“I’ll get out from underfoot,” I said.
As I was walking out to my car, Michael called.
“I’m at the house,” he said. “Taking off in a few minutes—anything you want me to bring with me?”
“Yes!” I said. “The green banker’s lamp from your office.”
A short silence.
“Okay,” he said. “I assume someone at the show house needs to borrow a banker’s lamp. I was thinking more along the lines of a change of clothes. The boys are off sledding with Rob and your father, who are going to bring them directly to the theater for tonight’s show, so I’m packing up presentable clothes for them—if you’re not going to have time to get back here—”
“Perfect,” I said. “The red velvet dress—nice and Christmassy, but not long enough that the hem will drag in the snow.”
“Your wish is my command,” he said. “And I will also pack suitable footwear and jewelry. See you at the theater.”
I paused for a moment to feel thankful for having a husband who was not only capable of selecting suitable shoes and accessories but arguably had better taste than I did. And now I actually had a few minutes of breathing space. I decided to call Dad and see how the sledding was going.
“What’s wrong?” he said, by way of a greeting.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said. “Can’t a girl call her dad to ask how he’s doing and whether his grandchildren are enjoying the sledding?”
“They’re having a blast,” he said. “Hang on. Josh! Jamie! Let’s send Mommy a picture. Come here! Smile!”
“Hi, Mommy!” Jamie called.
“Mommy, I sledded all the way all by myself!” Josh called.
My phone pinged to announce an arriving text, and I toggled over to look at the photo. The boys were smiling with delight. I could see the gap in Jamie’s mouth where he’d lost his first baby tooth, while Josh’s smile remained, to his consternation, unbroken.
“Come sledding, Mommy,” Jamie said.
“Next time,” I said.
And I meant it. As I chatted with Dad, and then with each of the boys, I vowed that I wouldn’t even go near the show house next year.
“Mommy,” Josh asked. “Do you like Nerf guns?”
“Not really,” I said. “I’m not that fond of any kind of gun, not even Nerf guns.”
“Oh.” Evidently I’d squashed another present idea. He sounded so disappointed that I was almost tempted to take back my answer, but I reminded myself what would happen if we let Nerf guns into the house, and stood firm.
“I’ll see you at the theater,” I said finally.
My car seemed depressingly quiet after we hung up.
So I started the engine and headed over to the theater. There would be lights and people to talk to. People who didn’t know passementerie from pizza and didn’t care.
On the way over to the theater, it occurred to me that if I could find someone with a laptop and a connection to the college’s wireless network, I could log into my e-mail and check out some of the information Boomer had sent. Not that I’d have much time.
By the time I found a parking space and rushed to the theater, Michael had arrived, and Dad with the boys, and I spent most of the time until the show started getting them and myself into presentable clothes.
I could log in and check Boomer’s info when I got home. After all, it was beginning to look as if Clay’s murder had more to do with the house’s past than his own. But just in case any of Boomer’s information was relevant, I took out my phone and forwarded his e-mail to the chief.
Dad and I took the boys out to the theater lobby, so they could watch all the people handing in their tickets to see their daddy’s play. Josh had run into his nursery school teacher and was telling her his version of the entire plot of A Christmas Carol. Jamie had encountered a school friend who’d broken his arm while sledding and was now sporting a bright red cast. Fortunately, Dad recognized the early warning signs of cast envy, and was trying to nip it in the bud by interrogating the friend about how painful his broken arm had been and loudly sympathizing with him over all the exciting things he couldn’t do until he got his cast off.
“Mission accomplished.” I turned to see Randall standing behind me, holding out what looked like a small branch of plastic holly, complete with red berries. Upon closer inspection, I realized there was a bright red key attached.
“A nice, festive touch,” I said as I took the key.
“The holly should make it harder to lose,” he said.
“Or steal,” I added.
“Exactly. Some of the designers have them, and I’ll be there bright and early to distribute the rest. For the usual deposit, refundable upon return of key and holly.”