We Woof You a Deadly Christmas

by Laura Quinn

  Claire’s trance broke. “Your reading really was worse, come to think of it. I only have to remember not to repeat past mistakes. Good advice, generally,” she acknowledged. “Now I know not to look up Mullet Mike and invite him to the Snowball Ball at North Haven High, should the urge strike.”

  “Especially when we all knew JP was the one you loved,” Marti teased. “I remember how you used to practice writing Claire Pearson along the edge of your spiral.”

  “Ha ha. Remember she said your frog prince is close to shore, proving my point that you and Bob are more than just friends.”

  Marti protested, rather unconvincingly, before wishing her friend a good night.

  When she got home, Claire was still wired from the Turkish coffee. She took Baron out for a late walk, then played chase-the-laser-light with the cats. A large mug of decaffeinated coconut chai tea with frothed skim milk and writing several to-do lists finally made her drowsy. It was nearly midnight by the time she went upstairs to bed, causing her to again regret her decision to open on Mondays during December. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a lottery win and early retirement to a tropical island.

  Chapter 4

  Monday, December 4th

  Turquoise waves lapped gently on the beach as JP tore off his shirt, his bronze muscles shimmering in the sun. Claire’s long, flowing locks fluttered enticingly in the island breezes and JP caressed her shoulders. His touch became more intense, pounding like miniature jackhammers, transitioning the tropical temptress to an oversleeping pet parent. Two hangry cats continued stomping across her torso until they were convinced she was awake.

  Baron looked up as his mistress stumbled out of bed, while his furry siblings yowled and directed her to the kitchen. Once they were quieted with a plate of crab, the wise dog trotted down the stairs. While he was outside, Claire selected a strong coffee to brew into her travel cup, then attended to litter duty. Baron declined a bowl of cheese-covered kibble when he returned, holding out for breakfast at the shop. Claire took a thirty-second shower before changing into a long-sleeved holiday Posh Pup t-shirt and jeans.

  Along the drive in, she consumed her breakfast of espresso and a chocolate-cherry protein bar. She parked in front as a reminder that the shop was open. Since the snow never came, the layer of deicer remained on the sidewalk. Baron kicked in some of the crystals as he bounded through the front door to the refrigerator, pointing his nose at the beef and cheese ravioli. While it warmed, Claire changed out of her boots, snagging her new holiday bracelet on the zipper and tearing off two red crystals. She chased them across the floor before Baron could find them.

  Before starting her to-do list, Claire walked in back to the washroom. She steeled herself to check in with Delilah about yesterday’s scene with Ruth. Something crunched under her shoe as she walked to the antique store’s back door. What she thought was another rogue bead was one of several green deicer crystals. She swept them to the side, then knocked on the back door. When no one answered the third knock, she returned to her shop.

  Measuring out the ingredients for her first dough, Claire briefly envied having a business that didn’t involve making your own products. That feeling quickly evaporated as she smelled the honey-sweet kiss of carob chip cookies baking in the oven. The morning proceeded with wreath-shaped brownies, peanut butter cupcakes, and gingerbread dough.

  As she decked cupcakes with bones and holly, she sang “Deck the Halls”, stopping when the familiar clip of Delilah’s kitten heels sounded in the back entrance. She considered going back to talk with her, but lost her earlier resolve. She really didn’t want to be involved in any commotion involving Mr. Prescott.

  At noon Claire opened her store, noticing the lot was practically empty. She decided to bake a batch of cranberry crisps and a trial run of yule logs. Baron barked right before the front door jingled, followed by two yipping Yorkies and one trilling voice telling them to be tres calm.

  “I’ll be right out, Lana,” Claire called. Baron raced ahead to greet his guests.

  “Oh, you sweet, sweet dear,” Lana cooed, petting Baron while her dogs sniffed the bakery case. “Finish what you’re doing, Claire. I came to personally thank you for another spectacular success. Goldie absolutely loved her treats and…oh dear, another late night?”

  “Yes,” Claire admitted, trying to smooth her still-wet hair. “Marti and I went out to dinner, and that Turkish coffee has a lethal amount of caffeine.”

  “How can I put this delicately? Marti is a fine friend, but don’t you think it’s time to spend some time in the company of a male friend?”

  “I have Baron. Why do I need a man?”

  “He is adorable, but maybe you could hire a hunky assistant or two?”

  Claire laughed, knowing better than to engage in the all-too-frequent comments on her love life, or lack of it. Most were too polite to bring up Nick, though she could tell they wondered what happened. “I’ll have to give some thought as to how exactly to word that job posting.”

  Lana ordered a turkey meatloaf meal for the twins to share, launching into the difficulties of her busy season. She described the nuances of various guest lists she had to arrange and how she would be spending the entire evening working on them. While sharing her travails, she let slip a few scandalous details of North Haven’s elite. Claire nodded her head, adding appropriate comments of support as needed. She tried to purge the picture painted of the acting village president and his attraction to ladies’ feet and mistletoe. The socialite spent several minutes on the next topic, still perturbed about the impersonal decline of her invitation by John Pearson’s agent. In the midst of sharing the particulars of the latest tryst by the local boy turned Hollywood superstar were broadcast, Lana stopped.

  “Claire, are you ok? Your face is bright red.”

  “It’s warm in here, isn’t it? The ovens are all on, and I’ve been on JP duty all morning.”

  “JP duty?”

  “What? Did I say that? I meant KP duty, like in the military. My dad used to tell stories about…”

  “Do you have a thing for North Haven’s sizzling star? Mon Dieu, that’s why you won’t commit to anyone!”

  “What me? No. Well, I mean he’s a great guy. We went to school together, though I didn’t really know him,” Claire babbled. “He was a year behind me, but I saw him in the plays. We all knew John would be a star. I can still remember his performance as Sebastian in Twelfth Night. He stole the show.”

  What Claire didn’t share was that JP had also stolen her heart, though she knew she never had a chance with him. He sat at the popular table in the center of the cafeteria, while she sat in the corner with Bob and Marti. While Claire admired the handsome sophomore from afar, she could remember the day he became her major crush. On that day, the overweight teen walked past their table with her lunch tray and several of the boys snorted and squealed. The school’s basketball start jumped on top of the table and called “su-eee piggy” to her. JP told them to stop and apologized to her, and from then on, her heart soared every time she saw him.

  “He still seems to have quite an effect on you,” Lana said, bringing her back to the present.

  Claire laughed nervously. “It’s a funny coincidence, but he was in my dream last night. Someone I knew from high school was in yesterday, which must have stirred up old memories.”

  “Perhaps you can make new memories with him,” Lana said, drifting off briefly before declaring, “I know; I’m going to get around that dreadful gatekeeper and invite him personally. You’ve inspired me; true love may just come from it. Oui, l’amour!”

  The oven’s buzzer saved Claire from commenting. After pulling the trays out, she splashed her face with water and tried not to think of JP in his Speedos on that tropical island, untying her sarong. Baron woofed, signaling that Lana was ready to check out.

  “I’ve just thought of the most marvelous idea,” Lana said as she placed her purchases on the counter. “JP must have a dog; everyone in Hollywood does.
So, I’ll sneak my invitation in a basket of your divine dog treats, with a card identifying the shop owned by his fellow NHHS alumna. That should get his attention, not to mention the possibility of a romantic dinner date for you in due course. Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

  Claire knew better than say anything but yes. “When would you like to pick up the basket?”

  “I’ll be in San Francisco this weekend, so I’ll leave a day early and do some shopping on Rodeo Drive. We’ll stop on the way to the airport Thursday morning.” She blew air kisses on her way out the door, then popped her head back inside. “Pick out whatever you think is best, but make three sizes of each so we’re covered regardless of what type of dog he has.” More air kisses, and Lana was gone.

  “What do you think of that, Baron? Maybe you’ll have a celebrity doggie date in the near future.”

  Under Lana’s spell, Claire thought about what to bake that would beguile JP. She looked online to see if there was any information about his dogs, allowing a few divergent clicks on articles detailing his love life. After reading that he was seeing a gorgeous model, Claire closed the laptop. Snapped back to reality, she returned to work. That she focused on stocking the lower shelves as a toning exercise was completely unrelated, she told herself. By the tenth lunge, she was very grateful to hear the phone ring. Looking at the caller ID, she wasn’t so grateful after all.

  She answered, “Posh Pup Wooferland, how can I help you?”

  “Hello Clarissa, it’s Delilah. I hope you don’t mind my calling instead of walking over. We’ve had a few customers already, so I hate to leave the shop unattended.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. You had several visitors yesterday who said they would come back this week.”

  “Your promotion is such a hit, except for, well there’s always a fly in the ointment, isn’t there? I’m not sure quite what to do, which is the reason for my call, if you have a moment.”

  “How can I help?” Claire asked, grimacing.

  “I thought you might give me some guidance. You’re so good with people, and I know you’ll keep this confidential.”

  “Of course,” Claire promised. She listened as Delilah confessed the dilemma, debating how much of yesterday’s scene she should relate.

  “I never should have accepted it, you see, but it’s all been so exciting. At least it was, until all the voicemails started. It was bad enough when they were left on our business line, there must have been at least twenty, but when one was left on our home phone, well, I panicked. It’s this woman, Ruth Fischer, who is accusing us of stealing her property.”

  “Oh?” Claire tried to sound nonchalant.

  “My mind is running circles with worry. Our number is unlisted, so if she could find that, she can probably get our home address. I know this sounds silly, but I was actually afraid to come in this morning, in case she was waiting for me.” Delilah took a deep breath before continuing, “Oh dear, please forgive me. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this. I’m sure it isn’t really as bad as I’m making it out to be; it’s just that I dread confrontations so.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s my fault that she called your home, but I didn’t give her your number, I swear. It was so cold outside, so I invited her in. We knew each other a long time ago, so she told me what happened. She was so upset, that I offered to dial an alternate contact number I had for you.”

  “Thank you for sharing this with me. I feel so much better, though a little embarrassed at over-reacting. Please don’t tell Donald. He always tells me that I worry too much, but she did threaten to press charges for accepting stolen goods.”

  “I don’t think anything like that will happen. She was upset that her neighbor took her property without permission, but she accepts it was done with good intentions. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Ruth is retiring. She’s probably on edge with this big life change.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yes, I’m sure this will all turn out to be nothing. Why don’t you have your husband try calling her again this afternoon? She works at the high school, so she should be home after four o’clock.”

  “Donald is still in Lexington. He drove down early yesterday to appraise a Civil War collection someone inherited. If the pieces are genuine, he’ll take them on consignment. He was very excited about it,” Delilah said. “I’ll just call Ms. Fischer myself, and explain the misunderstanding. Maybe she’ll accept a gift certificate as consolation.”

  “I’m sure that will be the end of it.”

  “Thank you again, for everything.”

  “I’m always happy to help.” Claire returned the phone to the charger and put up the “back in five minutes” sign. She needed some fresh air to recover from the call, and Baron was only too happy to oblige.

  When she returned, she was surprised to see Emma behind the counter. “Are you on the schedule today? I thought I was by myself.”

  “We got out early today and I finished my homework, so I thought I’d see if you could use some extra help.”

  “I’m glad to have you, but are you sure you won’t be overdoing it this week?”

  “I could really use the extra hours.”

  “Another iPhone?” Claire guessed. The teen was uncharacteristically economic with her words, revealing only that she was helping someone out. Claire asked her to finish putting out the ornaments while she worked on Lana’s latest order. Before she started in the kitchen, she added, “Oh, and if Delilah calls, please take a message. I’m trying to extricate myself from the Ruth Fischer dilemma.”

  “Do you know what happened to her? A lot of people would really like to know. I really couldn’t care less myself, but it would kill know-it-all Kylie if I found out first. Her posts always get more likes than mine, even though mine are tots better. She talked with Ms. Fischer all the time, so of course, everyone is watching her posts for news, instead of mine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Emma looked at her boss strangely and tried to explain viral posts. “You know, social media 101.”

  “I mean, why are you asking about Ms. Fischer?”

  “Oh. I thought you were suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s Disease. We learned that about five percent of AD sufferers have early symptoms, not that you have to worry about that I’m sure, but it’s better to be aware.” Claire cleared her throat, ending the epidemiology lesson. “Anyway, Ms. Fischer ditched the assembly today. That’s why we got to leave early.”

  “Really? I wonder why.”

  “I don’t know why they even bothered, since she hardly deserves a tribute. All she did is get old, no offense, and retire. She has no school spirit at all and refused to do anything about the unhealthy menu. She laughed at Madison and me for suggesting kale chips instead of those disgusting shoestring potatoes. If you ask me, we’re tots better off without her.”

  “Maybe she wasn’t feeling well. I saw her yesterday and she was pretty upset.”

  “She should have called someone. We were all stuck in the gym waiting, and we had to sit there hella bored because Principal Bummer said it would be disrespectful to use our phones during the ceremony. As if Ms. Fischer had the teensiest bit of respect for us, making us all sit around like that. Especially after everyone worked so hard on those tributes,” Emma said. She pulled out her phone to show the re-made video by the football team. “I thought Coach Bishop’s head was going to explode, the way he kept yanking at his collar. His face was almost as red as Blummer, who kept swearing at his assistant while he tried to get her on the phone. Steve posted the coolest gif of them; do you want to see it?”

  “Maybe later,” Claire said. “Do you think they reached her?”

  “I don’t think so. I overheard them talking about what to do with her plaque if she didn’t show up and Bummer said he would personally go to her house and shove it up her—"

  “Well,” Claire interrupted. “Maybe she really did win the lottery and jetted off to a secluded island in the Caribbean
.”

  Claire’s mind drifted back to her dream, reminding her to work on JP’s basket. She tried to remind herself it was a routine order going out to a VIP customer; no subliminal love messages required. She remembered that JP always loved spaghetti and meatballs from Luigi’s, and decided to include a few containers of the doggie version. Perhaps a few heart-shaped cinnamon spice cookies couldn’t hurt.

  With Emma’s help, Claire finished projects early and decided to leave as soon as she closed the shop. A relaxing evening would be in short supply in the coming weeks and she looked forward to curling up with a mug of hot cocoa and selecting a new mystery from the stack of library books. Wrapping up in her bright red scarf, she put on Baron’s leash and locked up for the night. The arctic air assaulted her as she walked Baron in the frozen grass.

  “Yoo-hoo, Claire!” a cheery voice pierced the cold. “You’ll never believe this, but I just got off the phone with Anna from channel nine. They’re planning to come out sometime this week to shoot a short interview with Donald. Isn’t that fantastic?”

  “That’s wonderful! I’m glad your day is ending so much better than it started.”

  “Yes, thanks to you. You really made me feel better. I was silly to fret so, anyway.”

  “Did you get in touch with Ms. Fischer?”

  “No, I left a message for her that Donald would be in touch. He said he would take care of her personally.”

  “Well, then that should be the end of that.”

  Chapter 5

  Tuesday, December 5th

  “Deck the Halls,” Claire sang as she knocked on the antique store’s door the next morning. She was excited to show Delilah the day’s newspaper, which highlighted their respective weekend events on the front page of the About Town section. “Fa la la la la, la laaaaaaaaakk. Delilah, what’s wrong? Why don’t you come over and I’ll make you a cup of tea?”