Killer Holiday

by Amy Korman

  “You’re all wrong,” said Jared, who’d just parked his Uber Yukon to pick up Gerda. “I worked for Mike’s Pizza two summers ago and there’s no difference. It’s just that people who have, like, PMS, or are home alone late at night like the word ‘grinder.’”

  “Huh,” said Gerda. “Sounds porny. Is it sexual?”

  “I like to keep food and sex separate!” shrieked Sophie. “Trust me, it’s gross when someone’s eating in bed. And I should know!”

  “I am starting to feel guilty about the extra gold brick,” Gerda told us over the sandwiches which we were eating at Holly’s house. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna go with Sophie to return the extra one to Eula. Even though she not so nice. Joe, you gonna have to deal with it.”

  “Eula won Powerball thanks to us!” shouted Bootsie. “She should be sending us all, like, champagne and Godiva chocolates from that crazy ship she’s thankfully about to get back on. I feel entitled to a shipment of antique silver trays and diamond bracelets from wherever the next stop is via the Palace of the Seas. The gold is totally within our rights.”

  “I’m shocked to hear myself saying this, because normally I’d love to grab Eula’s undeclared gold from the Caribbean, but I’ve come around. Let’s just keep the one bar, sell it, and split the proceeds,” offered Joe. “I’m too tired to tangle with Eula. If she says one Eula-ish thing, I’ll be tempted to remind her that I’ve known her since before she had a glowy tan and Lanvin boots. I don’t want to have to use the words ‘low-heeled pumps,’ but I might bust those out if I get really angry.”

  “I am looking forward to the New Year with new gym location,” said Gerda. “And we still get the nine thousand, seven hundred fifty dollars. Plus, I then pay back Holly and Sophie for pricey Chanel handbag.”

  Gerda looked down at the gorgeous Chanel messenger bag with evident pride. “That purse really jazzes up your tracksuit, Gerda,” Sophie told her. “You don’t owe us a thing. It makes a perfect Christmas present for ya!”

  “You should use the gold brick money to put a down payment on a house,” suggested Holly, who had actually eaten part of a chicken parmesan grinder. “I know you love Eula’s place and were thinking of making an offer.

  “And, it works out perfectly, because I have a new and improved two-part plan to permanently evict Eula from this town,” Holly added happily, “and Gerda, you buying her house is step one!”

  “Okay, I make offer in the morning when we bring over the gold,” agreed Gerda happily, gathering up the Chanel bag.

  “What’s the second part of this Eula plan?” asked Joe. “Because we already won her the Powerball, and she’s still here.”

  “Don’t worry,” Holly told him, calming down slightly as she looked at an incoming text on her phone. “By tomorrow night, after the town festival and during my Christmas party, I will have Eula ready to scamper back to that boat as fast as her tiny and annoying feet can take her.”

  At that moment, the Colketts walked in from the party tent, looking upbeat, slightly tipsy, and completely spotless and unwrinkled despite twelve hours of party setup. Behind them was a good-looking guy in his forties with brown hair, nice blue eyes, wearing jeans and a parka, who brought with him a delicious scent of what could only be brisket that had been dry-rubbed and smoked for seven to ten hours.

  “Meet our new best friend, Billy the Barbecue Master,” said Tim. “He’s got his mobile smoker truck on-site, Holly, and he’s better than we remembered!”

  Just then, Bootsie’s phone dinged. “It’s Officer Walt,” she said. “He says there’s been an explosion in Eula’s toolshed.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “That trip to Florida gave me a lot of perspective,” Sophie told me the next day at The Striped Awning, giving Waffles a small pat on the head while sipping a giant latte. For her part, Gerda helped me dust a top shelf I couldn’t reach.

  “First of all, I can’t believe that missing moonshine boiler thingy was in Eula’s shed! And do ya believe her when she says she didn’t steal it, and didn’t know it was in there?” Sophie asked me.

  “I think she’s telling the truth,” I said. “I mean, Eula’s getting back on the boat in a few days,. And she could buy her own booze equipment if she wanted to, plus I can’t see her setting up a stolen still.”

  “Huh, I wonder how that thing got over to Eula’s place. Anyway, Kristin, I had an awesome idea,” Sophie told me. “I know your store makes, like, almost zero cash, so the Colketts and I are gonna bring the cabaret to The Striped Awning! For one night only, live at The Striped Awning, coming in January!”

  I tried to picture how this would work. Where would they set up the upright bass, and how would Sophie do her dance moves in such a small space?

  Since I’m no position to argue with any idea that might bring in even a single new customer, I thanked her profusely.

  “And no matter what happens with Joe, I’m going to finish up my divorce. Like, pronto,” Sophie added. “I’m willing to give Barclay any of my shoes except the Giuseppe Zanottis, and I’ll return his collection of restaurant menus from the Umbria and Tuscany regions that he scrapbooked during our marriage.

  “There’s an all-new Sophie Shields happening in the new year, and she’s going to be a fabulous divorcée!”

  “I might be single again myself,” I admitted. “I haven’t gotten a call or text from John in the last forty-eight hours, and it’s almost Christmas. I’m starting to realize that the holidays might be a great time to fall in love for some people, but they’re also prime time for breakups.”

  “I, too, have gained some wisdom while on our trip over the weekend,” announced Gerda. “Though I don’t approve of Brunhilda, the restaurateur who I impersonated, I find myself inspired by a certain adventurous quality this lady has, as well as the resilience of Minnie Allington. These ladies make me want to possibly expand Bust Your Ass Gym even more. Possibly, I get a YouTube channel and maybe an app.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Thank goodness the holidays will be over soon,” said Gerda that night as we parked in Holly’s crowded driveway. “There is too much alcohol served this time of year.”

  “This is awesome!” I said, admiring the tent as we walked into the heated enclosure over Holly’s backyard. Red roses were in huge, full, low arrangements on rustic wooden tables, and more roses were hanging in massive planters from the ceiling in gorgeous profusion. A temporary dance floor had been set up over the patio, and a Prince cover band was warming up on a stage as we took in a massive bar topped with a canopy of spruce branches, pinecones, and more red roses.

  “Hey, there. Is John the vet back?” asked Mike Woodford, who was standing at the bar, where guys in Billy’s Barbecue T-shirts were serving glasses of potent eggnog.

  “Not yet,” I told him. “But at least I can spend New Year’s Eve with Waffles.”

  “I’ll take you to dinner on New Year’s Eve,” offered Mike. “I can’t promise you we’ll sit at Table 11, but I know we could have a nice meal and be back before midnight for Waffles.”

  “Great offer,” said a familiar voice from somewhere above my left ear. “But I’m home, and I’m going to take Kristin to dinner on New Year’s Eve. At least I hope so.”

  John was back! Looking tall, handsome, steady, and spectacular in a navy blazer and jeans!

  While I hugged John and absorbed his surprise return, Mike shrugged and left to go talk to Howard, and Bootsie handed John and me glasses of eggnog.

  “This Christmas is going to be amazing! And so is this party,” I said, looking around the candlelit tent. “Mason jar drinks, rustic burlap napkins, paper cones full of French fries and Tater Tots, and cornbread!”

  “This is fantastic!” Bootsie seconded.

  “Please don’t ever mention Tater Tots again,” Holly told me. “But I agree that the Colketts did an amazing job for a twenty-seven-hour party prep.”

  “There’s no barbecue place that looks this fancy, but that’s okay!”
said Bootsie. “Because they just brought out the brisket sliders on potato rolls. Let me at them!”

  “Look at Howard,” said Holly with a sigh. “He looks so happy chomping on that sandwich.”

  “I haven’t seen him smile like that since he bought that truck company in Indianapolis,” observed Joe. “Maybe we should expand the poor guy’s man cave and install a bar, a pool table, and a sports screening room. As much as all of those thoughts horrify me,” he added.

  As Abby, Ronnie, and Skipper from the country club started dancing to “Little Red Corvette,” Eula walked in.

  “Hi Eula,” said Holly airily. “I’m glad Officer Walt freed you on your own recognizance after you convinced him you didn’t steal the moonshine still from Howard’s Man Shed. Luckily, I’ve already ordered another one, since the one you took exploded.”

  “I didn’t take it, which Walt knows!” Eula said angrily. “And obviously, I can afford my own still, if I ever wanted one, which I don’t! Someone framed me. Probably you,” she said to Joe.

  “If I’d only thought of it, I would have,” he told her.

  “Um, Holly,” said Jared, popping up at her side in a red holiday sweater. “I have something I need to tell you, and I feel real guilty about it. I, um, stole your home distillery last week. I think I’m in love with you, and I get real jealous thinking about your husband. So I used my fake ID to buy a six-pack one night last week, got super-drunk, and then loaded up the still into the Yukon!

  “When I woke up at six the next morning, the only place I could think of to put it was in Eula’s shed, ’cause she lives right next door to me. Sorry it took down your shed when it blew up,” he told Eula.

  “No harm done,” Holly told Jared. ” If you can assemble the new still I bought this week and make sure it doesn’t explode, that would be fabulous. I’ll pay you overtime, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Is that Nick from Dunkin’ Donuts as Prince?” I asked, impressed, after Eula had stormed off to the bar, and Holly had promised Jared she wouldn’t tell Walt about the still.

  “Absolutely,” said Holly. “Nick does an amazing rendition of Purple Rain. You’re going to love it.”

  “Did Prince do holiday songs?” asked Bootsie. “Because nothing comes to mind.”

  Just then, the band broke into “1999.”

  “Huh,” Bootsie amended. “I guess this counts. I mean, usually this song comes at the end of, say, a New Year’s Eve party, but then again, it works to kick off a festive night.”

  “These guys also do a lot of Flo Rida and Pitbull,” the Colketts told us. “So get ready to bust a move!”

  “Is that Dave in the Prince band?” exploded Bootsie. “On drums?”

  “That’s him,” confirmed Holly, as the kid waved happily to us between pounding the drums. “I have a soft spot for Dave since we kidnapped him, and now that he’s given up on a life of crime, I asked the band here if Dave could audition to play a few songs. He’s also going to work part-time in one of Howard’s trucking warehouses to save up for college.”

  I spent a few minutes updating John on the details of what he’d missed during his trip, glossing over the part about taking Dave against his will to Florida.

  “Hello everyone,” said Gerda, walking in. She was wearing the black BCBG jumpsuit that Sophie had forced her to buy last summer, and incongruously, she had a happy expression on her face that came as close as she ever does to smiling. “I have big news.”

  “Gerda, you look almost cheerful,” said Holly. “I’m worried.”

  “I reach an agreement with Eula this afternoon to purchase her cottage,” said Gerda. “And in weird development, Eula herself is going to buy the house of Mariellen Merriwether, which Lilly Merriwether has decided has too many bad memories for her to keep. Eula did say she plans to spend most of her time sailing the world and maybe buy condo somewhere warm, so we probably not gonna see too much of her around town.”

  “That’s the holiday gift that keeps on giving!” said Holly. “Oh, hi again, Eula,” she added, as the girl in question suddenly popped up next to Gerda. “Congratulations on your new home on Camellia Lane. I’m sure you won’t be as miserable there as Mrs. Merriwether was.”

  “Are you going to redecorate?” asked Bootsie. “Because all the pink is cheerful, but who knows if that contributed to the Merriwether mental state?”

  “I’ll probably install a fabulous new kitchen.” Eula shrugged dispiritedly. “And turn the barn into a gorgeous sculpture and painting studio. But I can’t help thinking this would have been the perfect place for me to share with a special man. If only Scooter and I hadn’t split up!

  “I’ve been doing a lot of landscape painting to take my mind off my heartbreak, but I can’t stop thinking about how we would have been cruising to Venice in April, and how romantic it would have been with Scooter on a gondola,” Eula added.

  “Eula, the guy was engaged to another passenger who also had dreams of floating past the Doge’s Palace with that shady lawyer-turned-scam artist. It wouldn’t have been all that fun to fight over Scooter with Minnie Allington in a canal,” Bootsie told her.

  Seeing how downcast Eula looked, she added supportively, “And look how much better you’re dressing these days. You’ll probably find a new guy real quick!”

  It was true that Eula had on a fabulous outfit, I thought to myself. She was actually wearing skinny black pants and a swingy silk top that looked great on her, and she still had her tan from the Palace of the Seas, which added a glowy look to her sour expression.

  “Nice top,” Joe told her, apparently less impressed than I was by Eula’s stylish new vibe, and not extending the same compassion Bootsie had for Eula’s heartbroken status. “Except once again, you’ve chosen to go French and flowy, when you’d be better off tailored and Tommy Hilfiger.”

  “I agree,” seconded Gerda. “You are too short for this outfit,” she told Eula. “However, please do not hold this opinion against me when we are finalizing the sale of your cottage.”

  “Well, I have something that will cheer you up. Eula, I want you to meet someone who’s up from Florida and is an old friend of Mrs. Potts,” said Holly. “This is Bingo Simmons, who happens to be your ex-boyfriend’s half brother. Bingo’s side of the family is the good half,” she added. “He’s nothing like Scooter.”

  We all exchanged hugs and greetings with Bingo, a really nice and super-mellow guy we’d met last year in Florida. Bingo inherited money, like Scooter, but is more the type of guy who likes to sit under a lemon tree in his backyard and strum a guitar than a scheming businessman. Most of the time, Bingo sleeps in a yurt (though said yurt is on his beautiful property in Magnolia Beach, alongside his fancy cottage and a pool).

  “I want to apologize for Scooter,” Bingo said, flashing a sweet smile at Eula, who looked like she was perking up a little.

  “And since Scooter paid for his spot on the Palace of the Seas for the next four months, I’m going to be on the boat instead of him,” he added.

  “Really?” said Eula, her tiny face cheering up even more. “We’ll be in Venice together?”

  As Bingo and Eula headed for the bourbon bar, I gave Holly an admiring glance. “That was a nice thing to do,” I told her.

  “Bingo is way too sweet for Eula,” she said with a shrug, “but I figure his thoughtful self might actually improve Eula. And if all goes according to plan, they’ll get married and live in Magnolia Beach, where I’ll only have to see Eula a maximum of one week per year!”

  “You know what?” said Bootsie, looking at a group just outside the tent that included her husband, Will; Skipper the country club chef; Leena; Mrs. Potts; the Colketts; and Joe. “Howard’s puffing on a cigar with that group out there. In fact, all of them, including Leena and Honey, are smoking Cohibas and toasting each other. I mean, I get that Howard’s eating brisket, and he just found out he’s getting his own cool shed with a moonshine still for Christmas, but he looks extra happy. Like, m
ore happy than even brisket could make someone.”

  “That’s probably because after he got home from Oregon last night and saw me eating a bowl of Rice Krispies, he knew something weird was going on, and we drove to the CVS at 1 a.m. to get the pregnancy test,” Holly told us. “Which was positive!

  “I’m excited of course, but I think Howard and Martha are more into this than I am. Anyway, we’re going to need a bigger SUV that can accommodate a car seat for late-night takeouts and Restaurant Gianni dinners. I mean, Table 11 has room for one more tiny person, doesn’t it?” she said.

  After congratulations, hugs, and even a little tear in Gerda’s eye, Sophie couldn’t restrain herself. “I don’t want to horn in on your awesome baby news,” she said, “but I have news, too! Guess what Joe and I did today?” said Sophie, who looked fantastic in a strapless gold dress and matching heels. She jumped up and down a little and tapped her Pirate Red–painted toes in excitement, while for his part, Joe looked embarrassed.

  “Um—booked your honeymoon, with a one-month cancellation policy in case your lawyers are wrong?” asked Bootsie.

  “Did you start looking at how to exactly lay out tables in your backyard to accommodate seventy-eight wedding guests, like you were talking about before Thanksgiving?” Holly asked.

  “We got my divorce papers signed by Barclay, which I then signed, took to my lawyers, and made official! My ex and I are officially split up!” shrieked Sophie. “And Joe and I got a wedding license!”

  Since it turned out Officer Walt had become an officiant for his niece’s wedding the previous summer, after another sip of bourbon, Joe told Sophie he thought it was time for their wedding.

  Not in May or June in a garden designed by the Colketts, or in the hills of France, or on a beach in the Caribbean, but right then and there, in the tent filled with a Prince cover band, roses, and the delicious scent of brisket.