And that, dear reader, is the spirit of Christmas in Rudolph.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I’d been longer than I intended at the bakery, and it was after four when I got back to Mrs. Claus’s Treasures. Jackie gave me a disapproving frown when I came in. I held up the bakery bag I’d brought, and the frown disappeared. “Sorry to be away so long. Anyone for leftovers?”

  Jackie took the bag. She opened it and peered in. “A cupcake and a fruit tart. No mince tarts left?”

  “You know how it is in mid-December,” I said cheerily. “They’re so popular they run out early.”

  “The cupcake will do. Mabel okay?”

  “She’ll be fine. The police had some follow-up questions about the goings-on in the house across the street, and she overreacted.”

  Melissa took the bag from Jackie and peered in. “No gingerbread? That’s my favorite.”

  “It’s everyone’s favorite, which is why none was left.”

  “That cupcake looks good.”

  “No way,” Jackie said. “I have first dibs. You get the raspberry tart.”

  “Don’t like raspberries.”

  “Tough.”

  “Gee,” I said, “I’m sorry I bothered.” I left them to fight it out and glanced around the store. Customers browsed happily. I couldn’t help but notice how many items were missing from the book display.

  “Did we have a run on the books?”

  “We did.” Jackie triumphantly lifted the coconut cupcake out of the bakery bag. “That woman who bought A Christmas Carol yesterday came back with a man who’s probably her husband, and they got a whole bunch of the other titles.”

  “Nice.”

  A woman put an armful of Christmas tree ornaments onto the counter, and I said to my employees, “Why don’t you take a break and enjoy your snack. I’ll handle this.”

  “I suppose I can pick the berries off,” Melissa said.

  * * *

  Not long after, Alan texted me to say he was pulling into the alley behind the store, and I ran out to meet him. I helped him unload boxes of stock and carry them into the storage room to be unpacked and put on display after closing.

  “I was at the bakery earlier,” I said. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have brought you some leftovers.”

  He gathered me into his arms and said, “Always love leftovers.” He kissed the top of my head. “Can you take a few minutes for a walk?”

  “No, but I will anyway. Mattie could use a stretch.”

  Mattie’s always delighted to see Alan, and after effusive greetings (more on Alan’s part than Mattie’s), we went back to the alley. We didn’t stay long, just long enough to enjoy some brief moments in each other’s company and let the dog sniff trash cans to his heart’s content.

  “I gotta go,” Alan said at last. “I have a delivery for the toy store. I had stuff to drop off in Rochester earlier, and that chewed up a good part of my day. I’m seriously thinking I should have hired a driver for the season.” He let out a puff of air. “But it’s hard to find someone looking for part-time work at this time of year. Other than a high schooler who might not even have a driver’s license.”

  “If my dad’s rapprochement with Muddle Harbor comes to fruition, maybe some Muddites will be willing to work around here.”

  “There’s always Kyle.”

  “Who will always be wanting work,” I said with a laugh.

  He didn’t laugh in return.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Nothing I can do about it this year. If business is as good next year as this, I’ll have to do something, Merry. I can’t keep burning the candle at all ends from August to December.” He turned to me, his eyes dark and thoughtful. “Not if I want to spend serious time with you.”

  Mattie abandoned whatever he found so fascinating at the back door of Cranberry Coffee Bar and barked at Alan.

  Alan’s eyes widened as he looked at the dog. “Do you suppose he’s telling me to back off?”

  “I do not,” I said.

  “Glad to hear it. Gotta run. We still on for Christmas Eve at your parents’?”

  “Command performance. Try getting out of it.”

  He kissed me lightly, and then he climbed into his truck. He gave me a wave before backing out of the alley.

  Serious time. What did that even mean?

  I decided to think about that later, and I went back to work.

  * * *

  The number of shoppers dropped off toward the end of the day, as it usually does, so I left Melissa in charge of the shop with instructions to text me if she got too busy, and Jackie and I unpacked the delivery boxes. As well as the nutcracker solders, Alan had brought angels, train sets, and components of his highly individual, much-sought-after Santa’s village.

  The soldiers were painted in the traditional design with red jackets, blue trousers, black boots, and tall red-and-gold hats. Bushy eyebrows, big mustaches, wide blue or dark-brown eyes. They came in all skin tones and all sizes, from about six inches to five feet tall. The latter were designed to stand on either side of an entranceway or next to a towering tree.

  My phone buzzed, and I checked it. Melissa, asking for backup.

  I pushed myself to my feet. “Can you stay for a few minutes after closing, Jackie? Help me put these out.”

  “Sure.” She pouted, and it was not an attractive look. “Not as if I have anything better to do tonight, is it?”

  “Are you and Kyle still on a break?”

  “You could put it like that.” She went out front without another word, and I followed.

  As though summoned by our words, who should appear no more than two minutes later but Kyle Lambert himself.

  “Hey, Jack,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing in particular,” Jackie said with a sniff. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  A large group of last-minute shoppers had come in and spread throughout the store, chattering to each other and exclaiming over everything. Melissa stood behind the till, ringing up purchases, while another customer hovered, clearly wanting to ask a question.

  “Hi,” I said, “welcome. May I help you?”

  “We’re going to a Christmas Eve dinner party at the home of people I don’t know very well. I want to bring a nice hostess gift, but I truly have no idea what they would like. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Something practical yet seasonal is always nice on Christmas Eve. Let me show you some of our table settings.” I led the way to the display of linens and dishware.

  “I want to take something to Raquel’s mom,” Kyle said to Jackie. “My mom said flowers would be best, but that’s not very original.”

  “It’s not at all original,” Jackie replied in an icy tone. “Which is why you take flowers to a mourner. It’s not a present, for heaven’s sake, you idiot. Get her flowers.”

  Not the way I normally wanted to hear my staff speak to our customers, but I let it go and smiled at my own customer. “These napkins make a nice addition to the holiday table.” Bright-red linen, with a stylized design in white thread showing flying reindeer pulling a sleigh.

  “I like them. They’re cute, but I don’t know what color their dining room is. I’ve never been in the house.”

  “How about cocktail napkins, then? Paper ones don’t have to match the decor.”

  Her face twisted. “That seems cheap.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be the expert in buying gifts?” Kyle said in a voice that could be heard by everyone in the store. “That’s what you’re always going on about.”

  “Why are you taking something to Raquel’s mother anyway?” Jackie snapped back. “Not like you’ve been in touch with them over the years.”

  “It’s the decent thing to do, Jackie. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “Decency. You’re talking to me about decency? When all you can do is blather on about how beautiful and how wonderful she was and—”

  “She was beautiful. She was wonderful. She was—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. The light of your life. Never mind that she walked out on you ten years ago and never so much as sent you a text again.”

  Customers were abandoning their shopping and turning to see what the commotion was. The louder Jackie spoke, the louder Kyle spoke back. Melissa stared at them. Her customer turned around, hand frozen in the act of handing over her credit card.

  Kyle lowered his voice. “True love stands the test of time.” Not low enough we didn’t all hear it.

  “True love! Is that what you call it! You don’t know what true love is. I thought I was the one you love.” Yup, we all heard that.

  Kyle blinked. He glanced around at the shop full of women, everyone staring at him. He might have finally come to realize that Jackie had a point. And the audience was not on his side. “I do,” he said. “I … love you too, Jackie.”

  “You love me too! Me too!” Jackie’s rage was terrible to behold. Her face had turned a bright red, her eyes wild. She threw up her hands and took a step toward Kyle. Spittle flew out of her mouth. “Your precious Raquel was a two-bit hooker!” Jackie bellowed. “She got nothing more than she deserved. Murdered either by one of her marks or her criminal boyfriend.”

  “Maybe the cocktail napkins will do after all,” my customer said. “And a couple of wineglasses to go with them.” She edged toward the display of paper products, which just happened to be closer to the combatants.

  I crossed the room. “Why don’t you two continue this discussion outside?”

  No one paid the slightest bit of attention to me.

  “The police say she was killed by her boyfriend,” Jackie said. “Are they right about that, Kyle? But are they concentrating on the wrong guy?”

  “Huh?” he said. “What does that mean?”

  “Did you kill her, Kyle, because she laughed at you? As I should have done years ago.”

  “That’s enough,” I said. “Please, you two, take it outside.”

  “Don’t know why you think you’re so special,” Kyle said. “You’re lucky I’ve bothered with you.”

  Jackie let out a roar and reached for the closest thing at hand: a wide-mouthed crystal vase piled high with brightly colored glass ornaments. Before I could move, she grabbed the top ball and threw it. Kyle ducked, and the ornament hit the door behind him. Glass tinkled cheerfully as the ball shattered into a hundred pieces and shards fell to the floor.

  One at a time, Jackie grabbed balls and threw them. Kyle dodged and dipped and tried to cover his head and face with his hands. Glass shattered. Some customers screamed. Some laughed. One called, “You go, girl.”

  I grabbed Jackie’s arm as she pulled back to make another throw. “Enough! Enough! Kyle, get the heck out of here.”

  He spread his fingers and peered through them at me. Fortunately, he didn’t appear to have been hit. “Yeah. Okay.” He threw the door open and stumbled out. “Uh … call me sometime, Jackie. When you’ve cooled down.”

  She roared and jerked forward as though to follow him, but I had a good grip on her arm. “Leave it!”

  The fight went out of her. Jackie looked around. At fragments of colorful glass sprinkled across the floor. The staring women. Wide-eyed Melissa behind the counter.

  At me. Steam must have been coming out of my ears. “Go home, Jackie.” I released her arm.

  “Uh … Sorry about that, Merry. I’ll clean it up.”

  “No. I’ll clean up. I’ll also finish unpacking today’s delivery. Go home, and be glad no one got hurt. I will be charging you for the damage.”

  She stepped toward the door. I grabbed her arm again and pulled. “Your coat and bag are in the back. Take the door to the alley.”

  “Okay. Sorry. See you tomorrow.” She slunk away.

  “Goodness,” one of the customers said, “that was exciting.”

  “Did he honestly tell her he loved another woman and expect her to be okay with that?” someone asked her friend.

  The woman with the credit card turned back to Melissa and said, “Here you go, dear. Get that sort of thing often in this town, do you?”

  “Not quite the true spirit of the holidays, I’d say,” my own customer said as she turned to the display of paper napkins and made a selection.

  “In my family it’s exactly the holiday spirit,” another woman said. “Although we usually get to the bottom of the dinner wine bottles before all the grievances start coming out. How fondly I remember the time Granddad hit his brother over the head with a beer bottle. Needed ten stitches, Uncle Ned did. My mother never did get the blood out of the tablecloth. A nice Christmassy red it was.” She put a stuffed reindeer doll on the counter. “Which is why I never buy breakable holiday ornaments.”

  I went into the back for the broom.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Melissa apologized profusely for not being able to stay after work to help me unpack and arrange Alan’s delivery. Her mom was minding the kids today, and she had plans for as soon as Melissa got home.

  I told her that was okay. Not to worry. I bid her a good night.

  When I was alone in the shop, I looked around for something to kick. As this was a gift and decor shop, not a sporting goods store, nothing came immediately to hand. Or rather to foot. Instead I went to the office and got Mattie for a brief break in the alley.

  My phone lit up with incoming texts.

  Vicky: OMG. Marjorie told me major blow-up at MCT.

  Mom: WHAT HAS BEEN GOING ON? And they say opera singers are divas!

  Dad: All okay, honeybunch?

  Sue-Anne Morrow, mayor of Rudolph: Once again, a disturbance at Mrs. Claus. Really Merry, this is a respectable town.

  I replied to each in turn.

  To Vicky: I’m going to fire that Jackie!

  To Mom: Non issue.

  To Dad: All Okay. Crisis passed. No one injured.

  To Sue-Anne (reluctantly): No harm done. Excess of Christmas spirt.

  The phone rang. Mrs. D’Angelo. I considered not answering. Then I decided she might once again be in some sort of crisis, so I said, “Hello?”

  “Good heavens, Merry. Are you all right? Is it true? Kyle Lambert killed Raquel?”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Mary-Ellen from Cranberries was walking past your store and heard Jackie accusing Kyle and Kyle admitting it.”

  “He didn’t admit anything. Jackie was angry and making no sense. Besides, I thought you didn’t trust Mary-Ellen.”

  “I don’t trust her to keep what she hears spoken in confidence over coffee and sandwiches to herself. She didn’t hear it at Cranberries, and it was hardly in confidence. I’ve had more than one report. I told Mary-Ellen Kyle is an unlikely candidate for murder. He might be sneaky and lazy and not at all clever and the despair of his poor mother’s life, but he’s no killer. Besides, if he had killed Raquel, he wouldn’t be able to stop justifying himself to anyone and everyone.”

  Which, I had to admit, was pretty much the conclusion I’d come to. Kyle might not be too bright, but he wasn’t devious.

  Then again, what did I know? He and I weren’t what anyone would call close.

  “Gotta run.” I hung up without waiting for her to say goodbye or to ask for more salacious details.

  I called Mattie to come away from a patch of weeds on the far side of the alley, and we went back inside.

  I tried to enjoy unwrapping Alan’s pieces, the wood so pure, the paint so fresh, each item crafted with such care, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the incident. I was undecided about what to do about Jackie.

  That earlier display was a firing offense if ever there was such a thing. My shop was full of breakable objects. Never mind the stock—if broken glass or china had started flying and customers had been struck, Mrs. Claus’s Treasures (meaning me) could have been in a lot of trouble.

  On the other hand, it was a week before Christmas. If I fired Jackie, I wouldn’t be able to find anyone to replace her.

  It was her first offense. Jackie could be difficult, and she could be opinionated, and she didn’t take instruction well. But she’d never before endangered my customers.

  As I was putting out the last of the big nutcracker soldiers, my phone rang. Jackie. Once again, I considered not answering it, but I gave in. I kept my voice as cool as possible. “Hello.”

  “Merry. It’s Jackie here.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “You should be. Jackie, someone could have been hurt. And I don’t mean you or Kyle. Never mind subjecting my customers to that display of personal … whatever.”

  “Some of them seemed to enjoy it.”

  “Jackie! That’s hardly the point.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. I know. I’ll pay for the broken balls. I can come back now and clean up, like.”

  “I’ve taken care of that.”

  “Oh. Okay. Uh, see you tomorrow?”

  I sighed. “Yes, Jackie. You’re scheduled to start at noon. Be here.”

  “Merry?”

  “What is it now?”

  “Do you think I should call Kyle and check if he’s okay? He was really mad when he left.”

  “No!” I hung up.

  * * *

  My mood hadn’t improved by the time we headed home. Usually, I like being my own boss. Running my own business. Being responsible for myself.

  Sometimes I wonder why I left a good job at a magazine in Manhattan.

  Today was one of those days.

  I tried to cheer myself up by thinking of Alan’s soldiers, toys, and angels. They were lovely. Handcrafted with care and genuine love and attention, and that showed.

  Like the man himself.

  The morning’s snow had stopped some time ago, but the thick cloud cover hadn’t moved on. The streetlights and holiday decorations did their best to lighten the dark of the night.

  My house came in sight, and Mattie picked up his pace. Dinner, he knew, was waiting.