Chapter Twelve

Using the contact list, Amber dialed Sylvia’s phone number, hoping it wasn’t too late to phone. As a child, her mother never allowed her to make phone calls after 9:00 p.m., saying that the only times people called at that hour was when something bad had happened.

It was 8:55, so technically she was still within acceptable parameters. Sylvia answered with an edge of nervousness to her voice.

“Hi, Sylvia, it’s Amber Weathersby. I’m sorry for calling so late, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Can you look outside and tell me if Gnorman is on or near the swing in your backyard?”

A pause hung on the line. “You mean your little gnome that went missing from Becky’s? Why do you think he’s here?”

Another thing Amber’s mother always taught her. Never answer a question with another question. “Just a hunch, from a note I got at the flamingo party at my store today.”

As Sylvia spoke, the background echoes and noises changed as Sylvia headed out back. “That was quite a crowd. I’ve been talking to people who said your store was crowded all day, and so many people brought balloons you didn’t know what to do with them all.” Shuffles and a creak, then the groan of old wood resonated through the phone, followed by the clunks of Sylvia’s shoes on the deck. Amber held her breath and tried to shake the tension from her body as Sylvia’s footsteps changed, indicating she was now going down the stairs to the backyard.

Sylvia’s gasp came over the phone loud and clear. “You’re right! Your little gnome is here.”

“Does he have the trophy?” Although Amber had a feeling she knew the answer before she asked the question. As she spoke the words, Stan leaned closer to her.

“No.” Amber waited for Sylvia to say more, but she didn’t.

Amber turned to Stan and shook her head so he would know, then turned away, not wanting to look at Stan while she spoke to Sylvia. “Does he have a note with him?”

“Yes. Or at least an envelope. So I have to assume there’s a note inside.”

“Is he wearing a costume?”

“Yes. But I’m not sure what he’s supposed to be. He’s got a guitar.”

“Does he look like a rock star?”

“Not really with his white beard. Although I know that a lot of the old bands are getting back together and going back on stage for older audiences. I suppose he could be an aging rock star who never quite made it big.”

Amber sighed. “Thanks. Do you mind if I come over and get the note? I’ll have to leave Gnorman in your yard for a few days, if that’s okay with you.”

“I don’t mind at all. In fact, in a way, now that I’m getting used to him, he’s kind of cute.”

“Do you mind if I come over to get the note? We’ll only be a few minutes.”

“That would be fine. I can make some coffee for you and Stan, so please don’t be in a rush.”

Amber slumped. She didn’t know if it was good or bad when people she didn’t know tremendously well knew Stan would be with her. “Please, don’t go to any trouble. See you soon.”

Stan insisted on driving. On the way to Sylvia’s house, instead of trying to start a conversation, Amber watched Stan.

He took everything in stride, including everyone’s assumptions that he would be there to help her, because he always was. In expecting his help, she knew she took advantage of him. While she always appreciated everything he did for her, that didn’t change the fact that she was doing it again. From Gnorman’s first disappearance to his reappearances behind Naomi’s townhouse at the Village . . . to being found at the cinema . . . then Libby’s yard . . . and now Sylvia’s, Stan had been there with her every time.

Even before the conundrum with Gnorman and the trophy, she couldn’t count the things that Stan did for her, for no reason other than he was simply a nice guy. To make it worse, for all the things he did for her, he never let her do anything for him, not even cooking him a hot meal after a busy day. However, that could have been because he was a better cook than she was, which didn’t say very much for her cooking talents, or lack thereof.

But that didn’t matter. She couldn’t take advantage of him any longer. As soon as she picked up the latest note, it was going to stop.

Stan stood to the side and waited while Amber chatted with Sylvia and picked up the latest envelope with the new note.

Even though the sun had set over an hour ago, Sylvia’s backyard glowed. A line of floodlights illuminated a sea of colorful flowers and healthy green bushes. To the side, her swing hung in a dark corner on the porch. Between the darker area and the area flooded with light, stood Gnorman, who looked like an octogenarian rock star, if there could be such a thing.

This time, he’d hoped that since they were more on the heels of the Gnome Gnapper, they would have caught him or her in the act of moving Gnorman. However, after thinking about it, it made sense that Gnorman would have been placed in his new location while Sylvia was at Amber’s store sometime that afternoon. Meaning, Gnorman could have been there for hours without anyone knowing.

He tried to remember what time Sylvia would have been at Amber’s store. The Gnome Gnapper wouldn’t have been there at the time Sylvia was. There had been hundreds of people at the store, and the Gnapper could have been there either before or after Sylvia to add their own balloon to the masses. The time that he or she arrived wouldn’t have affected the time Gnorman was moved.

The easiest way to catch the window of opportunity would have been for the Gnapper to be at Amber’s store watching for Sylvia to arrive, then to leave when Sylvia got there. But there were also other ways to know when Sylvia wasn’t home.

Stan would have liked to ask if Sylvia had noticed anyone watching her house, keeping tabs on when she might leave, but nothing would have stuck out as unusual. Sylvia’s neighborhood was by no means exclusive. He didn’t know Sylvia well, but he did know she was a widow and that her husband had been a doctor, which was how she could afford a house like this and live alone. While her house was big and in a nice neighborhood, it wasn’t a gated community, so anyone could drive up and down the street, even park their car in front of any of the nearby houses, and not look suspicious or out of place.

Whatever time, using whatever means, whoever this was, he or she planned their moves well. Like a serial killer keeping ahead of the police, the Gnapper always stayed one step, or even ten steps, ahead of Stan and Amber. But unlike a serial killer, no one had gotten hurt. Although, that wasn’t quite true. One thing that might get hurt was Amber’s reputation. If he could stand back and look at this like a disinterested third party, he might think the whole thing was amusing, even slightly funny. Or, at a minimum, entertaining. But this was no joke to Amber. Instead, she took it very personally, even a little on the obsessive side, which he didn’t understand.

As the two ladies talked, he couldn’t help but compare them. He guessed Sylvia to be about the same age as his mother, probably in her mid to late fifties. Since his mother’s hair had begun to turn gray, he had to conclude that Sylvia’s jet black hair stayed that way with a little help from Lady Clairol. Everything about her appeared well put together. She was neat and tidy, and her shirt was a perfect match with her pants. Even her shoes matched her clothes.

Amber, on the other hand, probably matched this morning, but she’d changed her shirt three times after getting coffee spilled on her and kids smearing icing from the cookies on her sleeves and down her legs. She now wore a T-shirt that had seen better days. She’s started out the morning wearing nice pants, but changed to jeans dotted with splotches of glue. She’d given up on her pretty shoes by lunch time, saying her feet hurt from the pointy toes, and she changed into purple sneakers older than one of his mechanics’ daughters.

Her hair started out nice as well with soft curls held up by some kind of barrette thing with shiny pink stones. That had come loose and, after multiple attempts to get it straight, she gave up on it and wore her hair loose most of the day, which he really liked. When he got back after getting the earplugs, she’d tied her hair up into a crooked ponytail with loose strands of hair sticking out all over the place.

Her makeup had been perfect that morning, but as the day wore on everything got smudged, her lipstick disappeared, and she had a black smear under one eye that she probably didn’t know about, and he wasn’t going to tell her.

Stan smiled. She looked adorable. Kind of like she did when they went on day-long treks in the forest that their parents didn’t know about to pick wild berries. Except better somehow.

Instead of standing there staring like an idiot, Stan approached the two ladies. When Amber saw him coming, she ripped open the envelope, angled the paper toward the light, and started reading the note with Sylvia beside her.

He stood behind and read over her shoulder.

Many seasons have lots of cheer

But Christmas comes only once a year.

Santa calls out Ho Ho Ho.

That’s where gnorman will go go go.

Stan made a quick step back so he wouldn’t get elbowed in the nose when Amber ran one hand through her hair, and she got her fingers caught in the elastic band of the ponytail.

“I don’t get it. This makes even less sense than the rest of the notes.”

“It’s also pretty bad poetry,” he mumbled.

She turned and looked up at him. “It’s a long way from Christmas. We haven’t even hit the hot part of the summer yet. Nothing is decorated, none of the stores are selling Christmas stuff. I have no idea what they’re using as a reference point.”

“We need time to think about this. We’ll figure it out, just like we did with the party and the balloons.” Not that he thought that was what the Gnapper had in mind, but the bottom line was that it had worked. And thinking of things that didn’t work, he turned to Sylvia. “We didn’t mean to take up so much of your time. By the way, I saw your son the other day and he mentioned that your car was making a strange noise. How about if I take a look at it while I’m here.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to be a bother.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s no problem. I’m here.” He looked down at his grease-streaked pants. “Besides, I’m already dirty.”

“I won’t say no. Thank you so much. I’ll go get my keys. I’ll be right back.”

Upon her return, he followed Sylvia to the garage and hit the button to raise the door while she got in the car, flicked the hood release, and started the car.

This one was easy. “Turn it off now.” He poked at the fan belt, which had too much slack. He could have tightened it in a few minutes, but Amber looked ready to fall down, and he didn’t want to take the time to find what Sylvia had done with her husband’s tools, if a doctor would even have tools in the garage. “It’s just your fan belt. Bring it by the shop on Monday and I’ll tighten it for you, no charge. We’ll consider this returning a favor for keeping Gnorman in your yard for a few days.”

She smiled. “That’s not much of a favor, but I can accept it. Thank you very much.”

He nodded and led Amber out of the yard, back to his pickup.

On the way back to Amber’s house, she didn’t say anything, but she kept looking at him rather strangely.

“What’s up?” he asked when he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He’d never understood the expression doe eyes before, but with Amber looking at him like that, he suddenly did.

“You’re such a nice guy,” she mumbled, making it so he barely understood.

He didn’t know why, but even though she’d said it nicely, he wasn’t sure it was a compliment. Instead it felt like the kiss of death at the end of a relationship. Except he didn’t have a relationship with Amber. He waited for the inevitable We can be just friends, but it didn’t come. They were just friends anyway.

“Here you are,” he said as he stopped in her driveway.

“What are we doing here? I thought we were going back to my store, so I can get my car.”

“You look like you’re ready to drop. Just go to bed. I’ll pick you up for church in the morning, then I’ll drop you off at your store after the service to pick up your car.”

He didn’t know what he said that was so horrible, but her eyes got glassy, then kind of watery. He opened his mouth to ask, but she bolted out of the car so fast she left him sitting behind the wheel with his mouth hanging open. She unlocked her door and dashed inside, then waved at him before she closed the door. Stan waited for her to peek through the blinds and give him her signal that she’d remembered to lock the door, and drove off.

Tomorrow he would pick her up, they’d both be dressed up, and maybe after the service he’d make a detour and not go directly to her store to get her car. Maybe, since they’d both be wearing nice clothes, instead of grabbing a quick burger after church like they usually did, he’d take her someplace nice for lunch.

And hopefully she wouldn’t fight with him and she’d let him pay for once.