Heather picked up her cellphone and looked at the time. “I guess I should get going. Chris thinks I’m out picking up sandwiches from the deli. They’re probably wondering what happened to me.” In spite of saying she was leaving, Heather remained on the sofa, making no attempt to stand up.
“What are you going to do?” Danielle asked.
“When I can get Chris alone, I’ll have to tell him what his crazy uncle Loyd said.” Heather dropped her cellphone in her purse.
“I don’t care for the man, but he seems more contrary than senile to me,” Marie noted. “Which makes me wonder, what was the point of him fabricating such a story?”
“Personally, I think he was hoping I’d act on it and get my butt fired,” Heather said. “You know, start coming on to Chris.”
Danielle nodded. “I suspect you’re right.”
Heather looked to Danielle. “To be honest, there was a little part of me that was terrified the old coot was telling the truth.”
“And having Chris interested in you would be so horrible?” Eva asked.
“What would be so horrible is realizing I had totally misread him,” Heather said. “I may not be able to read people accurately when I first meet them. To be honest, when I first met Chris, I thought he was some freeloader who’d skated through life on his good looks.”
“I remember when we first met, you accused me of stealing your cat,” Danielle teased.
Heather rolled her eyes at Danielle and continued with her train of thought. “But after I get to know someone, after I’m around them a while, I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character.”
“As I recall, you lived under the same roof with Chris, and you thought he’d murdered Peter Morris,” Walt reminded her.
Narrowing her eyes, Heather glared at Walt and let out a grunt, reminding Danielle of an angry cartoon character with steam coming out of her ears. While there was no steam, Danielle figured if it had been possible, there would be.
“Okay, okay,” Heather sputtered. “Sometimes I really suck at judging people. But if I had misread Chris in this instance, well, then I obviously sucked more than I thought.”
“Don’t get upset,” Danielle said gently. “We were only teasing. And the truth is, we’re all guilty of judging people unfairly—either we give them too much credit or not enough.”
Heather stood up and dug a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to Danielle. “Could you do me a favor and call in this order for the deli?”
Danielle glanced down at the paper before taking it. “No problem. I’ll put it under your name.”
“Thanks.” Heather started for the door. Just as she reached it, she looked back and added, “Thanks. I’m glad I had someone to talk to.”
“I wonder what Chris is going to say when you tell him,” Eva mused. “I warned him not to give them a second chance.”
Heather grinned. “Before I tell him, I think I’ll have a little fun. Let him know how wonderful he is, while his uncles are standing there.”
“When you say wonderful…exactly what do you mean?” Danielle asked.
Heather laughed. “I meant it in the true spirit of the word. I’ll bat my eyes a bit, let him know I think he’s hot.” She giggled and left the room, giving everyone a final wave as she went.
“I almost think we should warn poor Chris,” Walt said with a chuckle.
It was less than a week until Christmas, and Adam couldn’t get in to the holiday spirit. To him Christmas wasn’t Christmas without his grandmother’s homemade divinity and peanut brittle—or without his grandmother. He found it difficult to believe it had been over a year now—two Christmases, since Marie had been murdered.
Marie had never been the grandmother who baked homemade cookies. She didn’t like to bake, or to cook in general. He suspected one reason she disliked cooking was because of all those years she had been married to his grandfather, and he had demanded three meals a day—breakfast, lunch and dinner, that he had expected his wife to make.
However, one thing Marie did enjoy making—occasionally—was candy. Specifically, divinity and peanut brittle, recipes passed down to her from her mother. Which was why Adam had decided several days earlier that if he was to get into the Christmas spirit, he needed to carry on with the family tradition and make Marie’s divinity and peanut brittle. After all, he had her recipes.
What Adam hadn’t realized—divinity was a bitch to make. He’d had no idea it was so difficult. After two failed batches, he finally went to the internet looking for helpful tips. While the peanut brittle turned out close to his grandmother’s, the final batch of divinity, while edible, didn’t resemble Marie’s.
Now that he had all this homemade candy, he needed to disperse some Christmas cheer. The first stop was the Glandon Foundation Headquarters.
Adam entered the foundation office carrying a large Christmas tin. He found Chris sitting in the waiting area with two older men, Hunny sleeping by his side. The moment he entered, Hunny lifted her head and looked at Adam; her tail started to wag.
“Merry Christmas!” Adam greeted them. Hunny jumped up and ran to Adam, her tail still wagging. Adam reached down and scratched the back of Hunny’s ears.
Chris introduced Adam to his uncles, referring to him as his good friend and Realtor. After introductions were made, Adam handed Chris the candy.
Tin now in hand, Chris asked, “What’s this?”
“Homemade Christmas candy. Grandma’s recipes.”
Chris perked up. “Please tell me, her divinity?”
“Yeah, well, I gave it my best shot. Like six times. It’s not bad, but not Grandma’s.”
“I thought you just said it was her recipe,” Chris asked.
“Apparently, using the same recipe is no guarantee it will taste the same,” Adam grumbled.
“I’d try some now, but we’re waiting for Heather to come back with our lunch,” Chris said as he set the tin on his desk.
The four men exchanged small talk for a few minutes when Loyd told Adam, “It’s really nice to meet one of our nephew’s friends.”
“Chris has a lot of friends in Frederickport,” Adam told them.
“You have no idea how proud we are of this boy,” Loyd said, reaching over and patting Chris’s knee. By Chris’s expression he seemed surprised at his uncle’s gesture.
“He’s a tribute to our family,” Simon said. “His parents would be so proud of him.”
“We realize now how foolish we were, believing we were protecting Chris from himself by trying to manage his father’s legacy. He’s more than capable of handling it himself.”
Before anyone could respond, Heather came barreling through the door into the waiting area, deli paper sacks in hand. She stopped short when she spied Adam. “Oh, I didn’t bring you a sandwich.”
“Probably because you didn’t know I was going to be here,” Adam teased.
Heather shrugged. “You want half of mine?”
Adam shook his head. “No, thanks. I already had lunch.” He stood and glanced at his watch. “In fact, I need to get going. I have another stop to make. And, Heather, make sure Chris shares the candy with you; it’s for you too.” He pointed to the Christmas tin sitting on the desk.
A few minutes later, as Heather handed out the sandwiches and beverages, Chris walked Adam to the door. When they were out of earshot from the uncles, Adam asked, “Hey, Chris, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what?”
“What your uncle just said in there, about trying to manage your estate. I thought they contested the will and tried to take it away from you completely.”
Chris glanced briefly toward where his uncles were, and then looked back to Adam. “A little historical revisionism. You know how it is, some people do things they’re later ashamed of, and it’s easier for them to try tweaking the memory—to make it more palatable. Yeah, they did try to sue me for the entire estate, but now, well, now they are insisting I misunderstood. To be honest, I think they’re just old and finally realized I’m the only family they have left. It’s their way of mending fences.”
After Chris said goodbye to Adam a few minutes later, he returned to his uncles and Heather. The three were already eating their sandwiches, and he found his lunch sitting on his desk, still encased in wax paper. He sat down and started to unwrap it.
“I hope you like your sandwich,” Heather cooed from where she sat at her desk. “It’s roast beef. I had them make it just like you like it.”
Startled by Heather’s tone, Chris looked up and found her staring at him. What he failed to see was his uncles staring at her.
“Is something wrong?” Chris asked.
“Oh no. I just want you to know what a wonderful employer I think you are.”
Chris frowned. “Ummm…ah…okay…”
“And if you don’t want me to go out with that electrician again, you just say the word, and I won’t.”
“Umm…why wouldn’t I want you to go out with him?”
Heather smiled at Chris and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m just saying you come first. If you want me here to do anything—and I mean anything—just ask.”
Adam’s next stop was Marlow House. Eva had already taken off by the time he arrived, yet his grandmother was still there.
“Ho ho ho! I come bringing Christmas cheer!” Adam said when Danielle opened the door and found him holding a holiday tin.
“That doesn’t look like wine,” Danielle said as she opened the door wider to let him in.
“I think I created a monster with you and that wine,” Adam said as he walked into the house.
Just as Danielle closed the door, Walt stepped out of the parlor. He looked at the new arrival and said, “Hello, Adam.”
What Adam didn’t see was his grandmother’s ghost standing next to Walt.
“Afternoon, Walt. I just dropped by to give Danielle some of my grandmother’s Christmas candy.”
“My Christmas candy?” Marie tittered.
“I’ll let you two visit in private. I’m going to go upstairs and work a little on my new manuscript,” Walt said before he headed toward the staircase.
“So that book wasn’t a one-shot thing?” Adam asked when Walt was out of earshot.
“I don’t think so. Let’s go in the living room so we can enjoy the Christmas tree.” Danielle snatched the tin from Adam and led the way, Marie trailing behind them.
By the time Danielle reached the living room, she had pried off the lid. She peeked inside. “Don’t tell me this is your grandmother’s divinity and peanut brittle.”
Adam shrugged. “I tried. They were her recipes, but the divinity doesn’t come close to hers. I suspect the recipe I found wasn’t the one she used.”
“You made my candy?” Marie cooed. “Oh, Adam, that’s so sweet.”
Danielle plopped down on the sofa with the Christmas tin, while Adam sat next to her. “Divinity is hard to make.” She picked up a piece.
“Tell me about it,” Adam groaned.
Danielle nibbled at the piece of candy. “It’s good, but you’re right, it doesn’t taste like Marie’s. She made killer divinity.”
“Why, thank you, Danielle.” Marie beamed.
Next, Danielle tried the peanut brittle. “That one was spot on!”
Adam smiled. “Yeah, the peanut brittle turned out pretty good.”
Danielle offered Adam the tin to take a piece.
He shook his head. “No, I think I’m sugared out. I probably sampled two pounds of divinity trying to get it right.”
Danielle chuckled.
Adam let out a sigh and leaned back in the sofa. “I really miss her, Danielle.”
Danielle placed the lid back on the tin and looked at Adam. “Your grandmother?”
He nodded. “I can’t believe this will be the second Christmas without her.”
“Oh, Adam, I’m still here.” Marie reached out to touch him, but her hand moved through his.