Page 21 of Always Murder

“All right,” Christine said.And then, “I’ll take that.I suppose it will have to do.”

Presumably,thatwas in reference tothis year’s pinecone, whatever that meant.Her footsteps started to move away.

And I realized I was going to be right back where I started: trapped, with the possibility of an angry teenage make-out session holding me hostage.

I jumped to my feet and shouted, “Christine?Christine!”

“Who is that?”Christine called.“Hello?I’m right here!”

I pushed through the line of fir trees—remembering, at the last minute, the pine needles stuck to my clothes.I hoped it would be too dark for anyone to think too much about it.When I reached the next aisle, I threw a quick look at Keme and Millie.To say Keme was glowering would be an understatement; Keme was alight with the rage of a million slighted teenagers.And Millie didn’t look much happier, her mouth open with what looked like another objection or argument or fight.Millie had clearly dressed up for the night, in a pullover and leggings that managed to look chic (on me, it would have looked like I’d rolled off the sofa).Keme was in a hoodie and joggers, and hewaschanneling the rolled-off-the-sofa vibe.

Christine, on the other hand, looked like she’d stepped out of a Christmas movie.A Hallmark Christmas movie.Set in the 1990s.She was wearing a red-and-green sweater with little bells sewn all over it, and the sweater itself was a patchwork thing with lots of embellishments: wreaths and poinsettias and, yes, Christmas trees.I was starting to wonder if every night wasugly Christmas sweater nightfor the Naught family.She was holding a pinecone, and although I wouldn’t consider myself an expert, I had to agree with Millie—Kemehaddone a great job; it was a very nice specimen.

“Dash!”Christine beamed at me.And then she glanced around.“Are you solving a murder?”

“Uh, no.”At least, I sincerely hoped not.

With evident disappointment, Christine asked, “Then what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, picking out a Christmas tree.Waiting for a chance to meet Santa.Looking for an elf to beat up.”

Christine blinked.

Millie frowned.

Keme looked like he was thinking about beating someone up, and it wasn’t an elf.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.“I have no idea why I said that.I wanted to talk to you, actually.Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Millie said.

Keme shook his head savagely.

“Not at all,” Christine said, with a little too much sugar on top.She even took my arm.“You can be a gentleman and walk me back to the barn, since no one else offered.”

Okay, zero schadenfreude that time—the way Keme’s jaw sagged made me sick to my stomach.

But I let Christine lead me down the path.It wasn’t really meant for two people to walk side by side, which meant Christine walked in the center of the path and I stumbled along at her side, my arm in the motherly equivalent of a wristlock, getting hit in the face by apparently every branch on this tree farm.

“I don’t know what she thinks she’s doing,” Christine said.“It’s a disaster.This never would have happened if she’d stuck with dance.Itoldher to stick with dance, but she doesn’t listen.”

“What—”

“That boy,” Christine said.“I mean, he’s inhigh school, for heaven’s sake.And so rude!And you know he broke all the windows at the Sandbergs’ place.Threw rocks while they were out of town.He’s avandal.And he won’t open his mouth to say two words.I think if someone invites you over for dinner, you ought to at least make polite conversation, don’t you?”Before I could answer, she patted my arm and said, “I wishyouwould date her.”

“Right, well, I’m gay.And I have a boyfriend.And Millie’s only a friend.So many reasons, really—”

“It’s because she’s desperate.”

Okay, that didn’t exactly boost my self-confidence, but I was too caught up in a wash of fatherly-brotherly rage.“I think Keme and Millie are a great fit.I know you don’t see it yet, but that’s only because you haven’t had a chance to get to know Keme.He’s one of the best people I know.I love Millie, and I want her to be with someone as amazing as she is.You just need to give Keme some time.”

Christine sighed and, with what sounded like affectionate fondness—like I was a slightly dull nephew who was, nevertheless, pleasant to be around—said, “You’re so young, dear.You don’t understand.That boy is a menace.”

“I do understand, actually.And as Keme’s friend, I need you to know that I’m not okay with you talking about him like that—”

“Well—” And she broke off for a bosom-heaving sigh that drowned me out.“—I suppose there’s nothing either of us can do about it except wait to pick up the pieces.”

I opened my mouth.

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