The Meaning in Mistletoe - Rachael Bloome Page 0,9
Sylvia Carter, the local theater director, and carol around town, serving hot cider—classically called wassail—and homemade sugar cookies. Since both of their parents loved to sing, the skill had been passed down to Jack and his siblings. He was surprised to learn they’d maintained the tradition all these years. Although, he imagined their private chef made the wassail these days. And the cookies probably came from some pricey boutique bakery.
When he didn’t respond right away, Lucy pleaded, “Please come, Flap Jack. Everyone misses you, especially Mom and Dad.”
He had to snort at that one. Her statement oozed irony considering they were the reason he’d been alienated from nearly his entire family. “Sorry, Luce. You know I can’t. Are you sure Mom needs you for the whole month?” Only a few days into December, they still had weeks to plan a Christmas party.
“You know how she is. If her event doesn’t rival a White House gala, it’s not worth throwing.”
Oh, he knew all too well. And he hated that their mother’s pretentious extravagance had usurped their time together. “Well, if anything changes, let me know. I’ll be here. And I’ll save Holiday Inn in case you can come after all.”
She laughed although it lacked some of its usual mirth. “Deal.”
Silence filled the speaker, and Jack got the sense she had more to say.
“Something else on your mind?” he asked.
“No, nothing,” she said unconvincingly, bidding him a hasty goodbye.
After the call ended, Jack hung his head in his hands, his heart heavy.
Maybe he should have fought harder to keep the tradition of her annual visit alive, but he’d learned a long time ago that competing with his parents always ended badly.
At least, it had when it came to his ex.
Chapter 5
Upon entering Penny’s home, Kat immediately noted the warm, cozy atmosphere. Old-fashioned Christmas decorations like fresh cedar garlands and vintage ornaments complemented the assortment of antique furniture and collectibles.
“It’s in here.” Penny motioned toward a door Kat hadn’t noticed. Painted the same porcelain-white as the walls, it blended seamlessly into the surroundings.
As she crossed the plush art deco rug, Kat yelped, taken aback as something waddled past her. Hardly able to believe her eyes, she gaped at a large Russian tortoise. Or rather, at its backside as it shuffled toward an enormous custom-built enclosure partially hidden by potted plants.
“Don’t worry,” Penny said with a smile. “That’s Chip. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, he might if he could catch one.” She laughed, and Kat breathed a little easier.
“You have a pet tortoise?”
“We’re more like roommates. And he’s the one in charge.”
Kat grinned, suppressing the urge to stroke his leathery head. She’d always wanted a pet—a dog, specifically. But Fern had a policy against furry animals, since you never knew if someone would be allergic.
“This used to be my dad’s bedroom and office,” Penny explained, giving the door a firm nudge with her hip. “I’ve kept it exactly as he left it.”
Kat followed her into the modest space, momentarily mesmerized by the wall of bookshelves, nautical trinkets, and stunning brass telescope on a vintage mahogany tripod. “Your dad must’ve been quite the adventurer.”
“In his own way, he was.” Penny dropped to her knees and reached beneath the wrought iron bed frame, retrieving a small wooden chest.
Kat’s pulse spiked. This was it. The entire reason she’d come here. Her only hope for saving the shelter resided inside the dusty box.
Penny flipped open the lid and a flicker of surprise darted across her face.
“What’s wrong?” Kat took a step closer, her heartbeat stuttering.
“It’s gone.”
“What do you mean gone? Like, it’s been stolen?”
“Not stolen.” An unexpected smile curling her lips, Penny plucked a folded square of paper from inside. “There’s a clue.”
“What do you mean? A clue for what?”
With a fond, wistful expression, Penny explained, “When I was a kid, my dad would set up elaborate treasure hunts in the apartment. He’d hide an object, then leave me clues, often riddles, to help me find it. He must have planned one for my first Christmas home from college. Before he died…” Her voice fell away in a soft whisper, and for a long moment, she didn’t speak, merely staring into the distance.
“What does it say?” Kat asked gently, balancing her eagerness with empathy.
Blinking a few times, as though slowly returning to the present, Penny unfolded the note and read it out loud. “‘The stars wait for no man, and neither does the sun. Once you think it’s over, it’s really just begun.’” Her hands dropped to