Page 173 of Our Little Secret

“You did this?” Leah cried.

“What?” Marilee shook her head, her messy bun almost coming loose. “Of course not! Jes—”

Leah’s face was a mask of horror. “I just can’t even . . .” She shuddered visibly, her face pale as death. “How in the name of sweet heaven did it get on the statue?” She was asking the room at large, but her gaze had landed on Neal.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I have no idea. None! The figurine was missing when we set up the crèche,” Neal said, backing away, palms outward, as if he expected her to physically attack him.

“Well, it’s not funny. It’s not funny at all. It’s sacrilegious and sick, sick, sick!” Her lips curled backward in disgust and she leveled her gaze at Brooke. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“What? No! Like Neal said, it was missing from the rest of the set when we unpacked it. And why would I do that? And put it where Shep could choke on it?”

“You?” She turned her outraged gaze back to Marilee. “You’re the one who owns and recognizes the nail polish.”

“I already said I didn’t!” Marilee pointed out, readjusting the band holding her hair away from her face. “Seriously? You think I would do that?” She pointed to the headless statue. “It was missing before I got here. And really, why would I?”

“Why would anyone?” Leah said, her eyes narrowing, and she rounded on Brooke again. “Why would anyone want to spoil Christmas?”

At that moment Eli, his arms laden with kindling, walked into the room, frigid air sweeping inside. “What’s going on?” He kicked the door shut, then walked to the fire.

“It’s horrible!” Leah said as he dropped the kindling onto the hearth and began stacking it. “Someone took one of Nana’s figurines from the crèche and . . . and mutilated it.”

“They did what?”

Was his concern real?

“See this!” Leah was suddenly bold enough to pick up the statue and march it back to the fireplace where Eli was still standing.

“Ooh.” He turned away. “What happened?”

Eagerly, Leah filled him in on what she’d discovered. “It’s someone’s idea of a sick prank. Just awful.”

“I wonder whose idea?” Brooke said as her gaze fell hard on Eli.

“For the love of—are you kidding me?” Leah let out a puff of disbelief.

Neal tried to be the voice of reason. “So let’s just glue him back together, put a little nail polish remover on him, and set him up where he belongs.”

“Like it never happened?” Leah said and sent Brooke a glare that was guaranteed to cut through the hardest of steel. “This is all part of a demented attempt to ruin Christmas. And we all know who’s behind it!”

She obviously meant Brooke, but for once she didn’t rise to the bait. She didn’t have time. A beheaded statuette was one thing; child’s play, she figured. She had to find a way to expose a con man—a dangerous man—and stop a wedding.

“It’s Christmas, for God’s sake!” Leah was visibly shaking. “I don’t care who did this,” she said, but they all knew it to be a lie. “Nothing’s going to destroy this holiday or my—our wedding!” she declared. “And tonight we’re going to midnight mass, and we’re going to learn the true meaning of Christmas if it kills us!” When no one argued she lifted her chin. “And . . . and we might even join a caroling group or whatever, but this year, the year I’m getting married, it’s going to be special!” She fought tears as she started for the stairs, then glanced over her shoulder, her eyebrows pinched together. “Coming?” she said to Eli, and it sounded more like a command than a question.

“In a sec,” he promised. “Just got to get something out of the shed. I left my gloves out there.”

“Fine.” Leah didn’t wait, just marched up the stairs.

Marilee’s cell phone chirped and she, spying the incoming number on the phone’s screen, answered it with a smile. “Hi . . . yeah, you too.” Then, seeing that her mother was watching, she added, “Hold on a sec” as she hustled up the stairs. A pause and then, “Just the usual family drama,” she said, her voice fading. A second later an upper door shut.

Eli walked outside again.

“I guess we should get ready for mass too,” Neal said, reluctance heavy in his voice. “But first I’d better fix this guy.” Neal carried the figurine of Joseph into the laundry area.

Brooke let out a breath. This was probably as alone as she was going to get, so she had to take a chance. Nerves strung tight, she carried a chair in from the dining room, climbed onto the seat, and pretended to mess with the Christmas lights. Instead, she slipped a tiny camera from her pocket and glued it quickly to one of the highest branches.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Neal asked, and her heart sank.

Had he seen what she was up to?

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