Christmas Cloches and Corpses Read online

  “I know you aren’t going to do that,” Grandpa said.

  “As well as I know you aren’t going to mind your own business.”

  “And why would I? My business is boring.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “Another day, another casserole.”

  Right. He wasn’t fooling me. He was enjoying every moment of the casserole crusades.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I was kinda down in the dumps when I went into work on Tuesday morning. Glad to be the first person there again, I got my coffee, let Jazzy out of her carrier, and gave her food and water. Then I took out my laptop and sat at the worktable. I logged onto social media with the intention of finding Ms. Oakes’ daughter.

  I went to my boss’s profile and scrolled through her feed until I could deduce that her daughter was named Krista Hollifield. Afraid Krista wouldn’t see my message otherwise, I sent her a friend request with the following message:

  Hi, Krista: I work with your mom at Shops on Main and drew her name for Secret Santa. I’d love to get the two of you together for Christmas—or, if that won’t work with your schedule, shortly thereafter. Please send me a message so we can chat further. Thanks, Amanda Tucker

  I’d just sent the message when Connie came into Designs on You. Her long blonde hair was in a single braid over her left shoulder, and she wore a red and white sweater over red jeans. She sort of reminded me of a candy cane; but being afraid that might not be the look she was going for, I didn’t say so.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  Connie was a gentle, artsy soul whose Delightful Home shop sold essential oils, tea blends, goat milk soaps and lotions, and other—well, delightful—things. She was married and had two children, a boy of around twelve—I believe—and a girl who was Zoe’s age.

  “Hello,” Connie said. “Have you got a second?”

  “Of course.” I closed the laptop. “I was just sending a message to Trish Oakes’ daughter explaining that I got her mom for Secret Santa and that I’d like to arrange a visit between them.”

  “Oh, that would be so nice.” Connie sat on one of the sewing machine chairs. “I don’t think Trish and Krista have seen much of each other since Krista took the job in Washington as a Senate page.”

  “She’s a page? Wow, that’s pretty prestigious.”

  “True, but it doesn’t afford her a lot of time off, and I don’t think it pays her enough to be able to hop a plane home often. And, of course, Trish can’t go there because she has her mother to attend to.” Connie gave her head a sad little shake. “Let me know when you hear back from Krista. I’d be happy to contribute money to buying a plane ticket. Some of the other vendors might chip in as well.”

  I was thinking they might do it just to get Ms. Oakes out of the building for a few days, but I didn’t say so to Connie.

  She lowered her voice before continuing. “I got Jason’s name in the Secret Santa draw, and I hoped you might be able to give me a few ideas. I don’t know him well at all.”

  “I imagine he’ll be happy with anything you pick out,” I said. “You have excellent taste. And there are lots of mugs and T-shirts out there for photographers.”

  “I did run across a darling vintage camera desk organizer, but I’d have to order it and don’t think it would get here in time.”

  I got out my phone and showed her the customized leather camera strap I’d ordered Jason. “The canvas one he uses now has seen better days.”

  “Oh, that’s beautiful.” She smiled. “I’m so excited for the holidays this year. After some rocky months—with our losing Mark and then Sandra—I feel like the tide is turning our way.”

  “I do too.” I didn’t mention the things that were weighing on my mind this morning. She seemed happy, and I didn’t want to bring her down.

  After Connie left, Max appeared on the table in front of me. “What’s with the face, Grace?”

  “I’m a tad blue this morning.”

  “I could see that much. Tell me why,” she said.

  “Grandpa Dave told me yesterday that Mom and Dad aren’t coming home for Christmas, and I feel like I caused a rift between Zoe and her mom last night.”

  “Nope. You didn’t cause a rift.” She wriggled her fingers for Jazzy, who’d hopped onto the table to sit near her. “I video chatted with Zoe last night after her mom went to bed. They argue fairly often, but they love each other and don’t hold grudges.”

  “I’m worried Maggie thinks I’m trying to horn in too much on their lives—or, at least, Zoe’s life.” I put away my laptop and brought Ruby’s coat to the table. I’d sewn the lining and pinned it to the fabric yesterday, and now I had to sew it to the coat.

  “Zoe told me Maggie feels a little jealous of you and your relationship,” Max said, getting off the table so Jazzy would stay off the fabric. “You’re younger and more fun, and Maggie fears you have too much influence over her daughter.”

  “That’s crazy. I don’t want to compete with Maggie. I simply want to be a friend—to both of them.” I turned around to the sewing machine.

  “I know.” Max moved over to my right, so I could see her better.

  Jazzy followed and lay at Max’s feet.

  “Grandpa Dave wanted to invite Maggie and Zoe to his house for dinner on Christmas Eve,” I said. “I told him after leaving their house last night that might not be such a great idea.”

  “And what did the silver fox say about that?”

  “He said it’s early yet and that we’ll play it by ear.”

  She grinned. “He’s a smart one. If there’s a way to invite them that doesn’t look like you think they’re charity cases, Dave will find it.”

  “I know.” I fed the material through the sewing machine.

  “You’re disappointed your parents aren’t coming home for Christmas,” Max said softly.

  “I am.” I lifted the presser foot and moved the fabric. “I might give Mom a call at lunchtime.”

  “You know, I’m surprised she told Dave but not you.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “That’s typical Mom—let someone else deliver the bad news.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like they aren’t coming home at all, right? They’re simply delaying their visit.”

  “That’s true.” I sewed another seam.

  “Then why be sad?” she asked. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I’m looking forward to spending Christmas with you, Dave, Zoe, and Dwight. And your parents being here might’ve thrown a wrench in some of my fun.” She shrugged. “I haven’t had anyone to spend Christmas with for decades. I’m looking forward to singing along to carols and watching your traditions take place.”

  I paused and looked up from my fabric. “Maybe we could incorporate some new traditions. What are some of the things you and your family used to do?”

  “Mostly, we sat around and watched television.” She smirked.

  In America, television sets weren’t released until 1938, eight years after Max’s death.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “Dot always baked some scrumptious goodies on Christmas Eve. Then mother would play the piano, and we’d sing carols. Before we went to bed, Daddy would read T’was the Night Before Christmas.”

  “That sounds really special.”

  “It was.” Her voice took on a wistful tone. “I wish I’d better understood that then.” She shook off the melancholy before adding, “I’m going to pop out for a while. Call your mother. Tell her you miss her. Your dad, too, of course, but I imagine he knows you miss him.”

  After Max left, I put on my headset and called my mom as I finished sewing up Ruby’s beautiful coat.

  I had quite a collection of buttons; and I was always adding to it, thanks to Etsy shops. I had several single buttons, but I preferred buttons I could buy more than one of. I’d recently discovered a shop that sold vintage Czech glass buttons and had procured four blue flower mandala buttons. I thought they would be beautiful on Ruby’s coat.

  I texted Ruby a photograph of the buttons t
o see what she thought of them.

  Before I could put the buttons away, someone came into the reception area. I went to greet the newcomer and saw that it was Sarah Conrad, a petite brunette whose son, Joey, was a handful. And he was with her.

  “Good morning, Sarah!” I said. “Hi, Joey.”

  “Hey.” Joey went over and slouched in one of the navy wingback chairs.

  “Hi, Amanda,” Sarah said. “Joey had a dental appointment this morning, so I told him we’d stop a few places before I take him back to school.” She gave him a pointed look. “We stopped at my place first to see how he behaves. He’s promised me he doesn’t have two ferrets hiding in his backpack this time.”

  Joey’s ferrets—an albino named Biscuit and a brown one named Gravy—had wreaked havoc in my life on more than one occasion. Max didn’t like them at all. She was afraid of what she called weasels—although what they could possibly do to her, I have no idea—and, like Jazzy, they could see her.

  “Mom’s gonna take us to lunch before I have to go back to school,” Joey said. “I don’t know why I have to go back at all. We’re almost done.”

  “Right. You’re almost done.” She looked at me. “They finish up on Wednesday.” Turning back to her son, she said, “That’s why you need to go back today. You’ll miss your friends when you’re sitting at home for the next two weeks.”

  “I won’t even get to talk to them until tomorrow when we have our party,” he said.

  Despite Sarah’s assurance that Joey had no ferrets in his backpack, I noticed some telltale movement. Thinking—hoping—I was wrong, I asked Sarah what she was interested in today.

  “I wanted to browse your ready-to-wear items to see if I can find something appropriate for a family party. My sister-in-law always wears the prettiest things, and—”

  “And she tries to make Mom feel frumpy,” Joey said.

  “Joey!” Sarah exclaimed.

  “Well, that’s what you told Dad.”

  I had to put up a hand to hide my smile. “Then, Sarah, let’s find you something fabulous.”

  We were looking at an emerald colored v-neck swing dress with three-quarter length sleeves when I caught a glimpse of white fur streaking past.

  “Joey!” Her voice was one of exasperated warning.

  “What? You asked if I had my ferrets—plural—and I don’t. I just have Biscuit. I promised Gravy he could go to church tomorrow night.”

  While Sarah was debating Gravy’s church visit with Joey, I hurried into the workroom to see what Biscuit was doing.

  Naturally, the ferret had snapped up one of Ruby’s buttons and was running with it back to Joey. Undoubtedly, the little thief wanted to hide its treasure in the backpack.

  Jazzy was still in her bed but was stretching and considering giving chase to Biscuit. She apparently hadn’t decided whether or not she wanted to play or continue napping.

  Max popped in, saw the ferret, and screamed. Not that it mattered all that much, since I was the only one who could hear her. Oh, wait. Biscuit heard her.

  The sleek white animal practically flipped around in mid-air and raced back toward Max, who was standing between the reception area and the atelier. The sight of Max brought Jazzy running to her rescue, so the cat and the ferret were having a stare-down between the feet of a ghost.

  “Amanda, do something!” Max shouted.

  “What should I do?” I asked.

  “Oh, nothing, sweetie,” Sarah said. “Just bear with us for a minute, and we’ll catch the little rascal.”

  At least, Biscuit had dropped the button. I wanted to reach and swoop it up, but I was afraid the ferret might bite me. Despite the fact that I felt the ferrets and I were practically old friends by now, I hadn’t had enough experience with ferrets to know what Biscuit might do if I tried to take back the button.

  As if we didn’t have enough excitement already, Sienna came barging into the workroom. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Thankfully, she remembered to close the door behind her.

  “I love ferrets!” She hurried over to Biscuit and dropped to her knees. “Hello.”

  “Her name is Biscuit,” Joey said.

  “Hi, Biscuit.” She petted the ferret’s head and it scampered into her arms. She stood and looked at Joey. “I’m Sienna. You wanna go see my uncle’s bookstore? It’s upstairs.”

  “Sure.” He stood and accompanied Sienna through the workroom and out the door.

  “I’ll come back and talk with you in a few minutes, Amanda!” Sienna called before shutting the door.

  “Do you think they’ll be all right?” Sarah asked.

  I retrieved Ruby’s button. “They’ll be fine.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  S arah sagged in relief when she heard Sienna and Joey tromping up the stairs, but then she turned to me with a worried frown. “What is there for them to get into up there? I know there’s the bookstore, and—”

  “They’ll be all right,” I reiterated. “Sienna has a good head on her shoulders. I even hired her—she’s a detective, as a matter of fact—to find out what I could get the building manager for a Secret Santa gift. Until I read Sienna’s report, I had no idea Ms. Oakes had a daughter who lives in D.C. or that her mother was in a nursing home.”

  Drawing in a breath, Sarah asked, “Which nursing home?”

  “Winter Garden.”

  She shuddered. “I took my mom out of that place a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Really? Why?” I asked.

  “Mom started telling me that one of the nurses was mean. I figured she was exaggerating and that she simply didn’t get along with this particular nurse. But, just to make sure, I asked my husband to stop by the nursing home one morning around breakfast—a time when we never visited—because Mom had told me the nurse wouldn’t help her sit up in bed so she could eat.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “I know, and it was true.” She blinked back tears. “He caught the nurse refusing to help Mom and telling Mom she wasn’t their only patient. She was horribly disrespectful.”

  “What was the nurse’s name?”

  “Penelope,” she said. “After sitting Mom up and helping her eat her breakfast, my husband took off work for the rest of the day and wouldn’t leave the nursing home until he found Mom a bed at a nursing home here in Abingdon. We moved her that day.”

  “I’m glad you found a new place so easily. Is she happier there?”

  “Much.” Sarah shook her head. “The staff really cares for their residents. They informed us when we moved her that Mom had a really bad bedsore on her hip, but they’ve almost got it healed now. Plus, they have lots of special events for their members—they treat them like people.”

  “I’m sorry you had such a rotten experience with Winter Garden Nursing Home,” I said. “I think I should—without mentioning any names—tell Ms. Oakes about your experience.”

  “Feel free to mention my name. I don’t want anyone to go through what Mom did, and I don’t mind discussing it with Ms. Oakes or anyone else our story might help.” She looked at the green dress she’d been admiring before Biscuit got loose. “This is gorgeous. I’m going to try it on.”

  I waited while Sarah got changed. I was afraid that given Sarah’s petite frame, the dress would need to be hemmed; but it was perfect.

  “It looks as if it was made for you,” I said.

  She giggled as she spun around in front of the triple mirror. “It does, doesn’t it? I love it!”

  “Shall I ring it up for you?”

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  As I was putting the dress in a garment bag for her, Sienna and Joey returned. Sienna was holding Biscuit, and Joey was carrying a book.

  Holding up the book for his mom’s inspection, he said, “Look what Uncle Ford gave me.”

  The book was The Story of Doctor Doolittle by Hugh Lofting.

  “Let me pay for my dress, and we’ll go back up and thank…Mr. Ford,” Sarah said.


  When the trio—quartet, if you count Biscuit—left, Max materialized.

  “Did you hear what Sarah was saying about the nursing home?” I asked.

  “I heard.”

  “What do you think I should do?” I walked over to sit at my desk. “Maggie is already upset with me for sticking my nose into her business, and Ms. Oakes has never welcomed my input on anything.”

  “Let me think.” She went into the workroom.

  I got up and followed her.

  Max sat at the corner of the worktable where her tablet was currently plugged into an outlet charging. I was curious as to what she was doing; but before I could peep over her shoulder, Jason came into the room.

  “Hi, beautiful. Check this out.” He brought his camera over and showed me on the display screen images he’d captured of Sienna, Joey, and Biscuit.

  “Those are adorable.”

  “I’d hoped Joey’s mom hadn’t left yet,” he said. “I was going to print out a couple for her.”

  “I don’t see how you two didn’t pass each other on the stairs. She just went up to thank Ford for the book he gave Joey.”

  “I’ll run back up and see if I can catch her.” He gave me a quick kiss. “Can I take you to lunch today?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When he left, I went over to see what Max was doing. She had one tab open to a rare coins webpage, and she had sent a video chat request to Dwight in another.

  “Hello, ladies,” he said, after accepting the request.

  “Hi, Dwight. How are you doing today?” I asked.

  “I’m finer than a frog hair split four ways,” he said.

  “No, he isn’t,” Max said. She told him how mean the nursing home staff—that Penelope, especially—was to Sarah Conrad’s mother. “I want to get you out of that place.”

  “Aunt Max, I’m fine. Maggie wants me here, I can’t afford to move even if I wanted to, and I don’t have any bedsores—I have more mobility than a lot of the other residents.”

  “You might have more money than you think,” Max murmured.

  “What?” I asked.