I dropped, half-asleep, onto my bed at crazy o’clock and dragged a pillow over my head. I’d called every lodge in the Catskills looking for Caleb France or his family and come up empty. After that, I’d thrown myself into crafting ornaments and decorating my tree. For hours, I’d thought of nothing but fashioning enormous candy-themed jewelry. It was a welcomed mental break that resulted in dreams of literal sugarplums.
Eventually, my alarm clock forced me out of bed. I dressed in navy leggings and a teal tunic, poured a caffeine breakfast into my travel mug, then went to admire my work. The barn was fully decorated for the ball when I got there. Mom had apparently been up with the sun, finalizing the details. Icicle lights hung from the rafters and lined the displays and tables. Victorian-era Santa statues and vintage-looking village pieces set the stage where a local musician would entertain tonight.
Scarlet carpet ran along the skirts of soon-to-be-raffled trees. The sponsors had come and gone through the evening, adorning their trees before rushing home for dinner or bed. Some had done a great job in a short time; others had repeated their usual boring spiel, creating bland results no wanted to win. But someone would take home the award anyway in the spirit of good sportsmanship.
I approached my finished product with a smile. The previously empty metal sign holder now announced my tree in delightful curlicue script. “Holly’s Jolly Jewelry.” What had begun as a simple idea at dinnertime had morphed into something fit for a storybook by midnight. I couldn’t stop working. Painted Styrofoam balls had become the jewel toppers to enormous rings. Plastic nuggets on fishing line formed royal necklaces fit for a giant princess. Everything I touched seemed to become something more than I’d imagined. I’d ridden the creative high until nearly dawn, and the result was straight out of my childhood dreams, an enchantment belonging somewhere between the North Pole and Candy Land.
Mom approached in my periphery. “It’s lovely.”
I pressed a palm to my collarbone. “Thank you.”
She arched her back and shifted from one socked foot to the other. “I swear this gets harder instead of easier every year. I abandoned my shoes two hours ago.”
“Yet you continue to outdo yourself.” I dragged my gaze around the gorgeous room. “Everything looks amazing. It feels like we’ve traveled back in time or maybe into another land. I’m not sure which, but it’s breathtaking.”
She curtsied. “Exactly the feel I was going for. Your tree is fantastic. I knew you were up late working, but I had no idea you’d manage all this. I should’ve known you’d come up with something that was over-the-top fun. Your art always made me smile.” She approached the spruce with one outstretched arm and ran her fingers over my work. “Beautiful.”
Where others had sprayed faux snow, I’d applied glue and a dusting of glitter for an added bit of magic when the twinkle lights went on.
“Your imagination is a true gift,” she said. “I always thought you should write children’s books.”
“That’d be perfect if I could write.” I locked my elbow with hers. “Illustrate, maybe, but I could never write.”
“Why do you say that?” She craned her neck for a look at me. “You’re great with words.”
“Well, you’ve obviously never heard me try to speak, because I’m definitely not great with words.”
She wiggled free from my arm and fingered my still-damp hair. “I’m so proud of you.”
The emotion in her voice raised goose bumps on my arms. “Thanks.”
“I would want to be just like you when I grow up,” she said, “if it wasn’t already too late for me.”
I searched her glossy brown eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? Where’s this coming from?”
She shrugged. “Nowhere new. I think those things all the time. I just get too busy to say them like I should. You’ve grown up to be the most marvelous woman I know. You’re a great daughter, a wonderful friend, and someone this community can believe in.”
A sneaky tear slipped into the corner of my eye. “Jeez. Talk about an ambush,” I joked. Mom wasn’t the sort to get emotional, and neither was I. Maybe the lack of sleep and abundance of death threats were wearing on us. “I hope you realize that the parts of me you like so much are only that way because of you. It took a strong, patient, happy woman to show me those traits are important.”
She hugged me. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” I batted tear-blurred eyes. I had a few confessions of my own to make. “I’m sorry I never moved home after college and that I didn’t visit enough while I was away. It’s as if I chose Ben over you, which I never meant to do.”
Mom pushed me back by my shoulders and did her best to look stern. “Your father and I have never begrudged you those life experiences. Not for one minute. Children are supposed to grow up and strike out on their own. We wanted that for you. Of course, we’d also hoped that life would lead you back to us one day too, but that’s what it’s like being a parent. Complicated. Mostly, we just wanted you to be happy.” She released me and clutched her hands over her heart. “And it makes me so sad that you aren’t.”
“Whoa.” I pulled her hands apart. “I’m happy.”
She wiped tears from her cheeks and laughed. “I meant I’m sorry about Ben.”
“I know what you meant, and I’m sorry you spent a ton of money on a wedding that won’t happen. Your deposits are gone because I should’ve been smarter.”
“You were in love. First love.” She sighed and shook her head. “First love is the worst. Blinding. All encompassing. The sort of thing people fight for long after it’s dead.”
I laughed. “I guess that’s why everyone’s online trying to hunt down their high school sweetheart.”
“Not mine,” I said. Mine only called when he needed something.
“Well, yours was an idiot.” She slapped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled against her palm. “I shouldn’t say that out loud.”
“It’s okay.” I laughed. “He kind of was.”
Slowly she moved her hands to her sides. “We don’t want you to leave after Christmas. Will you stay awhile? Your father and I aren’t ready to let you go again just yet.”
“Maybe.” I looked away. “I don’t know. I don’t have a job or any savings worth mentioning.” I didn’t want to be a financial burden on them. They’d already done so much. “I have a lot of things to figure out, but maybe.” It was the most I could promise for now.
She dried her eyes and blew out a long breath. “I’ll take what I can get, and ‘maybe’ isn’t ‘no.’”
She smiled. “Well, I suppose we should get started on the rest of our day. Have you thought about what you’re going to wear to the ball?”
I hung my head. “No. I was supposed to figure that out and get in touch with Cookie. She said she’d embellish one of my old costumes for me.”
Mom slid an arm across my back and directed me toward the house. “Then let’s see what we’ve got in the attic. Maybe we won’t need Cookie. I’m not terrible with a needle.”
Unless something drastic had changed, she also wasn’t great with one. I’d been teased all through Girl Scouts for the loose threads hanging from my patches. I’d tried to convince the troop that hanging threads were in fashion and that they were the ones who looked silly with their boring perfect stitches. No one believed me. It just gave them something else to tease me about.
“I know you’re thinking of the Girl Scouts,” Mom said. “I’ve gotten better since then.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She squeezed me against her side as we walked. “I cut the extra threads off now.”
“Great.”
We slowed at the sight of Dad’s work truck speeding up the drive. The vehicle rocked to a stop outside their home, and he jumped out still moving full speed ahead.
“Bud?” Mom called.
He changed direction, rushing toward us instead. “Come on. Hurry up.” He grabbed Mom by the hand and towed her up the walk and into the house while I scurried behind.
“Lock the door,” he instructed.
“What’s wrong?” Mom and I asked in near unison.
He rubbed his forehead and swore.
“Bud?” Mom stroked his coat sleeve. “You’re scaring me.”
He patted his torso and checked his pockets. “I left my phone in the truck.”
I handed him mine. “Here.”
He stared at the screen, apparently confounded. My smartphone was a far cry from the ten-year-old flip phone he bought minutes for by the month.
I took the device back carefully. “Who do you want to call?”
Dad raised his panicked eyes to mine. He slid his hands beneath the back of his coat and extracted a large plastic bag from his rear pocket. He handed the bag to Mom. “I need to call the sheriff.”
A thousand matches in every length were stuffed into the wrinkled sack.
Mom gasped. “Where did you find these?”
He gripped the back of his neck until his face turned purple.
My hands shook. The little cell phone jiggled in my grip. “Dad?”
“They’re everywhere. Scattered through the trees. Around the stables and outbuildings. On the porch at the Hearth. On benches outside Holiday Mouse.” His voice was low and gravelly. He turned his gaze to Mom. “It might be time we consider closing up for the season.”
I dialed Sheriff Gray, deeply regretting my choice to ask so many questions about Caleb France yesterday.
“Holly?” The sheriff answered on the first ring. “Everything okay?”
“No,” I said. “No. Can you come over?”
A door slammed on the other end of the line. “I’m just leaving the pie shop. Where are you?”
“At my parents’ house.”
“Where are they?”
“Here.”
My mind raced with possible suspects and alternate meanings for the possibly spilled matches. Maybe a shopper had a box of matches with a hole in it and left a Hansel and Gretel trail everywhere they went. Maybe this had nothing to do with setting fire to my family’s farm.
Dad peeled the phone from my hand, which had gone limp and fallen to my side. He took the call in the kitchen.
Mom and I stared at the bag of matches.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, but the quavering voice didn’t seem like my own. “I did this,” I admitted. “I put you in danger.”
“No.” She dropped the bag on the coffee table and gave me her business face. “The person who did this is desperate to keep their secret. What they’ve done has nothing to do with you.” She pressed cold palms to my flaming cheeks. “Now sit. It sounds like the sheriff is on his way, and he’ll get this figured out.”
I flopped onto the couch and kept an eye on the front window for signs of a torch-wielding lunatic.
Mom went into hostess mode, and Dad loaded his shotgun.
The sheriff arrived shortly after I’d finished my first cup of tea. Mom was kind enough to use Cookie’s special ingredient liberally. As it turned out, peppermint schnapps was just as yummy in Christmas tea as a candy cane, but it made my face tingle.
“Refill?” Mom asked.
“No. Thank you,” I said, concentrating on the front window as Sheriff Gray loped up the front steps to our door. I rubbed sweaty palms over my leggings. The schnapps had also successfully loosened the pile of knots in my tummy and unclenched my aching jaw. “He’s here.”
Mom followed my gaze and opened the door before he could knock.
Sheriff Gray walked inside with a cell phone pressed to one ear. He grunted and nodded before disconnecting. He shook Mom’s hand and stowed the phone in his pocket. “I got here as fast as I could, Mrs. White. Your husband filled me in on the details. I’ve got deputies on the way. Can I see the matches?”
Mom handed the bag to him.
He slid it into the black shoulder bag I recognized from my last emergency call. “How are you?”
“Shaken,” Mom said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
She kneaded her hands, growing steadily more anxious with no one to serve. “Do you think this is a real threat? Is it credible? Could it be another empty scare tactic? Should we sleep elsewhere tonight?”
“The deputies and I will assess the situation together and let you know.” His cool gaze slid to me. “Sleeping elsewhere would be my suggestion. Though ultimately that’s up to you.”
Dad marched into view with two steaming mugs and extended one to the sheriff. “Coffee?”
He accepted the offering.
Mom frowned.
The sheriff lowered himself onto the edge of the couch beside me. “Mr. White, I need you to write down everything you told me on the phone.”
Dad nodded.
“Have you given anymore thought to closing the farm until this is settled?”
Dad dragged a heavy hand through his hair. “I did, and I can’t. Call it pride or stupidity, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Reindeer Games has been open through Christmas Eve since my grandpa hung the sign. I’m going to stay here and keep an eye on things. Maybe rent a couple night patrolmen. But I can’t close.” He turned an apologetic face toward Mom. “You and Holly should probably get a hotel room in town for a few nights.”
She moved to his side. “Don’t you dare think for one second I’d leave you at a time like this. My wedding vows said ‘for better or worse,’ not ‘until things get tough.’”
I chewed my shredded thumbnail. “There won’t be any available rooms in Mistletoe until after New Year’s Day.”
The sheriff seemed to mull that over. Thanks to the tour bus business, all inns were full, and he knew it. “You’re welcome to stay at my place, if you’d like.”
My jaw went slack. I slid my gaze to Dad’s darkening face.
Sheriff Gray set his coffee on the side table and clasped his hands in front of him. “I only have one bed, but it’s big enough for two ladies.” He looked from my face to my dad’s. “I could stay here. They could stay there. I can take up one of those night shifts you’re hiring out.”
Dad’s face slowly returned to a normal color.
I would’ve found the mistake funny if I wasn’t in the middle of a stroke. “I think we’re all going to stay here.” I pinned Dad with my sincerest stare. “No one thinks you’re stupid or prideful. This place is family, and families protect one another. I’ll take a night shift too.”
Mom smiled. “It’s settled. I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Tea.” I lifted a finger over my head. “Cookie’s recipe.”
She winked. “I think I’ll make that two. I could use some tea myself.”
Dad watched her disappear into the kitchen. “I’ll call down to the Moose Lodge and see if anyone wants to earn a little extra holiday cash in exchange for security duty.”
“Good.” Sheriff Gray moved to the front window and looked out. “You’ve got a lot of ground, and the plan’s not perfect, but it’s something. I’ll focus my deputies on the buildings and homes. It’d take some effort and a small miracle to get a good tree fire going with all the ice and snow. Plus, another storm’s coming tonight.”
He moved back to my side and picked up his coffee. He lingered in my personal space, apparently waiting for me to look up. He smiled when I finally did. “You made it one whole day without an emergency. Yesterday was quiet. Peaceful. I got a lot done. You?”
“Yep. Have you had a chance to talk to Mr. Fleece or Paula?” Of all the people I’d spoken with this week, Fleece and Paula were the only two still angry with a dead woman. The fact they used one another as their alibi only made me wonder further about both of them.
He dropped into a squat and caught me in his keen gaze. “I have. Like I told you before, the case is progressing well—solidly and in good time. You need to let me take it from here.”
“Sure thing. Think you can finish up before the lunatic burns down my parents’ farm?”
His eyes crinkled at the corner for a moment. “Want to fill me in on what you were up to while I was enjoying the quiet yesterday?”
I bit my lip. “I might have peeked in Caleb France’s office window and told the secretary next door I had some questions for him.”
Sheriff Gray sucked his teeth and glared. “Start from the beginning.”
I cast a look over my shoulder, willing Mom to move a little faster. If I was going to unload everything I’d learned from my trip to return Mr. Nettle’s fedora and the follow-up phone calls I’d made—after promising to let him handle this—I was going to need her to supersize that special tea.