It's a Wonderful Knife (3 page)

“I'd like to be unloading at the kitchen in the community room by three o'clock, and ready with the buffet by five o'clock. Auditions start at four o'clock for the kids, and five o'clock for the adults. Liz Fellows gets wacky when her schedule is disrupted. I'll keep the buffet up until six.”

ACB grunted. “But not everyone is out of work by five. And then they have to drive to the Community Church's Community Center. Liz must know that.”

I chuckled as I remembered my discussion with Liz. “She said that a lot of people have the day after Thanksgiving off and that anyone who is serious about the pageant should take the day off anyway and practice for the part they are trying out for.”

Antoinette Chloe rolled her eyes. “At least Margie Grace knew how to be more accommodating to the people. She directed over twelve Christmas pageants until she was unceremoniously dumped. At least Margie was considerate and realistic.”

Ty raised an eyebrow. “Realistic? At the Miss Salmon Contest last fall, she had fishermen doing something weird with their salmon.”

ACB shook her head. “The fishermen were catching the salmon as the salmon were spawning.”

I had to jump into this conversation. “It looked like the fishermen and the salmon were spawning
together
, Antoinette Chloe. Parents covered their children's eyes. Many citizens of Sandy Harbor were appalled.”

“Margie is just . . . artistic. She worked on Broadway, you know.”

I laughed. “She passed out playbills and seated people at the Uris Theatre back in 1979.”

“And she even met Angela Lansbury's understudy during the run of
Sweeney Todd
,” ACB announced. “And she danced in the chorus of
Gams, Guns, and Gangsters
. It ran for three days before it closed. Margie's like Broadway royalty.”

Broadway royalty?

I yawned and couldn't keep my eyes open. “Thanks for everything. Good night.”

ACB didn't take the hint, but continued on. “Margie is going around telling everyone that Liz was appointed director just because she is Pastor Fritz's secretary, and because it's his church that the pageant's being held at this year. She's convinced that Liz can't run a pageant.” ACB shook her head. “I think that Margie is going to cause trouble.”

I took a deep breath, wanting to put this conversation to rest so I could sleep. “Margie is just miffed because she was replaced. For years, she's been the go-to person in Sandy Harbor for all things related to plays, performances, and pageants. It's time for someone else to give the Christmas pageant a fresh
perspective and not have salmon and trout doing the tango with Santa Claus and the shepherds.”

“Margie just loves her fish.” ACB laughed. “But I see what you mean.”

God bless Ty, who gently herded ACB to the front door so she could exit. He picked up her plaid cape and tried to figure out how to help her into it, but he eventually gave up and handed it to her.

“See you tomorrow, Trixie,” Ty said, dodging as ACB twirled the cape over her shoulder like a matador. “Get some sleep.”

“Good night, both of you,” I repeated. “And thanks for helping me.”

Antoinette Chloe was just about to touch a toe to the first step when she abruptly turned around.

“Hold your horses, cowboy. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay with Trixie to help her while she's recovering. I won't leave her side.”

Oh, no! Not again!
She'd just stayed with me while I was under Ty's recent, ridiculous house arrest, where she was appointed my “warden” by him.

I should have been grateful that Antoinette Chloe wanted to help me out, so I resolved to enjoy her company. After all, 'twas the season to be jolly.

Once again, Ty was spitting out plaid cloth as ACB removed her cape and tossed it on my flowered sofa.

“Trixie, how about if I take Blondie home with me?” he asked.

Blondie was already four paws ahead of him.
Apparently she had already planned on moving in with Ty tonight anyway.

“Sure.” It would save me from trying to get up to let Blondie out to potty.

Ty got his black cowboy hat, put it on, and gave the top a quick tap. “See you ladies tomorrow. Call me if you need me.”

“You got it, Deputy Brisco,” ACB said. “But I have everything under control.”

I yawned. “Thanks again, Ty.”

He tweaked the brim of his hat. Have I mentioned yet how much I loved it when he did that?

After Ty left, ACB turned to me. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No. Thanks anyway, but I could go for a trip to the bathroom. Would you get my crutches?” They were just a hair out of my reach.

“Sure.”

Just as she reached for one to hand it to me, rubber side first, she misjudged the length and sent my twelve-inch, beautifully painted, ceramic turkey flying across the room. It landed, minus its head, at my feet.

“Shoot! I'm so sorry, Trixie.” ACB looked like she was about to cry. “It was your aunt Stella's, wasn't it? It had to be over sixty years old.”

First my special Santa cocoa mug broke, and now my favorite turkey that I remembered as a kid. Aunt Stella would put it out for Thanksgiving, and I named it Thomasina, because I was sure it was a girl.

Thomasina became mine when I bought the point. Each Thanksgiving when I brought her out, I sat with
her on my lap, admiring every brushstroke and lamenting how much I liked to eat turkey—not only on Thanksgiving, but throughout the year, too.

Sorry, Thomasina.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. The mug and ceramic turkey were only inanimate objects, after all.

“The turkey can be glued, and it'll be as good as new,” I said. “Please don't worry. Just put the pieces in the kitchen, and I'll find the glue. But first, can you help me get up?”

She set both parts of Thomasina on the coffee table and supercarefully handed me the other crutch.

I pulled myself up to my feet—or should I say to my foot—and with Antoinette Chloe's help, I stood. Then dizziness set in just as my stomach churned.

Thinking of the less than delightful takeout from the Ride 'Em Cowboy Saloon, I knew I had to hurry out of the room, go through the sitting room, then the kitchen, then the walk-in pantry, then the laundry room. The bathroom was off the laundry room, out of the way of the kitchen.

I'll spare you the details, but after my mission was completed, I decided to throw in a load of laundry and fold the clothes that had been in the dryer since that morning.

Balancing myself and trying not to breathe because my ribs hurt, I unloaded the dryer and put everything in a laundry basket. Oh, I found a nightgown!

I slipped everything off that I could, stepped out of my cut-up jeans, and let the soft blue flannel of my nightgown warm me.

When I walked out, Antoinette Chloe was at my oak kitchen table with my notebook and calendar, groaning and moaning.

Did you write this in Polish?” she asked. “It's a mess. From what I can tell, you're missing Chet and Lottie Campbell's fiftieth wedding anniversary on the second of December on your calendar. You have a menu in your notebook, though. You do have an entry for Louise McDowney's bridal shower.”

Two bookings for one day. “Good catch, Antoinette Chloe, but I'll think about it all tomorrow.”

My house phone rang, and I jumped. At two in the morning, it couldn't be good news.

ACB was already up and answering. “Trixie's house. Antoinette Chloe speaking. Oh, hi, Linda. Is everything okay?”

Linda Blessler was subbing for me at the diner on the graveyard shift.

“Uh-huh. Oh, no! Gee, that's really too bad! Uh-huh. Uh-huh.”

One more
uh-huh
from ACB, and I was going to scream!

“Sorry to hear that, Linda. Sure, Trixie's right here. I'll tell her. Oh, you already called Juanita? She has an idea? Great! Maybe Juanita could pull a double or I could work graveyard for Trixie. Or maybe some kind of combination. Okay. Have a safe trip. Bye.”

“Trip? What happened?”

“Linda saw the light on in the kitchen here, and she felt like she could call without waking you. She said
that Ty told her about your accident and she's sorry about—”

“Antoinette Chloe, what trip is Linda taking?”

“She has to fly down to Florida. Her sister, Lulu, needs her help with babysitting.”

As I stood there with my ankle throbbing and my ribs aching, my mind was going in a million directions.

“Um . . . Antoinette Chloe, who is going to cook on the graveyard shift? I heard you volunteer, but I think you are going to be busy enough with my catering. And you have your own business to run, and your own Christmas stuff to do . . . and . . . and . . .”

I took a couple of deep breaths. Things would be better in the morning.

ACB stood. “You haven't heard the best part. Juanita is going to contact Bob and tell him that we need him.”

“Bob? You mean,
the
Bob?”

Bob—whose last name I didn't know or couldn't remember—was an old army buddy of Uncle Porky and cooked on the graveyard shift. Bob had been missing in action since Uncle Porky died.

I'd never met Bob, but he always checked in with Juanita from various casinos around the U.S. and Canada, claiming that he was too ill to come in to work.

Yeah, right.

Bob?
Ho. Ho. Ho.

W
hen I opened my eyes the next morning, the sun was streaming through my windows. I smelled coffee, and something garlicky cooking—maybe kielbasa or fried bologna.

The clock in the shape of a ship's wheel over the TV told me that it was almost ten thirty.

Ten thirty! Yikes! I had a million things I needed to do.

I pulled the lever on the side of the recliner, and the footrest dropped way too fast.

“Yeow!” I gasped as my casted foot hit the hardwood floor. It rattled my teeth.

“Trixie, are you awake?” ACB yelled from the kitchen.

“Barely.”

“Breakfast is ready. Can you make it to the kitchen?”

“Sure,” I replied. “First I need to make a pit stop and wash my face and comb my hair.”

I hobbled—or should I say crutched?—to the kitchen and saw the big oak farm table set for about ten. I turned to Antoinette Chloe, busy at the stove, who looked over her shoulder and answered my unasked question.

“We're having a ‘help Trixie meeting.' Ty's coming over for breakfast. So are Juanita, Ray, Max, and Clyde. Oh, and your waitresses Nancy and Bettylou are coming, too, just as soon as they cash out their customers. Cindy is cooking and wants to help, but we'll fill her in later. Everyone wants to help you, really. They all do. We're getting a plan of action together.”

I smiled, happy to the core. I was surrounded by wonderful friends, and they were coming to breakfast on this pretty day to plan how they could help me.

Ray is a high school senior who is mostly my computer expert. He also busses tables and loads and unloads the dishwasher.

Ty talked me into giving Ray a job when he was caught hacking into a computer at the Sandy Harbor High School a couple of years back and changing grades. I had reservations at first, but as it turned out, Ray has been invaluable to me and a great worker.

I inherited Max and Clyde from Uncle Porky. They're my handymen and were also army buddies of my uncle. They take care of the grounds; I couldn't run the point without them. I inherited Juanita Holgado, too, my day cook and assistant. I don't know what I'd do without Juanita.

Yikes. If all these people were coming over, I'd better make myself look presentable.

I searched the laundry basket for some clothes to wear, because I didn't want to ask Antoinette Chloe to make a clothes run for me upstairs when I could still tap into the basket.

I found a jean skirt that I could just pull on over my
cast and a T-shirt that read
SANDY HARBOR: SALMON FISHING
CAPITAL
OF
AMERICA
and had a picture of a salmon jumping out of some waves on it. It was a stretch to claim that, but the shirts were the idea of the Sandy Harbor Tourist Bureau, which consisted of Loretta Mitchum and her next-door neighbor Elsie Crom, who ran the tourist bureau out of Elsie's farm stand on Route 3 two days a week from June until September.

I continued to get myself together, glad that Uncle Porky had loved porcelain enough so that the Big House was equipped with several bathrooms, showers, and tubs.

It was way too much house for me, but on several occasions in the past, the rooms were full of guests. I was very glad to welcome them, but was also ecstatic when they left, and Blondie and I had some peace and quiet.

Speaking of guests, they all arrived for breakfast at once and swarmed around me. Juanita helped me to a chair and propped my foot up on a pillow on another chair. It wasn't very conducive for eating at the table unless I twisted.

Eventually I pushed the chair and pillow away and hoisted my cast under the table. I figured that I'd be fine for a while.

Antoinette Chloe handed me a pain pill from the little envelope I'd received at the emergency room. Since my ribs and ankle were throbbing, I took it and washed it down with some orange juice.

Juanita unwrapped a quiche that she must have made during her shift at the Silver Bullet. Antoinette Chloe set out kielbasa, scrambled eggs, bacon, French toast, and breakfast sausage.

“Eat!” she ordered. “Before it gets cold!”

I could remember Uncle Porky always saying that at functions. Then he'd always mutter under his breath that it's nice to be polite, but everything's getting cold.

Everyone got busy passing, reaching, and talking.

ACB stood on the side of me, loading up my plate as if I couldn't do it myself. I raised an eyebrow at Ty as she was trying to shake off a chunk of kielbasa from a fork onto my plate. It landed with a splash in Max's coffee.

Max didn't notice. He was busy teasing Ray about Ray's new girlfriend. ACB fished the kielbasa out with a spoon and plopped it onto my plate as if nothing had happened.

Clyde noticed and took the opportunity to sop up Max's saucer with a napkin and fill up Max's cup.

Clyde elbowed Ty. Ty chuckled. I bit my bottom lip so I wouldn't laugh out loud.

Max took a sip of kielbasa-flavored coffee and grinned. “Good stuff.”

Antoinette Chloe Brown was one of a kind.

Juanita Holgado tapped a fork on the side of her coffee cup and everyone became silent.

“Boss Trixie, I speak for everyone here.
Sí.
All your friends
.
We wish to help you with the catering. And we'll decorate for Christmas at the diner and here at
the Big House. We all know how much you love Christmas. And whatever you need, we will do.”

Sentimental tears filled my eyes. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it, but you all have so much to do already. And I'm not completely helpless. I can do most everything—except drive, and carry things to the van, and stand for long periods of time, and walk for any length, and put things in the oven and take them out, and—”

Ty cleared his throat. “You can keep on top of the ordering from your food distributor and you can list every morning what needs to be done. We'll put a duplicate calendar in the Silver Bullet's kitchen. Max, Clyde, Ray, and I will be your loaders, unloaders, and drivers.”

Just then there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” ACB yelled.

Gee, I hoped it wasn't an ax murderer that Antoinette Chloe was letting in, but we did have Deputy Brisco on the scene.

Nancy and Bettylou walked in and kicked off their boots. “What a busy day already!” Nancy said.

“You aren't kidding!” Juanita added. “I have to hurry back and help Cindy, so let's plan.”

Nancy and Bettylou didn't want anything but coffee, and ACB motioned for them to help themselves.

We all kept talking, mostly about the catering and delivery to the Christmas pageant rehearsals at the Sandy Harbor Community Church.

My notebook appeared in front of me, courtesy of ACB. “I was thinking mostly about winter comfort
food. Things like soups and chili and sandwiches. Pot roast. Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes.”

“And gravy,” Clyde added.

“Of course,” I said. “And spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread.”

“And a chef salad,” said Juanita.

“And baked macaroni and cheese,” I said, remembering our recent contest for the best mac-and-cheese dish.

“Cream of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches,” said ACB. “I always loved it when my mother made that on a cold, winter day.”

I nodded. “So did I.”

I noticed that Ray Meyerson was awfully silent. “Anything you'd like to add, Ray?”

“I was just thinking. Do you think there would be time for me to try out for the pageant?” he asked.

“Well, of course!” I said. “I hope to be in it, too.”

Clyde laughed. “You could always play Tiny Tim.”

There was laughter all around, and I joined in. “What a great idea!” I said. “I'll have to tell Liz Fellows that I'm trying out for Tiny Tim. I come with my own crutches, too.”

More talking and joking ensued. I didn't want it to end, but little by little everyone started to take their dishes to the dishwasher. ACB rinsed and loaded them in.

“Antoinette Chloe, what are you going to try out for?” Clyde asked.

“The Ghost of Christmas Presents,” she replied. “I'm
going to help Santa pass out the presents, just like I did last year. I had a ball.”

“It's the Ghost of Christmas Present,” Ty said. “As in the
present
day, and not like gifts.”

“You think of it your way, and I'll think of it my way. I'm going to be the Ghost of Christmas Presents, and I'll be helping Santa distribute gifts after the pageant,” she said stubbornly.

“Do we even know what the pageant is going to be about?” I asked. “I mean, Antoinette Chloe, you're planning on a scene from
A Christmas Carol.
What if Liz Fellows has something else in mind? Maybe she's going to do some version of
A Charlie Brown Christmas
or
It's a Wonderful Life.
Or maybe the one with Ralphie and Randy
—A Christmas Story
.”

“I love that movie!” Nancy said.

“I laugh and laugh,” added Bettylou.

“Humpf.” ACB crossed her arms. “We'll see about my part tonight, and I'd better be the Ghost of Christmas Presents—that's
p-r-e-s-e-n-t-s
.”

Clyde sniffed. “A theatrical diva is right here in our
p-r-e-s-e-n-c-e
,” he spelled, imitating ACB. “As for me, I don't like the limelight. I'm going to volunteer to take tickets at the door.”

“And I'll take care of parking everyone,” Max said. “As usual.”

There was more banter like this, and I sat back and enjoyed it. All catering talk was over, and I knew that my friends would fill in as needed.

There was another knock on the door. I didn't miss
the raised eyebrows and the clearing of throats around the table.

Juanita stood and walked over to the door. “I wonder who that could be.”

I had a feeling that she already knew.

She opened the door and there stood . . .

Santa Claus?

The man had—
I kid you not
—a round face with rosy cheeks, a big belly, a shock of white hair, and a beard. He wore a red parka and red and black checked pants tucked into shiny black rubber boots, and he was smoking (you won't believe this) a corncob pipe.

And he carried a poinsettia plant.

“This lovely lady must be Trixie,” he said. “My dear, it's a delight to see you after all these years. I remember you as a young lady. You've grown into a fine woman.”

“Yes. I'm Trixie Matkowski. Pardon me for not getting up.”

He handed me the plant. “For you, lovely Trixie. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

I looked over at Juanita. Her brown eyes were as wide as saucers. It was the same look she had when she worried about snow, the bread rising, a big take-out order, and giving me bad or shocking news.

Then it hit me. “Bob?”

He nodded. “One and the same.”

“Where've you been, Bob?”

Legend had it that Bob, one of the primary chefs at the Silver Bullet, had disappeared after my uncle Porky's funeral service at the cemetery. Apparently Bob
had kissed and hugged Aunt Stella, gotten into his car, and driven away.

He'd called in “sick” a month later to Juanita. And since I'd taken over three years or so ago, he'd still been calling in sick from various casinos across North America.

He'd never asked for me. He only talked to Juanita, probably because he was afraid I'd tell him to return to the Silver Bullet and get back to work.

“I've been traveling, but I heard you needed me. So I'm here,” he said. “I'm ready to help out.”

I needed him desperately, especially with Linda not being able to cover for me, but I wasn't going to let Bob off that easily.

“Traveling?” I raised an eyebrow. “I know exactly where you've been traveling.”

Looking around the table, I saw the amusement on everyone's face. They all knew him from the old days when he'd worked alongside Porky. They were cooks in the army together. They both had the same stature and the same twinkle in their eyes. And they were both from Brooklyn.

“Ho-ho-ho.” He laughed. “I'm going to try out for Santa Claus tonight. It's been a long time since I've played Santa, and I miss the kids.” He cleverly changed the subject of his disappearance.

“Speaking of tonight,” Antoinette Chloe said, “I hate to cut this reunion short, but we all have things to do to get ready.”

“What do you want me to do, Trixie?” Bob asked. “I'm ready to do whatever you need me to.”

“Why don't you let Juanita help you get reacquainted with the kitchen? I'm going to need you working the third shift.” Then I remembered my manners. “Do you need to get settled in first?”

Juanita nodded. “He drove nonstop from Connecticut to be here this morning.”

“Foxwoods Casino or Mohegan Sun Casino?” I asked.

“Foxwoods.”

“Where are you staying?” I asked, thinking that I should offer him a guest room here at the Big House.

“He's staying at my house,” Juanita answered.

“What?” Clyde sat up straighter in his chair. “At your house?”

Juanita raised an eyebrow at Clyde. “Yes. I am all alone, and Bob can keep me company.”

“Bob could stay with me. I'm all alone, too,” Clyde said sharply.

“Well, whose fault is that?” Juanita snapped, then glared at Clyde.

I looked at ACB, who was hiding a smile. We both knew that Clyde had a crush on Juanita but was too shy to do anything about it. Juanita had just sent him a little tweak to make him jealous.

Wow! Nice move, Juanita.

Bob chuckled. “I feel so wanted, but I'll stay with Clyde, Juanita. I don't want to start tongues wagging in Sandy Harbor.”

Everyone carried their dishes on the counter, helped ACB clean up, and left. Only Ty, ACB, and I remained.