The pungent odor of silver polish overrode the delectable aroma of baking chicken. Seated at the kitchen table, Al rubbed the last bit of tarnish from a spoon and set it with the others. Polishing silver had to be his least favorite chore in the world, but today he tackled the project with enthusiasm. Anything was better than hanging out at the library playing mindless video games.
Actually, the entire day had been far more pleasant than expected. Working alongside Millie to get things ready for the party reminded him of their early days, before the kids came along, when he’d rush home from the office eager to spend his evening hours helping her cook supper, or hang pictures, or pull weeds in the garden. Whatever task she had to do, he’d been glad to work at her side because simply being with Millie made even the dullest chore joyful.
“I’m almost finished. What’s next on my list?”
She spoke without turning from the kitchen counter where she applied a chopping knife to a pile of onions with relentless energy. “Fetch the coffee urns from the attic and wash the dust out of them.”
“Yes, ma’am, Sergeant Richardson.” He gave a mock-salute with the last unpolished spoon.
Turning, she awarded him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bark orders.”
He grinned to show he took no offense. “I’m your slave for the day, so order away.”
Abandoning the onions, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “Do you know how much I appreciate you?”
“Because of my superior silver-polishing skills?” He held up the gleaming flatware.
“That too.” She kissed the top of his head. “But mostly because you took a vacation day to help me get ready for the party. I know you’re super busy with that special project at work.”
Guilt stabbed at him. “It’s not a big deal. They don’t really need me.”
Truer words had never left his lips.
“Of course they do. That place would collapse without you.” One more kiss and she returned to her work. “But today I need you more, and I’m grateful you volunteered without my having to ask.”
His good mood gone, Al finished his task in silence. When every piece of silver had been returned to the velvet-lined case, he headed for the attic.
Millie’s shout followed him down the hall. “The urns are in the box marked Kitchen #3.”
He trudged up the attic stairs, his footsteps heavy. What a jerk he’d become. Worse than Thacker, who was the biggest nitwit he knew. Millie’s gratitude was too much to bear. From the beginning of their marriage, he’d been keenly aware he didn’t deserve such a wonderful woman, and his deception of the past few weeks merely proved him right. What was the matter with him? Why had he allowed this to continue?
The answer was painful to admit. Pride. He’d been so concerned about being considered weak, about handing over the role of breadwinner to his wife, that he’d allowed himself to become a loathsome creep. How he longed to come clean, to sit her down, and unburden the Shameful Secret that burned in his chest.
Sunday couldn’t come fast enough.
He returned with the coffee urns to find her tapping on her tablet. Worry lines creased her brow.
“The weather forecast looks terrible. They’re predicting a winter storm tomorrow night.”
He’d been tracking that storm for several days. “Look on the bright side. We might have a white Christmas.”
“Christmas is fine, but I don’t want the weather to interfere with the party. What if nobody comes?” She waved a hand toward the mountain of chopped vegetables. “We’ll be stuck with enough chicken salad to feed half the state.”
“People will come,” he assured her. “Probably more than the house can hold. And judging by the amount of cooking you’ve done in the past couple of weeks, we’ll still be stuck with more leftovers than we can handle.”
She set the tablet on the table and turned toward the sink. “Oh, Albert, look. The wind has blown over one of the reindeer.”
“We haven’t had any wind strong enough to do that.”
“Well, something knocked it over. Look.”
Sure enough, one of the four lighted reindeer he’d set up near the pond lay on its side.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Shrugging on his coat, he exited the house. Rufus dashed outside on his heels and then darted past him, barking. The dog had been fascinated with the deer since they’d arrived. Not the brightest of animals, he acted as if he thought they were live invaders of his territory.
“They’re not real,” Al shouted after him. “Don’t be a dunce.”
As Al trudged across the yard, Rufus took up a stance in front of one of the statues, barking like a crazed hound. He leaped forward, snapped at a wire leg, and then hopped backward to bark some more. The third time he snagged the wire in his teeth and jerked. The deer teetered.
“Mystery solved.” Al grabbed the dog by the collar and hauled him back. “Leave it!”
To his surprise, Rufus obeyed. After another few barks, he trotted off in the direction of the pond. Shaking his head, Al righted the overturned statue. He turned toward the house only to be stopped when Rufus began another barking fit.
“Now what?”
Something on the opposite side of the pond had captured the dog’s attention. He stared at the ground, unmoving, and filled the air with excited barks. Curious, Al headed in that direction. Probably a leaf or a bug or something equally threatening.
As he neared, the shimmer of blue tinsel in the grass caught his eye.
“What in the world?”
Then he recognized the item. He hurried forward, bent down and grasped the wire edge of Thacker’s fountain-shaped light sculpture.
Rufus stopped barking and bounded away. Al looked after him and saw Millie approaching, buttoning her coat.
“I came to see what all the fuss was about.” Eyes wide, she pointed at the decoration. “How did that get here?”
“I have no idea.” Straightening, Al scanned the area and immediately located the other two missing sculptures.
“There’s Lulu’s peacock.” Millie paced across the winter-brown grass and lifted the light-covered wire. “It doesn’t look damaged.”
“There’s the snowman.” Al pointed toward the third, and then scanned the area. To one side of their property lay a cattle field. A horse farm wrapped around the other side and the back, hidden behind a thick stand of evergreens that afforded them year-long privacy. Both were protected by fences, and though the decorations weren’t heavy, they would be awkward to lift over a fence. The only other way to get back here was through the yard, past his house.
He pointed at their driveway, where his motor home was parked. “I’m guessing whoever stole these came right down our driveway and skirted around the RV.”
“But why bring them here?” Millie shook her head. “Is somebody trying to make it look like we took them?”
Discomfort squeezed Al’s insides. Was this an attempt to stir up trouble between him and Thacker? And if so, why? Of all times to cause problems with the guardian of his Shameful Secret, this was the absolute worst.
Something on the ground caught his eye. A small white scrap caught in the tinsel-wrapped wire. Stooping down, he plucked the paper from the decoration.
Holding it between his fingers, he awarded Millie a triumphant look. “I know who did it.”
When Thacker arrived home from work, Al was waiting for him. Beside him on sidewalk stood the Christmas decoration thieves, their tousled heads bowed with shame. Forest looked like he might be sick, and Heath sniffled in an obvious attempt to hold back tears. Lulu hovered over them like a mother hen.
Thacker emerged from his car. “What’s up, Bert? Come to gawk with the kiddos?”
“Not exactly.” Al placed a hand on each child’s back and gave a gentle shove. “The boys have something to tell you.”
Forest’s head dropped even further, and he mumbled something unintelligible.
“What’s that?” Thacker bent toward him. “You want to look at the lights?”
“Not look.” Heath drew in a breath. “Took. We took ’em.”
Surprise erupted on Thacker’s face. “You? You’re the thieves?”
Lulu stepped between him and the boys. “Now, Honey Bun, don’t be upset with them. Wait till you hear why.”
“We were trying to help.” Forest looked up, his expression earnest. “So people wouldn’t be mad at you anymore.”
Heath agreed with an energetic nod.
Thacker looked from one to the other, scratching his head. “What makes you think people are mad at me?”
“’Cause Mr. Richardson said so.”
“Whoa, hold it right there.” Al lifted his hands. “All I said was some people might think there were too many lights for one yard.” Thacker’s eyebrows arched, and he hurried to add, “I didn’t say I agreed.”
“That’s right,” Forest said. “So we figured if we got rid of a few, everybody would see how cool the others are.”
His brother added, “Then maybe other people would start putting lights in their yards too. You said you’d give them away for free, so we didn’t think you’d care.”
Thacker looked more perplexed than angry. “Then why did you steal them? Why not come to us and explain?”
Forest scuffed the toe of his shoe on the sidewalk. “We didn’t wanna hurt your feelings by telling you people think your lights are ugly.”
“’Cause we think they’re awesome.” Heath pointed at the frog. “’Specially that one.”
Thacker aimed a suspicious look at Al. “How do you fit into this? Did you help them?”
“Me? No!” Al shook his head. “They pulled this off all by themselves. I was as much in the dark as everyone else until this afternoon, when I found the missing decorations behind my pond. I wouldn’t have known who was responsible except for this.”
From his pocket he extracted the scrap he’d found stuck in the tinsel-covered fountain and held it up. A bubblegum wrapper. The same brand the boys had been chewing last Saturday when they helped him decorate.
Heath glared at Forest. “Ain’t I always telling you not to litter?”
Forest gave his brother a look full of disgust and then said, “We’d have stashed them somewhere closer, except they’re so big we couldn’t figure out anyplace they wouldn’t get found.”
Lulu awarded the boys an admiring smile. “These two snuck out of their house in the middle of the night, picked up a sculpture, and carried it out to Al and Millie’s place all by themselves, just so we wouldn’t have people upset with us. Isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Are you gonna call the cops?” Fear drenched the older boy’s voice.
“That’s why we stopped at only three,” Heath said. “’Cause Mama said Mrs. Richardson said Mrs. Thacker said you were gonna call the cops.”
Thacker rocked back on his heels, eyeing the culprits. “Weeeeellll, I guess good intentions ought to count for something.”
The brothers looked at each other, perplexed.
“That means he’s not going to call the police,” Al told them.
“But I want the missing pieces returned.” Thacker aimed a frown down at them. “And no getting help, either. You took them by yourselves, and you can bring them back by yourselves.”
“Only in daylight,” Lulu added. “No more climbing out of windows in the dark.”
They agreed, and after delivering official apologies and enduring Lulu’s kisses on their cheeks, Al loaded them into the backseat of his car. He shut the door and turned to face Thacker.
“You’re going easy on them.”
Thacker shrugged. “They’re just kids.”
“Their mother isn’t likely to be so understanding. Our next stop is the veterinary clinic, so they can confess to her.” Al glanced at his watch. “She gets off in ten minutes.”
Concern flooded Lulu’s face. “I hope she’s not too hard on them.”
“They need to be punished,” Al said. “How else are they going to learn that there are consequences for being dishonest?”
Thacker gave Al a loaded look. “That’s a lesson some others I can think of need to learn.”
His cheeks burning, Al slid behind the wheel and made his escape.