Holly and Homicide (33 page)

I pulled Steve closer as, below us, Mikara appeared to regain consciousness and moaned, “Henry? Henry?” She moved, shifting her position on the hardwood floor at the base of the stairs. “Ow! My head! My leg!”

“Don’t move!” Audrey shouted at her, grabbing the
champagne bottle by its neck and lowering the cell phone in her other hand. “You stay put, or I’ll club you!”

Mikara began to whimper. “I need to go to sleep now. Don’t tell Henry. Please. He mustn’t ever know that I still love him.”

One week later, on Christmas Eve morning, Steve dropped me off at my house. He was going to pick me up in a couple of hours to drive me up to Snowcap for the big Christmas Eve party to celebrate the inn’s grand opening. (The open house on Friday had, of course, been canceled.) My muscles and neck were still aching; my body sported various bruises. Hildi pranced over to me the moment I’d entered from the foyer. I stroked her soft fur for a few seconds, and was surprised to smell the aroma of fresh-baked cookies and to hear the rustling of paper from the kitchen.

Indeed, to my surprise, Audrey was still here in Crestview. After Mikara’s arrest, and Wendell’s subsequent release, Audrey had accompanied
Steve and me back home, but she’d continued to plan for the party at the inn from afar. She’d also decorated her house more since last night, although she’d ultimately deserted her blue, purple, and silver idea and reused the ornaments from Christmases past.

I said hello, and she gave me a perky: “Good morning!” She was individually wrapping homemade sugar cookies in red or green foil and then securing a candy cane with a shiny silver bow.

“The Christmas decorations look great,” I told her honestly. “I’m sorry that I was never able to get going on the purple, blue, and sometimes silver ornaments.”

She gave me an easy smile and a shrug. “Next year.”

“I assumed you’d be staying at Wendell’s house or in one of his condos last night. Shouldn’t you be up in Snowcap by now, staging tonight’s party?”

“There’s plenty of time. I’m leaving in another hour or two. I’m putting the party favors together now.”

“For, like, a hundred guests? Couldn’t you have hired someone to do that?”

“Of course, if I’d wanted to. But this gave me something to do these past couple of days.”

“In addition to decorating the entire house,” I said, still feeling a pang of guilt, although I knew full well that Audrey would have been angry if, under the circumstances, I’d felt obligated to go ahead and make purple and blue wreaths and centerpieces for her. “If it was me who was hosting an enormous party ninety-plus minutes away, I’d be panicking by now.”

“Oh, everything’s pretty much already done, Erin. I checked with Henry. The rental company delivered the extra chairs yesterday. It’s already a picture-perfect setting for a Christmas party.” With a wistful lilt to her voice, she said, “The house itself nestled in among the evergreens with all that pristine powder snow … you can’t get more evocative than that. The inn’s decorations are absolutely stunning, thanks to you and Steve.” She went back to her busywork; she’d laid out her star-shaped cookies atop pieces of foil in rows of five. “I just need to get there in time to set the mood and light a few scented candles, put some appropriate music on the sound system, set the dimmers for each room, and put the first basket of party favors near the front door.”

“And
make sure the caterers and bartenders aren’t going to flake out at the last minute.” With my chin, I pointed at her task at hand. “Can I help you with that?”

“No, thanks. I’m almost finished, and I honestly enjoy doing things like this.” She gestured at the kitchen stool. “Have a seat, Erin.”

I didn’t argue. I felt a sharp pain from my bruised leg while easing myself into the seat.

“Even if neither the caterers nor the bartenders show up, we’ll be fine.” She put a group of five completed cookie-candy-cane bundles into a pretty wicker basket. “When it comes to food and drink for parties, I’ve always got a Plan B. In this case, it’s a gourmet pizza place that delivers, including on Christmas Eve, and they are happy to do a crosscut on their pizzas to produce bite-sized
pieces. The inn’s wine cellar is well stocked. We’re in good shape.”

“Except if that were really to happen, you
also
wouldn’t have a serving staff.”

She paused in her work and looked up at me. “You know, Erin, that has actually happened to me a couple of times over the years, and it’s really not all that terrible. Shortly after the guests arrive, I make a big show of kicking my shoes off and suggest that everyone do the same, and I announce that the party’s officially turned into self-serve. In actuality, there’s always a percentage of guests who feel more comfortable when they’re able to lend a hand anyway. Next thing you know, someone’s running around with platters of pizzas or heated pot stickers, and someone else is mixing drinks or pouring wine. All you have to do as hostess is make it clear that you’re enjoying the company yourself. You simply set the right tone. You focus on making your guests feel comfortable and wanted. And you try to match up the introverts with the extroverts during your introductions. It couldn’t be more simple.”

“You’ve got hosting parties down to a fine art. But, in all honesty, Audrey, that just doesn’t sound easy to me.”

“Maybe not in your current circumstances. I’m just really, really grateful that you and Steve are coming up tonight, despite everything.”

I winced a little, truly wanting to be excused from that obligation. Truth be told, what I’d wanted the most for
Christmas was simply the opportunity to spend Christmas Eve at home with Steve and Hildi.

“Erin, your being there for the inn’s opening gala means the world to me.”

“You’re playing me, aren’t you,” I stated.

“Like a fiddle. But I sincerely do need you there for emotional reasons that I’m not willing to delve into just now. So humor me, as a personal favor.”

“But Audrey—”

“Erin, this is all I want from you for Christmas. Please.”

“I’d just been thinking the same thing, in reverse.”

“Lucky for me, then, that I said it first.” She winked at me, and I knew that once again, she was going to win this argument. She pointed at the bag in the chair beside me. “Could you grab me some more candy canes? And then tie one to each cookie packet?”

A
light snow was falling as Sullivan and I made the drive up the mountains. The guests would be arriving shortly after us, thanks to my shameless procrastination.

I hadn’t been back to the Snowcap Inn since my battle at the top of the stairs, five days before. Steve had promised me we’d leave the party no later than midnight, and that he’d drive us back down to Crestview. The traffic at that hour, he reminded me, would be light. We’d be home by one-thirty on Christmas morning.

Audrey had taken off about four hours earlier and probably
had everything under control by now. Still enthused about being a part owner of the inn, she was saddened by my abhorrence of the place. Knowing her, however, she was also confident she could change my mind eventually. There seemed little point in explaining that I was already battling nightmares every time I fell asleep and that I didn’t feel safe in Snowcap.

A couple of hours later, the party was in full swing
. Audrey, Steve, and I had alternated taking guests on tours of the house, starting at the pear tree and zigzagging our way through the house till we reached the twelve drummers in the master bedroom. On each of my three turns as tour guide, my thoughts had been fully occupied with the task at hand, and I only felt myself growing anxious afterward, whenever I found myself standing at the top of the stairs.

Audrey’s miniature ornaments echoing our theme were also a big hit. I was admiring the tree decorations up close when a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Erin.”

I turned and said, “Hi, Carol.” I wondered if Mildred was here, too. “I was just thinking that I like Audrey’s turtledoves better than the two pillows I got for your room.”

“Oh, that’s not my room. Didn’t Henry tell you? That room’s going to be the inn’s overflow guest bedroom. I’m happy living with Mildred. I don’t want to make this a live-in position.”

“I’m out of the loop. All Henry told me was that the art gallery was going out of business, and you’d agreed to take
over Mikara’s role. Also that you were a brilliant manager.”

“Yes, well … it’s been all of two days so far.”

“I’m sorry to hear about the gallery closing. I hate to see anything having to do with the arts go under.”

“Me, too. But the fact is, Mildred and I were in the red all this past year. When we heard about Mikara’s confession, well, Mildred threw up her hands. She said she’d been working by her side in that store all those years, and she was fed up. She announced she was going to retire and read books all day long. And finally take cello lessons.”

“You weren’t ready to retire yourself?”

“Not by a long shot. Then, wouldn’t you know, Henry came into the gallery, only an hour or so after I’d put the ‘Going Out of Business’ sign in the window. He was desperate, and he offered to hire me on the spot. Frankly, I leapt at it. Not to brag, but I’m perfectly suited for this job. I’d been wanting to open a small B-and-B myself, but I hadn’t the heart to desert Mildred and the gallery. I’d been green with envy when Mikara got this job. Now I’m managing the Snowcap Inn. Mildred’s retiring and closing up the gallery for good the end of next month. And Mikara’s in jail for her heinous, horrible crimes. Everything’s as it should be.” She smiled, but it started to fade a moment later. “Or rather,
almost
everything is.” She was staring past my shoulder, and I turned and followed her gaze. Chiffon had latched onto Henry’s arm.

“Those two are dating again?” I asked.

“No sensible person would bet on their union lasting beyond New Year’s Eve.”

Or beyond Christmas Eve, for that matter
. I watched as the front door opened. “Oh. Ben’s here. I’m going to say hi.”

By the time I’d crossed the crowded central hall, Ben was chatting with Chiffon and Henry. I joined the trio, and we exchanged greetings, Chiffon’s somewhat cool.

“I’d better go work the room,” Chiffon said to Henry. “I’ll look for you again in a few minutes.” She gave his arm a squeeze, then headed toward a pair of elegantly dressed couples who were standing near the partridge in the pear tree.

“We’re back together again,” Henry explained, superfluously.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Ben said.

“Yeah. Can’t say as I blame you, with my track record,” Henry replied.

“Did you hear
my
news?” Ben asked him.

“I heard what I’d hoped was a false rumor,” Henry said. “It’s not true, is it? You’re really leaving Snowcap after all this time?”

“You
are?”
I asked, already happy for him.

“Yep. I rented a little house in Denver as of the first of the year …got hired by a first-rate contractor.”

“Hate to see you go.” Henry shook his head. “I don’t know how they’ll replace you.”

“They?”
Ben repeated.

“Wendell and company. Here at the inn.”

“I’m sure they’ll manage just fine,” Ben snapped. “Anyway. I actually have other plans tonight. I just wanted to stop by. Season’s greetings, Henry.”

“Hey, you, too. Good luck to you.” They shook hands,
then Henry said, “I’d better go work the room myself.” He headed for a group of people standing at the opposite side of the room from Chiffon.

I gave Ben a hug and wished him a merry Christmas. I urged him not to hesitate to let us know if he was available to work on the occasional remodel job. He cast one last sad look in Henry’s direction, then headed for the door.

As the night wore on, Audrey, as usual, was the perfect
hostess, and Wendell was fully in his element. None of the people who’d booked rooms were from Colorado, a fact which gave Wendell the opportunity to pontificate on “champagne powder” and the wonders of “a Colorado Christmas.” From my perspective, though, the conversation was tedious, and I was relieved when Wendell discovered that one of the couples had yet to go on what he’d termed “the official Twelve Days tour,” and whisked them off.