The Case of the Missing Elf: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 2) by Anna Drake Page B
Authors: Anna Drake
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said he was about to come into even more money.”
This certainly didn’t fit with Wendy’s view of her cousin. She’d thought him poor without funds, barely scraping by.
Curiouser and curiouser. “Where was the money to come from? Do you know?”
Porter returned my frown. “Never you mind, missy. That was his business.”
Why was it, I wondered, that so many people clamped their mouths shut just when their stories became really interesting?
Seven
A fter I returned to my car, I switched on the heater and headed home. Dad would doubtless be in the kitchen preparing dinner, which on Sundays was served at noon.
Except for my stint at college, the house I pulled up before a few minutes later had been my home for all my life. The place was a colonial with white clapboard siding, green shutters, and a tastefully sculptured lawn, which today, of course, was snow white. As I pulled in the driveway, I thought the house looked like a scene from an old-fashioned Christmas card.
“You’re just in time,” Dad said, as I stepped through the back door and entered his well appointed kitchen.
Glancing over his head at the clock on the far wall. I noted it said the time was five minutes to eleven. ”What gives?” I asked. “Are we eating early today?”
“We’re having company. He should be arriving any minute. Do you think you could handle the hostess duties while I carry on in here?”
“Who is it?”
“Hugh Jennings.”
“Why wasn’t I informed about this?” Jennings was a local high school teacher. He was also my father’s favorite candidate for son-in-law. Dad had decided after my college fiance dumped me three days short of graduation that Hugh was the perfect person to take my ex-beau’s place. My father hadn’t even backed off Hugh when I’d started dating Josh Devon..
“Well?” Dad demanded.
“What?”
“Will you see to his comfort while I put the finishing touches on dinner?”
“Of course.”
“You should have just enough time for a makeover before he arrives.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Do I look that bad?”
“You’re just a little too casual for a Sunday lunch, don’t you think?”
Not in a more normal environment, I thought. But Dad had never adopted today’s casual dress codes. He still wore suits and ties to work and expected me to dress professionally, too. Normally, I didn’t mind, but this was Sunday, and for now, would be my only day off work this week.
Turning, I set off for the stairway, leaving Dad behind with Taffy. The dog sat at his heels looking up adoringly at him. The cocker spaniel never missed a session with Father when he was in the kitchen. and she was nearly always rewarded with some special scrap or another during dinner prep. The dog was nearly as spoiled by Dad’s cooking as I was.
A few seconds later, up in my bedroom, I slipped out of my jeans and top, and replaced them with a white silk blouse and a pair of dark dress slacks. I added a dark cardigan to help chase the day’s chill away. Taking up my position before the mirror, I tossed on a fresh layer of blush, did a quick swipe of lipstick, and called myself improved.
There wasn’t time to wash and re-fluff my hair, which had been flattened by my stocking cap. Maybe if I’d known I was to entertain a dinner guest, I thought, I wouldn’t have worn the hat. Then, again, why shouldn’t I have? It was disgustingly cold outside. Sighing, I drew the mess back into a ponytail and called it done. I mean what was the point of fussing? I wasn’t interested in Hugh, nor was he interested in me. Not romantically, at least. We’d privately clarified that point between ourselves about a year ago.
Dashing down the stairs, I was almost at the bottom step when the doorbell rang. And there Hugh stood, in all his glory, carrying a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and smiling broadly.
He was a fine looking fellow. Copper hair, green eyes, easy manner. I’d never
This certainly didn’t fit with Wendy’s view of her cousin. She’d thought him poor without funds, barely scraping by.
Curiouser and curiouser. “Where was the money to come from? Do you know?”
Porter returned my frown. “Never you mind, missy. That was his business.”
Why was it, I wondered, that so many people clamped their mouths shut just when their stories became really interesting?
Seven
A fter I returned to my car, I switched on the heater and headed home. Dad would doubtless be in the kitchen preparing dinner, which on Sundays was served at noon.
Except for my stint at college, the house I pulled up before a few minutes later had been my home for all my life. The place was a colonial with white clapboard siding, green shutters, and a tastefully sculptured lawn, which today, of course, was snow white. As I pulled in the driveway, I thought the house looked like a scene from an old-fashioned Christmas card.
“You’re just in time,” Dad said, as I stepped through the back door and entered his well appointed kitchen.
Glancing over his head at the clock on the far wall. I noted it said the time was five minutes to eleven. ”What gives?” I asked. “Are we eating early today?”
“We’re having company. He should be arriving any minute. Do you think you could handle the hostess duties while I carry on in here?”
“Who is it?”
“Hugh Jennings.”
“Why wasn’t I informed about this?” Jennings was a local high school teacher. He was also my father’s favorite candidate for son-in-law. Dad had decided after my college fiance dumped me three days short of graduation that Hugh was the perfect person to take my ex-beau’s place. My father hadn’t even backed off Hugh when I’d started dating Josh Devon..
“Well?” Dad demanded.
“What?”
“Will you see to his comfort while I put the finishing touches on dinner?”
“Of course.”
“You should have just enough time for a makeover before he arrives.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Do I look that bad?”
“You’re just a little too casual for a Sunday lunch, don’t you think?”
Not in a more normal environment, I thought. But Dad had never adopted today’s casual dress codes. He still wore suits and ties to work and expected me to dress professionally, too. Normally, I didn’t mind, but this was Sunday, and for now, would be my only day off work this week.
Turning, I set off for the stairway, leaving Dad behind with Taffy. The dog sat at his heels looking up adoringly at him. The cocker spaniel never missed a session with Father when he was in the kitchen. and she was nearly always rewarded with some special scrap or another during dinner prep. The dog was nearly as spoiled by Dad’s cooking as I was.
A few seconds later, up in my bedroom, I slipped out of my jeans and top, and replaced them with a white silk blouse and a pair of dark dress slacks. I added a dark cardigan to help chase the day’s chill away. Taking up my position before the mirror, I tossed on a fresh layer of blush, did a quick swipe of lipstick, and called myself improved.
There wasn’t time to wash and re-fluff my hair, which had been flattened by my stocking cap. Maybe if I’d known I was to entertain a dinner guest, I thought, I wouldn’t have worn the hat. Then, again, why shouldn’t I have? It was disgustingly cold outside. Sighing, I drew the mess back into a ponytail and called it done. I mean what was the point of fussing? I wasn’t interested in Hugh, nor was he interested in me. Not romantically, at least. We’d privately clarified that point between ourselves about a year ago.
Dashing down the stairs, I was almost at the bottom step when the doorbell rang. And there Hugh stood, in all his glory, carrying a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and smiling broadly.
He was a fine looking fellow. Copper hair, green eyes, easy manner. I’d never
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