Duck the Halls(84)

“I knew better than to donate them anywhere else,” I said. “I know she haunts every thrift shop for miles around. I just didn’t think she’d come to the Trinity rummage sale.”

“Next time just mail them to Cousin Alicia in California,” Mother said. “That’s what I do. She has found someplace that’s happy to have them. Possibly some organization that helps the visually impaired. And then— Oh, my!”

I had finally succeeded in removing the paper from the sweater and held it up. Mother and I stared at it, speechless.

“Actually, this one is rather nice,” Robyn said.

It wasn’t Sylvia’s usual bulky horror. It was a soft, boatneck sweater, all black except for the neckline, hemline, and the ends of the sleeves, which shaded into black flecked with a slight hint of metallic gold. I held it against my body and measured. I’d have to try it on to be sure, but it looked as if it would fit me perfectly. And look good on me. Perhaps Mother had brought the wrong parcel. I checked the tag: TO MEG FROM SYLVIA.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“Of course, given Sylvia’s color sense, she probably thinks it’s hideous,” Mother said.

“Exactly,” I said. “She really must hate me. Unless she’s suddenly had a complete change of taste since last year. And I think it’s wool.”

“Wool-cotton blend, if I’m not mistaken.” Mother was fingering the sweater with appreciation. “Very nice. And no, your brother opened his early, too. I’d say his is worse than usual. I believe it’s meant to be Santa petting Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer—although if so, you’d think she’d have used red and brown instead of orange and purple. Rob thinks it’s supposed to be a fruit basket being savaged by mutant hyenas. If that turns out to be a little small for you, let me try it on.”

“Hands off!” I pretended to swat her fingers. “I’m the one who insulted Sylvia. I should bear the burden of her displeasure.”

“I still have the last sweater or two she sent me and your father,” Mother said. “I haven’t mailed them to Alicia yet. I could donate them nearby.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Offend her as soon as possible, before she starts on your gift for next year. Why not donate them to the rummage sale we’ll be having with Mrs. Thornefield’s things?”

“Estate sale,” Mother corrected. “And yes, that’s a lovely idea. We need to schedule it soon. Though not until after I’ve had Sotheby’s and Christie’s in to look at a few of her things that might bring more at auction.”

“Not the furniture, I assume,” I said.

“Of course the furniture,” Mother said. “Mrs. Thornefield had excellent taste. Sheraton, Chippendale, Hepplewhite.”

“Then where did all those old horrors in the basement come from?” I asked. “I can’t see anything but big, heavy stuff that I wouldn’t give houseroom to.”

“Big, heavy stuff?” Mother suddenly looked anxious. “That doesn’t sound like Mrs.Thornefield’s things.”

“They probably put the best stuff at the far end of the basement,” Robyn said. “Away from the furnace, not to mention prying eyes. The big stuff’s probably church castoffs.”

“And there are tons of boxes,” I said. “I suppose they might have boxed up anything really fragile.”

“We could go over there now,” Mother said. “Just to check it out.”

“The play’s starting in fifteen minutes,” I said, glancing at my watch. “And I should put in appearance at the cast party. Let’s just get there early on Boxing Day. We told everyone to come at noon, right? We can get there a few hours early.”

“Why not tomorrow?” Mother asked.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” I protested. “We all have wrapping and cooking to do.”

“It won’t take long.”

“You haven’t seen the basement lately. Even if my shoulder were back to normal, there’s no way the two of us could manage all the boxes.”

“I can round up several of your more athletic cousins to help us do any shifting around we need.”

“As long as we’re finished in time for the live Nativity pageant and the carol sing-along,” I said.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Probably time we all took our seats,” Robyn suggested. As we’d been discussing the sweater the incoming crowds had swelled, and now the lights in the foyer blinked to signal that it was time for us to enter the auditorium.