“I need the space,” I said. “This is a decor and gift shop, remember. As I’ve told you before”—many times before—“I have a few holiday-themed books for one-stop shopping, but I’m not competing with the bookstore. I’m looking forward to having a big splashy display of Vicky’s cookbook next year, though.”

  Mom selected a pair of handmade silver earrings and a matching bracelet. “These will go nicely with this cape, don’t you think, dear?”

  “Absolutely perfect.” I went behind the counter to complete the sale.

  “Any updates on the murder of the woman who kidnapped poor Mabel?” Mom asked in a low voice.

  “The police are pretty sure she was killed by her partner in crime and sometime boyfriend. He’s from New York City, so the NYPD are taking on the focus of the investigation.”

  She laughed. “Donalda will be disappointed to hear it. She was rather enjoying all the attention that strange business was sending her way.”

  “Donalda? You know someone named Donalda?”

  “Yes, I do. She has two children in my classes.”

  “She has little children? Are we talking about the same Donalda? A friend of Mrs. D’Angelo?”

  “I believe so. Donalda Reynolds. They live not far from you. Dreadful gossip, she is. Some of the parents wait in the outer room while their children are having lessons, and sometimes they go for coffee together. They’ve learned not to say anything around Donalda they don’t want the entire town to know. With much embellishment.”

  “Jackie,” I called, “will you mind the till for a few minutes?”

  She looked up from arranging linens. “Sure.”

  Dad was examining the bookshelf. He moved the table containing flower vases and candlesticks over a few inches and called, “Melissa, can you give me a hand here?”

  I ran around the counter and pulled my mom into a corner. “Donalda took a casserole to the house where everything happened. No one answered the door, so she left it on the step and went home. Mrs. D’Angelo told me that. Was Donalda involved in other ways?”

  “Not that I know of. Simply standing on the front steps to deliver her casserole means, according to her, she barely escaped with her life.” Mom gave me a wicked grin. “She has a very delicate constitution, don’t you know?” The grin died. “I shouldn’t mock. I do find her tiring at times, but she’s a deeply unhappy woman.”

  “In what way?”

  Mom glanced across the busy shop floor to where my father was admiring his handiwork. Melissa had helped him reposition the bookshelf. I didn’t want it there, but I’d wait until he left before moving everything back to where I did want it. My mother smiled. “What is most likely to make a woman unhappy? A bad marriage.”

  “Do you know this for sure, about Donalda?”

  “As any teacher will tell you, dear, young children don’t keep secrets. Nor do some of their mothers. Mr. Reynolds, it seems, has a reputation for not strictly sticking to his marriage vows.”

  “Huh?”

  “He’s a philanderer, Merry. Some of my mothers say he’s flirted with them to the point at which they became uncomfortable.” She grinned again. “At least they say they became uncomfortable. They are not going to tell me if they accepted his advances, now, are they? He brought the children to their class at my house once. When supposedly Donalda was ill. Slimy fellow, I thought. All false charm and sly insinuations. You learn to recognize men like that fast enough in the world of show business. You do if you want to survive. And I did. I remember a famous tenor, from Russia as I recall, he had a terrible reputation backstage. On one occasion—”

  “Never mind the tenor. Does Donalda know this about him? Her husband, not the Russian tenor.”

  “We’re not friends, Merry. She doesn’t confide in me. But I consider it highly unlikely she would not know. Everyone else does.”

  “I don’t. Didn’t. I guess I do now.”

  “You don’t move in the right circles, dear. As I said, I sense Donalda is deeply unhappy, despite the cheerful chattering front she presents. She has that aura about her. I suspect that’s why she’s so keen on gossip. She wants to believe everyone else is as unhappy as she is.”

  “Does Mrs. D’Angelo know?”

  “I’d be shocked if she doesn’t. For all her own love of gossip, Mabel does have her standards. She doesn’t repeat anything told to her in confidence, and she never betrays a friend. Now, let me collect your father, and we’ll be off.”

  Books arranged to his satisfaction, Dad was advising a man on choosing a gift.

  “I don’t suppose you know if Mr. Reynolds has been seen recently?” I asked my mother.

  “Seen? What does that mean? I told you he doesn’t usually bring the children to their classes.”

  I began to contemplate all that information, but then I mentally gave my head a good shake. No point in letting my imagination run away with me. I had absolutely no reason to think that Donalda, who I wouldn’t recognize if I saw her walking down the street, had knifed her husband’s potential lover and calmly gone back to her casseroles and children’s music lessons. Or that Mr. Reynolds, who supposedly had an eye for an attractive woman, had for some reason killed Raquel and fled.

  The customer Dad had been talking to put a Christmas-themed teapot on the serving counter. Dad joined my mother and me, and he gave me a broad wink with a jerk of the head toward the customer. “Ready to go?” he said to my mom. “Don’t forget we have dinner with Sue-Anne and Jim tonight.”

  “How could I possibly forget,” Mom said with a deep sigh.

  The shop door flew open, and the woman I’d been helping earlier, the one with the disliked daughter-in-law, ran in. “Nothing!” she said to me. “I can find absolutely nothing in this town to get her for Christmas. I was hoping to find something truly special, something that says we might be able to start over again on a fresh new footing. But I can’t think of a thing. I’ll have to get that vase after all.” She turned to point at it and let out a gasp. “I … I … That’s it! Perfect. I can’t believe I didn’t see it the first time I was in.” She ran to the bookshelf and snatched up a large hardcover. She held it out in front of her, stared at it, and then clutched it to her chest. A child’s illustrated edition of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

  She brought the book to the counter, eyes brimming with tears. “My son told me A Christmas Carol is his wife’s absolute favorite movie. She loves the one with the Muppets the most, but she’ll watch any version, or all of them, over the holidays. This book will be the perfect gift.”

  I stared at my father. He stroked his beard, took my mother’s arm, gave me a wink. And they left.

  I know my dad isn’t Santa Claus. But sometimes I wonder.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My sister phoned me as I was preparing for Sunday closing.

  “Got any plans for tonight?”

  “Early to bed, early to rise. Another working day tomorrow.”

  “Feel like a girls’ night in?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “What time do you expect to get home?”

  “The store closes at six, but I—”

  “Come on, Merry. You need it. All you do this time of year is work. I’ll be at your place at six thirty. I’ll bring the wine. Why don’t I call Vicky and invite her to join us? I bet she’s alone tonight too. Bye!”

  I stared at the phone in my hand. What just happened there? Alan was spending his evening finishing off nutcracker soldiers, and I was looking forward to a quiet night in with microwaved pizza, a boring movie, and a snoozing dog.

  “Must be nice to have a sister,” Jackie said.

  “Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s not,” I said. “I have two.”

  “And you have a brother. I liked getting to know Chris better when he was here the last time.” All of a sudden she looked uncharacteristically sad. “Must be so exciting, what he does. Building sets on Broadway. Eve, being in movies. Isn’t your other sister a singer?”

  “Carole. Yes, she followed our mother’s footsteps into opera. She’s in England right now, performing in some avant-garde thing my mother isn’t entirely sure of.”

  “They all have such exciting careers.” Jackie let out a deep sigh; her eyes focused on something far away. “You did too, didn’t you? But you gave that up to come back to boring old Rudolph.”

  “Boring old Rudolph is where I want to be, Jackie. Chris is doing okay, and he loves what he does. But Carole and Eve? Not the life for me. Always competing for roles, always being passed over for the big parts, grabbing for the crumbs, trying to be grateful for getting those crumbs.”

  “But Eve was in a Cate Blanchett movie!”

  “She had a walk-on part; she never even met the stars.”

  Jackie’s mouth twisted. Her eyes teared up.

  “Are you okay, Jackie?” I asked.

  She let out a deep, shuddering sigh. “No. Not okay. I’m worried about Kyle. About me and Kyle, I mean. I’ve never lived outside of Rudolph. I’ve never been further away than family holidays to Cape Cod. I’ve always been okay with that, but … not if Kyle’s not with me.”

  “Why don’t you come to my place tonight? Girls’ night in, right?” I made the offer without thinking it over, but as soon as I said it, I realized it was the right thing to do. Jackie rarely let anything intrude on her bubbly, cheerful view of the world. Shortly after Mom and Dad left, she’d taken her break. When she came back, I could immediately tell something was wrong. She didn’t say anything, but her smile was forced, and for the rest of the afternoon she engaged in the barest minimum of acceptable chatter with our customers. I suspected she’d had a phone conversation with Kyle and he said something that made her realize an engagement ring might not be forthcoming this Christmas.

  “If you don’t have anything on, I mean,” I added.

  “That would be nice, Merry. I don’t have any plans. I did, but … things changed.” She dipped her head and went into the back for her bag.

  I didn’t have to tell Jackie where I lived. On one memorable occasion, she’d hidden in my garden shed for several days while the police—and I—were hunting for her.

  I locked up the store, and we headed out. The snow had stopped some time ago, leaving everything white and pristine. “People are saying this season’s going to be one of the best in Rudolph for a long time,” Jackie said. “All this snow helps get people in the mood.”

  Two couples passed us. Laden with shopping bags, wrapped up warmly, laughing. It was after dark, but lights in the town park lit up the tiny toboggan hill and the skating rink, both fully occupied. The lake, rimmed with ice, stretched to the horizon like black velvet.

  “There truly is,” I said, “no place like Rudolph in the wintertime.”

  “I would miss it,” Jackie said. “If I went away.”

  I turned my head and looked at her. “Are you thinking of doing that? Moving away?”

  “Nah. Not really. Rudolph’s home, right? Although …” Her voice trailed off.

  We reached my house and turned into the driveway. Mrs. D’Angelo was on her front porch, wiping a dusting of snow off the railing with a handheld broom. The bandages had been removed from her wrists, and all that remained to mark her ordeal was slight bruising. She called out to me and waved, and I had another sudden impulse. “I’m having some impromptu guests around for drinks,” I called. “Would you like to join us?”

  The surprise and joy on her face was something to behold. “Oh my goodness. What fun. I’ll change my shoes and be right with you.”

  She disappeared into her house and was back before I’d taken more than another couple of steps. She waved a bottle at me. “I’ve had this in the back of the fridge for simply ages, waiting for a chance to use it.”

  I thought that was incredibly sad. Mrs. D’Angelo had her network and she had her contacts, but she didn’t seem to have many real friends. I’d never before considered that tuning in to the town gossip the way she did might be her way of having a social life.

  “George brought it,” she said, shattering my image of a sad, lonely woman. “He only drinks beer, and this was such an expensive bottle I didn’t want to drink it by myself. I will confess, but only to you, Merry, I hid it when Iris was visiting. No need to cast pearls before swine. Not that my sister is swine, that’s not what I’m saying, but you get my meaning.”

  I unlocked the door at the bottom of the steps, and we went in. Mattie caught our scent and yipped in greeting.

  Once we were inside my apartment, I accepted the offering from Mrs. D’Angelo. I texted Eve: Bring more wine.

  Mattie loves nothing more than having company, and he allowed Jackie to scratch vigorously behind his ears while I rummaged in the fridge and cupboards to lay out what I had in the way of snacks. I found a couple of types of cheese and crackers and nuts and put them on plates. I then got down the wineglasses. Before pouring, I checked the label on Mrs. D’Angelo’s offering. A middle-of-the-road California chardonnay.

  Eve and Vicky soon arrived. My sister carried a tote bag that clinked when she walked. She held it up proudly. “Dad won’t be happy next time he checks his wine cellar.”

  “Your parents have a wine cellar?” Jackie said as I handed her a glass. “That’s cool.”

  “Not a wine cellar, but he likes to pretend he’s a connoisseur of fine wines,” Eve said with a laugh. “Not a problem. I’ll replace these tomorrow.”

  Eve knew Jackie from the store, but I introduced her to Mrs. D’Angelo. Vicky came into the kitchen with me to get more glasses. “I picked up Eve, so I’ll just have a sparkling water, please.” She lowered her voice. “What’s with the additions to the guest list?”

  “Jackie’s depressed, and Mrs. D. is feeling lonely,” I whispered back. “I thought they both could use some cheering up.”

  While Vicky poured drinks, I put the plates of snacks and some cocktail napkins on the coffee table, and we all took seats in the living room. Mattie settled on the rug at my feet.

  Mrs. D’Angelo politely asked Eve what she did, and Eve said, “I’m an actor. Movies, TV. I live in LA now.”

  “That’s exciting. Have you been in anything I’ve seen?”

  “As I don’t know what you’ve seen,” my sister said a touch sharply, “I can’t say, can I?”

  Mrs. D’Angelo thought this over.

  “It must be so exciting,” Jackie said. “Being in the movies. I considered acting at one point. I was in a couple of plays at school, and the teacher said I was a true original.”

  “Oh yes,” Eve said. “I remember. That performance in The Sound of Music was definitely memorable.”

  Jackie smiled and said, “Thank you.” Eve was not being polite, but I didn’t bother to point that out to Jackie. My sister was uncharacteristically brittle, and I took a guess as to what the reason might be. And as to why she suddenly decided she needed company—and wine—tonight.

  “You were better off staying here,” she said to Jackie. “Acting’s not for everyone. The business is heartless; the competition can be brutal, and you only have friends as long as you’re not auditioning for the same role.”

  She twisted her wineglass in her long fingers and stared into the depths.

  “Did you hear about the part?” I asked, fearing the answer.

  “Yeah. I didn’t get it. Not that there’s anything to get. Not anymore. They canceled the second round of auditions. They’ve eliminated the female-cousin-visiting-from-the-countryside role altogether.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Vicky and I exchanged glances.

  Eve’s eyes filled with tears. “At least it wasn’t because they didn’t like me, right? So, that’s good. Never mind. There’ll be other parts.” She tried to be brave, but her heart wasn’t in it. My sister was over thirty. Before much longer it would be too late for her big break.

  “Didn’t Raquel Torrone act in some of the plays at school?” Jackie helped herself to a handful of nuts, oblivious to the sudden tension swirling around the room.

  “Yeah, she did. Not a scrap of talent.” Eve sniffed. “She would have been perfect for Hollywood, though. Talent is hardly a job requirement.”

  “If I haven’t seen you in anything,” Mrs. D’Angelo said in an attempt to make amends for her earlier slip, “that doesn’t mean much. I rarely go to the movies these days, and I prefer watching the nice English mystery shows on TV. But I’m sure your parents are very proud of you.”

  “Yeah. They are. That’ll look good on my tombstone.” Eve took a long drink. “Your friendly local detective brought a guy from New York around to talk to me about Raquel. I don’t know why they’re wasting their time with me. I had absolutely nothing to tell them, and I told her that the first time she asked. I haven’t seen or heard of Raquel since we left school. I hadn’t so much as given her another thought in all these years.”

  “Seems strange they’d talk to you twice,” Vicky said.

  “Digging up old dirt. Isn’t that what the cops do? Just like Raquel to pop back into town and now everyone’s in an uproar.”

  “She is dead,” I said.

  Eve turned to me. “Dead and still causing trouble. Someone, I don’t know who, told them about Raquel and me having a big fight. As if I’d wait thirteen years and then swoop down and exact my revenge.”

  “Revenge? For what? What happened thirteen years ago?” I asked.

  “That blasted drama club. We were both after the role of Maria in West Side Story. Raquel’s singing made an out-of-tune violin sound good, but she was a contender because she was sooo pretty and sooo charming. Charming. More like manipulating.”

  “Which of you got the part?” Mrs. D’Angelo asked.

  “Neither of us. They chose Samantha Schwartz. Who had a minimal amount of singing talent and no acting chops at all. But she wasn’t being backbitten all day long, with everyone in school taking sides, so the teacher thought she was a safer bet. The play was a mess. Total flop. I, like the professional I am, accepted a smaller role and kept my head high. Raquel quit school in a huff.”

  “Is that the reason she left before graduating?” Vicky asked.