Jolly Dead St. Nicholas (7 page)

Brenda shook her head. “You’ve been on your feet all day. You go. We can handle things from here.” Picking up the empty bread basket, she left the room again.

“Walk me to my car, Daniel,” Adelaide said, grabbing her coat from the tan leather sectional in the comfortably decorated living room.

Once they were outside, she said, “I know something is bothering you, Daniel, and it has nothing to do with Lloyd Fletcher’s visit.” She stopped when they reached her blue Toyota Camry. She stood there, waiting.

“It’s nothing, really. I guess I’m just a little concerned about where this thing with Brenda is going, that’s all.”

“She’s obviously crazy about you. Don’t you feel the same?”

“I like her a lot, Mom. I might even be falling in love with her. Maybe that’s what scares me.”

“Love can be very disconcerting at times, Daniel, but it should never be scary.”

He grinned. “I think she wants things to move along more quickly than I do.”

“Then tell her that. Be honest with her. Don’t hold back what you are feeling or thinking.”

“Maybe I’m just looking for what you had with Dad.”

“What we had was built brick by brick over many years. It didn’t land in our laps fully developed.”

He leaned over, kissing her on the cheek. “It’s cold out here. Go get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He opened the car door for her.

Adelaide squeezed his hand. “Come by the bazaar sometime tomorrow. Maybe you can do your Christmas shopping there.”

“Brenda wants that large quilt, so maybe I’ll put in a bid.”

Saturday morning dawned with a bright cloudless sky, although there was snow in the forecast for later that evening. Even though the air was crisp, Adelaide could feel the building humidity. The meteorologist on the TV was predicting three to six inches by noon tomorrow.

“A nice fresh snowfall will bring even more visitors to see the falls,” she told Oscar, her six-year-old tortoise-shell cat, who now sat in the downstairs turret window staring outside. His big green eyes were focused on a cardinal perched in one of the spruce trees.

Her Victorian-era home, located on the corner of Hawthorne Avenue and Buckeye Street, was over two hundred years old, one of the first built in the town. It was painted pale yellow with white shutters and gingerbread trim. The wide wraparound front porch was gracefully elegant.

She’d had two cups of coffee this morning, hoping that would bolster her up for the busy day ahead. It would be a long one. Not only would there likely be a plethora of customers but there was also the silent auction, Santa’s visit then the dinner tonight.

For the occasion Adelaide had dressed stylishly but comfortably in an emerald green pantsuit and a white silk blouse. On the lapel of her jacket was a jewel encrusted pin in the shape of a cross. Albert had given it to her several years ago so she wore it often. Her comfortable black, flat-heel shoes would keep her from having blisters on her feet.

As she prepared to leave the house, she thought about yesterday’s events, especially the argument she’d heard between Jerry Hatfield and Reverend Douglas Underwood. Jerry was usually an easy going man, who was always willing to help out at the church, especially with keeping the finances on track. To hear him making such horrible accusations against the minister was very disturbing.

Adelaide grabbed her coat and purse from the chintz covered sofa in the living room, gave Oscar a pat on the head then walked through the cozy kitchen to the back porch. After making sure the cat had food as well as plenty of water, she got her tote bag off a hook by the back door. She added a pair of slip-on boots to the contents, in case she had to walk home through snow.

Once outside, she locked the door then started down the cobblestone walkway to the alley running beside the house. As was her habit, she would walk to the church just a block away. As she crossed Hawthorne Avenue, she glanced at the Historical House Museum across the street. It was another Victorian structure, although not as large as her home. The local Historical Society had purchased it several years ago when it went into foreclosure.

The members got a grant from town council to restore the building to its former condition provided it would be used as a museum. The idea was a good one, so Adelaide was all for it. Artifacts from the town’s past, some already in the possession of the society, some donated by residents, were now displayed throughout the rooms. Guided tours were offered on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday from one PM until four PM. Tourists coming to see the falls usually took a tour. There was no charge, but donations were gratefully accepted, usually netting the society a substantial amount during the holiday season.

As Adelaide trudged along she heard a voice behind her. “I see I’m not the only health-conscious person in town today.” She turned to find Tina Engler entering the alley from her backyard. Tina, another Crescent Falls native, owned the local hair salon. She was a petite woman with short black hair, soft brown eyes and skin the color of heavily creamed coffee. Always a snappy dresser, today she wore red slacks. Her tweed coat, unbuttoned all the way down, revealed a striped blouse. Santa’s-face earrings dangled from her earlobes.

“I take it you’re headed for the bazaar?” Adelaide said.

“I don’t have to be at work until one today, so I have lots of time to shop. I heard the quilts this year are fabulous, especially the one that’s being auctioned off.” Tina’s step was lively so Adelaide picked up the pace.

“You should get Rudy over to the church. He could do his Christmas shopping there,” Adelaide suggested.

Rudy Engler had been one of the best fullbacks the local high school had ever known. There had even been talk about him being scouted by several colleges. Then, during one game in his senior year, he sustained a knee injury that put to rest any idea he had of a football scholarship or career. Undaunted by the setback, Rudy married his high school sweetheart, Tina, and went to work for L&C Precision. Unfortunately he’d been one of the first casualties when the company began its layoffs because he was one of its highest-paid employees. Now he worked full time for the Church Coalition, managing the affairs of the food pantry and thrift store.

“Isn’t Rudy’s birthday today?” Adelaide asked Tina.

“Don’t remind him, for heaven’s sake. He’s grousing around like you wouldn’t believe.” Tina smiled. “I told him forty-six isn’t old. I’m forty-six. I don’t feel old.”

“And people say women are the vain ones,” Adelaide replied as they approached the church.

“I guess I’m early.” Tina looked at her watch.

“Come on in. It’s only twenty minutes until we open.” Adelaide took out her key and led Tina to the basement door off the kitchen. On the other side she could hear muted conversations. The cooks were already here, of course, probably had been for an hour or more. Besides the box lunches being served today, they had to begin preparing tonight’s dinner, which was sold out.

“Are you eating here tonight?” Adelaide asked Tina.

Tina shook her head. “Can’t. Rudy’s mother is cooking his birthday dinner at her place.”

“What do you hear from Leon?” Adelaide asked. The Engler’s twenty-one year-old son was in the Army, stationed in Germany. Through the years, Adelaide had formed a special bond with Leon, since she began tutoring him in difficult subjects when he was in the second grade. He’d been a bright, eager-to-learn child who had turned into an amazing adult. She’d already mailed his Christmas present a week ago.

“He’s doing fine. We’re a little disappointed he won’t make it home for the holidays, but he’s got leave coming up in March.”

They entered the kitchen amid stares from the workers along with a glare from Zelda Jackson, who again seemed to be in charge. Adelaide quickly shepherded Tina into the social hall. Already, baked goods were visible on the tables in the back. Two choir members, both women with grey hair and rosy cheeks, waved at them. Adelaide told them, “I’m on my way up to the office to get the cash drawers. Be back in a minute.” To Tina, she said, “Go ahead start looking around. Like last year, the merchandise is in the classrooms.”

Adelaide checked the time as she went upstairs. Hopefully either Jerry Hatfield, Carl Henshaw or Reverend Underwood would be here to open the safe in the church office, since they were the only three with the combination. To her relief, the minister was waiting for her at the top of the stairs, money trays stacked in his arms. “I saw you coming up the alley.” He handed her the trays rather abruptly. “I have to make a couple of hospital visits.” He stepped around her and hurried out the front door, allowing the people waiting outside to come in even though it wasn’t time to open.

Feeling somewhat flustered, Adelaide made a beeline for the basement where she quickly handed out the money trays to the workers.

* * * *

By eleven o’clock that morning the church was filled with holiday shoppers. Adelaide was taking her turn at the baked goods table. “These gingham aprons are a nice touch, Ethel. You’re quite the seamstress.”

“I wish everyone felt that way. Zelda Jackson refused to wear one yesterday afternoon. Probably because she didn’t think of it herself,” Ethel snapped.

Today Ethel was wearing a black dress accented by a red blazer. On her feet were black orthopedic shoes.

Adelaide knew Ethel had leg problems, which didn’t surprise her. After all, the woman had worked as a nurse for decades, first in Marietta then at the Crescent Falls Medical Center when it was built in the early 1980s. Long hours on her feet had done some damage. When she retired two years ago at the age of sixty, she’d had some of the varicose veins lasered away but many of the deeper ones remained.

Just as Adelaide finished with a customer, her attention was drawn across the room. In the doorway stood Reverend Douglas Underwood, looking around as though searching for someone in the crowd. Momentarily, Susan Hatfield entered the social hall from the kitchen. She stopped in mid- stride when she spotted the minister. He gave her a short nod of the head, then left. Susan looked around surreptitiously then strode toward the main doorway.

“Can you handle things for a moment, Ethel?” Adelaide asked.

Ethel raised an eyebrow. “I saw that, too.”

“I’ll be right back.” Adelaide stepped out from behind the table, following the preacher and Susan from the social hall.

They were standing in an alcove by the door at the end of the hallway, the one leading outside. From the look of things, they were having a heated conversation. Adelaide blended in with a group of shoppers heading for the middle classroom, all the while keeping an eye on the twosome. She watched as Susan swiped what could be a tear from her cheek. When Reverend Underwood reached out to her, she pulled away. He was talking urgently now while she shook her head vehemently. Then she abruptly turned, pushed open the door and fled. He looked ready to follow her, but at the moment Fran Underwood came out of a nearby classroom. She grabbed her husband’s arm. They had words, after which he wrested his arm from her grasp, leaving quickly through the same door Susan had used.

“Looks like there’s more than just a snow storm brewing,” Zelda Jackson said from just behind Adelaide. “It’s pretty obvious what
that
was all about?”

Of all the people to witness that scene let alone find Adelaide spying on the preacher and Susan, it would have to be the town gossip. “Really? And what would that be?” she asked the woman, who now stood beside her in the hallway.

Zelda’s nasty smile told Adelaide she wasn’t buying the innocent act. “You know as well as I do that there’s
something
going on between those two.”

Adelaide turned to Zelda. “Aren’t you scheduled to work in the kitchen until after lunch?”

“My allergies are acting up, probably from all the mold and mildew in this basement. I’m going home for a while. I’ll be back later to help with the dinner,” Zelda said. She headed for the main stairs, her breath coming in short gasps as she began the climb.

I’m sure we can get along without you. Enough, Adelaide. Stop it. She may be a troublemaker but she does a lot of work around the church. You know the golden rule—treat volunteers like gold for they are a precious commodity.

* * * *

Jerry Hatfield exited his Monte Carlo in the church parking lot just as his wife Susan came out the basement door. She looked upset, as though she’d been crying. Hurrying up to her, he took hold of her arm, ushering her to a secluded spot near some bushes.

“What’s going on, Susan. You left this morning before I was up. Where did you go?” he demanded.

She pulled away. “I took a drive then I came here. I was scheduled to work at the bake sale.”

Jerry stepped closer. He was tired of the lies. What he wanted now was the truth. “You took a ride at seven in the morning? Where to? It must have been a heck of a ride.”

Looking ready to flee, Susan backed away, brushing against a spiny shrub. “I just needed to think, that’s all.” She sidestepped.

“I’ve had enough of this, Susan. You met him somewhere, didn’t you? Where? Here? Is that what you do now, cavort with the preacher in the church? How low can you go?” Jerry knew he was losing it but didn’t care at this point.

“Keep your voice down. Do you want everyone to hear?” Susan’s face was twisted up in a tense expression.

“You think people aren’t talking?” He barked out a sharp laugh. “Guess again. I told your boyfriend I’d see him defrocked and I meant it.” He grabbed her arm again, twisting it until she winced.

“Everything all right here?” Carl Henshaw said from nearby.

Jerry let go of Susan. When he reeled around, the sight of his easy-going friend acted like a splash of ice water in his face. Suddenly the anger was gone. Replacing it was a deep sadness that he’d been reduced to such behavior. He wasn’t the kind of man who would lay a hand on his wife.

Susan stepped around her husband. “I was feeling a little woozy. Jerry was just trying to make sure I didn’t fall.”