Many Unpleasant Returns by Judith Alguire

he can too much longer.”
    â€œDid you tell him about the Santa Clauses?”
    â€œYes,” she replied, selecting another piece of pineapple. “I’m afraid he’s not keen on them.”
    â€œThey are a little strange, Margaret, with their long arms and legs and skinny little bodies. I have never seen Santas like that.”
    â€œThey’re made so the arms can be wrapped around branches on the tree. Once they’re packed with treats, they’ll fill out.”
    â€œThey will look like people who have spider bodies.”
    Margaret sighed. “I agree they’re not very attractive. Frances’s tastes are rather catholic. Occasionally she’s a bit off.”
    â€œSo they will be put on the tree?”
    â€œWe’ll put them around somewhere, perhaps in the ballroom. We have to put them out — or Frances will be hurt — but somewhere they don’t stand out too much. You know how Rudley is about the balance of his Christmas decorations.”
    â€œHe is quite anal retentive.”
    â€œYes.” Margaret sighed and reached for a pear.
    Gregoire eased the knife from her hand. “I am ready to go back to work and you should have your dinner so you can preside over games night.”
    â€œOh, I don’t need to worry about that. Miss Miller has volunteered.”
    Â 
    All of the guests had gathered in the drawing room for a games tournament.
    â€œSo” — Miss Miller tallied up the points from euchre, Parcheesi and Chinese checkers — “I declare Mr. Justus the winner of our tournament.”
    Harry Justus beamed.
    Walter Sawchuck dismissed his brother-in-law’s achievement. “First time he’s won a thing in his life,” he muttered.
    â€œShh,” Doreen hissed.
    â€œIt’s not as if he won the Nobel Prize.”
    Noting Harry’s smile fade, Miss Miller hastened to add: “In winning the first of our games nights, Mr. Justus has accumulated twenty points, which gives him an excellent chance of winning the grand prize.”
    â€œWhat’s he get?” Walter huffed. “A blue ribbon?”
    â€œWhich I happen to know,” Miss Miller continued, “will be one of several nice gifts selected by Mrs. Rudley as prizes for our various contests over the holidays. And for winning tonight, Mr. Justus receives a gift box of our local jams and jellies.”
    â€œMr. Sawchuck’s a bit of a poop,” Dan Thornton murmured. He was sitting beside Tiffany, one arm draped over her shoulder.
    â€œWho’s a poop?” Norman Phipps-Walker asked in a stage whisper.
    â€œGroup,” Tiffany whispered to Norman. “Dan just noted we were a wonderful group.”
    Norman smiled a buck-toothed smile. “Yes, we are.”
    â€œI think you’ve had too much to drink, Walter,” Doreen said in a voice she thought low, but which carried halfway across the room.
    â€œI’ve had one glass of punch,” Walter growled.
    â€œWhich proved to be too much,” Miss Miller murmured.
    â€œIt looks as if there’s trouble in paradise,” said Norman as Doreen gave Walter a frosty look, then turned away.
    â€œI imagine Mrs. Sawchuck wants to support her brother,” Simpson whispered. “Walter was treating him unfairly.” Aware of the others straining to hear him, he announced, “We were listening to the weather report on the way down. It seems we’re in for a dilly.”
    â€œWe did come here for the snow,” said Carla Johnson.
    Miss Miller shot her an irritated look.
    â€œQuite,” said Simpson.
    â€œIt’s probably exaggerated,” said Ted Franklin, yawning. “Even if it’s a bummer, it’ll blow over well before we have to leave.”
    â€œI imagine they’re used to handling bad weather here,” said Peter Johnson.
    Thornton smiled a self-satisfied smile. “I’m sure they are. I’m not sure I’d want