Rollover by Susan Slater

fresh coat of earth-colored brown stucco. White flower boxes below each of four front windows overflowed with purple, pink, and white petunias—attesting to the fact that there hadn’t been a hard frost yet this fall. A white picket fence maybe three feet high stretched across the front and around both sides and sported a sparkling white gate right in the center of the cement walkway that led to the front door.
    â€œYou didn’t tell me you were visiting the gingerbread family. This is too cute—out of some book I read as a child.”
    â€œHey, I have a good idea—why don’t you come with me? Might make Ms. Kennedy feel a little safer.”
    â€œSafer? Just because her interviewer is black and blue and swathed in bandages?” Elaine turned to look at him. “You know, maybe I should.”
    The front door opened before they were halfway up the walk. The two women framed by the doorway were like peas in a pod—one younger but already a carbon-copy of what was probably her mother, the older with curly white hair, checked green-and-white wool flannel skirt, and matching green sweater, a starched white apron securely around her waist. The other woman, with graying brown locks just as curly but tucked under a scarf pulled back and tied at the nape of her neck, wore a solid tan wool skirt with a dark brown sweater over a crisp long-sleeved white blouse. And they were both as cute as their house, Dan decided.
    â€œOh my goodness, just look at you. When your office called to reschedule, they said you’d had a bit of a mishap.” The older woman stepped back to let them enter. “This is my daughter, Penelope, and I’m Gertie. You can call me Gertie. I prefer to use the shortened version of my middle name—my first name being Cornelia.” She paused and looked up at him over the silver rims of half-glass readers. “Well, what would you do? It was either Gertie or Corny.”
    â€œI see. That does make for an easy decision.” Dan chided himself but for all the world this was exactly how he pictured Mrs. Claus—well, had pictured her as a child when Santa and his wife had been real entities in his life. “And this is Elaine Linden…my right hand until I get my own back.” He held up the cast.
    â€œAnd to make introductions complete, this is Bitsy.” Gertie pulled a tiny long-coated Chihuahua from an apron pocket. Bitsy had the longest eyelashes Dan had ever seen on a dog. It crossed his mind that they might not be real. If a dog could wear a rhinestone tiara—which she was—why not false eyelashes? Then at the urging of her owner, Bitsy held out her paw for a shake.
    He felt like an idiot but took the tiny paw between index finger and thumb giving it the tiniest wiggle up and down. “How do you do, Bitsy.” All in the line of work, he guessed, but he swore the dog looked smug and withdrew her paw after the shake, dismissing him.
    â€œDo you have a dog?” Gertie tucked Bitsy in the crook of her arm.
    â€œA wonderful dog.” Elaine spoke up and then briefly filled them in on Simon’s heroics after the accident, how he defied death to guard his master’s belongings. Mother and daughter nodded solemnly.
    â€œThat’s such a wonderful story.” Penelope patted Elaine’s arm, “You must love him very much.”
    â€œYes, I do.” She caught Dan’s eye above the woman’s head. “Very much.” Let Dan figure out if she was referring to him or Simon.
    â€œLet’s sit in the dining room. I have some pictures that your employer wanted you to see.” Gertie led them to a claw-and-ball-footed round table and waited while each of them pulled out a chair and sat down. “The necklace belonged to my grandmother—my father’s mother. He gave it to my mother on their wedding day.” She picked up two pictures and handed them to Dan. “This one simply showcases