Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery) (10 page)

My sister Maria’s Chihuahua snarled at me. We
had a history, Gracie and I. A
War of the Roses
(movie
version) kind of history.

I petted her head, and she piddled on my
arm.

Ah, hell. What was one more kind of wetness
today?

I set her down, held my arm out to the side,
and looked around. Where there was Gracie, there was usually Maria.
“Hello?” I called out as I entered the empty kitchen.

“In here!” Riley shouted from the living
room.

As I walked under the arch into the living
room, I nearly had myself a heart attack at the sight before
me.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” Riley
warned.

I burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right?
I’m on
Candid Camera
.” I glanced around for any kind of
hidden camera—including one lurking in an innocuous exit sign.

“Be nice, Nina,” Maria chided. To Riley, she
said, “Watch, Ry. Knit, knit, purl.” Metal knitting needles clicked
happily together.

The two of them sat side by side on the sofa,
knitting.

Knitting!

Well, Maria was knitting. Riley was holding
the ball of yarn. A big carpetbag sat on the floor. It was filled
with dozens of skeins of varying colors.

Riley glanced up at me with big “help me”
eyes.

“What are you both doing here?” I asked.

Riley said, “The street to Dad’s was blocked
off because of a big accident, so a buddy dropped me off here. Dad
said he’d pick me up later.”

“And you?” I asked Maria.

She primly set her knitting down. “I came by
to drop off a few things. Look, I made you a scarf!” Rummaging in
her Mary Poppins’ bag, she came up with a folded purple scarf. But
as she reached out to give it to me, she suddenly pulled it back.
“Why are you holding your arm out like that? And why is it
wet?”

Riley sniffed. “Is that dog pee I smell?”

They gaped at me.

“Hey,” I said, “it was Gracie’s fault.”

We all looked down at her, this half-deaf and
mostly-blind dog. She was sniffing around the Christmas tree and
making chortling sounds as though she was about to hack up a
hairball. Maria called those noises “normal” for a Chihuahua.

There was a reason I didn’t have a dog of my
own.

“Well,” Maria said, “I made this scarf for
you.” She shook it out, and it unfurled like a roll of toilet paper
on the loose. It kept going and going. The scarf had to be six feet
long, and was full of quarter-sized holes—slipped stitches. “Isn’t
it beautiful? You always look so pretty in purple. Not that you
wear much of it.”

My sister looked a lot like a young Grace
Kelly and often behaved like a spoiled socialite. Despite our (very
many) differences, she was my baby sister, and I (obviously) had a
high level of tolerance.

But as much as I wanted to crack a joke at
the state of that pitiful scarf, I couldn’t. The pride in her eyes
had me saying, “It’s very nice.”

She beamed, a magnificent smile.

Riley jumped up and headed for the door. “I’m
going to shovel the front walk.”

Which was probably pointless with the way the
snow was coming down, but I recognized the opportunity to escape
when I saw it. “Put on a hat!” He wore no coat, no gloves, nothing.
Just his hoodie.

He threw me a withering look. Riley and I
also had a bit of a
War of the Roses
history, but God, I
loved that kid. And though he would rather cut out his tongue than
admit it, I knew he felt the same.

I held back a smile as he reluctantly pulled
the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. The front door slammed
behind him.

“I also brought a scarf for Mr. Cabrera,”
Maria said, digging again into her bag.

I sat on the edge of the couch, still holding
my arm straight out like some sort of pee-drenched deranged toy
solider. “When did you start knitting? And baking? And grocery
shopping?”

Shrugging, she said, “Just trying some new
hobbies.”

Only Maria would think of grocery shopping as
a hobby. “No, really,” I pressed.

“What? I can be domestic.”

“Is Nate pressuring you? Trying to change
you?” I was ready to kick his ass if that was the case, despite the
fact that I adored my brother-in-law. It took a special man to
handle Maria long-term.

“Nina, no. I just thought I’d try some new
things.”

I peered at her carefully. “Are your roots
showing?”

Her hand flew to the crown of her head, and
she blushed. “I haven’t been to the stylist this week.”

“What is going on, Maria? ’Fess up.”

She picked up her knitting, calm as could be.
“Nothing is going on. I’m just maturing.”

Aha! Now I knew something was up. Maria never
used words like “maturing.” At least not in reference to herself.
But I knew by the set of her delicate lips that she wasn’t going to
give me any more information. I was going to have to do some
snooping, maybe talk to Nate.

Gracie snortled again, and I glanced at her
in time to see her squat on my Christmas tree skirt. More
piddle.

I looked at Maria, who only knit faster.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I said. “While
I’m up there, I suggest you throw that tree skirt it in the washer,
Ms. Maturity.”

She stuck her tongue out at me.

That was more like it.

Through the window, I saw Riley pushing a
shovel around. It was then that I noticed Maria’s car wasn’t parked
out front. I started to get a funny feeling in my stomach. “Where’s
your car?”

“At home. Nate didn’t want me driving in this
storm, so he dropped me off on a way to a meeting downtown. He’s
going to pick me up later.”

I watched the snow fall in a steady sheet.
“How much later?”

“Tonight.”

I held in a groan and prayed that Nate had
four-wheel drive in his Mercedes so Maria wouldn’t be stranded here
overnight.

Sure, I had an abundance of tolerance, but a
girl could take only so much.

***

Upstairs, I took a gratuitously long hot
shower, blow-dried my hair so I wouldn’t freeze to death, and
cuddled in the warmth of my bathrobe. I sat on the edge of my bed,
picked up my home line and dialed Bobby’s cell phone number. I
thought I would have heard from him by now with an update on his
mom. Surgery had been early this morning.

I worried my lip as the phone rang and rang.
I was about to hang up when I finally heard him say, “Nina? I’m
here.”

He sounded tired. So tired. “Is everything
okay?” I asked.

In the background, I could hear hushed
voices. He sighed. “Not really. Sorry I haven’t called, but I was
waiting for more news.”

I pulled on a pair of fuzzy socks. “What
happened?”

“My mom had a stroke during the operation.
She’s in ICU now. It doesn’t look good, Nina.”

A lump wedged in my throat. As much as my
mother drove me crazy—and she did—I couldn’t imagine losing her.
Ever. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too,” he said quietly.

I mentally went over my work list for the
next few days. Could I skip out? Of course I could. What was the
point of being boss if I couldn’t play hooky once in a while? Kit
was more than capable of handling the jobsite at Christmastowne,
and Tam and Brickhouse were the best office managers around. “I can
take the next flight out.”

“Isn’t it the storm of the century up
there?”

Damn! The snow. I’d forgotten. “I can drive
down. My truck has four-wheel drive. I can be there by tomorrow
morning. I’ll drive all night.”

“Nina.” I heard a smile in his voice. “I
don’t want to have to worry about Mom
and
you. Stay put for
now, okay?”

“But—”

“No buts. All you’ll be doing down here is
sitting around, watching the news, drinking stale coffee, getting
groped by Mac.”

“I could do without that last one,” —been
there, done that— “but those other things...I’d be doing all that
with you. Holding your hand. Shoulder to lean on. You know, all
that sappy stuff.”

I looked at my bare ring finger. Bobby hadn’t
yet gotten around to buying me a ring for our engagement. I had a
sneaking feeling he was waiting for the romantic Christmas trip we
had planned at a little country inn.

There was a long pause before he said, “Stay
put. I’ll call when I have more news.”

I didn’t like that pause. “Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

I plucked at a piece of fuzz on my robe.
“Nothing.” I’d been about to ask if he’d make it back in time our
trip, but it seemed so trivial, so inconsequential, in the face of
what he—and his mom—were going through. “I’ll talk to you
soon.”

We hung up, and as I dressed in sweatpants
and a long-sleeved tee, I realized I still had a lump in my
throat.

But this one had nothing to do with Bobby’s
mother.

And everything to do with feeling like our
relationship was about to undergo a drastic change.

Chapter Ten

I needed chocolate.

Gracie started barking as soon as my feet hit
the stairs. I looked at her, waiting for me at the bottom of the
steps, and said sternly, “Don’t even think about peeing on my
floor.”

She must have sensed my mood and stopped
yapping immediately. Looking up at me with her blank black eyes,
her ears flickered. Then she turned and sniffed her way into the
kitchen. I followed her and found Riley sitting at the kitchen
island, chewing on a handful of mini marshmallows. His nose was
red, his cheeks chafed.

“You dressed up for us, I see,” Maria said as
she set mugs on the counter.

She returned more and more to her normal self
with each passing minute. I borrowed a phrase I’d heard a lot
lately. “Don’t judge me.”

I motioned for Riley to give me his soaked
hoodie as a smile played at the corners of Maria’s mouth. I’ve
always amused
and
irritated her. It was a package deal.

Riley didn’t argue as he pulled the garment
over his head. Thankfully, he had a T-shirt on underneath.

The washing machine was running as I stepped
into the laundry room and threw Riley’s sweatshirt into the dryer
and set it for twenty minutes. I peeked out the side door and saw
that the walkway Riley had just shoveled was already covered in two
inches of snow.

Snowmaggedon didn’t seem so dramatic
anymore.

I clung to the hope that the meteorologists
were right, and that the sun would come out tomorrow and melt all
this white stuff away.

A girl could dream.

Back in the kitchen, Maria had her arms
braced on the counter as she stared disdainfully at the container
of Swiss Miss. “Please tell me that you have something other than
packaged hot chocolate. Where’s the good stuff?”

“That is the good stuff.” Swiss Miss was my
favorite.

She pouted. “You’re kidding.”

A nap sounded like a good idea right about
now. “You could always go home and make your own fancy kind. Oh,
wait, that’s right. You’re at my house. Uninvited.”

“Snappy,” Maria accused.

I sighed.

She pouted.

Riley bee-lined for the fridge, rooted
around, and came out with a package of cookie dough. He handed it
to me.

Did I mention how much I loved that kid?

Maria lifted one perfectly-plucked eyebrow.
“Raw cookie dough? Don’t you know how bad that is for you? Never
mind the calories. The
fat
. The fat on your thighs. Even
worse, your
hips
. What have your hips ever done to you,
Nina?”

“Bite me.”

She harrumphed and set the kettle on to boil.
“Snappy,” she murmured.

I slid a gaze to Riley. “Hold me back.”

Sticking his hand into the marshmallow bag,
he smiled and shook his head. “I missed it the last time you two
got into it.”

He was referring to a knock-down drag-out mud
fight Maria and I had in her backyard a few months ago. Trust me,
right now she should be glad that there was no mud around.

“I won that fight,” Maria boasted.

I rolled my eyes and broke off a hunk of the
cookie dough. I was trying my best not to worry about Bobby...and
his tone. It was stress, was all. Nothing more.
Nothing
more.
Perhaps if I kept telling myself that, I would believe it
soon.

Riley said, “I wish I had a sibling to fight
with. When are you going to have a baby, Nina?”

A chocolate chip wedged in the back of my
throat. I grabbed my chest as I coughed, choking. Riley slapped my
back. Maria ran around the counter, pushed Riley aside and wrapped
her arms around me. She fisted her hands over my diaphragm and was
just about to thrust when I gasped, “I’m okay.” The chip had worked
itself loose.

She thrust anyway.

“
Uhhhn
!” I cried, losing air.

“Is she breathing?” Maria asked Riley.

“She won’t be if you keep doing that.”

I elbowed her aside and sucked in a lungful
of air. “Jeez, Maria!”

“Oh, that’s the thanks I get for saving your
life.” She pouted.

“Next time let me die,” I said.

“I will!”

I filled a glass of water and chugged it
down.

Maria eyed me. “I told you that cookie dough
was bad for you.”

Lord help me
. She was close to being
kicked out in the storm. Only the thought of my mother’s
chastisement stopped me from booting Maria out.

The tea kettle was starting to whistle when I
heard two raps on the side door before it squeaked open. “Ho, ho,
ho!”

Gracie started yapping and as soon as Mr.
Cabrera popped his head into the kitchen, she peed on the
floor.

I shook my head. How much did that dog drink,
anyway?

Mr. Cabrera looked from face to face, then
said, “Bad time?”

“Nina’s in a mood.” Maria poured steaming
water into the mugs.

I ate more cookie dough.