Boo Who (7 page)

Alfred cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles before saying, “Ainsley, I see something in you. Something very special. You have this
innocence about you, this likableness that sets people at ease. And you’re as attractive as a bowl full of worms to a bird.”

“Okay … let’s just leave the metaphors to me, shall we?” Wolfe piped in.

“Sorry. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that America needs a new domestic sweetheart, Ainsley. There are millions of women who are devastated right now. Granted, there are millions more who are cheering. But nevertheless, America needs someone to show them how to cook apple pie and how to stuff a turkey and how to make lemonade without a packet. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Her jaw had dropped. “Are you saying you think I could be the next Martha Stewart?”

“I know you could.”

“Hold on just a minute,” Wolfe said. “Is this a joke?”

“Why would I be joking? I used to be an agent, Wolfe. I know talent when I see it. And I also know opportunity.”

“This is absurd!” Wolfe said.

She crossed her arms. “What’s so absurd about it?”

Wolfe looked perplexed by her question, but to her, there wasn’t anything at all absurd about it. She was capable. She’d watched the woman as long as she could remember. She knew every move, every nuance, everything about her. Why couldn’t she step into her shoes?

“Ainsley,” Wolfe tried, “I think this is a little silly.”

She couldn’t help but scowl. “What’s so silly about it?”

Wolfe cupped her shoulder. “Sweetheart, we need to talk about this. I mean, we’ve got the wedding to plan—”

“I can do both.”

“She can do both,” Alfred repeated with a smile.

“But … but …”

“But what, Wolfe? You’ve been begging me to start a catering business. That is exactly how Martha Stewart started. This could be really big for me. Alfred believes in me, and he doesn’t have anything better to do with his time, right, Alfred?”

Alfred agreed with a shrug.

“So what’s the problem here?”

A sigh caused Wolfe to slump into the couch as he stared at his feet. Then he said, “Ainsley, I’ve walked the road of fame. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I’d even say it’s a curse.”

“But I have you, and Dad, and others to keep me grounded. Besides, who says I’ll be famous?”

He took her hands. “You just don’t know what it’s like to go everywhere and be recognized. There’s never any peace, never any obscurity. You have to watch yourself at all times, make sure you’re not doing anything stupid. And it’s so much pressure. Do you know what it feels like to disappoint a million people?”

“Do you know what it feels like to disappoint one?” she said, more angrily than she wanted. Wolfe’s expression told her he was wounded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said, squeezing his hand. “And now I have you to take care of me too.”

“So it’s a go?” Alfred asked.

“Alfred, give us a couple of days, will you?” she said, aware of Wolfe’s growing frustration. “It’s Christmas, and we shouldn’t be focused on such things.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Alfred stood, sliding on his gloves. “Okay. I will call you in a couple of days.”

She shook his hand. “Thank you, Alfred. I appreciate your confidence in my abilities.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Have a Merry Christmas.”

“Um … yeah …”

She stopped him as he pulled on his coat. “Alfred, what are you doing for Christmas? Where are you staying?”

“Oh, just up at the motel they ripped off from Wolfe’s
The Gleaming.
Previously called The Wonderlook, but now I think they’re calling it wonder-if-we’re-booked’.” Alfred was the only one laughing at his joke.

“But what are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” Wolfe said, trying to usher Alfred to the door. “Alfred hates Christmas, right?” “Right.”

“Wrong! Nobody I know hates Christmas. Alfred Tennison, you must join us for Christmas lunch tomorrow.”

She did not miss Wolfe’s obvious eye roll, but how could she let the poor man spend Christmas alone? “I insist,” she added.

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I know that is family time for you,” Alfred said, looking at Wolfe.

“Yes. Family time. Now run along.”

“Wolfe, tell him he has to stay. We’ll have plenty of food.”

Wolfe shot her a look, but minding his manners as she knew he would, he said, though rather meekly, “Yes. We insist.”

Alfred grinned. “Well, my goodness, how could I miss out on an opportunity to spend Christmas with the most famous caterer in all of Indiana?”

With a groan, he guided Alfred to the door. Ainsley stood behind him, her arms entangled with his.

“Good night, Alfred. See you tomorrow,” Wolfe said. “And listen, no talking catering or business or anything else tomorrow, okay? I won’t even discuss my writing.”

Alfred smiled. “You are sooo yesterday. Take a look at Skary’s new claim to fame. She’s the gorgeous blonde standing behind you.”

CHAPTER 7

W
OLFE PULLED THE WARM COVERS
over his body, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep. His eyes were heavy with the remnants of the hefty conversation with Ainsley last night after Alfred left. He didn’t get home until after 2:00 a.m.

But sleep eluded him. It was, after all, Christmas morning. Wolfe stretched his arms over his head and smiled, imagining that in just a few years, a little boy, or maybe a girl, would be tugging at his pajamas whispering that Santa Claus had come. “Get up, Daddy!” He would touch Ainsley’s arm, who would lazily roll over into his shoulder and cup their little one’s face.

But for now, he would have to settle for Goose and Bunny, his German shepherds, who stood next to his bed whimpering out their bladder pain.

“Okay, okay,” he said to them. “Give me just a minute.” He pulled on some warm pants and a sweater and then went downstairs to put on some boots. He thought about making himself a cup of coffee first, but by the way his dogs’ ears were urgently perked, he realized he’d better take them for their morning walk now. And there was no just letting them out the back door. He’d failed to walk them yesterday. Today he was not getting off the hook.

Outside, he was delighted to see it had snowed. He thought after his last experience with snow he might not ever want to see it again, but he couldn’t deny the beauty of a white blanket covering the landscape.

Goose and Bunny were enjoying their usual romp outside their normal boundaries as they walked the quiet streets of Skary. He couldn’t
stop smiling at the thought of spending Christmas Day with Ainsley. He’d always liked the holidays, but since his parents died, he’d spent them alone, usually going over picture albums. He liked listening to Christmas music, and a couple of years had actually fixed himself a simple traditional dinner.

But this year … This year was going to be magical. Ainsley’s home replicated the North Pole with all its lavish decorations. One day soon, she would do the same thing to his home.
Their
home. The smile widened on his face.

God had blessed him more than he could ever imagine. And the wedding wasn’t even here yet.

Wolfe decided on his way home to stop by Reverend Peck’s parsonage. He knew the reverend rose early. He softly knocked on the door, and after a few seconds the reverend answered, beaming at the unexpected company. Wolfe ordered Goose and Bunny home and then accepted the reverend’s invitation to come in.

“Merry Christmas, Wolfe!” The reverend embraced him enthusiastically, but Wolfe noticed he looked very tired and had dark purple circles under his eyes.

“Reverend Peck, are you all right? You look tired.”

The reverend smiled as they sat at the small breakfast table near a large bay window that was filtering in the morning light. “I am tired. I was up all night.”

“Sick?”

“No, not sick. Inspired.”

“Really?”

“I know how to fix my church,” Reverend Peck said, a twinkle in his eye. “I know how to get people to come.”

“How?”

“Can’t tell you. I’m still working on the plan. But it hit me last night. It all came rushing to me like a giant wave.”

Wolfe nodded, his curiosity piqued. “Well, I can’t wait to see what happens.”

“Coffee?” the reverend asked.

“No, thanks. But Reverend, may I ask where you will be spending Christmas this year?”

“Here,” he smiled. “Now don’t go feeling sorry for me. Every year I get invited somewhere. But this year I thought I’d spend it with the Lord. Quietly.”

“You’re sure?” Wolfe asked. “You know Ainsley will be very upset if she knows you’re here by yourself.”

“Don’t tell her,” the reverend said. He grinned, and Wolfe couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the reverend this enthusiastic. He couldn’t help but wonder what the grand plan was. “But maybe you can drop by a plate of leftovers later.”

“I’ll make sure I do that,” Wolfe said, standing and shaking his hand. “Have a merry Christmas, Reverend.”

“It will be a Christmas I’ll never forget.”

“See?” her father said, worry carving deep creases into his brow. “Nothing.”

Ainsley and her father stood over Thief, who was flopped across the sheriff’s bed in his typical lazy way. Ainsley wasn’t sure what exactly her father was referring to. Cats by nature were lazy, and why Thief lying on the bed was any need for concern, she didn’t understand. But her father had been complaining that Thief hadn’t been himself since the surgery.

“It’s only been a couple of days,” she said, patting her father’s shoulder. “Give him time.”

The sheriff glanced at her. “It is a traumatic operation, I guess.”

“Sure,” she said. “He’ll be back to his old self soon.”

He stroked the cat’s body tenderly. “I just hope he’s okay.”

“It’s Christmas morning, Daddy. Don’t worry about it today, okay?”

They left the room together. “Let’s go downstairs. I have a present for you.”

Her heart leapt the same way it had when she was a little girl. She loved this time of morning, when they’d go downstairs, drink gourmet
coffee, open presents, and eat the special Christmas pastry she would bake. She galloped downstairs and to the tree.

It sparkled in the morning light. She’d chosen silver to be her theme this year, and it was gorgeous. With just a bit of gold thrown in, their whole tree seemed to glow with heavenly snow.

“Here,” her father said, handing her a small box, wrapped with the clumsiness of a male. She smiled. Her dad had never figured out how to make crisp corners or use invisible tape. She carefully unwrapped it. Inside there was a beautiful floral journal. She looked up at him. “A journal. You know how I love journals! I can record all my thoughts about the wedding.”

He grinned. “Open it up.”

Ainsley carefully picked up the journal, opened it, and gasped. Her mother’s handwriting filled the pages. She looked at her dad.

“I’ve been waiting to give this to you until you were to be married. This was your mother’s journal that she kept while we were engaged, all the way up to our wedding day.”

Tears blurred her vision, and she embraced her father, holding him tightly. After a few moments, he combed the hair out of her face and said, “Are you okay?”

She nodded but couldn’t speak. As excited as she was about getting married, she also knew it meant leaving her father, something she’d wanted to do for years but now realized was going to be harder than she’d realized. Imagining him alone in this old house tore her heart to shreds.

“Daddy,” she cried, “this is so perfect. I can’t wait to read it.”

“I hope it brings you some guidance as you plan your own wedding.”

She sniffled away her tears and then handed her father his present. Without regarding the silk bow or silver wrapping, he tore it open. She couldn’t help but smile. Luckily, she wrapped packages like that for her own satisfaction.

“A cookbook?” her father asked with a laugh.

“Not just any cookbook.
The Male Species Guide to Cooking Anything.”

The sheriff smiled. “I guess it’s time for me to learn the kitchen,” he sighed. “I know I’ll get tired of making myself cold cereal after a while.”