Diva Wraps It Up, The (4 page)

Nina snorted. “That was the point. There are five lies in it.”

Natasha sighed. “Well, I can tell you which one is the lie about Gwen. Decorated the White House, my foot! Like they would let just anyone do that.”

“Actually, they do.” I sat down at the table, and they took seats, too.

“What?” The tea in Natasha’s mug swayed precariously. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. They invite people from all over America to come to decorate each year.”

“Why haven’t I been invited?” Natasha held up her hand when I offered to serve her. “None for me, thanks.”

“Probably because you never applied.”

She frowned at Mars. “Did you know about this?”

“Yes, Natasha,” he said sarcastically, “I spend a lot of time worrying about how they’re going to decorate the White House for Christmas.”

“I still think it’s a lie. Just the way Gwen lies about her age. That business about little Katrina being an art prodigy and selling paintings? She’s six! And there’s no way Bethany has surpassed the capabilities of her school. That girl couldn’t figure out how to light a candle.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Mars. “She leaves plenty of cigarette butts in our alley. She’s lighting them with something.”

“Obviously Gwen’s lie is about having an affair with a neighbor.” Nina cut into her turnover and took a bite.

Natasha nearly choked on her tea. “I wouldn’t put that past her. Who do you suppose it is? I’m thinking Horace.”

“Natasha!” I protested. “That’s the lie. What married woman would say that in a Christmas letter if it were true?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Gwen’s quite the flirt,” said Mars.

Natasha set down her mug with a
thump
. “Well, I suppose I’d better take a stroll by the Scroggins house. Looks like we might have two widows to decorate for this year.” She set down her empty mug and left in haste.

Mars flipped his hand impatiently behind her back. “Bah humbug to you, too. The real reason she won’t let me decorate our house is because everything has to reflect
her
and
her
taste. It was more fun when you and I did it together. I miss that.”

Nina raised an eyebrow and glued her eyes on me, but said nothing.

Truth be told, I missed it, too. “You don’t mind if I buy pine roping and wreaths, do you?”

“Not at all.” Mars fetched paper. In between bites, he made a rough sketch of the house, showing us what he had in mind. “I’ll help you with the pine and hang the wreaths for you.”

Nina glanced at her watch. “Better go. I have to take my husband to the airport. Call me if you hear anything about Horace.”

Mars left with her, eager to work out his sketch in greater detail on his computer. It was his week to have Daisy. She bounded out with him.

“Looks like it’s just us, Mochie.” I spent the evening decorating the interior of my house.

In each guest bedroom, I placed a teeny Christmas tree with lights. In the small bedroom where my niece would sleep, I had begun a tradition of arranging a street of five North Pole houses on the dresser. They were on a timer so she would see them when she went up to bed at night. Even though she was a teenager now, I knew she still got a kick out of them. The little buildings were lovingly detailed, from the reindeer stables with some open stall doors, to the elves’ favorite after-work gathering hole.

As I set up the Christmas Village in the living room, I couldn’t help thinking about Horace and his Brown-Eyed Girl. Clearly, he must have been Moondoggie. When was that character popular? In the sixties? The early seventies? Horace must have been very young. And very much in love to keep that letter all these years. I had no idea he was such a romantic.

I gasped, startling Mochie during his careful prowl through boxes on the floor. I’d told hateful Edith that Horace said he always loved her.
Always!
What if he hadn’t meant Edith? That would certainly be understandable. She probably didn’t treat him much better than she did anyone else. What if he had meant Brown-Eyed Girl?

On the other hand, maybe he did mean that he had always loved Edith. Just because I found her to be caustic didn’t mean she acted that way toward everyone. He had stayed with her all these years. Maybe he really did love her. Seemed doubtful, though.

Had he meant for me to find Brown-Eyed Girl? Was I supposed to relay his message to her? He’d said Edith must never know. That made sense. Whether it was Edith whom he had always loved or not, he probably didn’t want her to realize he’d been in love with someone else.

I set figures of an older couple in the village. Maybe Brown-Eyed Girl felt the same way and longed to see him. What if he died from the stab wound? They would have missed their chance to see each other one last time. I cupped my forehead in my hand. Why hadn’t I realized this sooner? I had to find Brown-Eyed Girl. But Edith must never know. Aargh. This wouldn’t be easy.

I phoned the hospital before I went to bed, but they wouldn’t give me any information about Horace. During the night, I tossed and turned, imagining Moondoggie and his Brown-Eyed Girl. How would I ever find her? There were millions of brown-eyed women around Horace’s age.

The sun shone in the morning, giving me fresh hope. Still dressed in my flannel nightshirt, I stumbled down the stairs, put on the kettle, and immediately placed a phone call to Wong, who confirmed that Horace had survived the night but remained in critical condition. I cracked the window to let in a little fresh air, then stirred sugar and milk into my morning tea.

Nina tapped on the window of my kitchen door. She had dashed across the street wrapped in a fluffy lavender robe. I had barely opened the door when she demanded, “It’s Horace, isn’t it?”

I played coy for just a moment longer in case she meant something else. “What is?”

“Moondoggie. Horace is Moondoggie. It came to me in the middle of the night. You worked on his party yesterday. No one at the party would just hand you that note to carry around. No, no, no. It was Horace!”

She beamed at me and poured herself a mug of tea. “We have to go see him. I wonder if he can speak.”

I gazed down at her feet and giggled. “What are those?”

“Christmas slippers. They’re reindeer heads. Aren’t they fun?”

Outside someone screamed in terror.

Dear Sophie,

My son will be on leave from the military for Christmas, so my husband wants to decorate the house from top to bottom. I’m scared of the electric bill. Which lights use the least electricity?

Proud Mom in Lightsville, Ohio

Dear Proud Mom,

Solar lights don’t use any electricity but will cost more to buy. There are also battery-operated lights, some of which operate on built-in timers! If Hubby really wants to go overboard with electric lights, LED lights are your best bet.

Sophie

If I hadn’t cracked a window earlier to let in some cool winter air, we might not have heard the scream at all. Mochie jumped onto the banquette and peered out the picture window.

Nina and I rushed to the front door to look outside. A few houses down, I thought I saw something in the bushes. I grabbed a coat, and the two of us dodged traffic to cross the street. We ran like clowns in our slippers, the bells on Nina’s jingling all the way.

Baxter Babineaux appeared to be stuck on his back in the grip of boxwood bushes. He called his wife’s name feebly. “Gwen? Help! Gwen?”

A ladder pinned him down and strands of Christmas lights draped over him like a colorful web. “Are you okay?” I asked as Nina and I wrestled the ungainly wooden ladder to the ground.

“Sophie! Nina! I was afraid my family wouldn’t hear me.”

I wasn’t surprised. Trendy teen music blared right through the walls of their elegant historic town house.

He tried to disengage himself from the strings of lights but only succeeded in creating bigger knots as they caught on one another.

I did my best to lift them straight up, but they had twisted around his legs and torso. “Can you hold on to me? Let’s get you out of the bushes first, then we’ll tackle the lights.”

I wedged my hands under his arms and pulled. Baxter had to be almost twice my weight and a good foot or more taller than my five feet. Nina tried pulling away the lights that entangled him. I tugged, and he rolled up to a sitting position. Branches cracked under him and broke as he kicked at them to free his legs. When he tried to stand up, he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Nina rushed to his front door and rang the bell. “Should I call an ambulance?”

“No! I’ll be quite fine. I just”—he pulled a strand of lights that tugged at another strand of lights—“need to catch my breath.”

The sight of the staid and slightly pompous businessman sitting on the ground wrapped in Christmas lights
was
a little bit amusing. The next time he prattled on about the best meal he ever had in a tiny village in Tuscany, I would remember this moment. “Would you mind if I cut these lights off you? They’re caught on each other. How many strands are there?”

“Twenty.”

“Decorating for the Christmas contest?”

“Gwen’s been pestering me about it. She has to have the best house on the block. Better than Natasha’s. And”—he grunted when he tried to stand and failed—“my brother is coming for the holidays. I guess I have a little Clark Griswold in me after all.”

The homes in Old Town Alexandria were gorgeous. Many of them, like those on our street, had been built in the 1800s in typical colonial styles. But they were tall and hard to climb. Baxter’s house was three full stories with dormer windows on the third floor. Very difficult to cover in lights.

“Have you heard anything about Horace? You work for him, don’t you?” Nina asked.

Baxter scowled. “I haven’t heard beans about poor old Horace. There won’t be a business if he dies. His insufferable wife had the locks changed on the building. No one could go to work today.” He shook his head. “We have deals pending,” he whined. “Everyone has to work from home. It’s unbelievable.”

The front door swung open. Gwen Babineaux seemed surprised to see Nina. A bottle blonde, Gwen had gone too long without a boost of color. Dark roots gave away her true brunette color in spite of the dark blond curls that cascaded around her shoulders. Tall and curvy, she prided herself on her cooking and baking skills, and the resulting extra pounds enhanced her voluptuousness. She tended to squint, hiding eyes the color of milk chocolate. With her long straight nose and thin lips, the squint sometimes gave the impression that she was being critical. She wore an oversized green flannel pajama top with the sleeves rolled up. Pictures of the Grinch and wrapped presents alternated all over it. “Baxter? What have you done now?”

“Do you have scissors I could use to cut the lights off him?” I asked.

She huffed, shook her head and went inside, returning in a minute with shears. She handed them to me and pulled twigs of boxwood from his thinning hair.

“Honestly, Baxter is about the least handy man I’ve ever known.”

“You’re the one who wants to win the contest,” he protested.

She took a step back. “I don’t see a single light! What’s that on the roof?”

“The staple gun.”

“You were on the
roof
?” she shrieked. She shook her head. “And I’m the one who goes to a shrink! Well, he’ll be hearing about this.”

“How else am I supposed to put lights up there? I took the ladder upstairs and pushed it out the window. Then I set it up so I could string lights on the dormers, but when I stepped on it, a rung broke. I fell down, but managed to grab hold of the ladder. It slipped at first, but then it caught on something. If Bethany didn’t crank up her music so loud, you would have heard me yelling for help. Then the whole thing gave way.”

I snipped faster. “If you fell all the way from the roof, you really should go to the emergency room. You’re incredibly lucky the bushes broke your fall. Did any branches stab you in the back?”

Gwen appeared more irritated than concerned. “Looks like he was protected by this horrible old leather jacket that I keep trying to throw out. Good thing he wrapped up.”

I cut a few more light strands. They finally dropped off Baxter and fell to the ground. Nina gathered them in a pile.

“What kind of idiot takes a ladder up on the roof anyway?” muttered Gwen.

Baxter sounded tired. “Didn’t you tell me you wanted lights on the dormer windows? Did you think I could just toss them up there?”

Time to get out of their squabble. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Nina frowned at him. “Sophie is right. You ought to get checked out. That was a long fall.”

“Nonsense. If he can argue with me, he’s fine.” Gwen sounded like a mom talking about a kid who’d taken a little tumble.

“I guess we’ll head home, then.” Turning as I spoke, I stepped over the ladder. My father had owned one very much like it. Long and battered from use, various colors of paint had dripped on it over many years. My breath caught in my chest at the sight of the broken rung.

It hadn’t worn out in the middle from years of use. It broke on the side where it connected to the ladder. I was no expert, but only part of the rung had splintered as wood should. The top portion of the break appeared almost smooth, as if it had been sawed.