Page 39 of Promise Me This Christmas
“No problem.”He sank down beside her in their bed.“God, I love that kid.”
“He’s pretty wonderful, isn’t he?”She sipped the tea, appreciating Chet’s efforts to keep her relaxed and calm after the distressing event with the brownies.But without Robin to distract her, that’s exactly where her thoughts returned.
Chet had returned from the Sheriff’s Office with mostly reassuring news.Since possession of marijuana was legal in Montana, unless someone complained they were unlikely to face legal problems over the brownies.
Their reputation, however, was another matter.
“Sorry, Chet, I know you’re trying to help me relax, but I can’t stop wondering who could have pulled that stunt with the brownies.It might have been an acceptable prank at a college frat party.Not at a community fundraiser.”
“Believe me, I’m wondering who was responsible too.It bugs me that someone we invited into our house would think it was okay to do something they had to know would hurt us.”
Yes, that was the worst part.Not so much the damage done by the prank itself.But knowing someone had meant to cause them trouble.
*
Monday, December 22
The next morningAmy waited anxiously for Gibson to appear in the dining room.He was typically one of the last guests down for breakfast and today proved no exception.It was eight on the nose when he finally took his place at the table.Usually, Chet got their guests their coffee, but Amy took his Americano to him personally.
He looked the same as normal.Well-groomed and well-dressed, and relatively bright-eyed.“How are you feeling?”she asked as she placed the mug in front of him.
“Perfectly well, thank you.”He shook out his napkin, then placed it on his lap.“I might be even better if I’d had a few more of those brownies.”
Was that a twinkle in his eye?Amy might have played along if she wasn’t so worried.“Again, I apologize.Chet and I have no idea how those brownies got there.”
“You might want to look into that aspect of it,” Gibson said.There was no twinkle in his eyes now.“Weed is one thing.What if the brownies had been laced with something stronger?”
The Kettles stared down at their breakfasts, their expressions alarmed, and Amy felt as if all the blood in her body had sunk to her feet.She wanted to defend her kitchen, but Gibson was right.If someone had managed to put out brownies laced with marijuana, how could she guarantee the safety of any of the food she was serving?
Carson came to her rescue.“Hell, that was just someone’s idea of a joke.You can be sure those brownies didn’t come out of Jo’s kitchen.I’ve never eaten any finer breakfasts than those we’ve had here at Bramble House.”
“That’s true,” Peter Kettles said, picking up his fork and attacking his eggs and bacon with relish.
Amy caught Carson’s eye, and he gave her a wink.Spirits up, sister, he seemed to be saying, and she appreciated the message.She couldn’t let the events of the past few days destroy her confidence.She was proud of Bramble House and needed to act that way.She also needed to be present for her guests and not worrying about things she couldn’t change.
“I never heard what you thought of your sleigh ride, Marjorie and Peter.Did you enjoy it?”
“The horses were lovely,” Marjorie said.“And the Christmas tree farm was so pretty—I felt like I was inside a living Christmas card.”
The words were positive, but Amy sensed a lack of enthusiasm in her tone.Peter, watching his wife, also seemed to notice this.
“Remember the year Rachel sang ‘Jingle Bells’ at the Christmas concert?You said how much fun it would be to actually take a ride on a one-horse open sleigh?”
“What a memory you have, Peter.Yes, I suppose I did say that.”
There was no missing the sadness in Marjorie’s voice now.Perhaps it was time to move the conversation along.“Heads up on the weather, everyone.The snow is supposed to be picking up later in the afternoon.So it might be a good day to stick close to home.”
“Not a problem for me,” Gibson said.“I’m going to take a long walk and then spend the afternoon at the library.”
“A walk sounds good to me too,” Marjorie said.“Then maybe some board games by the fire in the sitting room?”
“Cribbage?”Peter said hopefully.
“You’re on.”Marjorie looked around the table.“Anyone else want to play?We enjoy doubles.”
“I used to play with my husband,” Ethel said, looking wistful.
“Grandpa taught me to play before I could read,” Larkin said.“Let’s take on the Kettles after your nap, Gran.What do you say?”
