She smirked. ‘Satisfied?’
Luke nodded grudgingly, still frowning. Emily was certain Cruella’s outfit must contain more pockets than the two she’d emptied, but since no actual crime had been committed, Luke could hardly insist on a full-body search.
Dustin blurted, ‘Well, somebody’s gonna pay—’ Then he clutched his gut and bolted for the bathroom again.
After breakfast, Katie went into a flurry of cooking for the mid-afternoon feast. Emily offered to keep Lizzie out of her way, so the four of them – Marguerite, Oscar, Luke, and Emily – played with her by turns in the library while the others chatted. Luke stretched his turn with Lizzie the longest; it saved him from keeping up the pretense of being on good terms with Emily. But by the time he left to pick up the other guests, Emily felt enervated from the tension between them. The cats were restless, having picked up on the atmosphere; even Bustopher Jones couldn’t settle to his usual place on the hearth but roamed from chair to window seat and even, at one point, to Marguerite’s lap. Bustopher was not a lap cat.
Marguerite had clearly noticed the tension too; not much got past her. When Luke had left and Oscar had excused himself for a moment, she said to Emily, ‘Alors, qu’est-ce qui se passe? What is the matter between you and Luke?’
Emily blew out a long breath. ‘I refused his marriage proposal last night.’
‘And so? You have refused before, non?’
‘Several times. Never an outright “no”, only a “not now”. But last night was different. Not what I said, but the way he took it.’ She tried to explain what had happened without betraying Luke’s confidence. ‘It just doesn’t feel like the right time. Or the right reason.’
Marguerite threw up her hands. ‘Mais, chérie, qu’est-ce que tu veux? Luke’s emotional range is perhaps more than some, but he is still a man, non? To him it is simple: if you loved him, you would marry him. If you will not marry him, then you must not love him. C’est tout.’
Emily blanched. Was that what she had done to him? No wonder he was distant. She’d jumped into the soup with both feet this time. And it looked as if the only way she’d be able to extricate herself was to say yes. But it went against her nature to let herself be backed into a corner that way.
And anyway, she’d have no time even to think about it today. Within five minutes Oscar had returned to the room, Ian and Olivia had come down looking much more comfortable, and Luke had returned with a carful of Emily’s local friends, plus Wanda. Even Dustin and Cruella appeared and managed to melt into the crowd.
Katie brought in hors d’oeuvres to tide everyone over until the four o’clock dinner hour. Emily decanted a new bottle of sherry and had Marguerite’s amaretto in her hand, ready to open and offer it around, when Marguerite said, ‘Non, chérie, cela, c’est pour toi seule. If you offer it to this crowd it will be gone like that.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘You can celebrate on your own later on.’ Her knowing smile included Luke in the proposed celebration.
‘All right, if you insist.’ Emily pushed the distinctive bottle with its square hat to the back of the bar shelf, then poured a couple of sherries and turned to hand them on.
Cruella and Wanda Wilkins were the closest and received the first two glasses. Wanda was absurdly overdressed (or underdressed, speaking in literal terms of the amount of fabric she was wearing) in spike-heeled silver sandals and a red lamé cocktail dress trimmed with white fur around its décolletage, which only served to accent the leathery quality of the skin on her chest. With a smile worthy of a politician, she said, ‘Thank you for inviting me. And especially for offering your second-best sherry to a virtual stranger.’
Emily hardly knew whether to respond to the smile and the thanks or to the snark they so thinly concealed. It was her best sherry, after all. But she was the hostess; it was her job to smooth things over. She gave Wanda the warmest smile she could muster. ‘No one should spend Christmas alone. I’m so glad you could come.’
Wanda moved away with a smirk. Cruella downed her sherry in one gulp and held out her glass for more. Emily pretended not to see and proceeded to serve the others. By the time all were served, the carafe was empty. She had more, but she would save it for later, if only to teach Cruella not to guzzle.
Now for the requisite mingling. Emily was never comfortable in a group of more than six or eight people, especially if they were not all close friends, and this group would be particularly challenging. She’d deputed Marguerite to stick with Cruella and quell her more outrageous behavior, while Luke had volunteered to keep an eye on Dustin. That left Wanda for Emily to try to integrate into this ill-assorted group without neglecting her other guests. She resolved that next year she would not open the retreat center until Boxing Day. Christmas Day would be reserved for the people she truly wanted to be with.
She introduced Wanda to the other guests, hoping someone would find her more sympathetic than Emily did herself. Devon and Veronica dutifully made conversation with Wanda, while the more reserved Hilary chatted with Ian and Olivia; at least those three had hit it off. Jamie hovered near Katie, helping her as much as she would let him. The sight of the two young people together invariably made Emily smile; Jamie’s devotion to Katie and Katie’s blossoming under it were palpable.
Oscar acknowledged his previous introduction to Wanda with a nod but seemed disinclined to converse with her. He mumbled a greeting and turned to talk with the other writers. Emily wondered if Wanda actually had made a pass at him the other day and he had refused her – that would certainly account for his apparent aversion.
‘What do you teach?’ Veronica asked Wanda.
‘High school chemistry. For my sins.’
At least it wasn’t grade school. High school chemistry was slightly easier to reconcile with Wanda’s personality.
‘Do you enjoy it?’
That politician’s smile appeared again. ‘Oh, loads. I adore lecturing to a roomful of teens who can’t tear their eyes off their cell phones long enough to register a word I say. And the lab disasters are even more fun. We had a terrific explosion last week. It’s a laugh a minute.’
Veronica and Devon exchanged uncomfortable glances. ‘Did you ever consider going into research or something?’ Devon put in. ‘There must be plenty of other jobs for qualified chemists.’
‘For BAs? Sure, employers are falling all over themselves to offer us jobs. They can get away with paying us less than a living wage.’ Wanda bared her teeth toward Emily, who expected to see fangs where her canines should be. But light was beginning to dawn. Perhaps Wanda’s attitude toward her was simply the natural envy of someone who had always struggled financially toward one who apparently had an easy life.
‘I myself taught until quite recently,’ Emily said, hoping to defuse that envy. ‘College level, which isn’t quite as grueling. But the pay isn’t much better. It was only last summer I inherited this place and decided to take a sabbatical. Or possibly retire for good.’
‘Nice work if you can get it.’ Wanda sniffed and turned to refill her plate with hors d’oeuvres, after which she wandered off to resume the examination of the room’s expensive ornaments that she’d begun the other day. Dismissing the thought that Wanda could be either a thief or a spy for an auction house, Emily relaxed into pleasant conversation with her other guests.
‘How are they all liking their rooms?’ Veronica asked. She and Devon had provided invaluable help in the redecorating of the themed bedrooms.
‘They’re all quite pleased. At least, those who are capable of being pleased. Dustin and Cruella seem unable to appreciate anything other than their own questionable selves.’ She’d given her local guests prior warning over the phone about the two difficult members of the party.
Devon tsked. ‘That is a shame. Which rooms are they in?’
‘Dustin in Dickens and Cruella in Dostoevsky. That one was meant for Marguerite’s student, but he didn’t show.’
‘Oh, well. I’m sure the next group will appreciate th
em properly.’
‘I certainly hope so. I intend to screen future guests much more carefully than I did this bunch. Though the other three are quite congenial.’
‘Can’t you get rid of those two?’ Veronica asked. ‘It is your home, after all.’
‘As soon as the roads clear, I will. But even if we’d had a proper thaw today, I couldn’t turn anyone out on Christmas Day.’
‘No, of course not,’ Devon said. ‘But darling, with this peculiar group of people … I know you were going for a Dickensian Christmas, but doesn’t all this have rather an Agatha Christie feel about it? Perhaps we’ll have a nice little murder to top it off.’
Emily grimaced. ‘I’d settle for a jewel theft. Windy Corner has had its share of murders and then some.’ But she couldn’t deny that feelings were running high enough in this crowd that murder would not be an improbable outcome.
TEN
To Emily’s intense relief, the party made it through to dinnertime with no untoward demonstrations from Cruella or Dustin, though both were made sulky by what they considered the dearth of alcohol. At the gong they all filed into the dining room, where each place held a Christmas cracker Hilary had brought from England. Popping the crackers, donning the enclosed paper party hats, and trading the trinkets created a modicum of general camaraderie.
The dinner Katie produced was enough to silence the most obstreperous guest: roast goose with chestnut stuffing and all the trimmings appropriate to a proper English Christmas feast. Blissful chewing replaced talking for some time, until at last Katie brought in the pièce de résistance: a flaming plum pudding with hard sauce. For gluten-free Olivia there was a miniature cheesecake with a crushed-pecan crust. Katie – along with Jamie, who had eaten in the kitchen with her and Lizzie – joined the others in the dining room for dessert.
‘I didn’t have a sixpence, but I did put in a quarter, so be careful how you chew,’ Katie said. Seeing the confused looks on several faces, she explained, ‘The person who gets the coin is supposed to have good luck for the coming year.’
Three bites in, Luke found the quarter. As the others exclaimed in mock dismay, he laid the coin on his plate with a significant glance at Emily. Good luck in the coming year could mean only one thing to Luke: marriage to Emily. She gave him a noncommittal smile.
An exclamation from Ian broke their eye contact. ‘There’s something else in here,’ he said, fishing a lump out of his mouth. ‘I bit down thinking it was safe and nearly broke a tooth.’
Katie turned white. ‘I didn’t put anything else in there, I swear.’
Emily shot her a reassuring glance and asked Ian, ‘What is it?’
Ian used his fork to clear the pudding clinging to the object, wiped it on his napkin, and revealed a gold ring set with diamonds in the shape of a heart.
Stunned silence set in around the table, but Ian’s face turned crimson. ‘No, really, this is too much.’ He stood and threw the ring across the table straight into Cruella’s face. ‘I cannot put up with this woman a moment longer.’ He stalked out of the room. Cruella merely grinned.
Emily gathered her wits and followed him into the hall. ‘Ian, wait.’
He turned with obvious reluctance, his foot already on the first stair.
‘Ian, I understand how upset you are – though I don’t know exactly why – but can you possibly be big enough to ignore it just for this evening? I was so hoping we could all have a nice Christmas together. Of course I could banish Cruella to her room again, but if you could possibly endure her for a couple of hours …? I’ll have Luke put the fear of God into her so she won’t try anything else tonight.’
Ian’s struggle contorted his handsome features, but he ultimately closed his eyes with a deep sigh. ‘Very well. You have been a most gracious hostess, and the others deserve a pleasant holiday. I will make the effort for your sake.’
Impulsively Emily reached out, took his hand in both of hers and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’re a dear. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll get rid of her the minute the highways open.’
She heard a cough behind her and turned to see Luke outside the dining room door. ‘Not to interrupt anything,’ he said caustically, ‘but I thought you might need a hand.’ He looked pointedly at her hands, still wrapped around Ian’s.
Emily dropped Ian’s hand rather too quickly, conscious that she was blushing and furious with herself for doing so. ‘I do need your help, in fact. Ian has graciously agreed to rejoin the party, but I need you to give Cruella a stern talking-to. I don’t want to have to seclude her, but it’s imperative she behave herself for the rest of the evening.’
‘Right.’ Luke gave her a frigid imitation of a smile. ‘Happy to be of service.’ He turned back into the dining room and reappeared a few seconds later with Cruella in tow. With a firm grasp on her fuchsia-sleeved elbow, he led her into the kitchen and shut the door.
Now Luke was really angry, and Emily would have no opportunity to pacify him. The worst of academic life – even the departmental politics – seemed peaceful compared to this.
Emily ushered the others into the library, racking her brains for an inoffensive activity to propose – nothing too active, as they all had a lot of digesting to do.
Devon came to her rescue. ‘How about some carols?’
‘Perfect,’ Emily said. ‘We sang some last night and didn’t do too badly. With you and Hilary we’ll rival the King’s College Choir.’
‘Hardly that,’ Hilary said dryly, ‘but perhaps we’ll be tolerable.’ He moved into the parlor and sat down at the piano before Olivia could get there. But she didn’t appear to mind.
Hilary launched into the British version of ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’. Some of the others were unfamiliar with the tune, but Devon’s clear countertenor and Hilary’s full baritone made up for any deficiencies. They moved on to ‘The First Nowell’ and even Cruella and Dustin joined in, though neither added much from a musical point of view. After half-a-dozen carols, Emily felt a reasonable degree of both musical and interpersonal harmony had been restored.
When Hilary declared his out-of-practice hands to be exhausted, Cruella piped up from the back of the group. ‘Let’s play charades!’
Emily quailed at the thought of all the mischief Cruella might get up to in the course of a game of charades, but before she could object, several of the others had voiced their approval. Devon was particularly enthusiastic.
‘Let’s do it properly, the English way – with tableaux and costumes.’ He turned to Emily. ‘Surely, darling, in a house like this there must be a dressing-up trunk.’
Emily recalled finding a trunk of vintage clothes in the attic when she and Katie had rearranged it before the remodeling. She’d never gotten around to going through it, but it was sure to contain some treasures. ‘We do have something of the sort,’ she said. ‘Not costumes per se, but old clothes at any rate.’
‘Brilliant. We can arrange chairs in the library and set up the tableaux here in the parlor, then open the doors when we’re ready.’ He counted people off into teams, tactfully ensuring that Cruella and Dustin were grouped with those best equipped to handle them. ‘And remember, in the English rules, the word or phrase can be anything well known – it doesn’t have to be a book or movie title. It could be a place, a person, a familiar phrase – anything you can fairly expect people to guess.’
‘We’ll go first,’ Cruella decreed. ‘Come on, gang. Where’s this famous trunk?’
Emily led the way to the attic. Cruella was right behind her, with Luke, Marguerite, Hilary, and Veronica following and Dustin trailing glumly at the rear. Emily pointed out the trunk, and Luke and Hilary hefted it down from its shelf.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said. ‘Luke, you know where the intercom is – holler down to the kitchen if you need anything else. And ask Katie to ring the gong when you’re ready.’ She exchanged looks with Luke, silently imploring him to ensure nothing untoward happened. His crisp nod assured her he
would, though it conveyed no warmth.
The end of this evening couldn’t come too soon.
Devon’s team, consisting of Emily, Wanda, Oscar, Ian, and Olivia, moved straight chairs from the dining room into the library and set them up facing the double doors into the parlor. Jamie declined to participate, saying he’d rather help Katie clean up, but he did agree to be timekeeper during the actual tableaux. In case both teams guessed their respective charades correctly, the winning team would be the one that guessed more quickly.
Once the chairs were in place, the guests dispersed briefly – most of them, being introverts, needed a few minutes to themselves in the midst of all this activity. Emily went to the kitchen to make sure Katie and Jamie were managing all right, trying to clean up after dinner for fourteen with Lizzie underfoot.
Katie, as usual, had everything under control, so Emily moved to the dining room to check on the cats, who had found the library and parlor too busy for their taste. Katie had fed them the scraps from the goose, and they were all dozing in blissful repletion.
The gong sounded, and Emily’s team reassembled in the library at the semicircle of chairs. Emily felt a draft and wrapped her shawl tighter, making a mental note to nudge the thermostat up a degree or two when the charade was over.
The double doors were opened by invisible hands, and Emily saw her parlor transformed, with pale blue fabric draping the furniture and tufts of white batting scattered about the floor. Cruella must have raided more than the one trunk of clothes. Among the tufts glided the six members of Cruella’s team, all draped in white with rings of gold tinsel on their heads, strumming imaginary harps and casting their eyes solemnly upward.
With difficulty Emily stifled a laugh – the only one who managed to look at all convincing was Hilary. Veronica did her best, but a plump, gray-haired angel was a bit difficult to swallow; Marguerite’s attempt to look holy merely brought out the pixie in her. Luke and Dustin were glum and uncomfortable, while Cruella as an angel bordered on sacrilege.
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