I strolled into the living room and found that Caroline had arrived and was sitting beside the fire with Mother, Cordelia, and the dogs, discussing quiches and daubes and admiring the decorations. Which were over the top, as usual—Mother went a little overboard there to make up for all the practical limitations she’d encountered in the rest of the downstairs. Surely the Shiffleys had to have denuded an acre of trees to provide enough evergreen boughs for the garlands, and every day I expected to hear news of a worldwide shortage of red satin and velvet. The main tree was so completely decorated that you had to take it on faith there were branches beneath all the ornaments, garlands, and tinsel. The food-themed tree that usually adorned the dining room sideboard now occupied a space by one of the front windows, to such good effect that I suspected we’d have a double-treed living room for all future Christmases. Our stockings were hung by the chimney not with care but with reckless abandon. There appeared to be stockings not only for the immediate family but also for the visiting relatives, the Canadians, and an undetermined number of family friends who would probably be dropping by over the holidays. I’d forgotten what the mantel actually looked like. Even the dogs now formed part of the decorations—at least Tink and the Pomeranians. Tink, the most tolerant of dogs, wore a huge floppy red bow around her neck, and the Pomeranians didn’t seem to mind their brightly colored Christmas sweaters. As soon as word had gone out about the spray-paint incident, friends and neighbors, worried about how the skinhead Poms would fare in the extreme cold, had begun showering them with doggie coats and sweaters, most of them handmade by talented local seamstresses or knitters. The dogs now had a larger wardrobe than I did.
And Mother, Cordelia, and Caroline were all dressed to complement the décor. Mother was wearing a tailored dress in a muted deep green wool that looked very well with her improbably blond hair. Cordelia was in a deep red velvet dress. Caroline wore forest-green corduroy slacks and a black sweater with a gold reindeer embroidered on the front. I felt underdressed by comparison and had to remind myself that I had things to do for which jeans and a faded Caerphilly College sweatshirt were the perfect attire.
When Caroline saw me, she jumped up and gave me a hug.
“Meg!” she exclaimed. “You poor thing! Your mother’s been telling me all about your visitors. You must be going out of your mind!”
“It’s been a little crazy,” I said. “Mainly because we had almost no warning before they showed up. But things are getting better. Mother’s taken charge of seeing that they’re properly fed, and I’ve come up with a few other ways to keep them happy.”
“It really shouldn’t be your job to entertain them,” Mother said.
“No, but as a good hostess I can at least help them entertain themselves. For example—several of them are bird-watchers. Caroline—if I bring home a few more bird feeders, can you get the boys to help you set them up in the yard this afternoon? I want to make sure every visitor who likes watching birds can do it from his or her bedroom window.”
“Of course,” she said.
“And can you work with Grandfather to take them on an owling trip? He’s willing—”
“But someone needs to organize it and make sure he shows up,” she said. “Absolutely.”
“By the way, he called just now,” I said. “Wanted to know when the hell you were arriving—”
“Direct quote, I assume,” Caroline said,
“And told me to tell you he’d be in the Small Mammal Pavilion.”
“Hmph,” she said. “If he’s there, we should rename it the Large Cranky Mammal Pavilion.”
For some reason, Cordelia tried to smother her laughter at that. Maybe because she was working hard to keep her side of her unofficial mutual coexistence pact with Grandfather.
“I’ll give him a call after lunch,” Caroline said.
“He’ll be glad to know you’re here,” I said. “For some reason he was under the impression that you hadn’t taken off yet.”
“He probably thinks I haven’t found the GPS tracker he planted in my purse when I was up here for Thanksgiving,” she said.
“He didn’t,” Cordelia said.
“Oh, yes.” Caroline shook her head and laughed. “And I know perfectly well why he did it—he’s experimenting with a new, much smaller version, and he wanted to field test it. But he could have asked. I was seriously annoyed when I found it.”
“And you left it at the sanctuary to annoy him back.” Cordelia nodded her approval.
“Actually I stuck it in a padded envelope yesterday so I could send it to a friend in San Diego,” Caroline said. “But I guess the mailman hasn’t collected the outgoing mail yet.”
“If you like, we could hide you until the mail does go out,” I suggested. “And you could watch him getting more and more annoyed as he thinks you’re going in the wrong direction.”
“Not this time,” she said. “But if he does it again, I’ll take you up on that.”
“By the way, Meg,” Cordelia said. “I could also help with the bird feeders.”
“I was counting on that,” I said. “Can you come with me after lunch? I could use your expert advice on which feeders to buy, and then we’ll also set up a bunch of them at Mutant Wizards for the bird-watching Canadians to enjoy there.”
“Speaking of lunch.” Mother stood up. “I think it’s time to evict that … person from your dining room so we can get it back in fit shape for a civilized meal.” She sailed out of the room.
“Should we help her?” Caroline asked.
“With the cleanup? Sure,” I said.
“I think she meant should we help your mother evict your most annoying guest from the dining room,” Cordelia said.
“No need,” I said. “Mother’s got Ian’s number.”
Sure enough, a minute or so later we saw Ian scurry past the wide archway that gave us a view of the front hall. He flung back the door of the coat closet, stepped inside, and—from the sound of it—knocked down several things while retrieving his coat.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he slammed the door behind him, even though the force of it knocked down something that broke with a sad little tinkling sound.
“I’ll go get the broom and dustpan,” I said as I stood up.
“And we’ll help your mother put the dining room to rights again,” Cordelia said. “Can you see what’s keeping your dad?”
But by the time I’d swept up the remnants of a tiny glass angel and deposited them in the trash, Dad appeared in the kitchen, inhaling appreciatively all the odors Rose Noire and Cousin Nora were producing.
“What is that I’m smelling?” he asked in a hopeful tone. “And is it for lunch, or are we cooking ahead for dinner?”
“Quiche Lorraine—plus some vegetarian quiche for Rose Noire,” Nora said. “And yes, it’s for lunch. Go wash up so you don’t keep the rest of us waiting.”
“Before you do, Dad—could I speak to you for a second?” I asked.
“Sure.” He paused just outside the door to the nearby half bath.
“It’s a secret,” I said. “Let’s run down to the library for a minute.”
“Make it quick or we’ll start without you.” Nora had raised six children and didn’t put up with much. I could see she was going to be a great help with our current menagerie.
Dad and I trotted down to the library, and I took a quick glance around to make sure there was no one else there. Luckily, the library decorations were limited to the basic evergreen garlands and red ribbons, which didn’t offer many hiding places for eavesdroppers.
“Okay,” I said. “About that Christmas surprise you’re having built in the back pasture—”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “They put on the finishing touches yesterday. You won’t have to worry about any more construction noise.”
“I suspected as much,” I said. “Given how quiet it’s been today. Actually, I wasn’t going to complain about the noise. I was going to ask when you plan to unveil it.”
“Oh.” He blinked, a puzzled expression on his face. “Well, it’s a Christmas surprise.”
“I understand that,” I said. “But aren’t we well within the Christmas season now?”
“I thought we’d unveil it Christmas morning,” he said. “I mean, that’s when we usually open gifts. Family tradition and all.”
“That’s fine,” I said.
He turned as if to go.
“Then again, there could be reasons to consider opening it early.”
“Such as?” From the stubborn look on his face I suspected he planned to pooh-pooh all my reasons.
“If your whatever is something that would contribute to the happiness or general welfare of our Canadian guests, unveiling it early would not only be a kindness to them, it would make Mother very, very happy. She’s being driven to distraction by worrying over them.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” The stubborn look vanished, replaced by a look of indecision. Few things ranked higher with him than keeping Mother happy.
“Then there’s the fact that if your surprise is something that would be easier to enjoy during the present subfreezing weather, the sooner you unveil it the better. Michael happened to mention this morning that they’re predicting a warming trend after Christmas.”
“You’ve been peeking, haven’t you?” He frowned.
“Only speculating,” I lied. “If your surprise is independent of the weather, not a problem—and if it requires warm weather to appreciate, by all means keep it quiet as long as possible. Do you remember the year Rob gave the boys a badminton set for Christmas, and we had that freak snowstorm followed by the cold spell, and it was nearly two months before they could set it up outdoors?”
“They had a lot of fun with it in your basement,” Dad pointed out.
“True,” I said. “Can your Christmas surprise be easily moved into our basement?”
“No.” He sighed. “Good point.”
“And if pleasing Mother and taking advantage of the current weather aren’t enough to convince you—remember that right now you’ve got everyone baffled. The longer you wait, the more likely it is that someone will figure out just what your surprise is.”
He looked at me with suspicion again.
“Someone who won’t be nice enough to keep your secret,” I said.
He pondered for a few moments, then nodded.
“I’ll do it. I’ll announce it tonight at dinner.”
“Fabulous,” I said.
“I’ll go and call Randall,” he said. “He’ll want to be here for the unveiling.”
“Invite him to dinner,” I said. “Him and anyone else he needs to have here for the unveiling.”
“Right.” A sunny smile lit up his face. “This is going to be fun!”
With that he dashed out into the sunroom.
“Where are you going?” I called after him. “Lunch is ready, remember?”
“I just want to make a couple of phone calls first.”
“Don’t blame me if you end up eating cold quiche,” I murmured. And then I headed back to take my place at the dining table.
But Dad showed up only five minutes after me, and lunch was particularly merry. It wasn’t just because of the arrival of Caroline, Cordelia, and Cousin Nora the Kitchen Queen, though they certainly contributed. For the first time in several days we didn’t have any stray AcerGen employees joining us. We didn’t have to worry about being tactful while briefing newly arrived relatives on why the Canadians were staying with us and how we felt about it. We could indulge in a little mild griping without worrying about hurting their feelings. And we could talk freely without having to explain all the family shorthand for fear the guests would feel left out. And a happy, noisy family lunch was just the distraction I needed from all the unsettling things I’d heard—or overheard—during the course of the morning.
But after lunch I decided to brief Mother and Caroline—both members of the Mutant Wizards board—on what was up.
“I’ve got a supply of iron poles out in the forge,” I said. “Mother, why don’t you help me and Caroline pick out the ones to use in our yard.”
“I’m sure if you made them they’ll all be very lovely,” she said.
“Yes, but I have a lot of different designs,” I said. “I need your aesthetic vision.”
Luckily Mother was paying attention and noticed the phrase “aesthetic vision.” Which was our private code for “Don’t ask questions—just play along.”
Not that it would matter all that much if Cordelia, Rose Noire, or even Cousin Nora learned about the problems with AcerGen. But Dad was still lingering at the table, having thirds on the crème brûlée and discussing future dessert options with Nora, and the best way to ensure that everyone in Caerphilly knew about some bit of news was to share it with Dad.
So Mother, Caroline, and I threw on our coats and trudged across the backyard to the barn. When we got there, I led them to the end where I kept the finished products of my blacksmithing work—just in case anyone was watching before we slid the door shut.
“So what’s up?” Mother asked, as she surveyed my supply of long iron poles that arched at the top and ended with hooks suitable for supporting a bird feeder.
“Is there something up?” Caroline asked. “Apart from planning for a lot more bird feeding.”
“Top secret Mutant Wizards board business,” I said. “Festus wanted me to brief you on something.”
Both of them frowned slightly, then listened intently while I told them, as succinctly as possible, about my conversations with Stanley and Festus, and what I’d overheard Ian saying.
“If Festus thinks we need to terminate the contract, I’m not going to argue with him,” Caroline said. “And we probably need to keep our eyes open. Make sure Ian’s not harassing anyone here.”
“I can’t say I will be sorry to see the back of that horrible man,” Mother said. “But I feel very sorry for all his poor employees.”
“So do I,” I said. “Which I think makes it more important than ever to do what we can to make them happier—even if it’s only in the short term. Getting back to notifying the board—I have an errand that will take me by Mutant Wizards—I’ll see if I can get Delaney alone to give her a heads-up. Mother, can you brief Minerva?” Minerva Burke—director of the New Life Baptist choir and wife of Henry Burke, our local police chief—was, like Caroline, a nonfamily board member.
“I can,” she said. “And Uncle Tut—he should be arriving at our house today.” Uncle Tut—Thomas Underwood Taliaferro Hollingsworth—was an elderly, mostly retired attorney whose legal skills Festus respected—although like most of the board, Uncle Tut had been chosen mainly for sound common sense and the ability to say “no” when Rob came up with what he thought was a brilliant idea. And Rob liked having at least one other man on the board.
Mother and Caroline hurried back to the house. I dragged half a dozen of my iron poles out of the stack and leaned them against the barn door. As I was struggling with the last one, which had gotten tangled up with its neighbor, I looked up and saw the sleek, black face of Lurk, the smaller and fiercer of our barn cats, who was looking down from the hayloft. Was he staring at me in disapproval because of all the noise I was making with the poles? Of course, he had to put up with a great deal more noise when I was working at the forge. Maybe he actually enjoyed my company and was hoping I was about to settle in for a session of hammering.
Then again, he was probably just hoping for a treat. I reached over to the jar where I kept a supply of Rose Noire’s all-natural grain-free cat treats and tossed one up at Lurk, who leaped gracefully and caught it in his mouth. He looked at me briefly before vanishing into the shadows—which was about as much thanks as I could expect from either of our ferals turned barn cats.
I waited a few minutes to see if Skulk would show up. No dice. He’d probably used up his entire week’s supply of sociability on Festus.
Then I picked up the half dozen poles I was going to take to Mutant Wizards, rested them on my shoulder, and stepped outside.
The intense cold hit me like a wall of ice and I stopped, just for a second. Then I braced myself, and trudged over to stash the poles in the Twinmobile, as we called the SUV we used for hauling around the boys and their legions of friends and teammates.
Then I went inside to collect Cordelia. And to bundle up a little more warmly before we set out for town.