After her staff members picked up the order, Maggie invited Tommy to go with her to Ava’s, but he said Ed was taking him to the bonfire. Maggie gave him several ham and cheese turnovers for the two of them to eat for dinner. Tommy was a sweet, shy, gawky twelve-year-old, with a two-tone adolescent voice, a great work ethic, and a quiet way of fading into the background. Maggie was just waiting for him to turn 16 so she could coerce him into coming to work at the bookstore.
Situated just a block from Rose Hill Avenue on Pine Mountain Road, Ava’s elegant Victorian home was in a prime location, and was busy all year long with both tourists and parents visiting their offspring at nearby Eldridge College. Every Victorian architectural element you could imagine was evident on the home’s exterior, from the gingerbread trim and wrap-around porches to a cylindrical turret and the stained glass transom window over the front door. The Fitzpatricks had worked hard to restore the house in order to give Ava a way to make a living after her husband abandoned her. The Fitzpatricks were very much a “hand up” rather than a “hand out” kind of support group, and to her credit Ava had done very well for herself under her own steam.
When Maggie entered the front room she found two teenage girls surfing the Internet on Ava’s computer with their homework laid out in front of them on the check-in desk. They greeted Maggie and told her the kids were in the family room. Maggie walked back through the arched hallway past the stairs that led to the second floor, through the large kitchen to the small family room built on part of the back porch. This tiny room was only a small nook in which the family could have some privacy to watch television or play, but it and the kitchen were the heart of their home.
Twelve-year old Charlotte was curled up in a big armchair reading “The Secret Garden,” probably for the third or fourth time. It was one of Maggie’s favorites, too, and much like Charlotte, Maggie didn’t like to be interrupted when she was deep into a book. Charlotte looked up and hardly seemed to register Maggie’s presence before she dove back in.
Six-year-old Timmy was laying on his stomach, playing with some dark green plastic army men while watching “James and the Giant Peach,” his favorite movie. Maggie had seen it with him so many times she could recite most of the dialogue herself. They were glad to see her, but neither budged from their spots. If it had been Patrick arriving, they would have squealed and clamored for his attention, but Maggie didn’t mind. She loved her niece and nephew, but she hadn’t spent nearly as much time with them as Patrick had. He really was like a father to them.
Timmy was entranced by his movie, so Maggie lay down on the couch and closed her eyes, just for a second. She woke up when Timmy crawled up next to her, and snuggled down in the crook of her arm, his head on her shoulder. She scooted over to make more room for him, pulled a hand-crocheted afghan off the back of the couch, and draped it over them.
“You smell like Mamaw’s work,” he said in his raspy little boy voice.
Maggie kissed the top of his head, which was covered in bright red curls, just like hers.
“You smell like play dough,” she said, and sure enough, there was some in his hair.
It was almost nine o’clock, and Charlotte was still reading, so Maggie relaxed again, cozy and warm with the little boy in her arms. She was too worn out to think about taking the kids to see the bonfire, and they didn’t mention it.
At 9:00 p.m. Mandy left the Rose and Thorn caravan and ran down to where the enormous bonfire was burning. She had nagged at Patrick for an hour to let her go, until finally he’d relented. Delia and Ian were both working in the bar, and most people were at the bonfire, so the caravan wasn’t that busy. She had promised to come back within an hour, when Patrick anticipated the evening trade would start in earnest.
Mandy searched through the crowd until she found Ed and Tommy. They were near the front, and Tommy was standing in front of Ed, facing the fire, with Ed’s hands on his shoulders. Mandy stopped a moment to watch them. To anyone who happened to see them but didn’t know them, they looked just like father and son. Mandy wanted that so badly it made her heart ache.
She knew Ed was too old for her, too smart for her, too sensible for her. He wasn’t exactly her dream date either, by any means, with his bald head and fuddy-duddy clothes, but he was good and kind and steady, and she was crazy about him. She was grateful that no one else had seen the prize he was beneath his ordinary appearance and snapped him up before she could.
She had confided her ambitions to Delia.
“People will be telling him he’s too old for you,” Delia said. “Ed’s a man with principles, who cares deeply about what other people think of him.”
“But I don’t care how old he is.”
“Folks might think he’s taking advantage of you.”
“But I’m the one chasin’ him,” Mandy complained. “I’ve never had to chase a guy. They’re all the time chasin’ me.”
“Are you really sure this is what you want?”
“It is, Delia. I never felt this way before. Seein’ him makes my heart beat fast and gives me butterflies in my stomach. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t eat nothin’. It’s drivin’ me crazy.”
“Sounds like love to me.”
“It is, but no one believes me. Please, please help me.”
“Alright, honey. I’ll help you. If you’re really sure he’s the one for you.”
“I am. He is.”
“I think the key is for you to be determined and sensible, and not give up. If he sees that you’re serious about this, and that it’s not just a silly crush, he may eventually wear down.”
“What if he’s just not attracted to me?”
“Child,” Delia said, “with what you have to work with, if he isn’t interested, he doesn’t have a pulse.”
Mandy was determined to convince him using all the assets she had. She pushed through the crowd to the front and when she reached them, wrapped her arm around Ed’s waist and poked Tommy in the side.
“Hey,” Ed said, surprised, but to Mandy’s relief he didn’t shrug her off or pull away. He put one arm around her, keeping one hand on Tommy’s shoulder.
‘We make a family,’ Mandy thought to herself, ‘just like in my dream.’
Tommy looked around and smiled at his mom, knowing what she was up to.
The crowd’s attention was now drawn to Mayor Stuart Machalvie, who was standing on a raised platform with his wife Peg and the rest of the town council. Peg had on a huge black fur coat with a matching hat and muff, and teetered on her spiked heels. Oversized rings sparkled on each hand, and she was smiling as much as she could with her pale, shiny face shot full of nerve paralyzers and wrinkle fillers. Hannah liked to claim that Peg was actually a vampire, and slept in a coffin full of dirt in the basement of the Machalvie Funeral Home. With her blood red lipstick and nails, she certainly looked the part.
“Welcome to the Rose Hill Winter Festival,” the mayor said into the microphone, which gave some ear-piercing feedback.
The crowd cheered and applauded.
Ed whistled loudly to make Tommy laugh. He then excused himself to go take pictures. Mandy took his place behind Tommy, who was almost as tall as she was. She set her chin on his shoulder and hugged him from behind.
“It is my great pleasure to introduce this year’s Snow Queen, who recently returned home to Rose Hill after living for many years in New York City,” the mayor said. “She is descended from one of the founding families of this town; they owned Eldridge Lumber, the Eldridge Coal Company, and also built Eldridge College. We are proud to have her back in Rose Hill, and honored that she has consented to rein over this festival as its queen. I can’t think of anyone more like royalty, or more deserving of a crown. Ladies and gentleman, I present this year’s Rose Hill Winter Festival Queen, Miss Gwyneth Eldridge!”
The Pine County Consolidated High School band played “Isn’t She Lovely” while the mayor helped Gwyneth up onto the stage. He placed a white satin sash with “Snow Festival
Queen” written on it over her right shoulder and under her left arm while his wife Peg affixed a tiara to her sleek blonde head. Ed got close enough to get a good photograph, and saw that Gwyneth’s hands were shaking as she approached the microphone. Her voice shook a little as she began to speak.
“When the mayor first approached me about doing this,” she said, in her nasal British accent. “I at first declined the honor, thinking it should go to someone born and raised in Rose Hill. I was born in the English countryside, you see, and raised abroad. I only visited Rose Hill between school terms. But Stuart insisted, reminding me that the Eldridge family’s roots run deep in the soil beneath this town. One is reminded that one owes it to the legacy of one’s family to support the town events as one’s mother and grandmother did before one. So here I am, living proof that there will always be Eldridges in Rose Hill.”
She paused, and the mayor began clapping so that everyone would know she had finished. The crowd joined in, albeit without much enthusiasm.
“Please enjoy the festival,” Gwyneth said, and gave a royal wave.
Ed took photos of Gwyneth, the mayor, and the town council, in many configurations, and then returned to where he left Mandy and Tommy.
“I have to go back to work,” she said. “Will you be over to the bar later?”
“I’ve got all the photographs I need and this is too much of a crowd for me,” Ed said. “How about Tommy and I go pick up Hank, then we’ll order pizza and watch some TV together until you get home.”
Mandy smiled widely and then kissed Ed on the cheek, much to Tommy’s embarrassment.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll see you at home later.”
She ran off before Ed could say anything else, and Tommy was grinning at him when he turned back around.
“Stop that,” Ed said. “We’re just friends, your mom and me.”
Tommy tried hard to hide his smile, but it went too deep inside.
Maggie woke up at midnight when Ava came home escorted by Patrick. Charlotte was still reading and Patrick rolled his eyes at her.
“She’s just like Maggie was at that age,” he said to Ava. “She’d stay up all night if you let her, reading some egghead book.”
Patrick carried Timmy up the backstairs to the family’s quarters, which was completely separated from the guest rooms for privacy and safety. Charlotte yawned, stretched, and reluctantly went off to bed.
“You look tired,” Ava told Maggie.
“I was just about to say the same thing to you,” Maggie said.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Ava said.
“No,” Maggie said. “I like my own bed too much.”
Patrick left to go back to work at the bar, and Maggie went the opposite direction toward home.
All of the businesses downtown save the Rose and Thorn were closed by midnight. The crowd at the festival grounds had dispersed, and the town was quiet and peaceful. There was smoke rising from the chimneys of dark houses, and bright stars twinkling in the dark sky. Snow crunched under her boots as Maggie crossed Pine Mountain road and continued down the alley on the other side, which led to her bookstore’s back door. As she passed the dumpster behind the bank, Duke ran out from beneath it, and followed her home. She let him in the backdoor, but left in him the vestibule while she disarmed the security system, entered the bookstore, and looked at the sales figures for the day.
“Wow,” she said out loud when she read the figure.
They had had a great day. She was so tired it was all she could do to re-set the alarm, climb up the steps, and let Duke and herself into her apartment.
There was a message from Scott on her voice mail.
“Hey, just wanted to let you know it was Margie, looks like she was stabbed and bled to death. We haven’t found the murder weapon yet. Sarah’s all over this, so you know she’ll be snapping her fingers and I’ll be jumping for the next few days. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
Maggie had just enough energy left to wash her face and brush her teeth before falling into bed, and her last conscious awareness was of Duke jumping up on the foot of her bed, purring loudly as he settled there to sleep. Although mildly allergic to cats, Maggie didn’t have the strength to shoo him off the bed.
Maggie went to sleep thinking about Margie’s body in the snow bank down by the river. That night she dreamed that Margie was standing at the top of the town, on Morning Glory Avenue, rolling pink snowballs down Pine Mountain Road, and by the time they reached the river they were as big as houses.
Patrick walked Mandy home after the bar closed at 2:00 a.m., and attempted his own clumsy version of a heart-to-heart chat.
“I know you have your sites set on old Ed, there,” he said awkwardly.
“I do, and you can’t talk me out of it,” she said.
“He’s way too old for you, you know.”
“Everybody’s all the time sayin’ that, but he’s only eight years older’n me. He’s younger than you.”
“But he’s very mature and smart.”
“And I’m just some stupid kid, is that it?”
“No, you know I don’t think that. Listen to me. You’re like me. We don’t take everything as seriously as Ed does. We don’t get so wound up about everything all the time. Ed cares about stuff like politics, causes, and justice. He thinks everything should be fair to everybody all the time. We know life isn’t like that.”
“I think it’s great he cares about that stuff. Somebody has to, or things wouldn’t never get any better.”
“But do you wanna listen to all that bitchin’ and moanin’ about it all the time?”
“I don’t mind it. I might learn somethin’.”
“His wife was a smart newspaper writer like him.”
“And that didn’t last, did it?”
“You may have a point there.”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“I think it’s a big mistake.”
“Well?”
“I’ll help you, I guess.”
“I appreciate it. Now, what should I do?”
“He’s a man, isn’t he? Get him drunk and have sex with him.”
“You’re such a gentleman, Patrick.”
“You asked me. I’m just telling you what I know works.”
Ed was asleep on Mandy’s couch when she crept into the trailer. His reading glasses had fallen down his nose and his book was on the floor. Mandy picked both up and put them on a side table. Down at the end of the hall, she saw that Tommy was sound asleep in his small room, with the black lab Hank draped over the foot of his bed, so she shut his door. She went back to the living room and sat down on the coffee table, regarding Ed, sprawled out and snoring.
She imagined what it would be like to come home to him like this every night, and it gave her a warm feeling inside. She wanted him here, waiting for her, watching over Tommy. She wanted someone to carry in her groceries, to make sure the electric bill got paid, and to repair the toilet when it leaked. She wanted someone to tell she’d be home early, or wouldn’t be home until late. She wanted someone who would care where she was, what she was doing, and whether she was warm enough, had eaten enough, and was happy. She wanted someone for Tommy, too, a father he could look up to and count on.
Ed stirred, woke up, and smiled at her.
“What are you doing, just sitting there?” he asked her as he sat up.
“I didn’t want to wake you up. You look too comfy,” she said.
Ed rubbed his face, looked at her fondly, and yawned.
“How was your evening?” he asked her.
“It was fine,” she said, so happy to have someone ask her that simple question.
“That’s good,” he said. “Your son and I played some scrabble and watched TV way too late, and he didn’t get to bed ‘til midnight.”
“That’s okay. Thanks for lookin’ after him.”
“I was glad to do it. With all these strangers in town this weekend, it might be a
good idea if I do the same tomorrow night.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That’d make me feel much better.”
“Well,” he said, getting to his feet, “I better mosey on home.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” she said quietly.
“Mandy,” he said, but before he could continue, she pushed him back down into a sitting position on the couch, climbed on top of him, and kissed him.
Ed’s baser instincts were wide-awake now and quickly taking charge. He struggled for control.
“Wait a minute,” Ed said.
“I don’t wanna hear it, Ed,” Mandy said, as she unbuckled his belt. “I know you want me. I can feel you want me.”
“But Tommy’s just down the hall,” Ed protested.
“He’s a sound sleeper,” Mandy said as she popped open the button on his pants.
“I think we should talk about this first,” Ed said weakly, his resistance evaporating.
“We can talk about it after,” Mandy said, as she tugged down his zipper. “I’ll get me a dictionary so I can cipher all those big words you like to use.”
Ed laughed and gave in. He was undone, both literally and figuratively.
Hannah lay awake in bed while her husband worked in his office. Tears ran down both sides of her face onto the pillow beneath her head. She was still emotionally raw from the events of the day, and kept reliving the moments when she discovered the body over and over, like a film in her head she couldn’t stop. Although she knew Sam was exhausted, both physically from maneuvering his wheelchair through the snow and mentally from having to interact with people all day at the festival, still she resented being alone in their bed. He had gone seriously, intensely silent on the ride home, and then seemed to be angry with her the rest of the evening. When Hannah tried to talk to him about it he brushed her off, when she persisted they fought, and as soon as they got home he retreated to his office. Hannah needed him to hold her and be with her, and let her talk about what happened. Instead he had withdrawn, as if he was punishing her.
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