Christmas Treasure (17 page)

“So who did you draw?” Eliot asked. “Not that Veronica creature, I hope.”

“No, I drew Max, the owner of the stable. He’s so busy you can hardly see him, much less figure out something nice to do for him for Christmas.” Lisa sighed. “Now I’ve got to come up with something by tomorrow night.”

“Gosh,” said Douglas. “What to do for the man who does everything? That’s a sticky wicket, all right.”

Half a block away, a car turned down the street. Its shape looked familiar. Lisa peered at it under the streetlights. “Isn’t that our car?”

“Looks like it,” agreed Douglas. “Maybe they got worried and sent out a search party for us.”

The car blinked its lights and pulled over to the side of the street. James Ross rolled down the window and stuck his head out into the cold night air.

“Hello, lads,” he called. “Hi, Lisa. How did the singing go?”

“Great,” Eliot said. “Did you come to give us a lift back?”

James grinned and shook his head. “Sorry. Richard’s car has a flat battery at his office parking garage. I’m driving over to give him a spark. I should be done in a jiff.” He smiled at Lisa. “Your mum says the clooty dumpling will be ready about the time we get back.”

“Wonderful.” Lisa tried to sound enthusiastic. They’d eaten Scottish food for the past ten meals, and she was beginning to dream about American hamburgers with ketchup-covered french fries and chocolate shakes.

“See you!” James waved and pulled back onto the street as the trio walked on home.

“So much for our lift,” grumbled Eliot, pulling his cap down further over his ears.

“Oh, come on, El. It’s brisk. Just like home.” Douglas looked at his brother and gave an impish grin. “Beat you to the next post-box!”

With that both Eliot and Douglas began to run. They zigzagged crazily down the street, stopping first at one mailbox, then another. When they reached the end of the block they stopped, gasping for breath.

“You guys are nuts,” Lisa said, laughing as she caught up with them.

“No, we’re not,” panted Eliot. “At home they’d call us mad.”

“That may be,” giggled Lisa. “But in America you’re just plain nuts.”

“Oh, come on,” said Douglas. “Let’s not stand here out in the cold arguing about how you call someone crazy. Let’s get home. I’m getting very peckish!”

Lisa laughed as her cousins teased each other all the way up the driveway. Though sometimes it was a challenge to figure out exactly what they were saying, she liked them both a lot and she was glad they had come for Christmas.

“Just a few more steps.” Douglas pretended to stagger with hunger as they walked through the empty garage to the kitchen door. “I can smell the clooty already.”

“Actually I’m glad,” admitted Lisa. “I’m getting hungry, too.”

She opened the door. They all stepped into the kitchen together and stopped dead in their tracks. “Good grief!” Eliot cried. “What on earth has happened?”

Lisa’s mouth fell open.

There, in her mother’s formerly spotless kitchen, Caitlin and Fiona sat yowling in the middle of a mound of flour. The little girls were covered in the white stuff, with gobs of it in their hair and smeared all over their faces. Sarah Ross was crawling around on the floor on her hands and knees, fussing at the twins and desperately trying to clean everything up. Her face was bright red and she was frantically using a whiskbroom with one hand and a damp paper towel with the other. But the worst part was just in front of the oven. There sat Mrs. Atwood with huge runny pieces of clooty dumpling scattered all over the
floor. The gooey stuff had splattered all over everything, and Mrs. Atwood’s chin trembled, as if at any moment she might begin to cry. Lisa couldn’t believe her eyes. In just a matter of moments, her mother’s immaculate kitchen had become a complete disaster!

“Gosh.” Douglas blinked in amazement. “Is this some sort of American Christmas custom?”

“Yes,” said Lisa, suddenly bursting into a fit of giggles at the sight of four people covered in various amounts of flour. “It’s called the Great American Pre-Christmas Flour Crawl.”

Eliot began to laugh along with Lisa, and Douglas did, too. Mrs. Atwood looked up at them from her seat in front of the stove, and she, too, began to laugh. Sarah Ross, who’d been apologizing to Mrs. Atwood when she hadn’t been scolding the twins, looked over and saw Mrs. Atwood laughing, and she began to laugh as well. Finally the twins, who’d been crying, stopped and looked at the adults around them. Nobody seemed angry at them anymore. In fact, everybody seemed to be covered in flour and suddenly having a marvelous time. They began to laugh along with everyone else.

Lisa felt a draft of chilly air as the back door opened behind her. She turned to see her father and James Ross coming through the door, their cheeks red from the cold. “You’re not going to believe this, Dad,” Lisa began, but she stopped when she saw both James and her father standing there, their eyes wide with amazement.

“Good heavens!” cried Mr. Atwood. “Is everyone all right? Did the stove blow up?”

“No, Richard, we’re fine,” gasped Mrs. Atwood, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. She took one look at Sarah Ross, who had a piece of clooty dumpling dangling from her hair, and began to laugh all over again.

“I’m afraid it’s our fault,” giggled Sarah, trying to catch her breath. “The twins got into the flour and smeared it all over themselves and the kitchen. I came in here to clean it up, and then the clooty dumpling was ready. Eleanor had just taken it from the oven when she slipped on the flour and dropped the clooty and herself all over the floor!”

“At first I wanted to cry,” laughed Mrs. Atwood. “Then I looked up and saw Lisa and Eliot and Douglas looking at us like we were crazy, and then I realized that we
were
crazy!” She started laughing all over again.

“It’s certainly been the most memorable meal of our vacation,” Sarah Ross said, collapsing on the floor in giggles. “The clooty dumpling that wasn’t!”

James Ross and Mr. Atwood shook their heads at each other and smiled. “How about we help you guys clean up?” said Mr. Atwood as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Then why don’t we just go out and get a hamburger for dinner?”

“Gosh, Dad, that would be wonderful,” said Lisa. “I can’t imagine anything that would taste quite as good right now.”

They all pitched in and helped clean up the kitchen. James and Eliot and Mr. Atwood mopped up the floor while Sarah and Mrs. Atwood went to wash the clooty dumpling out of their hair. Douglas and Lisa were in charge of getting the twins free of flour. In a little while everyone reappeared in the kitchen, where all traces of the doomed dinner had disappeared.

“Okay,” said Mr. Atwood as he put on his jacket. “Who’s up for burgers and fries?”

“I am,” cried Lisa.

“Me too,” Douglas added with a grin.

“Then let’s go.”

They all piled into the Atwoods’ station wagon and drove to a nearby restaurant that served the best hamburgers in Willow Creek. The hostess led them to a big table near a roaring fireplace, and everyone sat down to study the menu.

“I’ll have the all-American cheeseburger and an order of french fries,” James said when the waitress returned to take their order. “I’ve been dying to see how you chaps really eat in the States.”

“Really?” said Mrs. Atwood. “I thought you’d want food that you were accustomed to. I thought it would make you feel more at home.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand, Eleanor,” said James. “Your meals have been fantastic, but sometimes it’s fun to try new dishes.”

“Yes,” agreed Sarah, who held the squirming Fiona on
her lap. “It’s all been delicious, but we’re also keen to try some of your exotic American dishes.”

“Goodness,” said Mrs. Atwood with a laugh. “Then tomorrow night we’ll order in pizza!”

Everyone ordered hamburgers along with James, and they all shared huge orders of french fries and onion rings. They had apple pie for dessert, then drove back home to the Atwoods’ house.

“This is perfect timing,” said Mr. Atwood as he took off his coat. “We’re just in time to watch the game on TV. James, Douglas, Eliot, I’ll pop some popcorn and we can settle back in the den for some serious football watching!”

“I’ll join you later,” said Eliot with a smile. “I need to practice a bit on my pipes.”

Eliot went into the kitchen while Douglas and the two dads disappeared into the den. Lisa heard the football game begin to blare over the TV set just as various shrieks and wails from the bagpipes floated out of the kitchen. Caitlin and Fiona ran into the living room, covering their ears and singing some new song they’d heard on a children’s TV show. Sarah Ross and Mrs. Atwood followed close behind, chatting about how groceries were so much more expensive in Scotland than America.

Lisa looked around. She could barely hear herself think. She didn’t want to watch football or talk about Scottish groceries, and she certainly didn’t want to go into the kitchen and listen to Eliot’s squawking. Slowly
she turned and began to tiptoe upstairs to her room. Even though she was supposed to entertain Eliot and Douglas, there was so much going on down there that she was sure she wouldn’t be missed.

She tiptoed into her bedroom and closed the door. She could still hear the din downstairs, but not quite as clearly as before. She smiled. Despite all the Scottish food and the disastrous clooty dumpling, the Rosses seemed to feel very much at home here, and she was glad. She lay down on her bed and closed her eyes. It felt good to be by herself for a moment, not to have to answer anybody’s questions or show anybody where something was.

This must be what it’s like for Max all the time
, she thought suddenly.
When he’s not dealing with us, he’s teaching younger riders and older riders and worrying about the horses and tending to Maxi and telling Mrs. Reg and Red O’Malley what to do and ordering supplies on the telephone—and lately he’s been even busier than usual.

Suddenly she sat straight up in bed. She had just solved her Secret Santa problem. She knew exactly what she was going to do for Max. “I can’t run the stable, but I can give him and Deborah a whole day and night of free baby-sitting,” she said aloud. “They can go wherever they want and do whatever they want, all without having to worry about who’s taking care of Maxi.” She sighed as the wail of Eliot’s bagpipes came drifting up from downstairs. “I can’t imagine anything better than the gift of peace and quiet!”

L
ATE THE NEXT AFTERNOON
the Horse Wise riders gathered in Pine Hollow’s indoor riding ring. Phil and A.J. were there, and everyone was talking about the caroling and the Christmas party afterward.

“Where is Lisa?” Carole asked Stevie with a worried frown. “She’s never late, and we should get going pretty soon if we’re going to catch everyone around dinnertime.”

“She’ll be here.” Stevie grinned. “Remember? You told me everyone has to be late sometime in their life.”

“Yes, but not tonight! This is the most important night of the year!”

Suddenly a gasp went up from the carolers. Stevie and Carole looked toward the door. Lisa stood there in jeans
and a parka, and standing on either side of her were two magnificently dressed Scottish pipers!

“Lisa! Eliot! Douglas!” Stevie cried out, her eyes popping.

They walked into the ring. Eliot and Douglas wore red plaid kilts, bright red jackets, and black caps. Eliot carried his bagpipes over his left shoulder.

“Clan Ross reporting for duty, ma’am.” Douglas grinned and gave Carole a snappy British salute.

Eliot patted his bagpipes affectionately. “We are armed and ready to sing!”

“Wow!” said Carol, amazed at the guys’ wonderful outfits.

“Can you actually play that thing?” Stevie blinked at the gangly plaid bagpipes.

“Aye. Want to hear?” Eliot took a deep breath and put the chanter pipe in his mouth.

“Not here!” Lisa stopped him just as he was beginning to blow. “That really will put the horses off their feed!”

“You guys look terrific,” said Carole. “You’ll be the hit of Willow Creek!”

“Thanks.” Douglas smiled. “Lisa told us about the Secret Santas, so we thought we’d surprise everyone and be Secret Scotsmen.”

“Well, now that you’re here, I guess we’d better get started.” Carole stood up on a mounting block and tried to get everyone’s attention. She had just opened her
mouth to speak when another murmur of excitement went through the crowd. She looked again at the door, and once more couldn’t believe her eyes. There stood the glamorous Tress Montgomery, and she was waving at Carole!

Carole hurried to the door, where Tress Montgomery was waiting for her, smiling. The same cameraman stood behind her, along with another man, who held a long microphone.

“Hi, Carole,” Tress said warmly. “Remember me? I interviewed you and your dad the night of the burglary at the toy warehouse.”

Carole could only nod. How could she possibly
not
remember Tress Montgomery and being on television?

“Good,” Tress continued. “Deborah Hale called me yesterday and told me you guys had organized a carol singing to help the Marines. Would it be okay if we taped it? It’s a terrific human interest story. They’ll run it on the news tomorrow night.” She looked around at the two kilted Scots mingling with the other singers and grinned. “This is such a great story, the national network might even pick it up.”