by Beth Byers
There was silence for just a moment, then Daniel said, “He likes me.”
“Yes, he does,” Edwina agreed. She slid a bit closer to the boy. “He likes you a lot, and you take good care of him, don’t you?”
“I don’t have a dog at home, so I pretend he’s mine when I’m here at work,” he said. “He’s a good boy. I’ve taught him how to roll over this week.”
Edwina slid close to the devastated boy, and put a gentle hand on his wrist. “Daniel, why would you do this? Why would you take the bells? You've been working here for almost a year, and we've never had any trouble with you.”
His eyes welled up with unshed tears. He brusquely used the back of his hand to wipe away any telltale moisture. “I had to.”
Edwina patted his hand a couple of times in mute sympathy, then asked, “Daniel, why did you feel you had to take those bells?”
“For my… my mother.”
There was a moment of taut silence between them, until finally Daniel cleared his throat a bit and explained, "You see, my mother has tuberculosis, and can’t work. I need money for the doctor. You have so many nice things here at the house, so I didn't think you'd miss something."
There was a buzzing in Edwina’s ears, and she closed her eyes for just a moment, empathizing with a young lad who wasn't quite yet a man, but was feeling all the burden of adult responsibility for a very sick parent.
Daniel sniffled one more time, then looked up. "You thought that other boy did it, didn’t you? The orphan boy. I wasn’t going to let that other boy go to jail for something I’d done, honest! I’m real sorry I took them.” He bit his lower lip, then said, “You're going to call the police on me, aren't you?"
“Do I need to?” Edwina asked, and Daniel’s eyes opened wide.
“No, miss, you don’t! I’ll never do it again, I promise! I’m going to try to get a job over at the meatpacking plant, and maybe that will be enough money so I can pay the doctor.”
Edwina had solved a murder case in the meatpacking district, and she knew far too much about how difficult and dangerous the work could be, even for full-grown men.
“I’m not going to call the cops, Daniel. Calm down. The important thing is that you promise never, ever to do anything like this again, okay?” She lowered her chin and locked eyes with him, her expression serious. “Will you promise you’ll never steal again?”
“I swear, miss, I won’t!” He quickly crossed his heart and was just about to spit on the floor to seal his oath when he seemed to remember that wasn’t a good idea inside the Winterwood home. “I promise,” he said, and Edwina nodded.
“Good. Then that’s settled. I’d hate to have to make Mrs. O’Doul watch you all the time when you’re polishing the silver. That would be silly, wouldn’t it?”
She put her knees down and started to crawl away through the branches, as Daniel looked worried.
“Where are you going, miss?” he asked.
Edwina stopped and turned to look at him. “I’m going to call our family’s physician and see how soon he can stop by your home and check on your mother. He’s done wonders with TB patients, and you don’t need to worry about paying him,” she said, then smiled. “Would that be all right with you?”
The look on Daniel’s face, so full of joy and relief, was all the answer she needed.
Chapter 11
“I think your mother has officially gone insane,” Agnes deadpanned as she twirled her long strand of knotted pearls and looked around the lively holiday party. “Did she buy every single ornament in all of Chicago? That tree’s so overburdened I think it’s going to fall over any second.”
Edwina grinned. “Yes, she probably has gone insane, but don’t you think she’s done it in a good way? Besides, it’s all for charity!”
Maybe it was a bit over the top, but when Amelia Eaton Winterwood wanted to do something up big, no one in all of Chicago could match her extravagance and style. The Christmas party may have been for charity, but it had become the festive party of the season. The treasure hunt had been a grand success, with giggling teams of guests sprinting all over the public parts of the house, and with Ginger Halstead’s team winning the prize of a little loving cup. The long banquet tables were stuffed to overflowing with every sort of Christmas treat and goody imaginable, and smiling servants made sure the punch bowl was full and hors d’oeuvres kept circulating to hungry guests. The house smelled of cut fir trees, great food, expensive perfume, cedar garlands, and a week’s worth of baking. Mrs. O’Doul had grudgingly given up having her spectacular gingerbread house as the centerpiece of the food tables, because Edwina had insisted that a huge lemon cake with piped pink icing was front and center.
It had been worth it, even though she’d had to listen to Mrs. O’Doul’s endless griping. The moment Eliza had seen the pink cake she’d made a beeline for it, and Edwina had been happy to dish up a big piece for the kids, even though the party hadn’t officially started yet. The ecstatic expression on Eliza’s sweet little face as she took the first bite of ‘her’ cake made every bit of party planning and dealing with Graham worth it.
Even with the parlor decked out and full of delicious food, the ballroom was the hub of the entire party. Mrs. Winterwood had hired a small band, who spent the evening playing dance music that ranged from waltzes to rhumbas. When Aunt Zinnia had insisted on wanting to dance the tango with her brother-in-law, Rawson Winterwood, Edwina had been stunned to see her business-minded father, usually so serious, finally give in and escort her eccentric aunt onto the dance floor. Their tango had stopped people in their tracks as they watched the odd couple move through the spicy dance.
Aunt Zinnia came off the dance floor and headed straight for the punch bowl, right by Edwina. “Oh, that man can dance!” she exclaimed. “Quick! I need something to drink.”
“I had no idea you can tango,” Agnes said, and Edwina broke in.
“You’d be amazed at what my aunt can do,” she said with a laugh. “I’m still discovering things about her.”
“Of course I can tango,” Aunt Zinnia said, brushing back a long lock of her hair. She’d outdone herself for outfits, with a rainbow-colored dress, about a dozen looped necklaces, and a tiara with fake jewels perched on top of her head.
“So, have you heard my news?” she asked, and from the eager look of anticipation on her face, Edwina instantly knew that her aunt was looking forward to shocking her.
“No, I haven’t,” Edwina replied with a tiny smile. “What are you up to now?”
“Well, after you told me all about that young man Charlie and what happened with him, I began to believe he could use some time away from that orphanage, don’t you think?”
Edwina’s mouth dropped open in happy surprise. “You… you’re going to have him come stay with you?” she asked, and her aunt nodded.
“If someone doesn’t help that kid out, he’s going to be lost when he’s all grown up and still angry. I’m going to see if I can help him a bit. Maybe have him talk to some people who work with children and such.”
With a delighted squeal, Edwina reached over and gave her aunt a tight squeeze. “Aunt Zinnia! You’re the best. Thank you so much for helping Charlie. I think he needs it, too.”
“You can let go of me now,” Aunt Zinnia replied, a bit muffled by being pressed so hard into Edwina’s shoulder, and finally she was released.
Straightening her little tiara, Aunt Zinnia smiled a bit. “And don’t worry. I’ll put the nude paintings away before he comes over.”
She turned toward Agnes, who was grinning as she watched the exchange between aunt and niece. “And I know why you’re smiling, too, young lady,” she said, pointing a crooked finger at Edwina’s pretty, blonde friend. “I saw a certain dashing bachelor catch you under the mistletoe and give you a good kissing, just like you deserved. It’s about time you stopped leading that poor boy around by the nose.”
“What? I…” Agnes’ mouth moved soundlessly as she tried to think of how to ans
wer the accusation.
Edwina squealed and grabbed her by the arm.
“Is she talking about what I think she’s talking about? Did you kiss Preston?”
“Well, maybe I did and maybe I didn’t,” Agnes said, rolling her eyes. “Maybe he kissed me.”
Aunt Zinnia laughed. “And maybe you made Preston curl his toes. Good for you!”
Listening to her friends laugh, watching little Eliza and Gertrude dancing together by the grand piano, Edwina closed her eyes in near bliss. Christmas at home meant more than family, more than decorations and good food.
It meant love and compassion, and she was surrounded by both.
The END
FROM THE AUTHOR – Carolyn L. Dean
Thank you for reading the newest story in the new Jazz and Gin cozy mystery series! As I’ve been writing more and more about Edwina and the friends and crazy characters in her life, I’m really starting to love this girl. She’s got moxie, along with a good heart… even if she is a bit rough in spots!
.
A bit about me: I’m a USA Today Bestselling author, and I've been writing and making stories in my head as early as I can remember. In third grade, I came home, set my lunchbox down, and told my mother I wanted to be a writer. Luckily, Mom was supportive.
I've been a published author for a few years now, under different names and genres, and I love telling stories about small town loves and mysteries and holidays and people! To be honest, I am always a bit scared to dump those ideas onto the written page, but hope you'll enjoy getting to meet the people who inhabit my imagination.
In real life, I'm married with kids, live on the West Coast of the US, and own a hobby farm just outside of my favorite small town. I’m a full-time author. I love to travel and can often be found strolling down a windy beach, holding onto the string of a high-sailing dragon kite.
www.carolyndeanbooks.com
Holiday Homecoming
A Lola Rose Mystery
By C. Jane Reid
Chapter 1
December 24th, 1923
London, England
Lola knew she took the corner a tad too fast when Willa squeaked in alarm.
“Lola, you do realize that is snow on the ground,” her friend said through clenched teeth, gripping the handle of the Napier Grand Touring car’s passenger door.
“Tosh, this isn’t snow. It’s more like runny mud.”
“And mud is also slippery.”
“There’s nothing to fear, Willa,” Lola told her with a grin. “Nigel is perfectly up to the task.” She patted the dash of the Napier fondly.
“I can’t believe you named your auto.”
“I’ve always named my horses. Why not my car?”
“It doesn’t answer when you call it?”
Lola cast her friend a look. “Clearly you haven’t much experience with horses.”
“I suppose it will be a relief to know it will remain where you park it.” Willa flashed her a smile, the delightful gap in her teeth in full display.
Lola hit the brakes to avoid a collision with the Bentley in front of them. What passed for snow in England fell in wet clumps and she was pleased that her new car came with a windshield wiper. A few flicks of the wrist and the ugly snow was gone.
Her new car. Lola giggled. She was still thrilled about her purchase. It had been a splurge, but she had the funds since she became half-owner of the Rim Rose Ranch, where she grew up in West Texas, sharing the family business with her cousin, Wyatt. She’d dipped into her trust while in New York during the return voyage to London to purchase the Napier from an elderly couple. They had driven it a total of three times before declaring it too much vehicle for them on the busy city streets.
It was a beast of a car, but Lola preferred the larger auto. She had wanted to be able to fit all of her friends for a drive, and Nigel was perfect.
Except for Willa, that afternoon wasn’t for friends packed into the backseat but gifts. Far more than she’d realized. They were stuffed in every available space inside the car, along with her luggage, which she’d brought with her from the ship. Willa’s luggage had already been sent from the ship to the Maitlyn residence, where she was expected soon for a reunion dinner with her parents, The Earl and Countess.
First, however, Lola had insisted that Willa accompany her to the Regal Rose Hotel where she intended to take a suite for, well, forever if Lola had any say about it.
“Lola,” Willa complained as Nigel whipped through another turn, “we aren’t pursuing the Regal Rose. I assure you, we’ll find it right where you left it.”
“What? Oh.” Lola laughed. “I suppose I’m excited. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for weeks!”
“I know. And I’m excited, too. It wasn’t the same after you left it. But this auto, excuse me, Nigel,” Willa amended at Lola’s sharp look, “is a monster. Add another level and we’d be on a double-decker bus.”
“Do you think I should have gotten one of those instead?” Lola flashed Willa an innocent look.
“London might never have survived that.”
“Willa, look!” Lola leaned forward and worked the wiper again to clear the view. “There’s the Rose!”
The Regal Rose Hotel, the place Lola had called home for six months before the unexpected trip home to West Texas, stood in royal splendor on an entire city block. It was a jewel glistening among the smaller, older buildings housing law and business offices, banks, private clubs, and the odd pub. A few buildings blocked the lower portion of the Rose from view, but Lola could see the light spilling through the arched windows in the late afternoon gloom.
Lola grasped Willa’s hand and squeezed. She couldn’t speak, she was so overcome with joy. The only time she’d felt so much emotion for a place was when she’d returned to her childhood home, but that had been a bittersweet sensation tinged with memories of her late father.
The sight of the Regal Rose wasn’t without a touch of bittersweetness. She had experienced a few tragedies when she resided there early in the year, but those memories couldn’t dim her excitement.
Her eyes fixed on her beloved Regal Rose, Lola put the Napier in gear.
“Will you get the same suite you had before?” Willa asked, caught in Lola’s excitement.
“It would be strange to take any other rooms.” Lola was picturing the Jewel Suite and how she would situation her belongings when a sharp movement from the sidewalk to the street in front of them had her stomping on the brake. The Napier lurched roughly, then sputtered as it stopped, sliding until the tires caught the pavement, jarring the ladies and shifting the packages behind them.
“Lola!”
But Lola was already out of the car and rushing toward the front. “Nigel!” She ran her hand across fender in a caress as if to soothe the automobile. She turned to glare at whatever had fallen into the street in front of them, but her anger drained into horror at the sight of the crumpled form a mere step away from the front of the Napier.
“Willa!” Lola knelt next to the unmoving person, heedless of her long coat, day dress, and stockings, her blood going as cold as her knees.
“Is that a man?” Willa’s voice was tremulous. “Is he--”
“Wot’s this then?” a stern male voice came from the sidewalk.
“She hit that man!” a passerby accused, her hand pressed to her throat in shock, her fur coat fluffed as though her hackles were raised. “She said his name was Nigel.”
“Nigel is my automobile,” Lola snapped at the woman, “and we hit no one.”
“Then wot do you call that?” The man crossed closer, gesturing at the fallen man, and Lola’s breath hitched at the jolt of fear as a police constable approached, like she were guilty of a crime. It was intolerable and she focused on the constable instead, reminding herself that this was one of the city officials she needed at just this time.
The police constable, his bell-shaped helmet was pulled low, his navy blue uniform buttoned to the neck, knelt next to t
he fallen man and looked to be checking for signs of life, careful of the wet ground so as not to soak the knee of his black trousers through.
Lola had no doubts that the man was dead. She’d seen dead bodies too many times not to recognize another one. No one crumbled at that angle and remained there.
“He’s dead.” The bobby eyed her darkly.
“I did not hit this man.” She stood, wrapping her arms around her against the chill she felt both inside and out. “I know I didn’t.”
“I saw it!” the woman screeched from the sidewalk. She grabbed the nearest onlooker. “I saw it. She hit that poor man.”
Lola wanted to argue, but she was too conscious of the body lying on the sloppy wet ground in front of her car. “Willa--” She looked toward her friend, but Willa wasn’t there. Lola glanced through the front window of the Napier and found the passenger seat empty.
For a wild moment, Lola thought her friend had abandoned her to protect The Earl and the Maitlyn family name. The Earl’s daughter found in a car that had hit a pedestrian would be a publicity nightmare. Sanity took over, however, because Lola knew Willa would never behave in such a way, so she must have gone for help.
The Regal Rose was only two blocks away. If Dr. Tate were on duty, which was more than likely given the time of day, Willa would bring him.
“I’ll need to call this in,” the bobby said, rising. “You,” he said, glaring at her, “don’t move.”
“You are going to leave me, who you suspect of a crime, on a street with my car right here?”
He hesitated.
“I didn’t hit this poor man,” Lola repeated, “but I would rather something be done for him at once. Ma’am, do you think you might stop staring long enough to call for an ambulance? I’m sure that pub there will have a telephone.”