by Lynn Cahoon
“Most definitely. Granny and Olivia are making up dough now. And as soon as I get home, we’ll be decorating. I may have to make ten dozen just to get enough good ones to bring. Olivia likes decorating, she’s just not very good at it.” Sasha nodded to the couple who’d just walked into the shop. “You go have fun. I think it’s cute Greg’s helping you bake.”
“You and everyone else.” I slipped my tote over my shoulder. “Remember, don’t work late.”
“I promise. Toby Killian isn’t going to woo this girl into working any longer than she has to.” A wicked smile came over her face. “At least not today.”
I power walked home, but it still took me a good ten minutes to get there. Luckily, Greg kept me company on the phone as I walked, telling me all about his day. The one thing he didn’t mention was doing any investigating on Thomas. I decided to let it pass until I got home. Then I’d grill him for what he’d found out. In the most gentle and loving way, that is.
Greg and Emma were still in the backyard when I arrived home. He had a key, but typically he waited outside on one of the porches for me to get home. Today, he must have used his key to let Emma out. Sometimes, I found my fridge had been filled with groceries and drinks when I got home. He may not be making himself at home like I’d expected, but he was taking care of me and my dog.
I hung up on him as I walked around the house. “Hey, stranger. Ready for some wicked baking?”
“Making Christmas cookies isn’t wicked. It’s the opposite.” He kissed me and threw Emma’s ball one more time. “Have you decided what we’re making?”
I nodded, watching my dog fly after the tennis ball. She could run hard when she wanted to. We’d missed our run today as I didn’t get out of bed early enough to run and take a shower. I chose the shower. “Russian tea cakes. My mother used to make them every Christmas. I’d get powdered sugar all over, but I loved them. I never could sneak one, though. Somehow she always knew.”
“Maybe it was the powdered sugar?” Greg held the screen door open as I unlocked the door.
“Probably.” I grinned. “Did you eat lunch? I could do some grilled hamburgers if you’re hungry.”
“I’m starving. I was going to stop at Lille’s and bring some chicken, but I forgot and came straight here. Do you want me to go back?”
I shook my head. “No need, we can cook something. Let’s just start getting things out that we’re going to use. I have the recipe over there.”
As we looked for the ingredients, Emma ran out of the kitchen and into the living room. The front door opened, and my aunt called out, “You two better be decent. I don’t think my heart could take the shock.”
Harrold’s deep laugh followed my aunt’s announcement. As they came into the kitchen, I smelled the fried chicken before he held up the bags. “We come bearing food. So we can make more food and take it other places and say, we come bearing food.”
“And that is the paradox of life. We eat to have the strength to make food so we can eat.” Greg took one of the bags and set it on the table. Then he slapped Harrold on the back. “Thanks for bringing the grub. It’s nice to see you.”
“And you as well.” Harrold set the second bag on the table, then stepped over and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for inviting us over for this holiday tradition. My late wife and I used to make sugar cookies every Christmas. She loved decorating them.”
“No problem.” I glanced at Greg, who grinned. I gave Harrold a quick hug. “Sasha and Olivia are bringing those. We’re making Russian tea cakes.”
“Those are lovely too.” He stepped next to my aunt and started taking out the food.
Aunt Jackie smiled up at him. It was a look I’d rarely seen on her face since my uncle had died years ago. She looked happy. Then she saw me watching her and her eyes narrowed. “I’ve arranged for Toby to cover the last part of my shift tomorrow so I can attend this party with you. Now, why don’t you get us some plates and utensils. Greg, pour some iced tea. We need to get to eating before this chicken gets cold.”
Following Aunt Jackie’s instructions, we were sitting down to lunch in less than five minutes. I glanced at Greg. “Did you learn more about Thomas today?”
“A little, but not much. He was never arrested or charged with anything.” Greg picked up a chicken leg. “I guess he kept himself out of trouble.”
“Who’s Thomas?” Aunt Jackie cut a slice of the chicken breast on her plate with a fork and knife. The rest of us were using our fingers.
I explained about finding the key at the animal shelter and then Greg opening the safe-deposit box and what he’d found.
“Thomas? Thomas Raleigh?” Harrold stared at us. “He’s dead?”
“Wait, did you know him?” Greg wiped his hands with a paper napkin.
“Sure. He used to come into the shop, looking for work. He helped me with a lot of the miniature South Cove train display. I’d wondered why I hadn’t seen him lately.” Harrold laid down his fork and took a sip of tea. “The guy was intelligent, and once you got him talking, you couldn’t get him to shut up. I always took him into Lille’s for a meal on days he worked for me. Just to make sure he was eating enough.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Are you all right?” Aunt Jackie covered Harrold’s hand with her own.
He smiled at her, which made my heart squeeze just a bit. The smile was filled with such emotion.
“Yes, Jackie. This isn’t about me. Thomas was a good man.” Harrold leaned back in his chair. “Then that dog in the pound was Baby? I thought he looked familiar, but I never thought Thomas would be gone.”
“So did he tell you who Lizzie was?”
Harrold smiled at her. “She was the love of his life. He was trying so hard to fix everything so she’d come back. He was a little obsessed by the idea. I don’t think he knew if she was still alive or even in the area anymore.”
“His journal talked about how they’d planned on buying a house near the beach just outside Bakerstown. But he’d lost touch with her when he was in the army and when he came home, the house had already sold.” I looked over at Greg. “That was what the money was for, to buy the house when he got back home.”
“He was devastated. I guess her folks moved up to someplace in Oregon and he tried to send letters, but they were all returned as the forwarding address had expired.” Harrold shook his head. “Even the last time I saw him, which must have been forty years after he’d gotten back—it was clear he never gave up.”
Aunt Jackie started cleaning up the plates from the table. “Such a sad end to a life. Things that are meant to be, happen, but only if you’re open to them. Maybe he could have had a full life filled with love and family if he’d just opened his heart to someone else.”
Harrold pulled her close to his chair and hugged her. “Thomas wasn’t as lucky as we’ve been.”
The air in the room seemed to stop as I watched my aunt and her new boyfriend. Harrold was good for her. She seemed so happy now. They were meant for each other. But it got me wondering. Aunt Jackie had been meant for my uncle, too. And from what I knew, Harrold was happy with his first wife. Maybe there was more than just one soul mate for each of us. We just had to find the next.
Greg broke the tension in the room. “Let’s get baking cookies. Do you want me to turn on the Christmas station?”
One of our radio stations played Christmas carols from the first of November to New Year’s Day. It was a solid stream of “Jingle Bells” and other carols sung by a string of different artists, including the barking dogs.
Harrold pulled a few CDs from his jacket pocket. “I’ve got something better. Mannheim Steamroller. I picked these up last week when Jackie and I attended their concert in the city.”
“Perfect.” Greg reached out his hand for the CDs. “Come and see the new speaker setup I just installed in the house. We have speakers all through t
he downstairs and even out on the back porch.”
“I’d like to see that.” Harrold stood and followed Greg out of the kitchen and toward my study where we’d set up the master system.
“And we’re left with the dishes.” I finished cleaning off the table, shoving the paper plates and empty containers into a trash bag. “Anything else need to go in here? I’m going to take this right out to the outdoor trash can so Emma doesn’t get any ideas about the leftover bones. Of course, that doesn’t stop the raccoons from getting them.”
Aunt Jackie handed me a bag. “I put the leftover coleslaw and chicken into new containers and they are in your fridge. You should have enough for dinner.”
“If we want to eat after making cookies all day. You know we’ll have to sample a few.”
She smiled. “You always were impatient when it was cookie day.”
“They’re better when they are warm.” I opened the back door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Jill,” my aunt called after me, making me pause. “Thanks for inviting us to share this with you. I like feeling like a family again.”
I smiled as I left the house. We’d always been family, but I knew what she was saying. For a lot of years, celebrating the holidays just brought on memories of a past we couldn’t recreate. This year, with the addition of friends and loved ones, it felt like the holidays again. Not just a day where we grabbed dinner together and tried making small talk.
Of course, I hadn’t invited Aunt Jackie and Harrold to our cookie baking party. But I was glad that Greg had been smarter than me and knew what both Aunt Jackie and I needed before we did. He was a really good boyfriend.
Emma stood at the gate, watching me come back from the trash cans I kept by the side of the garage. I held up my empty hands. “Nothing for you today. Maybe you’ll be able to sweet-talk Aunt Jackie out of a treat later.”
Just to be sure, she sniffed both hands when I came into the yard, then sulked off to lay in the grass under a tree where she had a few of her toys hidden. We called it Emma’s tree house.
“Okay, then, sulk. Just let me know when you want inside.” Having Emma outside in the yard while the four of us were busy in the kitchen wasn’t that bad of an idea. The golden retriever was gentle with my aunt and Harrold, but she was still large.
I looked back at her. She had her head between her front paws, but instead of watching me, she appeared to be asleep. The dog knew she had time before it was just the two or three of us. And she was patiently waiting.
I wondered if Thomas’s Lizzie was patiently waiting for a prince who would never come and rescue her, or if like all modern princesses, she had rescued herself. Tonight, I’d finish reading Thomas’s journal and find out if there were any other clues to who this Lizzie was and where in Oregon she could be found.
But today, it was time to make cookies. I walked back into the kitchen where Harrold, Aunt Jackie and Greg were all gathered around the cookbook I’d pulled out for the recipe. Greg smiled at me and waved me over to join the group. The family.
CHAPTER 6
The conference room at city hall was filled with women and smelled like cookies. Christmas carols softly played from a Bluetooth speaker in the corner. And all around the room were tables with cookies. Lots of cookies. I’d met Aunt Jackie at the store. Toby had volunteered to take the end of her late shift. Once he’d arrived, she’d spent more than ten minutes going over the closing procedures. In detail. So instead of arriving promptly at seven, we were fifteen minutes late.
Amy waved us inside. “There you are. You’re the last to arrive. Go set up your samples and your bags at the end of the table. Then you can mingle with the others. We have coffee and punch over at the end of the room. Thanks for supplying the coffee, by the way.”
“Not a problem. You did place that sign I provided, right?” Aunt Jackie slipped her jacket off and hung it on the coatrack. She kissed Amy on the check. “Oh, there’s Mary. I need to talk to her.”
As she disappeared through the crowd of women, I shook my head. “She’s always marketing. What can you do?”
“I just appreciate the coffee. I didn’t want to just serve whatever I could find at the store.” She took one of the bags I held and walked with me to our spot on the table.
“Thanks for putting this together. Although I have no idea what I’m going to do with seven dozen cookies.” I put the bags on the table and Amy set out the sample dozen. “It looks like everyone’s having a good time.”
“For my first Christmas cookie exchange, I think I did a good job.” She waved at Sasha, who was walking toward us, a dancing Olivia by her side. She knelt to be on Olivia’s level. “Hey, beautiful. What’s Santa bringing you for Christmas?”
“Santa only brings toys to good little girls,” Olivia said, grinning.
“That’s right. Have you been good?” Amy picked a cookie crumb off the red velvet dress the little girl wore.
Olivia nodded and took another bite of cookie. “I’ve been very, very good.”
“She thinks so.” Sasha laughed. “I hear you had a lot of help to bake your cookies yesterday. Jackie showed me a picture of your tree. It’s lovely.”
“I’m really happy we got a real tree. It just makes Christmas, you know?” I handed Olivia another cookie.
“She’s going to be on a sugar high for days after this.” Sasha watched her daughter take a bite of the tea cake and laughed when her eyes lit up. “I think she likes them.”
“Sugar, butter, pecans—what’s not to like? She has good taste.” I caught Olivia’s attention. “Are you coming to the bookstore Saturday to see Santa?”
She jumped several times, her eyes brightening. “And puppies.”
“You like puppies?”
Olivia nodded. “But we can’t have one until we have our own house. Mama says we will soon as we can.”
“That sounds smart.” Amy glanced over toward the end of the room. “I better get this thing started.”
Sasha watched as Amy walked away toward the middle of the room. “She’s in her element here.”
“She does like throwing a party.” Olivia took off to look at the Christmas tree. Greg had gone back to the tree lot and not only gotten a real tree for the station, but also one for the conference room, as he knew Amy was using it for her party. “I learned something new about Thomas yesterday.”
“Really?” Sasha quickly switched her gaze from watching her daughter to my face, then back.
“He was in the army. I read the entire journal and it was written like he was talking to her. He’d been sent out on a long patrol and had missed mail for several weeks. When he got back, there was a letter saying she’d moved, but the address she gave him was a PO box. Then the letters stopped coming.”
“She stopped writing?” Sasha waved at her daughter, who was standing by the tree, waving at her.
“I think she thought he stopped writing. Soon, his letters came back as undeliverable. He blamed her parents.” I laughed watching as Olivia picked up one present after another and shook them.
“They probably thought she was too young. You know how protective parents can be.”
“True. But I found out something else. Harrold knew Thomas.” I pointed to Olivia, who was now picking one cookie from each plate and switching them to a new plate.
“I better rein her in. I’ll come in early for my shift tomorrow and you can tell me the rest of the story. It’s like watching a romantic movie, although we know this one has a sad ending.” She scurried over toward her daughter. “Olivia Ann Smith. You stop that right now.”
“Usually, I don’t think children should be allowed at these things.” My aunt had rejoined me after Sasha left. “Of course, Olivia is a very curious child. It shows her intelligence.”
Amy started talking just in time so I didn’t have to answer my aunt. Sometimes, I think she l
iked Olivia more than the rest of us.
We spent the rest of the evening picking out cookie bags to take home and mixing with friends. Christmas wasn’t turning out half bad after all.
* * * *
The next morning, I had seven dozen cookies sitting on my kitchen table, staring at me. Plus I still had three dozen of the Russian tea cakes from our baking session. I bundled most of the cookie bags into a tote bag. I had a plan for them.
First stop, after working my shift at the coffee shop, was the funeral home to see Doc Ames. I’d have to drive into Bakerstown, so I left the cookies in the bag and put them up in the plate cupboard where Emma couldn’t reach them. Doc probably wouldn’t be able to tell me much about how Thomas had died, but the coroner slash funeral director had lived in Bakerstown all his life. Maybe he knew some of the Thomas and Lizzie story.
I got to the shop but didn’t have a customer all morning. Thursday morning was typically slow, but the fact it was less than a week away from Christmas had dried up the commuter traffic. Either people weren’t working today or they were trying to get in early to clean up work so they could take a Christmas holiday. Either way, I didn’t mind. A slow customer day meant more reading for me. And I took advantage of the time.
By the time Sasha arrived, I’d finished the mystery and was working on a young adult book set during New Year’s that her book club was discussing in January. She stopped at the coffee bar to grab a cup, then plopped down in the chair across from me. “How do you like it?”
“I love it. Such a great story. You’re really good at picking books.” I slipped a bookmark into the book and set it on the table next to the mystery. I tapped the other book. “This one’s excellent too.”
She picked it up. “Mind if I take this? I need something a little darker after I read one of Olivia’s books over and over at bedtime. You can only take so much of happy monsters before you want to scream. I mean really, where are the bad monsters?”