“June, wait!”
June turned to her. “What is it?”
“Look!” Ellie whispered loudly, gesturing toward the windshield with her head.
June looked, and saw Mr. Krantz standing at his mailbox. Nothing unusual about that. He often stood there to wait for his mail, or just glower at children riding bikes or walking past his house. Vivian, the mail lady, was standing in front of him, handing him his mail. There was nothing unusual about that, either.
But . . . he was smiling.
June looked over at Vivian. She was a full-figured lady with big blue eyes and blond hair that was teased out to the sides and top to form a frizzy halo. She wore the standard—issue pale—blue shirt, navy jacket, and navy knee-length pleated skirt and knee-high socks.
She was smiling, too.
Ellie and June watched in awe as the two chatted. At one point, Mr. Krantz leaned closer in to say something to Vivian, and Vivian giggled and batted her eyelashes at him.
“Can you believe it?” Ellie asked.
“If I hadn’t seen it for myself . . .” said June. She couldn’t wait to tell Cynthia.
Ellie gasped. “Look at his yard!”
June craned her neck to see. Large plastic statues of Santa and Mrs. Claus sat at the center of his lawn. Strings of Christmas lights were halfway tacked up onto the roof, and glittering candy canes lined his sidewalk. A large plastic tarp covered a large pile of something-or-other that sat next to a ladder propped up against the house.
“That guy decorates for Christmas?” Ellie asked incredulously.
“It seems he does!”
“Oh, look, Vivian’s leaving.”
June turned her attention back to Mr. Krantz in time to see Vivian gently touch his arm, then give him a delicate wave before walking off toward the next house.
Mr. Krantz glanced in their direction, then peered at them through squinted eyes. Then his face turned red.
“He caught us staring!” said Ellie. “What do we do?”
“Well, for one, we stop staring.”
They both slid way down in their seats and looked at each other.
“I’ll just casually walk up to my house,” June said. “And you drive on to your house——but keep your eyes straight ahead when you pass Mr. Krantz.”
“Oh, I really want to get a closer look at his decorations!” She sighed. “But I guess I can do that.”
“We should make a note of all this,” June said, waving her hand in Mr. Krantz’s general direction. “I’m not sure how just yet, but I have a feeling it could be useful information.”
Ellie grinned at her mischievously. “I have a feeling you’re right.”
“Okay, ready?” said June. “On three. One, two, three, go!”
June opened the car door, then got out and walked nonchalantly to her porch, without forgetting to clutch the front of her coat tightly closed. She heard Bunny pull away, but as much as she wanted to make sure Ellie followed her instructions, she didn’t dare look back at the car.
When she opened the door of her house, her mouth fell open in shock. The large house plant by the door was overturned, and the ceramic pot was broken. There were brown streaks and muddy paw prints all over the floor, and Cynthia was standing in the middle of the mess, red-faced, mop in hand.
“What happened?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Pinky was digging all the dirt out of your plant, but I didn’t know, because I was upstairs. I only realized it when I heard a crash. He must have knocked it over. I swept up the dirt as best as I could, and then I tried mopping it. But I guess I don’t know how to mop very well. Then Pinky came back and ran through the muddy water. I caught her and wiped her paws off, but not soon enough. Please don’t be mad. I think she misses being outside.”
June pursed her lips tightly together and counted to ten before speaking. “I’m not mad, honey. I’m just frustrated over the extra work this is going to take to clean up. Pinky wasn’t trying to be naughty; she was just being a cat. I agree that she’d rather be outside.”
Cynthia smiled and sighed out a breath of relief.
June tilted her head and looked at her. “I’m glad you tried to make things right. We always have to try to do the right thing, even if we don’t do it perfectly. Let me get changed, and I’ll help you clean this up. Where has Mitch been in all this?”
“Upstairs. He cleaned his room, then he finished the castle he’s been building with his Tinker toys so the pieces wouldn’t be all over. Last I saw, he was polishing his spelling be trophies. He wants them shiny for when Granny Jo comes.”
June laughed. “And Jase?”
“He’s out back lying in the grass.”
“Not cleaning up his rock collection?”
Cynthia shook her head. “He said he needed more rocks and went outside. Then I guess he got distracted.”
“Oh, well,” said June. “My fault for leaving.”
“So, you’re sorry you went?”
June thought it over. “No, I’m not. It was fun!”
“Really? You liked it? Are you going to go back?”
“You know, I just might. But not in this ridiculous getup.”
Cynthia laughed. “I’m glad you tried something new. And I’m glad you had fun. You need to have more fun.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Maybe I could come with you sometime. To the class.”
“Maybe so! I’d like that.”
Cynthia smiled brightly, and June felt her stress ease. “Tell you what,” she said. “If the three of you stay focused and get through our list of tasks today, I will take you to Burger King for dinner tonight.”
Cynthia’s jaw dropped. “Fast food? For dinner? I can’t remember the last time we did that. Wait, have we ever done that?” She shook her head. “We’ve never done that.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” said June.
She didn’t feel too badly about her decision. She had already mentally calculated that the amount of time it would take to clean the floor properly was about equal to the time it would take to prepare fried pork chops and mashed potatoes.
June tossed and turned and fidgeted. It wasn’t just a stomach full of greasy fries and flame-grilled nonsense keeping her awake. It seemed Mr. Krantz had left his back floodlights on, and they were so bright that the light peeked through the slits of the closed mini-blinds on her bedroom window. She had never wanted fusty, hard-to-clean curtains, but now she was rethinking that position.
She longed to go ask him to shut the lights off, but it was an indecent hour to ask a neighbor anything. Besides, it was most likely an error or an oversight. She could talk to him the next day and ask him to remember to shut the lights off the following night.
She fidgeted for a few more minutes, and then walked over to the window and peeked out of the blinds. Then she let out a soft gasp.
The glow didn’t come from his floodlights at all. It came from a giant snowman perched precariously on Mr. Krantz’s slanted roof. She had no idea what was holding the thing in place, or how he had managed to get it up there alone. She only knew that its ghoulish dotted grin, corncob pipe, and soulless painted-on eyes sent her into a fit of helpless rage.
As she watched, the snowman swayed slightly, then gave out a hum loud enough to hear through her closed window. Then it flickered, and a shower of sparks shot out of the bottom.
Startled, she let go of the blinds. With one hand on her chest and one hand on her hip, she debated what to do next. After all, the thing was a menace and a hazard.
She frowned. Enough was enough.
She didn’t bother dressing, as the noise might wake Henry. Instead, she put her bathrobe on over her pajamas. Then she put on her Keds and went through the house to the coat closet. She threw on her coat and walked out of the house into the cold night.
As she rang Mr. Krantz’s doorbell for the third time, her resolve began to wane. What was she doing out here at this ridiculous hour? What did she hop
e to accomplish? She had let her anger get the better of her, and that was foolish.
Grateful that he hadn’t answered the door, she turned around to go home. As she was on the porch steps, the porch lights came on suddenly, and she heard the door bang open behind her. The noise made her nearly jump out of her skin.
“What do you want at this hour?” Mr. Krantz’s growling voice rang out loudly in the still night air. June turned around slowly, biting her lip.
Mr. Krantz filled up the doorway, his portly figure covered in an open bathrobe that revealed striped pajamas. His feet were tucked into fuzzy slippers, and long, straggly hairs stuck up on top of his head like a rooster’s comb.
June steeled her nerves. “I’m sorry I woke you. But your snowman is shining right through my bedroom window and keeping me awake.”
“Oh, it’s bothering you, is it?”
“Yes. I’d appreciate it if you’d turn it off.”
“Hmm. I could do that. Or you could put your bed in front of a different window.” He smiled smugly.
June’s heart rate shot up and her cheeks felt like fire. “It’s a hazard to keep it on. It was shooting sparks out. You could burn your house down!”
“You mind your house, and I’ll mind mine.”
He shut the door, and the porch light went out. June stood there, trembling, until her cheeks cooled down and she felt steady enough to walk home.
Once home, she put her coat away, went quietly into her bedroom, took off her bathrobe, tucked her shoes back under her bed, and got under the covers. Angry tears burned at the back of her eyes. She was tired of feeling helpless. She was . . . tired.
Henry’s arm shot around her. He pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. “Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”
In Henry’s warm embrace, she drifted off to sleep.
She called Sheriff Bryant the next morning at seven-thirty a.m. He politely informed her that Mr. Krantz had the right to put anything he wanted on his own roof, provided it wasn’t illegal or dangerous. And he wouldn’t take June’s word for the fact that Sparky the Snowman was, in fact, a hazard. She wasn’t surprised. The Bryants were all obstinate that way.
After she hung up, she sat by the phone and watched the clock, waiting until she knew Ellie and Jeff would be awake. At one minute after eight, she phoned their house. Ellie picked up on the second ring.
“Ellie, it’s me,” June said in a hushed tone, twirling the phone cord. “It’s time to take things to the next level.”
Seven
June
June took a polite, tentative bite of the bran muffin on the plate in front of her. Baking was not Ellie’s strong suit, and the fact that she liked to put bran, wheat germ, or carob in practically everything she baked made it all worse.
She chewed for a moment. The muffin wasn’t terrible. At least Ellie had used fresh blueberries.
“So, what did you want to ask me?”
June looked up. She hadn’t wanted to ask Fanny Perkins anything. But Ellie’s next-door neighbor had a penchant for obtaining privileged information, thanks in part to her hunky police officer husband—Officer Buff, as Ellie and June called him in secret—who reported everything he saw in town back to her.
June stared at Fanny from across Ellie’s rattan breakfast table. The woman’s long, bright-pink, probably-fake nails drummed on the glass table overlay, and a devious smile played on her lips, which were the exact same color as her nails. She wore a long, tight, off-the-shoulder black top, a wide green belt, green leggings, and kitten heels—in the middle of the day, of all things—and her dark blond hair was teased into waves only partly tamed by a wide, sparkly ribbon headband tied into a stiff bow.
“What can you tell us about Harold Krantz?” asked Ellie finally, after June took too long to respond.
“Oh! Well. I don’t know much.” The gleam in Fanny’s eye said otherwise. “He moved here from Chicago. He works from home.” Her smile broadened.
June sighed impatiently. Fanny was an expert at burying the lede. “Doing what?”
“He’s . . . a novelist.”
“What?” June and Ellie said in unison.
“Yes. Are you familiar with Brett Anderson?”
Ellie’s jaw dropped. “Harold Krantz is Brett Anderson? The Brett Anderson? The one who wrote those famous thrillers? Danger something?”
Fanny nodded slowly, clearly enjoying herself. “The Jack Danger series. Yep. Authors never look how you imagine.”
“Mitch has all of those books!” June said absently, still trying to process her shock. If she didn’t know about Fanny’s complete commitment to accuracy, she would have thought the woman was lying through her teeth.
“What’s he doing here?” asked Ellie.
“I imagine he’s trying to keep a promise to his wife.”
“His wife?” Ellie and June spoke in unison again.
“Oh, yes. She grew up here. Well, near here. In Fairview, to be exact. She went to college in Chicago, then got a good job and ended up staying. That’s where they met. After they got married, she supported them for several years while he was a struggling writer. Then he sold the first Jack Danger book, and everything changed.
“He became a local celebrity, and his wife didn’t like the attention and the fanfare. She wanted to move back home, to be near her family. She wanted to live in Shady Oaks specifically, because it was smaller, quieter, and more anonymous. He promised her they would move, first chance they got. But then . . .”
“Then?” said Ellie.
“She died in a car crash two years ago.”
“Oh, no,” said June, a sudden aching feeling squeezing her heart.
“Yeah. It was so sudden. He never really got over it. Before she died, he was given an advance for the next Jack Danger book. But he couldn’t write it. His publisher was very understanding and let him take a hiatus. But I imagine their patience—and his advance—have probably run out by now. I know he’s taken on some odd jobs. He writes editorials for the Shady Oaks Crier, and he writes product descriptions for catalogs.”
“How do you know all this?” asked Ellie.
Fanny grinned. “He’s a celebrity, sweetie. His whole life is public record. As soon as I figured out who he was, the rest was easy.”
“What do you know about his niece?” asked June.
“The new English teacher? She’s his wife’s niece. She was very close with her aunt, and Mr. Krantz. She even lived with them in her late teens and all throughout college. She’s an aspiring writer, and Krantz tutored and mentored her. She’s the closest thing he has to a daughter of his own.”
“Wow,” said Ellie. “You think you know a person.”
“We don’t know him, Ellie,” said June. “That’s why we’re here.”
“I mean, you think people are simple—you think you know who they are just because you have a few interactions with them. But they have whole lives and inner worlds that you know nothing about.”
“That’s very true,” said June thoughtfully.
“So, was there anything else?” asked Fanny. “My hubby will be home from his shift soon, and I like to greet him at the door with a kiss.” She winked at them.
“No, that was all,” said Ellie. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“Well, thank you for . . .” she looked disdainfully at the bran muffin. “For this. Made it all worth it.”
June opened her purse and took out a large, heavy Ziploc bag. She handed it to Fanny, who smiled brightly at her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Chocolate chip brownies. With fudge icing.”
Fanny squealed. “Now that’s more like it!”
Ellie glared at June. June pretended not to notice.
“Well,” Ellie said, after Fanny had gone. “We got plenty of information. What do we do with it all?”
“I’m not completely sure. Let’s break it down to the basics
. Mr. Krantz is grieving. He’s lonely. And he’s most likely under the stress of a deadline.”
“No wonder he’s so angry and bitter,” Ellie said sadly.
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we can help somehow.”
“Maybe we can.”
June fished in her purse again and pulled out another Ziploc bag. She took out a brownie and handed another to Ellie. Ellie frowned at it, then shrugged and took a bite.
“Mmmm,” she said. “Your best yet. You should give him some of these.”
June tilted her head. “Maybe I should.”
Eight
June
June heard the faint clickety-clack of a typewriter as she on Mr. Krantz’s door front stoop. She hesitated for a second, then shifted the plate of brownies she was holding from her right hand to her left hand and knocked on the door.
The clickety-clacking paused for a second, then started again. She took a breath and knocked harder. The typing stopped again, and she heard Mr. Krantz muttering loudly as footsteps pounded their way toward her. The door flung open.
“You!” Mr. Krantz said, his eyes blazing. “What do you want now? I’m in the middle of something really important.”
June swallowed back the sharp words that rose in her throat. Remember his grief, she told herself. Remember that he’s flawed like anyone else.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But I made you some brownies. As a peace offering.”
His features softened, and his expression shifted from angry to wary. “Well, I appreciate that,” he said.
She handed him the plate, and he took it from her. “You know,” she said, “We’re neighbors, and we should really be more neighborly. So, if there’s anything you ever need, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Mr. Krantz stared at her. “Well, all right. I’ll take these, and I’ll keep that in mind.” He took a step toward her, a faint sardonic smile on his lips. “If you mean what you just said, then thank you. If not, well, just know you’re barking up the wrong tree. I don’t take bribes. The snowman stays. Have a nice day.”
Merrily Yours : An 80s Christmas Novella Page 4