruby red, GPS-endowed nose disappeared into the swirling snow and darkness of Christmas Eve night.

  “Is his nose a real ruby?” Roman asked.

  “It is,” I said, relieved to be able to share all of my past with my prince. “C’mon, I’ve got something I want to show you.”

  I took his hand and led him to my parent’s gem vaults, where they’d spent years perfecting techniques to capture the colors and brilliance of the world’s rarest gems.

  If we were going to save the kinds of rubies that made Rudolph’s nose able guide a sleigh, we had our work cut-out for us.

  We also had a lot of packing to do.

  As soon as the holidays were through, we were on our way to the exotic locale that held the secret to my family’s fortune.

  In the mean time…

  Merry Christmas to all.

  And may your new years too be filled with carats and coconuts.

  THE END

  A CUT ABOVE CRAZY

  (The Prequel to COZY CASH MYSTERY #3)

  Chapter One

  There’s crazy.

  Then there’s a cut above crazy.

  And when your parents are two of the world’s top gemologists, you not only learn to deal with cuts – brilliant, baguette, briolette and the list goes on - but you also get damn good at dealin’ with the crazies that those cuts bring into your life. And by crazies, I mean the smugglers and thieves who transport gems around the globe.

  So yeah, as you can imagine, my life to date has been anything but Mayberry. And I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

  I’m Zoey Witherspoon, Designer and Stylist to The Stars, a fairly new PI, and now the Princess of Caserta. And as if that’s not enough of a crazy-packed resume, I’m also the daughter of George and Suzie Witherspoon of Witherspoon & Witherspoon, the world’s premiere gem vault and lapidary.

  Not sure what a lapidary is?

  My parents are experts on all-things-gemstones, as in diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires and the four thousand other mineral crystals of the earth. They also are expert cutters, polishers and engravers of those same stones.

  Seems like a luxurious lifestyle, right?

  Well, it is luxurious, in a way.

  But the sad thing is…this world can’t responsibly deal with the kinds of wealth my parents cut from rocks. Just like the world can’t deal in a socially moral way with the oil drilled out of our oceans and seas.

  Y’all think oil is the only thing breeding and feeding terrorists?

  Try handing those same thugs fistfuls of precious gems. Or showing ‘em how and where to get their own rock sacks full of ‘em.

  The gem trade breeds an entirely different kind of terror. And I’m about to put an end to it…or at least the part of it I know how to stop.

  Now you might think that, in order to do such work, you’d find me in the Middle East or perhaps North Korea or somewhere in Africa.

  No dice…I’m in Michigan.

  Here along the fabulous shores of Lake Michigan, it may be the end of the holiday season, but deep below the snow-covered earth of our Winter Wonderland, it looks like Christmas forever in my parent’s underground gem vault. Or if not that, it could be the main warehouse for all the high-priced, fancy jewels you see dangling and dripping from every jeweler’s ad on your television screen.

  People may think my parents are just a crazy couple who believe they’re Santa and Mrs. Claus. And for those of you who’ve heard about our typical Hullabaloo and Holly Too holidays, the crazy couple bit might, on the surface at least, seem true.

  But under my dad’s Santa Claus Workshop, through a secret entrance in the floorboards, lies the Witherspoon & Witherspoon gem vault, which makes The Smithsonian’s stone-stash seem paltry by comparison.

  While a lake effect blizzard is blowin’ outside, things are really heating up down there…

  Chapter Two

  “I just can’t believe one rogue elf could steal anything from this fortress.”

  Those were the words spoken by my prince and fake husband, Prince Roman Bellesconi Umberto-Vittorio Emanuele Vanvitelli, while stepping through the fourth solid, anti-drilling and cutting, magnesium and concrete-embedded door leading into our vault’s main room.

  “Let alone The Witherspoon Blue Moon Diamond, and now your Precious Aquamarine too!”

  I couldn’t believe it either.

  But it was true.

  “What bothers me more,” I said, placing the coconut that contained our Blue Moon Diamond on one of my parent’s cutting tables, “is why the hell did he give the diamond back?”

  “Are you sure it actually is our diamond?”

  I heard my mother’s voice before I saw her.

  But I couldn’t see her at all now. All the vault’s lights had gone out.

  Roman grabbed my hand and used his body to shield mine.

  “Easy. Everything is fine,” my mother’s voice created a much-needed sense of calm.

  All at once, our Blue Moon Diamond began to glow with an intense orange-red phosphorescence.

  “It’s our diamond all right,” I said, sort of relieved and sort of scared even more.

  “How do you know?” Roman asked.

  “Orange-red phosphorescence is almost exclusively limited to dark blue diamonds,” I said, as the lights in the vault came back on.

  “That said, this effect is never as intense with other stones as it is with our Witherspoon Blue Moon. She’s indeed a rarer-than-rare blue beauty,” Mom said, effectively completing Roman’s first gemology lesson.

  “And you can only see the phosphorescence in a dark room, using ex
posure to ultraviolet light,” my dad piped-in as he joined us in the vault’s main cutting chambers.

  “You’re right then, Plum Puddin’,” Roman said. “Why would Stanley give back The Blue Moon?”

  “First, I’m usually right. Second, Stanley has major issues besides his dwarfism,” I said, thinking that was as good a place as any to start explaining my theory about our rogue elf. Plus, I couldn’t resist teasing Roman about my golden gut instincts.

  “What kinds of issues?” Roman asked, his Dark Knight aura giving the word ‘issues’ a very sinister undertone.

  Actually, Stanley’s size was a benefit in this biz. He could get away with a lot that the rest of us couldn’t, but more on that later.

  “Let’s just say there’s a major connection to our Blue Moon being contained in this packaging,” I said, knocking my knuckles on top of the coconut’s hard shell.

  “Go on,” Roman said.

  As his protection mode kicked into high gear, his sentences always got more and more staccato, which meant I didn’t have much time left to evade his questions.

  “Stanley giving back our Blue Moon Diamond is probably a sign that it’s small potatoes. Or rocks, I guess, compared to what’s still left for him to steal,” my dad said, having a seat on one of he and my mom’s work stools.

  I didn’t like the worried glances passing back and forth between my parents, but they were right to be worried.

  “What’s left for him to take? And from where?” Roman asked, again using his preferred short, very pointed and spot-on interrogation-style questions.

  “Our Blue Moon Diamond is small compared to what’s left in Brazil,” I said, knowing I could no longer put off what was at stake or where it could be found.

  “Brazil? And coconuts?” Roman asked.

  “Along with natural beryl crystal,” my mother added to the mix.

  “We don’t just mine diamonds in Brazil. We also mine natural beryl crystal. What you know as emeralds and aquamarines and the even rarer still pink morganite, yellow heliodore and the rarest-of-rare, red beryl.”