It's a Wonderful Knife (4 page)

Ty poured himself another cup of coffee. “So that's the infamous Bob.”

I laughed. “You know, it's hard to yell at Santa for being missing in action.”

Ty stretched out his legs. “Yeah. There's the whole coal-in-the-stocking thing to worry about.”

“Bob's here, so that's going to help out a lot,” ACB said. “I guess we should get to work. Right, Trixie? Ty, you're excused. You have to go to your real job. Trixie and I will make the salads here. Everything we need is on Trixie's back porch: pots, pans, big boxes of macaroni, bags of potatoes, mayonnaise, veggies, and two huge hams. I figure that we can get everything ready for four o'clock and you can drive the van to auditions tonight.”

Ty stood. “I'd better get it all inside before everything freezes.”

“Oh, yes!” ACB said. Sometimes she overlooks the big picture.

Ty brought in everything, then headed to work.

I looked at my stove. It was much smaller than the industrial ones at the Silver Bullet and would only accommodate one of the bigger pots at a time, and I wondered whether ACB could lift it by herself.

When cooked, the macaroni and potatoes could cool quickly outside on the porch. I'd keep an eye on it. In the winter, everyone up north here used their porches or garages as additional fridge space.

A few hours later, we were done with the three salads—mac, potato, and chef—and were wondering why we still hadn't run out of conversation.

Ty arrived with Ray and Bob and the three of them loaded everything into the van.

“Uh . . . Trixie, you have two whole hams still on the porch,” he said.

I looked at Antoinette Chloe. “I put them there. I figured that we could bake them in the community room kitchen at the church since it's much bigger than yours.”

“Juanita could have baked them at the Silver Bullet while we were making the salads,” I pointed out. “They would have been ready to load in the van.”

She shrugged. “Or we could have done that.”

“Actually, Juanita could have cut them up on the slicer and we could have just heated them up in the steam pans. The hams are already cooked. No sense turning them into jerky with a lot of baking.”

“We could have done that, too,” ACB said.

“We have to get on the road,” I said, checking the time.

The men rode in my van while ACB and I went in my car. It was easier for me to plop into the passenger's seat than to be hoisted into a van.

As we entered through the back door, the sounds of children running and shouting bounced off the walls. I peeked through the door and saw kids were running everywhere while Liz Fellows stood in the front surrounded by parents—mostly mothers.

I heard angry talking and whining. The parents were doing both.

“Liz, Johnny has always been the butt end of the donkey. Can't he be the head for once?”

“Liz, my Cortney wants to lip-sync to ‘Shake It Off' by Taylor Swift. Cortney can do all the choreography, too, and has her own costume. I know that this is a Christmas pageant, but Taylor Swift is a year-round personality.”

“I want my twins, Tiffany and Tommy, to have a speaking part this year. They only spit a little with their new braces. I don't know why the children in their class complain so much.”

“Liz, my Ralphie can play Ralphie from
A Christmas Story
. They look just alike even though my Ralphie is fourteen.”

Ty was at my side. “Looks like a three-ring circus in there. Maybe I should help Liz defuse the situation so she can get to work.”

He walked into the room, put his fingers to his lips, and let out a loud, shrill whistle.

The room became silent.

“Everyone take a seat and keep quiet, please. I don't know how Ms. Fellows can even think, let alone do her job.”

“
I
would never put up with such noise and confusion.” That haughty proclamation came from Margie Grace. Yes, the same Margie Grace who gave us the Christmas pageant with the tangoing shepherds and salmon. Oh, and let's not forget the spawning salmon dance at last year's Miss Salmon Contest.

“Margie, I need to start the auditions. Please take a seat along with everyone else,” Liz said, flipping pages on her clipboard.

“How dare you! I ran this pageant long before you became Pastor Fritz's secretary!”

There was a gasp from the spectators, and Liz looked like she was going to faint.

Margie held her cell phone in her right hand and was just winding up to throw it at Liz as if it were a baseball and she was a pitcher for the Yankees. Thankfully, Ty grabbed her wrist and held it.

“Knock it off, Margie. The kids are watching. Where's your Christmas spirit?”

But as long as Ty still had a grip on Margie, it was Liz's turn.

“How dare you, you old has-been! I am not a secretary. I am an administrative assistant.”

“I don't care what you call yourself; you do not have any experience in putting on plays.” Margie paused for dramatic effect and looked out at the spectators, who were now silent and riveted in their pews. “Unlike me.”

I heard breathing in my ear. It was ACB glued to my side. “This is like a production of
As the Stomach Turns
.”

“I know. Liz would have been really hurt if Ty hadn't stepped in and grabbed Margie's wrist.” I shuddered, thinking of what might have happened to Liz's face.

Ty held his hands up like a prisoner surrendering. “Ladies and gentlemen, in the spirit of the Christmas season, can you put your differences aside? Let's move these auditions along so we can start rehearsing. Trixie is here with dinner and dessert for everyone. She's setting up now.”

He gave me a pointed glance, and I hurried as fast as
I could to the kitchen on my one good leg with one plastered leg, two taped ribs, one uncapped tooth, and two wooden crutches.

“Trixie,” Bob said. “I have some bad news. The meat slicer we were going to use for the ham is broken. Apparently the maintenance man used it to cut wood to fix the banister on the front stairs.”

ACB shook her head. “The maintenance man should know better than that.”

“I guess we'll have to slice the ham by hand,” I said, glad that I remembered to bring my favorite knife. “I can sit and slice it.”

ACB walked in. “Speaking of bad news, you should see what's happening out in the church. It's mayhem. Apparently there's a rumor going around that a Hollywood talent scout might attend the pageant.”

“So that's it.” I shook my head. “No wonder the usually lovely people of Sandy Harbor are turning into gargoyles.”

Ray was out of breath when he ran in. “Mr. Constelli said that his daughter Daphne would
definitely
be singing ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.' But she can't remember the lines and sounds like a squeaky mouse. When Liz told Daphne to learn the lyrics of the song and try again, her mother threw the sheet music at Liz. Ty had to ask the whole family to leave. He kicked out Margie Grace, too. Daphne started crying and Mr. Constelli says he is going to sue.”

“For Pete's sake.” Ty walked into the kitchen, and I could swear that steam was coming out of his ears. “I
put Vern McCoy in charge of keeping the peace at the auditions. What's gotten into these people?”

“There may be a Hollywood talent scout coming to the pageant,” ACB said.

“Seriously?” Ty asked.

“That's the rumor,” ACB replied. “I wonder who started it.”

“Probably Margie Grace,” Ty said. “She seemed the craziest.”

“Maybe she figured that the rumor would cause problems for Liz,” I suggested. “If so, she was absolutely correct.”

“You know, it's hard to believe that Margie and Liz used to be good friends way back. In fact, Margie knew how much Liz loved flowers, and got her involved in the Garden Club.” ACB adjusted her fascinator just before it hit the ground. “If I remember correctly, they had words over their rose entries at the state fair. They fought, and I don't know who did what first, but both of their rose entries ended up on the floor of the horticulture building, decapitated. That put an end to their relationship.”

“Decapitated roses, huh?” Ty grunted. “On that note, let's get to work.”

I put Ty, Ray, and Bob to work positioning buffet tables, putting on tablecloths, and setting up the buffet with plates and utensils. Whereas Ty and Ray might be rookies, I was happy to see that Bob took charge. In the end, everything looked fabulous.

Ray and Ty put bread and rolls on trays. Then Bob fancied it up. They put out mayonnaise, butter,
mustard, ketchup, and horseradish in front of the rolls and salad dressings in front of the salad, then set up the steam pan for the ham. Bob even found some candy canes to put on the tables for decoration. Cold drinks, ice, and cups were set up on a round table. A big urn of coffee was perking on another table set with milk, sugar, spoons, and cups.

“Trixie, where are the napkins?” Bob asked.

“Um . . . uh . . . oh, no . . .” I remembered buying pretty napkins with snowmen on them, but they were nowhere to be found. “I think they are still in my kitchen pantry at the Big House.”

Bob opened his wallet, stuffed thick with bills, and handed Ray several of them. “Ray, hustle on over to the grocery store or to the Spend A Buck and buy a bunch of napkins. Pretty ones for Christmas.”

“Thanks, Ray. I'll reimburse you, Bob,” I said, slicing the ham.

“Don't worry about it,” he said. “You can't remember everything.”

“But it's my
job
to remember everything,” I protested. “I'm the boss.”

“Trixie, you broke your ankle and have broken ribs. And you are whistling with that gap in your teeth. You're allowed to be a little forgetful now and then. Give yourself a break.”

Word came from the church via Antoinette Chloe, who ducked out of the kitchen to audition for the Ghost of Christmas Presents, to say that Bob could audition for Santa Claus when the children were gone.

“Bob is the perfect Santa Claus. I don't know why
Liz is making him audition,” ACB complained. “Besides, no one else is signed up to try out. Margie Grace is right. Liz Fellows doesn't know what she's doing.”

“Antoinette Chloe,” Ty began, “Bob hasn't been around Sandy Harbor for a very long time, and I don't think that Liz even knows him. What if he is the worst Santa this side of the North Pole? That wouldn't be good for the pageant.”

“Oh, I suppose you're right.” She returned to cutting up dill pickles and putting olives into bowls. “And I almost forgot! Trixie, Liz says you are in as Tiny Tim. No audition necessary.”

Everyone laughed at that, and we returned to our festive mood.

Just then Pastor Fritz and his wife, Darlene, walked in. Pastor Fritz was a tall, skinny Ichabod Crane type of guy with an Adam's apple that moved when he spoke or swallowed. I heard that during his sermons, several of the parishioners would fall into a hypnotic trance simply by watching it move. He was bald except for a comb-over of exactly nine pitch-black strands of hair.

Darlene was the opposite of Pastor Fritz. She had huge brassy yellow hair with roots growing in and was about five feet tall. She was as wide as she was tall, always laughed, and loved to have a good time. Everyone said that Darlene was the best thing that ever happened to the church—she added a lot of new programs, the teens loved her, and she had a generous heart.

“I heard from Deputy Brisco that you broke some
bones, Trixie,” Pastor Fritz said, looking down. “I'm sorry to hear that, but thanks for doing all this work and not leaving us high and dry.”

“I'd never do that, Pastor Fritz.”

“Of course she wouldn't. You should know better than to say such a thing,” said Bob, standing up with a grunt from loading cases of soda into a cooler and grinning.

“Hey, Bob, is that you? What brings you back to Sandy Harbor?” asked Pastor Fritz. They shook hands.

“I got an SOS from Juanita Holgado. She said that Trixie needed a hand,” Bob said.

“It's good to see you again,” Darlene walked over to Bob, stood on her tiptoes, and lifted her arms to give him a hug. It still wasn't enough height.

Bob bent over and smiled widely. “Hi, Darlene.” Then Bob turned to me. “The pastor, Darlene, and I, and a bunch of others built a Habitat for Humanity house together in Syracuse.”

Darlene broke away and took her husband by the arm. “Fritz, let's go say hello to everyone else and watch the auditions for a while. I have a couple of announcements to make. I ran into Margie Grace outside. She wants to announce something about a spring trip to see the lilacs in Rochester. I don't know why she insists on talking about it now, when it's Christmas, but I guess she can't let Liz have all the attention. Then we can all eat when Trixie gives us the word.”

“I thought you kicked Margie out,” I whispered to Ty.

“I did.”

Ray came in with the napkins as Fritz and Darlene exited. I asked ACB to take all the ham that I had finally cut up and put it in the steam pan and light the cans of fuel.

“We are done,” I said, looking around the room. “Everything is perfect. Thanks so much, everyone. Now, let's all go watch the rest of the auditions, listen to the announcements, and let them know that dinner is served.”

“Good idea,” ACB said, leading the exodus out of the kitchen. I went the other way.

“Trixie?” Ty asked, holding the door open for me.

“I'm heading to the ladies' room first,” I replied. “Go ahead without me.”

I hobbled over to the cooler, got an orange soda, and took a long draw of the cold stuff. Mmm . . . icy cold. I put it on the table next to my knife, thinking that as soon as I got back to the kitchen, I should pack the knife away.

It took me longer than usual, with my injuries. And I had to wade through budding Sandy Harbor starlets and their mothers spraying a variety of products into their hair.