Have Yourself a Beary Little Murder Page 2

  “Come on, Cissy. Forget it, Maggie’s being stubborn.” Gus pulled his fiancée away despite her protests. “Everyone’s gonna think it’s the ugliest thing on the planet.”

  “Whatev,” Maggie called out. “I don’t care what you or anyone thinks!”

  No wonder Barbara Davison was worried. I loved the Grinch, and thought the float had an eclectic, wacky charm. Wendy Clark must have agreed, along with several friends, because they joined Maggie’s infectious enthusiasm and pointed out particular details.

  “That pig rocks!”

  “Hilarious, Mags,” someone else called out.

  I walked back to the Silver Bear Shop’s float. I focused my brain on finding more staff to hire in order to produce the Beary Potter Keepsake wizard bear along with our regular orders, plus manage holiday tours for school, church, and senior groups. My sister and I had reserved a sales table at the Bear-zaar, too. All that, while my new flame, Jay Kirby, taught woodcarving up north. I hadn’t seen him since Thanksgiving. We called often, but that didn’t relieve the ache of missing him.

  I stopped short after bumping hard into someone in a puffy down coat and thick scarf. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. My mind’s wandering, I guess.”

  “No, no, Sasha. Don’t be. I shouldn’t have been standing in the way.” Leah Richardson continued to apologize, although it really had been my fault. Her brown hair, overlarge nose, and huge blue eyes reminded me of a scared mouse, but a brassy laugh made up for that. “I doubt if your mom knew how much work taking over the parade job would be. I’ve helped Amy Evans for the past two years, and I doubt she’ll do it next year.”

  “So you’re taking over for her?”

  “Bite your tongue!” We both laughed and walked the last few feet to the Silver Bears in Toyland float. Leah mimicked tipping a glass. “I’m celebrating after tonight.”

  “Not with the Bear-zaar coming up this Saturday,” Cal Bloom said heartily. “I asked Dave to handle concessions, and he said you’d help. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “No. He came down sick, and we’re hoping it’s not the flu.”

  “It’s only Wednesday. He’s bound to recover by the weekend.”

  Leah’s dismay was evident. “We’ll see.”

  “The pastor’s wife couldn’t get anyone else to cover the kitchen, so I volunteered you two. No one else wants to work at a hot stove with all that sauerkraut and grilled sausage. Last year I almost passed out from the heat. That’s why I talked Dave into it.”

  I noted Leah’s sour look after the mayor turned back to speak with Mom and Barbara. “Oh, brother. Christmas comes early for you.” I moved a hidden bear to a more prominent spot, and Leah plucked another to a better position on the float.

  “Yeah. We can’t catch a break.” She lowered her voice. “Dave’s family resents him for being such a rebel, not working at the orchard. And Cal always sticks us with thankless jobs. He’ll expect us both to be there Saturday. It won’t matter if Dave is half-dead.”

  I felt bad for her, watching her scurry away. It was true nobody wanted to work under an old overhead fan in the church basement’s cramped kitchen. Poor Leah—and poor Dave, if he was sick. He’d probably end up working no matter how bad he felt. Whenever the mayor snapped his fingers, the Richardsons always answered the call. I hoped Dave would stay in bed, though, rather than spread his germs to everyone at the Bear-zaar.

  The pastor’s wife couldn’t find anyone to take Holly Parker’s place as Santa Claus’s main elf at the event, either, but she’d talked Sherry Martinez into portraying Mrs. Claus. My dad wasn’t looking forward to that. Sherry always looked as if she’d bit into a sour pickle. But as the church’s Women’s Circle leader, she seemed the best choice to play the role.

  “Too bad you missed the last council meeting, Judith,” the mayor was saying. “We sure had fireworks a week ago. You wouldn’t believe—”

  I tuned his booming voice out while he relayed the back-and-forth arguments over budget adjustments, the last millage vote that barely passed, and the discussion of opening Theodore Lane at Main Street for better traffic flow.

  “I’m all for it,” Barbara Davison said, “and I’m sure the other residents on the street feel the same. With the tea room in the former bed and breakfast, and the teddy bear shop, it’s hard some days to get out of my driveway. I wasn’t able to pick up my grandsons from school the other day, can you believe it?”

  Mom straightened a strand of lights on our float and then stood back to survey the result. “We really need the street opened, especially now that Flambé built a new restaurant, and my daughter’s using their old building for her graphics studio. You’ve got to convince the council to take action, Cal. Soon.”

  “I know, ladies, I’m fully aware. We’ll get it passed next meeting. I wish Tony Crocker would give up protesting the election results.” The mayor waved a hand. “Can I help it if I won in a landslide? I’m not the only one who wonders what’s eating him.”

  “It’s not like he had a chance of winning anyway,” Barbara said. “He didn’t promote himself. That poor girl Holly Parker got more votes than he did, and that’s not counting the absentee votes. I could see if someone well known, like Tom Richardson, had been running for mayor in the election. But few people know Tony Crocker.”

  “And he’s never bothered to attend any council meetings,” Mom added. “And he never volunteers to help at village events, either, from what I heard.”

  “I don’t even know why he wanted to be a candidate. Do you, Cal?”

  “Can’t say as I do, although I have heard he thought the job paid a lot more than four thousand dollars a year. Which I never accepted,” the mayor said with pride. “I take a dollar and give back the rest. Sure, the dental plan is a nice perk of the job. That more than pays me for my time. But people around here have been saying Crocker’s a poor sport—”

  “You’re the one spreading that gossip around,” someone barked from behind the mayor’s bulky figure. Tony Crocker, in fact, thin for a man around six foot two, with a John Deere cap on his gray hair, who always wore flannel shirts, jeans, and sturdy, mud-caked work boots. “Go on, admit it! It’s not enough that you won the election. You strut around like a puffed-up bantam showing off to a flock of hens. I’m gonna demand a recount.”

  “Do you realize how much that would cost the village?” Mom asked, hands on her hips.

  “I don’t care. People were rooked into voting for this clown again. We need new blood in town, and it’s too bad voters didn’t realize that. No, they fell back on what’s familiar and boring. Same old, same old.”

  Barbara Davison pushed forward. “You had your chance and lost the election, fair and square. Go home to your farm and stop pouting like a child.”

  “Pouting, eh? I want to see the ballots for myself. How would anyone know if the whole thing wasn’t rigged from the start!”

  “We can arrange that, if you insist,” Mom said coolly, “but you’ll have to pay for it. The village shouldn’t be expected to foot that bill.”

  Tony Crocker snorted. “Think you’re high and mighty, you and Alex Silverman. Ever since you moved here—”

  “My great grandfather was born in Silver Hollow,” I interrupted.

  “Nobody asked you!”

  “How dare you speak to my daughter that way?” My mother stabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “The Silvermans have been around as long as the Richardsons. But that doesn’t matter. The residents didn’t vote for you. End of story.”

  “Cal Bloom is your puppet. Not for long, though. Not for long.”

  Crocker stalked off down the line of floats, grumbling aloud.

  Chapter 2

  “What was that supposed to mean?” Mom glanced around at us all. “Did that sound like a threat to you, Cal?”

  “He’s blowing smoke, as usual,” the mayor said. “Don’t worry about him. Poor sport, like they’re all saying. And I didn’t start that, no matter what Crocker thinks. Y
ou ladies get on with your work. Time to get into my mascot costume. It’s a real bear to put on.”

  Barbara and my mother laughed at his deliberate pun, but I forced a smile. “If you need any help, Mayor Bloom, we could find someone.”

  “No, no, Sasha. I can manage.”

  Cal Bloom lumbered off, smiling and stopping to chat with other villagers who wanted to congratulate him on his re-election. I turned back to Mom, who was once more trying to calm Barbara Davison about the Magpie’s Nest float. Her quick defense had surprised me. I had to wonder why, but she pushed a white bear in my arms.

  “Put that somewhere on the float. I’m sorry, Barbara, but the shop owners pay a fee to participate in the parade. The money goes into the village’s events fund. We really don’t have any say about how they design their floats.”

  “If only Maggie would listen to me,” Barbara said mournfully. “Maybe she would if you suggest a few ideas about rearranging things.”

  I stuffed the white bear in between Batman and Spider-man figures in the toy box, fixed the looped rows of white lights along the float’s platform, and then walked around to the other side. A clown had fallen onto the cotton batting. I retrieved it and stuck it back in the box.

  “Go get yourself a hot cider, Barbara,” Mom said. “You’re shivering, poor thing.”

  She rewound the scarf around her neck. “It’s supposed to snow, and that cold wind isn’t helping matters. I hope they don’t run out of hot chocolate like last year.”

  I waved a mittened hand. “Fresh Grounds, Ham Heaven, and the Sunshine Café all plan on offering coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. Quinn’s Pub will be open until midnight, too.”

  “So I’ve heard. Most families will be home by then.” Mom stepped back to survey our Silver Bears in Toyland float. “I guess it will have to do, Sasha. Go and find your dad, please, because he’ll have to drive this monstrosity. Your uncle wants to stay late at the factory.”

  “Here, I’ll call him—”

  “Forget it. I tried,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t know why Alex bothers to have a cell phone if he leaves it home all the time. He must be in Christmas Alley.”

  “Okay, I’ll go look for him. I don’t know why he doesn’t trust me to drive the float if he’s so averse to it,” I said with a laugh. “But I’m still sixteen in his eyes with a lowly learner’s permit. He’ll never forget how I nicked the fence post.”

  “Just wait till you have kids.” Her voice sounded wistful. “You’ll see how fast the time flies, and how hard it is to accept your children as adults. One of my girls has got to give me grandchildren. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

  I groaned in silence. Barbara and my mother walked toward the front of the line of parade floats. Guilt descended on me like a net. Mom had mellowed toward me, given her reaction after I survived a second brush with death, so I felt the pressure about having kids. Maddie wasn’t ready to settle down, however. We’d all seen very little of my sister since she opened her new graphics studio in the former Flambé restaurant.

  With its ground-to-ceiling windows, freshly painted shingle exterior, and gorgeous polished wood floors, her new venture looked a showplace. Maddie had named it Silver Moon. She had a full schedule of work all month and far into the new year. But for one person, the building proved overlarge. My sister only used the front, formerly the dining room area; the back half, including the office, the kitchen, and storage rooms, had been stripped bare. Maddie had no idea what to do with the rest of the building. Maybe rent it, at some point.

  I checked the float’s lights, making sure no bulbs had burned out, and then glanced at my wristwatch. Five o’clock. The parade would start at seven. Plenty of time to refuel with some hot chocolate and maybe a gingerbread muffin from Fresh Grounds. I headed down Roosevelt Street, admiring residents’ hard work to decorate their homes. Every lamppost in the village sported an evergreen wreath. Strands of white lights wound around each pole plus every shop roofline, window, porch railing, and post downtown.

  “Excuse me, have you seen my dad anywhere in the village?” I asked Trina and Arthur Wentworth, the tea room owners, who were out walking their pair of corgis.

  “No, dear, we haven’t,” Trina said. “But I wish we’d built a float for the village parade. It looks to be right wicked.”

  “The parade is a lot of fun.”

  “Next year, love,” Arthur said to his wife. “I’ll get Ian to help when he comes over on holiday. Our son owns a pub in Wiltshire. Have you ever been to England?”

  “No, but I’m planning to go one day,” I said. “Enjoy the parade.”

  I walked past Bloom’s Funeral Home on Archibald. Cal Bloom had long ago restored and expanded a two-story Greek Revival residence into his business, added wings on either side, and surrounded the snow-covered lawn with a white picket fence. Gold Christmas trees flanked the side entrance’s large portico, glittering with tiny white lights. More lights outlined a huge picture window facing the street. Inside, a horse-drawn Victorian white hearse sat on display, minus the animals. Most people thought it looked quaint and picturesque.

  Mark Fox’s vet clinic was down the next block, so I headed that way. Until I caught sight of someone waving frantically. “Oh, no! I can’t deal with Flynn right now—”

  When I dashed across the street, the funeral home’s van careened around the corner from the side street and shot past me in a blur, cutting off any escape. My ex-husband rushed to meet me, followed by his lanky girlfriend Cheryl Cummings.

  “Are you okay? Wow, that was close. Maniac driver!”

  He shrugged his camel wool pea coat, his blond hair slicked into spikes like a teenager’s, sounding annoyed. Cheryl, a weather forecaster for a regional television station, looked festive in a forest green coat, red plaid wool scarf, and laced-up, high-heeled booties. Not the best choice for walking, but she seemed accustomed to it.

  “You must have seen my ex around town, right, Cheryl?” Flynn hurried through a quick introduction. “Any idea where I can find Judith?”

  “She’s checking out the floats, over by the Quick Mix Factory. I didn’t expect to see you at the parade,” I said. “Heard you’ve been busy with a big case.”

  “Yeah, but the parade committee chose me to be Grand Marshal.”

  “Isn’t it exciting,” Cheryl said, shivering a little. Her bright smile was as gorgeous as on television. I couldn’t help liking her, despite her flawless complexion, that silky blue-black hair falling over her shoulders, and deep brown eyes. “I’m riding with him, too.”

  “That’s sweet of you.” I meant it, too. “And I’m thrilled to meet a real television celebrity. I’ve seen you plenty of times.”

  “You were once married to one, remember.” Flynn grinned at my skeptical look. “What? I’m famous now in those Flynn Wins commercials. Did you think your mom had to twist the committee’s arm to name me?”

  “Who else would have suggested you?”

  “Oh, come on. I’m one of the hotshot Legal Eagles, too. Besides, with the mayor in costume as the Santa Bear mascot, they needed someone with a higher profile.” Flynn sounded smug, not unusual given his ego. “Watch out, Sasha!”

  He pulled me out of the way again, this time from a cluster of joggers who’d turned the corner from Kermit Street and raced past. Many wore red and white sweats, some had full Santa Claus suits—beards and hats included. One wore a furry bear mask. I’d forgotten all about the 5K Santa Run. The high school’s marching band suddenly started playing, its raucous drum line hammering out a steady beat, the music audible from the football field directly behind the assembly of floats in the Quick Mix Factory’s parking lot.

  I cocked my head when the band switched from the festive “Deck the Halls” song to a different tune. “Star Wars? Really?”

  Flynn laughed. “You don’t like Darth Vader’s theme for Christmas?”

  “Not quite what I expected to hear,” I said wryly.

  “It does sound out
of place,” Cheryl said. “They’re practicing, though, right? Maybe that’s not a song they’ll play during the parade.”

  “Oh, I think they will.” Flynn took Cheryl’s arm. “So what’s new, Sasha?”

  I couldn’t help feeling awkward, however, making conversation with my ex and his new significant other. I scrambled to think of something. “I saw that commercial for Gleaners, where you’re collecting food. That’s a great cause all year round.”

  “Charity work is always a win-win, for them and for the Legal Eagles. Everyone in the area, and even the whole state, has heard of me and my winning record.”

  I quickly changed the subject, not in the mood to hear his boasts. “Have you stopped by Christmas Alley yet? They have live reindeer for kids to pet, and a tent for visiting Santa Claus. You two ought to go see it.”

  “We’d better find Judith first, or she’ll worry.” He snapped his fingers, as if remembering something. “By the way, we’re engaged—”

  “Flynn! You said to keep it a secret,” Cheryl interrupted, eyebrows raised.

  “Hey, Sasha won’t spread any gossip. Right?”

  I nodded. “Sure. I mean, I won’t. Congratulations.”

  “See my ring?” She’d already pulled off her thick mitten and flashed her left hand. One huge chocolate diamond was surrounded by smaller white sparkling ones and mounted on a thick gold band. “Isn’t it pretty?”

  “Gorgeous. Congrats again,” I said weakly.

  “Let’s go, hon. Judith might wonder if we’ll ever show up.”

  Flynn rushed Cheryl away. I raised my eyes to the cloud-thickened sky, wanting to kick him. My engagement ring had been puny, less than a third of a carat, although I hadn’t minded at the time. He’d been starting out as a lawyer, but apparently their dual celebrity status merited far more bling. That rock plus the surrounding gems had to be three carats total. Not that any ring guaranteed marital bliss. Despite our divorce seven years ago, Flynn continued to rankle me.

  But if Cheryl Cummings could get him out of my hair, I’d be grateful.

  I buried a wave of sadness. Jay wouldn’t be back in Silver Hollow until Christmas Eve. Neither of us could afford time off, either. I was swamped with the Silver Bear Shop & Factory’s holiday rush; I couldn’t ask Maddie to cover for me, not with her new business. I missed Jay’s cheerful smile, sense of humor, and quiet presence. The snowy weather lately hadn’t helped. We’d have to wait until Christmas.