“Not all of them,” Beau answered seriously, “but I do have my gift for Miss Jinx. Would you care to see it?”
Scooting over on the settee to make room, Jeff said, “Sure. What is it?”
Beau sat down, removed a slender black box from the pocket of his frock coat, and held it out. Jeff opened the lid, revealing an elaborately carved, antique cameo.
“Wow!” he said. “That’s beautiful.”
“It belonged to my late wife, Almira,” Beau said softly. “Even now, I can see her raise her hand to her throat to trace the details of the figure.”
Barnaby rose from the desk and joined them in front of the fire. “May I?” he asked.
Jeff handed the jewelry box to him, and Barnaby studied the cameo.
“Demeter,” he said. “The Goddess of the Harvest who presided over the circle of life and death. How ever did you find it after so many years, Colonel?”
“I researched the distribution of my wife’s estate,” Beau explained. “The brooch was passed through the women in the family, but there are no longer any females extant in the line. A rather elderly bachelor nephew several times removed owned the piece. I brokered the purchase in great excess of the actual value.”
Jeff frowned. “If you don’t mind my asking, where did you get the money?”
“I sold my sword to a Civil War collector,” Beau replied.
“But why?”
Tucking the box back in his coat pocket, Beau stood and returned to his place at the mantel. Staring into the flames, he said, “You both have the great privilege of being Miss Jinx’s blood relations, but if you will forgive my forwardness, I, too, think of her as a daughter. All that I have in this strange existence of mine, I owe to her. Almira would have loved Jinx as I do. It is fitting that the brooch go to her.”
“She’ll cherish it, Beau,” Jeff said. “That’s a damned nice thing to do.”
“Gentlemen,” Beau said, standing up straight, “shall we raise our glasses and drink to our great good fortune to be associated with the Daughters of Knasgowa?”
“As I am Knasgowa’s father,” Barnaby replied, “I can think of no better toast this brotherhood could raise.”
From the desk, Rodney held up his paw.
“Yes,” Barnaby said, smiling, “I count you among our number as well, Master Rodney.”
In the other room, the sound of clinking glasses from the study interrupted the conversation.
“There they go,” Tori said, “hitting the bottle.”
But the words were barely out of her mouth before the mumbled voices in the other room said clearly, “To the Daughters of Knasgowa.”
Kelly and Gemma smiled at one another. “Those rascals,” Gemma said, “they’re in there drinking to us.”
“Which,” Kelly said, “would be why we keep them.”
Then, realizing how the comment would sound to her friend given the state of the Andrews’ marriage, she said, “Oh, Gem. I’m so sorry. What a stupid thing to say.”
“No it wasn’t, honey,” Gemma replied, reaching for Kelly’s hand. “I don’t want a man in my life who won’t be proud enough to toast me for who I really am. Scrap couldn’t do that, and that’s why he’s not here. Every one of us deserves men who treat us with respect.”
A sound in the hall made them all look toward the door where Lucas Grayson stood. The instant he saw them, his fedora was in his hand. “Merry Christmas, ladies,” he grinned, adding, “Hi, Jinx.”
“Hi, yourself,” she said. “The guys are all in the study if you want to go join them.”
Tossing his hat on a side table, Lucas asked, “Why in the world would I want to do that when I can have you . . . all . . . to myself?”
5
Lucas crossed the room to sit beside me. I saw Gemma and Mom exchange a wink, but I didn’t think much about it. Those two always have a conversation going even when they don’t say a word aloud. Tori and I do the same thing, which is why I did notice that my bestie was shooting me a goofy grin behind Lucas’ back.
“What?” I mouthed.
She waggled her eyebrows and nodded toward the DGI agent.
As my mouth formed the word “stop,” Lucas turned to face me. “Did you say something?” he asked.
“Huh? Uh, no,” I said. “Something tickled my nose.”
“Well, you do have a loris wrapped around your neck,” Lucas said, bending to get a better look at Ailish.
“Hi!” he greeted her. “How are you today?”
“Hello Hat Man,” the tiny creature said.
Lucas laughed. “Hat Man. I like that. You’re Ailish. I remember you from Connor’s apartment.”
With a speculative look in her black, round eyes, Ailish asked, “Hat Man help Connor come home?”
“I did,” Lucas answered.
That sealed the deal. Lucas was in.
“Then Ailish like Hat Man,” she said. “Hat Man can stay.”
From the door, Innis said, “I don’t suppose ‘Hat Man’ remembered to wipe his feet before he came in the house?”
“As a point of fact,” Lucas said, “he did. How are you, Gorgeous?”
“Acht!” Innis grumbled, pleased in spite of herself. “Keep your guff to yourself, Lucas Grayson. Pardon the interruption, but would you ladies like to see your rooms before you go to the fair? The festivities will be starting in about an hour.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mom said, standing up. “You have your broom, Glory? Good. Come on Tori.”
“I’m good,” Tori replied. “I’ll just hang out with Jinx and Lucas.”
All three women stopped, Glory hovering beside my mother. Gemma fixed her daughter with “the look.”
“I need your help upstairs, Victoria,” she said.
Tori, who seemed to be enjoying herself enormously replied, “Whoa! You’re pulling out the big guns, aren’t you?”
“Are you going to make me use your middle name, too?” Gemma asked.
Tori’s middle name is “Tallulah,” and she doesn’t like people finding that out.
“Okay, geez! Much with the threats already?” she groused, unwinding from the chair. As she passed us, she mumbled, “Subtle as a couple of heart attacks, aren’t they?”
When Lucas and I were alone, I said, “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind getting a chance to talk to you alone.”
Truthfully, I didn’t know what to say to that, so I changed gears on the conversation. “Where’s Greer?” I asked.
“She’s getting a bite to eat before the fair,” Lucas said.
Understand that’s a literal statement. Greer is baobhan sith, a Scottish vampire.
“In Shevington?” I asked, my eyes going wide.
“No,” Lucas laughed. “There’s an Actuaries Convention in Akron. She’ll be back in time for the fair.”
Even though the question was a little delicate, I said, “Uh, how does she . . . arrange her meals?”
“It’s not as predatory as it sounds,” he explained. “Greer’s a good person. She hasn’t given into the darker side of her nature in centuries. There’s a drink or a dinner date, a little enchantment, she feeds discreetly and leaves the guy with a fake memory to boast about. She only has to do it a couple of times a month.”
“So why not raid a blood bank?” I asked.
“In a pinch, she could,” Lucas admitted, “but she tells me it’s a little like eating at a fast food joint. You may have noticed Greer has high standards.”
I noticed. Louboutin boots. Prada bags. Italian leather jackets.
“You’re coming to the fair with us?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Lucas grinned. “I have been known to eat my weight in funnel cakes.”
That got my attention. “They have funnel cakes?” I said excitedly. “Oh my God. I love funnel cakes.”
“You bet they do,” he said. “We could get one togeth...”
The door to the study opened, and the men
came trooping out. Rodney rode on Beau’s shoulder, and Duke followed obediently at his heels. From the flush on their cheeks, I could tell there had been more than one glass of brandy.
“Lucas, my boy!” Barnaby beamed. “I’m glad you’re here. We are departing early for the fair to make some Christmas purchases. Will you join us?”
“Uh, yeah, sure, of course,” Lucas said, getting to his feet. “I’ll catch up with you later, Jinx, okay?”
Surprised by the mild sense of disappointment that washed over me, I said, “You bet. See you there.”
Left to my own devices, I followed the sound of voices upstairs. Innis had given us three rooms that shared a common parlor. Beau and Duke would bunk across the hall, with Darby and Rodney next door. Gemma and Tori’s windows overlooked the garden, Mom and Dad had a view of the mountains, and my bedroom looked straight out at the Mother Tree.
Ailish instantly spotted the mountain of feather pillows at the head of my bed and scrambled down to make a nest for herself.
I was standing at the window when Mom came up behind me and encircled my waist with her arm. She’s shorter than me, so when I returned the embrace, her head came to rest on my shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts,” she said.
“Myrtle,” I answered softly.
Mom sighed. “Have you opened your mind to the Oak since we’ve been here?”
“No,” I said a little sullenly. “She’s gotten really good at telling me no.”
“The Tree was only protecting your brother,” Mom said, “and trying to lead us to answers about Chesterfield. She’s not Santa Claus, honey. You don’t get a reward for being nice and coal for being bad. Talk to her.”
Changing the subject, I said, “The guys have gone out en masse to go shopping.”
Wisely deciding not to press me on the subject of the Mother Tree, Mom said brightly, “Trust me, your father’s last minute gifts from Shevington will be much better than the stuff he usually brings home from the Walgreens ‘as seen on TV’ section.”
“Dang,” I deadpanned, “I was looking forward to getting another super absorbent microfiber hair towel.”
Giving me a half-hearted disciplinary poke, she said, “He tries. Shopping is not your father’s forte. Come on now. Get ready for the fair. Dress warm.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said automatically.
When I flipped open my suitcase and started to pick something out, I realized I was wondering what might appeal most to Lucas. I wanted to slap myself. “Get a grip, Hamilton,” I muttered. “You’re not over the last one yet.”
The sound of Greer MacVicar’s lilting Scottish brogue floated up from the hallway downstairs. Pulling a soft cranberry cashmere sweater over my head, I ran a brush through my hair and went down.
The baobhan sith favors all black couture, but the deep emerald scarf draped at her neck matched the nickel-sized gemstones in her earrings and filled her eyes with smoldering verdancy.
The ruby signet rested as usual on her left ring finger, flashing in the light from the fireplace as she raised a glass of whisky to her lips. Judging from the hint of color in her normally pale face, dinner went well.
“Hello,” she said, inclining the glass toward me, “care for one of these?”
Joining her by the fire, I said, “No, but thank you. I’ve heard about Shevington’s famous mead. I want to try one at the fair first.”
“Fermented honey is a bit sweet for my tastes,” she said. “I prefer something that fights back a bit.”
“I take it that’s single malt Scotch?” I asked.
“It is. The Lord High Mayor has excellent tastes.”
“Someone better lock the liquor cabinet before Festus gets here,” I suggested. “There won’t be a drop left if he gets his paws on the good stuff.”
Reaching to refill her glass, Greer said, “His paws are already firmly wrapped around a bottle at the Dirty Claw. I stopped by on my way here. Chase will be along shortly, but his father seems entrenched for a night of carousing with his werecat associates.”
That was the first time I seriously considered the fact that Lucas and Chase would both be at the fair together — in proximity to me. Hopefully, there would be enough people there that neither one of them would get it in their heads to be territorial.
When I realized Greer was watching me, I said hastily, “I seriously don’t know how Festus does it. Four hollow legs I guess.”
Even though she didn’t look like she bought my diversion, Greer said, “Festus has mellowed considerably. Before he married, he was a rather force of nature.”
“You two had a . . . thing?” I asked.
Greer’s throaty chuckle filled the room. “Let us say we kept company for a time and leave it at that. I expected to find Lucas here. Is he running late?”
So much for steering us away from the topic of the men in my life.
“No, the guys hijacked him to do some late Christmas shopping,” I said, suddenly getting very interested in the fire.
After a silent moment, Greer said, “I’m the one who bites, Jinx, not Lucas.”
Startled, I opened my mouth to say something, shut it, tried again, and then resorted to a helpless shrug. “I’m not sure what you mean by that,” I admitted.
Setting her glass down on the end table and steepling her long fingers, Greer got right to the point.
“Are you still in love with Chase? Because if you are, I would appreciate it if you would have a care with my laddie’s heart. Lucas talks a tough line, but I assure you, he can be hurt, and more easily than you might think. Don’t do that to him.”
I couldn’t tell. The statement could have been a request or a warning.
Before I could ask, the others came downstairs, Ailish wrapped around Mom’s neck, and we were out the door. The men, just returning from their shopping excursion, joined us on the sidewalk and we all greeted Moira who came striding toward us in a long crimson cloak edged in gold.
The Alchemist is a tall woman with strong features. She’s not classically beautiful, but no one misses the fact that she’s walked into a room. As she approached, I saw the pride and love for her that filled my grandfather’s eyes.
“Fare thee well, Alchemist?” he greeted her formally, bending low to kiss her hand.
“Well, indeed, Lord High Mayor, and how fare thee?” Moira replied, her lips curving into a smile at his touch.
“Most well,” Barnaby said. “Surrounded on this Yule Eve by all those whom I love.”
“A happy occasion it is indeed,” Moira said. “Shall we cross to the fair?”
As we fell in behind them, I said to Mom, “Do they really think they’re fooling anyone?”
She laughed. “Probably not, but they’ve kept up the illusion of not being together for so long, I’m not sure they know how to drop the act now.”
Given the confusing state of my own love life, I could sympathize, but honestly, the instant we stepped onto the village green, any thoughts of relationship drama went straight out of my head.
Pick your favorite line from every holiday song you ever heard and some part of it came alive for me that night. The street lights did blink a bright red and green while enchanted snowmen with corn cob pipes and button noses laughed and played with the children.
I saw Tori deep in conversation with one of the snowmen and hoped she was finally getting an answer to her childhood concerns about melting and seasonal, snowy resurrections.
As for me, I played reindeer games and came away pretty confidant that Rudolph just had the bad luck to get picked on by a gang of punks with antlers. The reindeer I met wouldn’t have given a guy grief over a little red nose problem.
Early in the evening, Barnaby introduced me to an elf named Kris who had a weight problem. We didn’t get to talk much because he excused himself to “go make some deliveries.” Make of that what you will, but all I can say is, “I believe.”
I found myself wading happily in a sea of Christmas traditions. Weihnachtsstollen made m
e rethink my fruitcake aversion and a round of a Swedish singing game called Prästens lilla kråka left me breathless and giggling. Then I joined a group of horrified, fascinated children to listen to the story of Krampus. Think horned, goat-headed anti-Santa. Don’t take that “naughty or nice” thing for granted. Seriously.
My friends the dragonlets sat in a designated area near the skating rink, using their fiery breath to toast marshmallows and melt chocolate for ‘smores. (There’s a Gaelic name that they use in Shevington for the gooey concoction, but trust me, you couldn’t pronounce it any more than I can.)
When they saw me, all six dragonlets, bowed deeply, extending their wings and touching the ground with their hooked beaks. “Hey, guys!” I said. “Merry Christmas! I missed you at the portal today.”
Minreith, the flock leader, answered me with a series of chirps and whistles. “Connor told me,” I said. “It was nice of you not to scare the horses. How about making one of those for me?”
With pyrotechnic precision, Minreith prepared a ‘smore, which I retrieved from a still smoking plate. “Perfect,” I said, wiping smeared chocolate off my lips. “You’re doing a great job. I’ll see you before I leave, okay?”
Just as Connor and I got off our third time on the Ferris wheel and I thought the evening couldn’t possibly be any more magical, Barnaby climbed atop the speaker’s stand and proved me wrong.
6
Amid whispers of, “Hush! It’s the Lord High Mayor!” Barnaby finally managed to get the crowd’s attention. “Good people!” he called out. “Good people of Shevington! Fare thee well?”
He was answered with happy shouts all around.
“Each year on Christmas Eve our great and wise friend the Mother Oak joins with us to celebrate this holiday,” he continued, his voice resonating across the square. “Whether you call this observance Christmas, Yule, or Solstice, this is a time for celebration and happy remembrance, both of old acquaintances and new beginnings. Let us now clasp hands and combine our magic with that of the Great Tree herself.”
Mom took my hand and reached for Dad with the other, who in turn clasped Connor’s hand. Tori came up beside me and caught my free hand, and then reached for Gemma. And so it went, one link after another formed a living chain that wrapped round and round the square.
Christmas in the Valley: A Jinx Hamilton / Shevington Novella Page 4