Page 82 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
“Good plan,” Anthony said, settling himself into a chair and picking up another photograph. “In the meantime, let’s get this puzzle solved so we can all move on.”
I regarded Anthony for a moment, his mention of moving on striking a chord with me. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
He peered up at me without moving his head. “I suppose. As long as it’s not too personal.”
“Well, maybe it’s because this whole sibling thing is new to me, but have you ever considered what sort of permanent damage it might cause to your relationship with Marc when he finds out that you’ve been helping us?”
He looked down at the table, immersed in his study of the lines and circles on the photograph in his hand. “No,” he said. Looking up to meet my eyes, he repeated, “No. If there’s anything Marc has taught me, it’s that to be successful, you need to be prepared to make enemies. Even if they’re your friends. Or your brother.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting him to say, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t it. I thought of Jayne, and despite any of the weird feelings I’d been experiencing where she was concerned, at least I knew I could never deliberately do her harm. Maybe that meant I wasn’t the worst person in the world after all.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve got to run by the office and pick up a set of keys for a showing tomorrow, so I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.”
He lifted his hand in a wave without looking up at me, and I backed out of the room, not wanting to interrupt his concentration. I pulled on my coat, scarf, gloves, and hat before stepping outside. I paused and looked up, the gray clouds seeming to shutter the bright blue sky of early afternoon, closing out the sun. A wind burst blew at me, making me shiver as I contemplated the difficult relationship between siblings and how I was grateful, for a moment, to have something to worry about besides Jack.
CHAPTER 28
Mrs. Houlihan peered out the window of the kitchen at the back garden, where my father and his friends from the gardening society were doing their best to decorate the black hole to make it look more festive for the progressive dinner. I’d hoped the gaping presence would have qualified my house for an exemption from the event, but Sophie had merely asked my father to do something with the cistern that would make it look in keeping with the holiday while not impeding the progress of the excavation.
Not that much was happening in that regard right now, anyway. The semester had ended and the students had returned to their respective homes for the holidays. Meghan had sent us a Christmas card with a photo of her and her dog, which was a doppelganger of General Lee. That’s when I knew the excavation had lasted way too long. As had all the renovations in the house, since Rich Kobylt’s Christmas card had arrived the same day and it hadn’t taken me long to realize that the background behind his smiling family was my front garden.
I took advantage of Mrs. Houlihan’s being distracted to pinch one of her famous ginger cookies cooling on a rack.
“I saw that.” She hadn’t turned her head, confirming the fact that thewoman did, indeed, have eyes in the back of her head. “And if you take another, I’ll tell you how many calories are in each one.”
I finished chewing and wiped the crumbs from my mouth. “I don’t know why you’re insisting on doing all this baking. You do know the dinner is being catered, don’t you?”
She shook her head in disgust, her jowls quivering with disdain. “In all the years I’ve worked for Mr. Vanderhorst and for your family, I haveneverseen the need to hireoutsidersto bring food into my kitchen. I’m afraid I’m taking it personally.”
“I’m sorry—I really am. Sadly, I don’t seem to have any control as to what’s going on in my house these days.” I thought of the excessive number of Christmas trees and the over-the-top decorations, of the progressive dinner and of Harvey Beckner and his people, who continued to invade my home and refused to give up in their attempts to do the prefilming work that should have been accomplished in a single day. I wondered if they’d be here on Christmas morning and if I should get them gifts so they’d have something to open under the tree. I stared longingly at the cookies. “I can only hope we’ll have our house back soon.”
“Are they still planning on filming here starting in January?” Mrs. Houlihan asked.
“Not if I can help it.”
She looked almost disappointed. “That’s a shame. I heard George Clooney was signed up to play Nevin Vanderhorst’s father, Robert, and Reese Witherspoon was to play his mother, Louisa. I’d already started planning my menus in my head.”
The timer on the oven beeped and she slid on her oven mitts before sliding out what looked like her chocolate-and-mint holiday brownies. My mouth watered as I followed the movement of the pan, watching the housekeeper place it on a cooling rack. Mrs. Houlihan moved to the kitchen sink and began filling it with hot water and suds. With her back to me, she said, “Keep your fingers off of those brownies. Those are for Mr. Kobylt and his family.”
I dropped my hand, sufficiently chastened.
There was a brief knock on the kitchen door before it opened, and I was glad I didn’t have food in my mouth, because I probably would have choked. Standing in the doorway was a very tall man wearing a scarlet red British regimental uniform complete with shiny brass buttons, white breeches, and shiny black knee-high boots. I blinked a few times to see if he would disappear, eventually registering the iPhone he held in his hand.
“You better not be scuffing up my floors with those boots, Mr. Greco.” A warm smile across Mrs. Houlihan’s pudgy face eradicated her stern tone. “And if you just give me a sec, I’ll have your favorite ginger cookies all wrapped up for you to take home.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Houlihan. Thank you.”
“Greco,” I said, my voice full of relief.
He must have seen the panic on my face, or maybe it was my hand pressed against my heart. “Melanie—I’m so sorry. I almost forgot I was wearing this.” He patted the white crisscrossed straps across his jacket and chuckled. “Several of my reenactor friends and I have been hired for an event at the Old Exchange building tonight, but I needed a fabric swatch I’d left upstairs, so I figured I’d stop by on the way.”
“No worries. I can’t say I haven’t seen stranger things in this house.”
He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. He accepted a brown paper bag from Mrs. Houlihan—complete with a red satin ribbon she’d tied in a bow. “I promise to save these until after dinner, and only eat one at a time so I can savor it and appreciate your culinary talents as they should be appreciated.”
She waved her hand at him. “Oh, don’t be silly. I’ll just make more for you. Eat as many as you like.” Her smile was big enough to show the deep dimples on her cheeks.
I frowned at her, but she’d already turned back to the sink to wash dishes.
