“You’re obsessing about a Christmas card.” Nick put a hand on the kitchen door. “I should have known.”
“It’s just like Secret Santa.” I’d been enamored of the mystery gift-giving because my family never did anything so fun. It made Christmas feel like a game. And I loved games. “Why sign it as Rudolph?” I snapped my fingers. “Of course! Rudolph’s Reads.” The bookstore down the block which had recently been purchased by my friend Carol Bennett, one of Mrs. King’s high school choir group from back in the day.
Thank you again for the information, Christmas Mountain Herald.
I took a break a few minutes after Nick served me a turkey and cheese panini for lunch and hurried over to Rudolph Reads because –hello, Rudolph! –the association was a no-brainer.
Even though it was Monday, the bookstore had a line when I got there. Why wouldn’t it? It was lunchtime, the holiday season, and books were good gifts. It was stocked with an intriguing assortment of books. There were rough-hewn timbers on the ceiling, shelves stuffed with books of all sorts, a life-sized, plush reindeer with a red nose hanging from a light fixture above, and a checkout counter in the middle of the first twenty feet of store. And if books and décor weren’t a good enough draw, there were cozy chairs tucked away throughout the store. It was a good place to linger.
I took up position at the New Releases table while I studied Mr. Abernathy, who was working the checkout line and was older than dirt. His red and black flannel plaid shirt and Santa hat had seen better days. He’d sold the bookstore to Carol, who’d been a year behind me in school. Carol was restocking a nearby display. Both seemed like good candidates for my card-sending Rudolph.
I approached Carol first. “Hey, Carol. The store is really bustling. You should be proud.”
“It keeps me so busy that I hardly have time to leave. Not that I’m complaining.” Carol straightened, pushing her hair from her eyes. She had a model-like ethereal quality to her. “Are you home for the holidays? Did you hear I’m back to singing at the Christmas Extravaganza?”
I hadn’t. “With Joy and the rest?” Joy was my cousin and “the rest” were their close circle of friends, seven in all. They’d sounded lovely as a small choir back in school.
Carol nodded. “This year, we’re dedicating our performance to Mrs. King.” Their choir teach had passed away earlier this year.
We both murmured something about missing Mrs. King, who’d had a heart of gold. I’d only spent one term in her choir, unlike Carol and her friends, who’d found their place with the music teacher. But that one term had helped me add singing to my list of talents I’d honed when I left Christmas Mountain.
“I’ll make sure to see you perform,” I told Carol.
“It would be fun if you danced at the event,” Carol said sincerely. “I’m told they’re encouraging a broader diversity of acts this year.”
“I’m sure it’s too late to get on the program.” And besides, if my foot wasn’t completely healed, the last thing I wanted to do was perform in front of a hometown crowd with high expectations. My supporters, the ones who’d gushed at seeing me back in town, deserved an all-out dance routine from me. I cleared my throat, getting back to the sleuthing at hand. “Hey, did you or Mr. Abernathy grab a cup of coffee at the Sleigh Café this morning?”
“No. We have our own community coffee pot here.” Carol frowned. “I say that, but Mr. Abernathy showed up to help about an hour ago since the rest of my staff is out sick. Why do you ask?”
“Um…”
A black striped tabby wove its way between my legs, providing a perfectly timed interruption.
“Hemi.” Carol picked up the cat. “Sorry. Hemingway can be overly friendly.”
“I don’t mind.” I stroked his soft head, cheered by his throaty purr. “I’ll let you get back to work. Really good to see you, Carol.”
“You, too, Allie. You should check out the latest Christmas romances. They have all the feels.”
“Okay.” But I was feeling more interested in a cozy mystery. Who was Rudolph? I returned to the New Releases table, pretending to consider a few Christmas romances, still not convinced Mr. Abernathy hadn’t left me the Christmas card at the Sleigh Café. I’d been a good customer of his growing up, after all.
Nick walked past the window, spotted me, and darted in. He glanced from me to Mr. Abernathy, and then rolled his beautiful brown eyes. “Are you here because of that card? For once, can’t you just enjoy a Secret Santa?”
“No.” I shushed him.
It was then that I spotted a display of Christmas cards sold singly by the cash register. Sure enough, there was the Rudolph card I’d been given. I pointed it out to Nick. “Is that evidence enough for you?”
“No.” He rolled his eyes again. “Anyone could have bought that card. And I don’t remember seeing Mr. Abernathy this morning.”
“He could have had someone drop it off.” But of course, that meant Carol could have as well. Or any number of people.Gah!
Nick put his finger on my forehead, smoothing my frown lines. And then he laid his finger on his nose and wiggled it. I took this as his reaffirmation that I shouldn’t question the mysteries of Christmas card deliveries.
“Come on.” I took his hand from his nose and placed it at his side.
Before Nick could give me any more trouble, the last customer left.
I approached the cash register, smiling broadly at Mr. Abernathy. “Merry Christmas. Are youenjoying your holiday?” I waggled my eyebrows up and down.