British Manor Murder (23 page)

“That's true,” said Lucy, with a nod. “Bill and I brought
our grandson, Patrick, thinking he'd enjoy the horsedrawn
sleigh ride. . . .”

“I know, I know,” admitted Corney, pulling off her gloves
and stuffing them in her designer handbag. “Ed Hemmings
had to cancel because one of his horses lost a shoe
and he couldn't get hold of the blacksmith. A lot of people
were disappointed, which is why this year I'm determined
to make it the best stroll ever. I've gotten commitments
from every business on Main Street; they've all agreed to
stay open until nine and they're all going to offer refreshments
and special promotions, raffles, giveaways, free gift
wrapping, it's going to be great.”

She paused for breath, then pointed a finger at Ted. “This is an opportunity for you, too, Ted. You can open
your doors, put out eggnog and cookies, and offer a special
reduced rate for new subscribers.”

“Most everybody in town subscribes already,” said Ted.

“Well, offer a special rate to folks to extend their subscriptions,”
said Corney, refusing to be deterred. “You
know, the Chamber is a major advertiser, and that's why
I'm here. The stroll will kick off the holiday shopping season—
we only have three weekends this year because Christ -
mas Eve is on a Saturday—and I want to go over the
special insert with you and make sure it's got all the latest
information . . .”

Ted scratched his chin thoughtfully. “There's still some
ad space in the insert. I could run an announcement about
the special offer,” he said.

“And give the Chamber a break on the cost?” urged
Corney, who didn't miss a trick.

Lucy bit her lip, wondering how Ted would react. She
knew that these were tough times for independent newspapers
that faced competition from the Internet, rising
costs, and ever-fewer readers.

“Why not?” said Ted with a nod of agreement. “It is
Christmas after all.”

“That's the spirit!” exclaimed Corney, pulling a couple
of sheets of paper that were rather the worse for wear out
of her tote and presenting them to Ted with a flourish.
“This is going to be the most wonderful Christmas Tinker's
Cove has ever seen!”

Ted ushered Corney into the morgue, which doubled as
conference room, to put the final touches on the insert.
Phyllis got up and put the eggnog in the office mini-fridge
where they stashed their lunches and coffee creamer, and
Lucy returned to her Conservation Commission notes, which
remained as indecipherable as ever. She was about to raise the white flag and call the commission's secretary and beg
for help when her cell phone beeped. A glance at the display
revealed the caller was her oldest daughter, Elizabeth,
calling from Paris where she worked at the tony Cavendish Hotel.

“Hi!” exclaimed Lucy, adding one of the phrases she remembered
from high school French.
“Ća va?”

“
Très bien, merci, Maman,
” replied Elizabeth, automatically
replying in French, but losing none of the efficient
manner that had enabled her to leave the reception desk
and cross the Cavendish's tastefully decorated lobby to her
present post at the concierge's desk. She promptly switched
to English. “Everything is fine, I just want to check some
dates with you—I'm coming home for Christmas.”

“That's wonderful!” exclaimed Lucy. “You're coming
home for Christmas! When are you coming? How long
can you stay?”

“That's what I want to discuss with you,” said Elizabeth.
Lucy could picture her, seated at an antique Louis
XIV desk, thoughtfully fiddling with a pen and making
careful notes. “I can get a seat on a flight December twentythird,
but it's expensive, but if I come two weeks earlier,
on December ninth, it's much cheaper. I have a lot of vacation
time due me, but I'm not sure about staying for
such a long visit, especially since the house is already
pretty full. . . .”

“Don't be silly!” declared Lucy, in a burst of motherly
affection. She'd been thrilled when her son, Toby, who had
been working on developing sustainable fisheries in Alaska,
had announced he'd been sent to nearby Winchester College
for a year to continue his graduate-level studies in genetic
modification. Since their house on nearby Prudence
Path was rented while they were in Alaska, Toby's little
family had moved in with Lucy and Bill. “Toby and Molly are using the family room, so there's plenty of room upstairs.
Patrick's little,” she continued, referring to her adored
five-year-old grandson, “he can sleep anywhere.”

“Well, you know what they say about fish and company,
that they stink after three days. . . .”

“You're not company, you're family!” said Lucy.

“Okay,” said Elizabeth. “I'll order the tickets. I'll arrive
in Boston on December ninth, at five forty-five PM. Can
somebody pick me up at the airport? I looked into connecting
flights to Rockland, but they're all sold out.”

“That's a three-hour drive into rush hour on a Friday in
Boston,” said Lucy, a note of dismay in her voice. She'd
been caught in Boston traffic a few too many times and
knew that Friday evenings were the worst as the city's entire
population seemed to be leaving for the weekend.
“Couldn't you take the bus?”

“Mom!” protested Elizabeth. “I'm coming all the way
from Paris and you want me to take the bus?”

“Of course not,” said Lucy, relenting. “How about a
limo? My treat?”

“I am really surprised, Mom. Don't you want to see me
as soon as you can?”

“Of course I do,” said Lucy, somewhat chastened. “I'll
take the afternoon off to give myself plenty of time, and
after I meet you we can get a bite to eat before attempting
Route 1.”

“Super!” exclaimed Elizabeth, pronouncing it “soupair”
in the French manner. “
A bientôt!
”

“
A bientôt
,” replied Lucy, ending the call. She was saddened
to realize she wasn't quite as enthusiastic about
Elizabeth's homecoming as she had been at first. Maybe
Elizabeth was on to something when she suggested a short
visit would be preferable to a long one. Then she shook her head, remembering how much she loved her daughter
and how eager she was to see her, and made up her mind
to banish such thoughts. “I'm being a Grinch,” she decided,
taking a page from Corney's book and resolving to make
this Christmas the best Stone Family Christmas ever, a
Christmas when the entire family would be together.

LESLIE MEIER
is the acclaimed author of over twenty Lucy Stone mysteries and has also written for
Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine
. She is currently at work on the next Lucy Stone mystery. Readers can visit her website at
LeslieMeier.com
.