Carats and Coconuts (6 page)

Because her trucker-talkin’ mouth was
somehow still goin’ strong even though she was buried beneath the
snow dump.

I’ve never heard my Dad laugh with
such a robust and jolly ho-ho-ho.

Roman and I couldn’t help but join in
the ruckus.

The Mom Squad gave the concept of snow
angels a slightly twisted turn. Let’s just say, without a doubt,
their halos were more than slightly crooked.

B
ack inside our gingerbread house, The Mom Squad sat around the
roaring family room fire, drying out from their abominable
snowwomen adventure, while Roman and R demonstrated their latest
super-cool gadget.

The Cellebite was apparently about to
become Santa Claus’ savior…and Father Time’s hangman.

“
Did you say, Celebrex?”
Grams asked, while cranking-up her hearing aids. “I thought that
was some kind of wienerschnitzel cure-all.”

Kat, the original Mom Squad Member,
who was also my BFF Roxy’s soon-to-be mother-in-law, burst out
laughing. Joining her was Roxy’s mom Lily, Mom Squad Member Number
Two. And not to be left outside of the laughin’ out loud circle of
mischief was Mom Squad Member Number Three, Aunt Tulip, who was my
BFF Jules’ closest thing to a mom.

“
Celebrex is for arthritis,
Grams. Cialis is for erectile dysfunction.”

Aunt Tulip, a semi-retired sex
therapist, attempted to clarify Gram’s confusion.

“
Well now, I don’t know why
you couldn’t use Celebrex for wienerschnitzel issues. Those bad
boys suffer swelling and pain too.”

Even my dad, ol’ St. Nick himself,
choked on my mom’s cookies.

Leave it to Grams.

Quarter Master R, ever the gentleman,
just like Roman, cleared his throat and tried to steer the
conversation back to phone-hacking gadgets.

“
As I was explaining,
Cellebite is a portable device that can quickly extract data from
any cell phone,” he said, holding up a gadget that looked like some
sort of radiation monitor you might expect to see metro police
using for bomb detection.

“
Cell phone data can now
show which towers have been accessed, to or from whom a call was
made or received and when, any texts sent, and stored GPS signals,”
Roman added. “It’s the best mobile forensics solution available.
And it will also allow us to get a complete high-speed hex dump of
a particular phone’s memory.”

“
Who’s gotta take a dump?”
Grams cut-in.

“
Oh for God’s sake, turn up
your damn hearing aids,” Lily squawked at Grams.

The rest of us struggled to clear our
airways of cocoa or cookies or both.

“
We’ll know Father Time’s
user lock codes, deleted information and call history. We’ll also
be able to gain access to his phone’s internal application data and
see his pictures and videos,” Roman continued, as if we weren’t
dealing with Grams’ outbursts at all.

“
So all we have to do is get
this thing plugged into Father Time’s cell phone, right?” Kat
asked, taking her turn checking out R’s latest dream
machine.

R leaned over her shoulder, a little
too close for just bein’ friendly, if you ask me.

But quite frankly, I liked the idea of
R and Kat getting to know each other on a more personal level. I
didn’t know two savvier, or lonelier, people than them.

Anyhoo…

“
That’s it exactly. If one
of you can get me about eight minutes with this thing plugged into
Father Time’s phone, we’ll have it made,” R said, a conspiratorial
grin flashing across his lips.

“
I can do that. No problem,”
Kat said, without a bit of hesitation. “Let me have a go at the
bastard. I’m an ace at distracting men, right Lily?”

As we all chuckled, Lily nodded her
head.

Who could forget Kat and Lily taking
on Music City’s Tomato King while trying to save Kat and her son
Zayne’s hybrid tomato farm? Kat and Lily had done a ton more than
bootscootin’ to save Zayne’s farm and Roxy and Zayne’s place on the
dance floor.

“
Are you sure about this,
Kat?” My dad asked. “Father Time can be quite the
asshole.”

“
Well, so can I,” Kat said.
“R, you just hook me up with everything I need to know about this
little beauty, and I’ll get the scoop we need.”

“
I knew from day one you
were my very own Charlie’s Angel,” R said, giving her a nice
Italian kiss-kiss, one sweet peck on each cheek.

And, oh boy, was Kat’s face redder
than my dad’s Santa suits.

“
So what’s your plan to get
to Father Time’s phone?” I asked, hardly able to stand the wait to
hear what The Mom Squad was cookin’ up.

“
I’m thinking I should
deliver a nice batch of Gram’s Christmas cookies to the jack-ass.
‘Tis the season and all,” Kat said, winking at Grams.

“
Now that’s brilliant,”
Grams said. “And I’ve got just the recipe I’ve been dying to
try.”

“
Nothing like killin’ him
off with kindness,” Kat chimed-in.

“
You do know you don’t need
to kill the guy to use this gadget, right?” I asked, almost afraid
of the answer they’d give me.

“
Duh,” Grams said. “Besides,
none of y’all have croaked yet from what comes outta my
kitchen.”

“
We may not have croaked,
but we’ve all had some massive bellyaches,” Roxy said, rubbing her
stomach for the added drama she never could resist.

“
Exactly,” Grams said, then
winked right back at Kat.

“
Oh shit,” I
said.

“
Pun intended?” Roxy
asked.

“
U betchya,” I answered,
suddenly feeling rather bad for my dad’s one-time friend Father
Time.

I hope he has plenty of toilet
paper.

T
here’s that old saying that there’s no time like the
present.

Well, let me give you the Witherspoon
Whoville version of that tidbit of wisdom…

There’s the Time God himself – Father
Time. But I have a feeling the gift he’s about to get ain’t gonna
be the best of presents.

Not since The Mom Squad’s now in
charge of Operation Elve-den.

And I still can’t believe that’s what
we’re calling our plan to bust Father Time. But Roman and R had
thought it was hilarious, given the circumstances, and I had to
agree.

Operation Elveden was the name of a
real Scotland Yard investigation regarding phone-hacking scandals,
just like the scandal that had rocked Roman and his brother’s
worlds.

And just like in Scotland Yard’s
Elveden, our perp, Father Time, had not only been accused of
phone-hacking, but also of bribing police. Rumor had it, Father
Time had bribed my parents’ dwarf-run security force.

So there you have it…our very own
Operation Elve-den.

If Father Time was messin’ in my dad’s
elf den, he’d be paying for much more than phone-hacking. No one
messed with my dad’s elves and got away with it.

We all lined-up around my mom’s
electric car, ready to embark on the short trip to Father Time’s
home, which was about a mile up the lakeshore.

Mom was in charge of driving the
getaway car. Kat was in the front passenger seat and Grams, her
baked goods and hot tea decanters were in the back.

Each year, regardless of whether or
not my dad was speaking to Father Time, Mom made the voyage to his
home, loaded down with Christmas cheer and goodies.

Mom felt sorry for Father Time and
always tried to be the peacekeeper between him and my
dad.

“
Okay,” R said, standing
beside Kat’s rolled down window and giving his team one final pep
talk, “each of you knows exactly what to do, right?”

“
Got it,” Kat said, not
looking the least bit nervous.

That was Kat. Always in control.
Always one step ahead of everyone else’s brain waves. And always
with balls of steel.

“
We’ve got it, and he’s
gonna get it,” Grams spoke-up. The devilish glee gleaming from her
squinting eyes indicated she was dead serious and hell bent on
dealing out some serious mischief.

“
Easy Grams,” Kat said,
trying her best to control her main accomplice.

After being scolded for her
excitement, Grams sat back in her seat and almost looked as if she
were pouting.

Of the three women, only my mom looked
a wee bit nervous. And that didn’t surprise me at all.

My mom was all about good
karma.

This year, however, she was going to
be doing much more than spreading good cheer.

I gave her a thumbs-up, hoping my vote
of confidence would give her a bit more bravado.

She smiled, but it was a rather tight
smile, indicating she wasn’t nearly as convinced as the rest of us
that what they were about to do was karmically kosher.

As her little car sputtered out the
drive and down the long lane toward Lakeshore Drive, all the rest
of us could do…was wait.

Well, wait and watch.

Hell yeah, we were watchin’ all the
action.

R and Roman had outfitted our family
room with a giant flat-screen monitor that would be piping in the
raw, live feed, first from my Mom’s car and then from the tiny hat
cams R had helped my mother sew into each spy chick’s Santa hat.
While the brim of each hat held the cameras, the balls were
outfitted with mini microphones.

We all went back into the house, took
our seats, reached for the hot cocoa and cookies Wanda Lu had
waiting for us, and waited for the show to begin.

W
ithin five minutes, the fuzzies on the giant flat-screen
turned into a crystal clear view of all three of our Santa Spies
bouncing along the snow-covered potholes dotting the tiny road
leading to Father Time’s lake house.

A few moments later, the sound
kicked-in and we could hear all three women singing Jingle
Bells.

My mother always sang Christmas carols
when her nerves were shot. This was not a good sign.

Kat sang along in a sweet, very
controlled voice. Her countenance was completely convincing that
she was more than ready for the task ahead.

Grams, on the other hand, was whoopin’
it up big time in the backseat, throwing her entire body into the
song. If she didn’t pipe down a bit, she’d lose her wired hat.
‘Course, that would have been good for all our eardrums.

“
How much further?” Kat
asked my mom, probably thinking no distance was short
enough.

“
We’re just about to his
driveway,” Mom said, moving her mouth in the contorted way she did
before doing something she didn’t totally agree with, but knew it
was all for the good of either my father or me.

A moment later, her car was bumping up
the pitted lane leading to Father T’s house.

“
Let’s do this,” Kat said,
adjusting her hat so it was perfectly centered on her
head.

She reached around to the back seat
and straightened-up Gram’s magic cam ensemble, which was now
clinging for dear life onto the right side of her bird-sized
head.

My mother took a yoga deep breath and
got out of the car with her hit squad.

And no, I didn’t say Shit Squad,
although that would be more accurate.

Kat took the plate of cookies from
Grams, but Grams held on tight to her thermos of tea.

“
Are you both sure about
this?” Mom asked while they waited on Father Time to answer his
doorbell.

“
Brownies are sooo
yesterday,” Grams said.

“
What?” My mother asked,
looking to Kat for clarification.

“
Trust me. You don’t want to
know till we’re back in the car and on the way home.”

As shock set-in, my mom’s eyes opened
wide. But before she could question Kat further, Father Time was at
his door, greeting his company.

“
I was so hoping you
wouldn’t forget me this year, Mrs. C.”

“
You’re soon gonna wish we
did, Sucker,” Grams said, thankfully soft enough that only her
microphone and Kat must have been able to pick it up.

Kat put her arm around Grams and must
have pinched her a good one, ‘cause Grams let out a
yelp.

“
Are you okay?” Father Time
asked.

“
Well it ain’t warm and
toasty out here, that’s for damn sure. You gonna invite us in or
what?” Grams asked, rubbing her shoulder where Kat had probably
left a nice welt.

“
You’ll have to forgive her,
she’s a bit old and feisty,” my mom whispered.

“
I heard that, but this
dude’s gotta be older than me. He’s Father Time. Duh,” Grams
said.

Evidently she had her hearing aids
cranked up today.

Everyone laughed in that awkward way
people do when they don’t know what the hell else to say or
do.