Hemlock for the Holidays Read online

  “No problem. I'll have the studio organized in a few minutes.”

  “All right, then. See you later.”

  As soon as Belle left, I finished tidying the studio. I decided to wait until after I finished my baking to rearrange the artwork that was displayed on the studio walls. Then I went to the kitchen to make two pies. I planned to send one of them home with Dennis and keep the other one so that Belle and I could each enjoy a slice sometime during the evening. As slow as things had been on tour night the past few weeks, we'd probably have plenty of time to indulge.

  When I removed the pies from the oven, the sight of their just-right golden-brown meringues pleased me. I put them on racks to cool, on the kitchen counter before picking up Mona Lisa from the sofa, where she was snoozing. Laddie followed while I carried her into the studio and closed the door before setting her down on the floor. She protested with a loud meow, The studio wasn't Mona Lisa's favorite room, although she deigned to visit it occasionally. I would have left her in her comfy corner of the sofa if I'd stayed in the living room, but since I didn't trust her to stay off the counter when I wasn't around, she'd have to join Laddie and me in the studio so that I could keep an eye on her to make sure she stayed away from the Christmas tree and its enticing bulbs.

  Mona Lisa quickly sized up the situation and decided that the only soft spot in the room was Laddie's bed. She plunked herself down in the middle of it and curled up while Laddie looked on. I knew he wouldn't disturb her. Instead, he lay down on the tile floor beside his bed, keeping a wary eye on the feline interloper.

  The pies had cooled by the time I finished rearranging my artwork in the studio, and as I set them in the refrigerator, Mona Lisa leaped to the top of her kitty tree, looked down at Laddie and me with a smirk, and promptly turned her back on us. She ignored Laddie, not even bothering to turn around when he raced back through the studio door.

  I peeked out and saw Dennis stringing lights on my hedge. Clipping Laddie's leash to his collar, I stepped out, with Laddie edging in front of me to greet his buddy, Dennis.

  “Sorry, Laddie. No time to play right now,” he said, as he petted my amiable retriever before returning to the lights. “I thought this string would work. It has the older, bigger multi-colored bulbs—no blinking lights. What do you think?” he asked me.

  “It's a great idea.”

  “I can add another blinking, twinkling string if you like,” he said, grinning at his own rhyme.

  “No need,” I said, as Dennis draped the lights over the hedge. “Those look perfect.”

  I shivered in the chilly air. I hadn't put a coat on before coming outside, but Laddie didn't mind the cold. He had his very own fur coat to keep him warm.

  Chapter 21

  A few minutes before six, I wheeled my tour sign out to the curb, turned on all the lights in the studio, and installed my baby gate in the door that led from my living room to the studio. Although Laddie could look into the studio, the gate discouraged him from coming in during Friday evening tour hours. He easily could have jumped over the gate if he'd wanted to, but he never tried.

  When there were no visitors, I hung out in the living room, where I could see people arriving. Belle usually joined me, but she never brought Mr. Big on tour evenings because he raised a ruckus whenever people he didn't know showed up.

  Belle came over soon after I'd set up.

  “We had dinner, and I left Dennis alone with Mr. Big and your chocolate meringue pie. I'll bet half of it's gone by the time I go home.”

  “I made two pies, so we can have some later.”

  “Oh, good. I don't know how you always manage to get your meringue to come out just right. I've never been able to do it myself. Mine always browns unevenly or gets way too dark,” Belle said, as she glanced out the living room window. “A car's parking in front. I think you may have a customer.” She paused, continuing to peek out the window. “She's coming up the walk now.”

  I stepped over the baby gate, into the studio, and Laddie jumped up to sit at the gate where he could observe the proceedings.

  When the door opened, I had to hide my disappointment, because the woman who'd just arrived wasn't the mayor, but Cassie her assistant. Now that I saw her, I remembered she'd mentioned stopping by.

  “Hello, again,” she said. “Oh, what a darling dog!” She went straight to the gate to pet Laddie, who basked in her attention. “What's his name?”

  “Laddie. I have a cat, too, but she makes herself scarce whenever visitors come.”

  “I wish I could have a pet. Unfortunately, my landlord has a strict no-pets policy. I may move when the lease is up, but it's hard to find an affordable studio apartment in Lonesome Valley. You have such a cute place here, and I love your studio. When I saw the card you sent the mayor, I knew I had to come and see it for myself.” She looked around the studio. “Oh, there it is!” She left Laddie and went to have a closer look at the original painting. Cassie paused to take a breath before she asked how long I'd been painting. I'd barely had a chance to answer before she launched into a description of an art class she'd once taken.

  I had the impression that not only did Cassie like to talk, but also that she was a bit lonely. Although she was an attractive woman of about thirty, evidently she lived alone. I was silently scolding myself for making assumptions when she confirmed what I'd thought.

  “I came straight from work. I think I'll pick up a pizza on the way home. I wish I had some friends to go out with, but it's hard to meet people here in Lonesome Valley. I'll probably just watch TV all weekend,” she said glumly.

  “Have you lived here long?” I asked.

  “No, only a couple of months. I got my job through my business college's placement service.”

  “I'm sure you'll meet some new friends soon. It just takes a while.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “And everybody at work's so old, and they always have plans with their families every weekend, anyway. Like the mayor—she has three kids, and her husband runs his horse place and has that helicopter tour business. They're busy all the time.”

  “Did you say Bob Gibbs owns a helicopter business?”

  She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops, I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell anyone that, because he's a silent partner.” She air-quoted “silent.” “But everybody knows about his other business. You've probably heard about it—the Equine Center?”

  “Yes, I know he owns stables, and I think he gives some riding lessons, too.”

  “Uh, huh. I took one when I first got here, but he charged me for it. When the mayor suggested I take a lesson, I thought she was offering me a freebie. Anyway, my mistake, but it was my first and last since then. I can't afford riding lessons on my salary. You'd think she would have realized that.”

  Cassie definitely had a point. It sounded as though Melinda hadn't thought through her recommendation. As mayor, she'd certainly know how much the city was paying her assistant. Perhaps she had even set the salary herself.

  Cassie seemed to be enjoying herself as she browsed through some of the prints I offered for sale and kept up a constant stream of chatter.

  It was a bit of a relief when two couples came in. While I greeted them and answered their questions about my artwork, Cassie looked on as she nibbled one of the decorated Christmas cookies I'd set out. When it became obvious that the group wasn't in any hurry to leave, she headed for the door and departed with a quick wave.

  One of the couples spent several minutes looking through my largest prints. They seemed interested, discussing where they might hang some of the artwork they were looking at, but, in the end, they decided against a purchase.

  The other couple had separated, the man wandering from one painting to another, while he sipped wine. His wife skipped the wine and helped herself to cheese and crackers before she selected a tie-dyed turquoise scarf to purchase. So far, it was my only sale of the evening, but at least I'd sold something.

  After the group left, I joined Belle,
and we decided it was time for a dessert, so we each had a piece of chocolate meringue pie. I had tea with mine, and Belle opted for decaffeinated coffee. I slipped Laddie a snack, but since Mona Lisa didn't stir from her perch, I didn't dip into the kitty treats.

  “The mayor's assistant is quite a talker. I could hear everything she said.”

  “She sure is,” I agreed. “I think she's lonely.”

  “Sounds like it. Maybe Lonesome Valley is a bit too tame for someone her age.”

  “You know, that's pretty much what Mike Dyson told me once.”

  “The young cop who moved back to Phoenix?”

  “Yes, that's the one.”

  “I guess our population may skew a bit older than some other places because lots of people retire here, but there's plenty to do.”

  We chatted for a while, and nobody else showed up. With only fifteen minutes remaining before tour hours officially ended at nine o'clock, I considered calling it quits for the evening, but, when I suggested closing to Belle, she urged me to wait until the bitter end. A few minutes later, I saw a pickup truck pull up in front of my sign and park.

  “You were right,” I told Belle. “Here we go again. Fingers crossed.”

  I went into the studio, taking care not to trip over the baby gate, and Laddie jumped up to see who was coming.

  When the couple entered the studio, Laddie's tail whipped back and forth a mile a minute. He'd met one of the visitors once before, and he signaled his approval by getting up on his haunches and curling his paws under his chin.

  Chapter 22

  “How are you doing, fella?” Dr. Madison greeted Laddie with a pat on the head. He ran his hand over Laddie's shoulder and said, “No swelling; that's good.”

  “He's a handsome boy,” the vet's wife said. “Your only dog?”

  “Yes, he's my only dog, but I have a cat, too.”

  “Oh, lovely. I'm sorry. Where are my manners? I'm Katie Madison.”

  “Hi, Katie. I'm Amanda. Dr. Madison gave Laddie his rabies shot this morning.”

  “Jerry,” he said. “Call me Jerry.”

  “OK, Jerry,” I said, then turned toward his wife. “I bet you have some pets.”

  “We have three dogs—Minnie, Mickey, and Mighty. They keep us on our toes. Jerry showed me your card while we were at dinner tonight, and I told him I'd like to stop by. I'm afraid it's pretty near your closing time. I hope we're not too late.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Your card mentioned pet portraits. I thought we'd look at some of them.”

  “Over here.” I led Katie to the wall where my portraits of Laddie and Mona Lisa hung. Jerry stayed with Laddie, petting his furry patient.

  “They're beautiful!”

  “Most of the pet portraits I've painted have gone to their new homes.” I lowered my voice and whispered, “I have another one of my friend Belle's dog hidden in the closet. Belle's in the other room right now, so I don't want her to find out. It's a Christmas present.”

  I motioned Katie to follow me, eased open the closet door, and flipped on the light so that she could see Mr. Big's portrait. Belle couldn't see into the studio from where she was sitting on the living room sofa, and I'd taken care to be especially quiet so that she wouldn't find out about the portrait prior to our gift exchange. I really wanted it to be a surprise. Luckily, Katie understood and nodded but didn't say a word until I'd closed the closet door.

  “You don't happen to have any pictures with more than one dog, do you?” she asked.

  “Not originals, but I have a print of a pair of bloodhounds.” I rifled through one of the boxes of prints, all carefully matted and packaged in cellophane to protect them, until I found the print of the two dogs.

  “Here it is.” I held it up for Katie to get a better look.

  “Jerry,” Katie called, “come see this print.”

  Laddie looked disappointed at being thrown over for a picture as Jerry joined Katie and me.

  “Very nice,” he said.

  “I think we should have a portrait of our little trio,” she announced.

  “Fine, but now might not be the best time to do it. The estimate for our new addition is running way higher than I anticipated, and I'm sure a custom portrait of three dogs doesn't come cheap.” He spread his arms horizontally, then vertically, to show me the size of the canvas they'd need. “How much would something this size cost?”

  When I quoted my price, Jerry raised his eyebrows and suggested “maybe next year” to Katie.

  “I have a better idea,” Katie declared. “Let's trade. The portrait for vet services in the same amount.”

  Jerry nodded. “We could do that. What do you think, Amanda?”

  “I've never traded services before,” I said, hesitating, since no cash would be forthcoming if I agreed to their proposed deal. Of course, no cash would be forthcoming if they didn't commission a pet portrait, either. On the other hand, I'd need vet services on an ongoing basis, and it would be nice not to have to pay a bill every time I took Laddie or Mona Lisa to the vet. “What about vaccines and medication? Would I have to pay the regular price for them?”

  “No, just the wholesale. You'd pay exactly what we do for any meds,” Jerry told me.

  “Well, all right; it's a deal.” I shook hands with Katie first, then Jerry. “I guess we should have something in writing.”

  “Sure,” Jerry agreed. “If you wouldn't mind writing it up, I'll sign it. Just drop by the clinic anytime.”

  “OK, will do.” I figured I could find some boilerplate language about trading online and adapt it to our situation. Although I wasn't the world's best when it came to business, I knew that a deal such as the one I'd just made ought to be in writing. Hopefully, we wouldn't encounter any glitches along the way, especially if the terms of our agreement were spelled out clearly.

  Katie and Jerry didn't linger after we'd made our deal. I walked outside with them when they left to retrieve my tour sign and switch off the Christmas lights.

  I still wasn't entirely sure the trade had been a good idea, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about paying any vet bills for a long time.

  “Amanda, I'm proud of you,” Belle said as I took down the baby gate and came into the living room. “It was smart to suggest a written contract.”

  “I'm learning, thanks to you, Belle. You really have a head for business. How about celebrating with a glass of wine?”

  “Sure. I'll have a glass, but just one. The holiday calories are starting to pile up.”

  I retrieved the wine bottle from the studio and took a couple of my good crystal wineglasses from the cupboard, but, when I tipped the bottle to pour us each a glass, I found it was empty.

  “Oops. I guess I spoke too soon. This bottle's empty. Only one guy even drank any wine tonight, and I thought he had just one glass. I didn't realize he polished off the entire bottle. I can open another one, though.”

  “That's all right. Let's skip it.”

  “Well, OK, if you're sure.”

  “I'm sure. I think I'll spend the calories on one of your Christmas cookies instead.”

  We each munched on a cookie as Laddie looked on enviously. I took pity on him and put a couple of baby carrots in his bowl, which suited him just fine. The minute I did that, Mona Lisa materialized, winding her way around my ankles and meowing loudly. I pacified her with a kitty-size tuna treat. When she'd eaten it, she stalked past Laddie and returned to her perch on her kitty tree.

  “I'm kind of disappointed that the mayor didn't show up,” Belle admitted.

  “You and me both. It's going to be nice to have free vet services, but that doesn't pay the bills, and neither does one scarf sale. At least, a few people showed up this evening. It was definitely better than the last two weeks.”

  “Focusing the mayor's attention on your landscape again may not be as easy as I first thought,” Belle said, “but it still could pay off if you could only touch base with her sometime when she's not distracted.�
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  Belle had a point, and I promised myself I'd persist in my effort to arrange for her and the painting she liked to be in the same room in hopes that she'd decide to buy it.

  It was nearly eleven by the time Belle went home. I was about to turn in for the night when I remembered I hadn't checked my phone since before the studio tour began. In fact, I had turned it off altogether so that I wouldn't be interrupted during tour hours. I turned it back on and waited until it came alive. After I checked my email and found nothing of interest, I checked my text messages and again found nothing significant. Then I listened to any voicemail messages.

  I smiled as I listened to the first message I heard from Emma: “Hi, Mom. I forgot your studio tour is tonight. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

  I poked the phone to move on to the next message, but it was an unsolicited sales pitch, so I deleted it immediately.

  Finally, I scrolled through the list of calls. Only one caller hadn't left a message—only one caller tagged by my caller ID from the mayor's office at Lonesome Valley City Hall.

  The mayor had called me, and I hadn't answered the phone!

  Chapter 23

  My stomach churned as I realized that I'd missed a chance to make a sale that could have kept my finances in the black for a couple of months. I admitted that I'd gotten my hopes up when Melinda had expressed interest in my paintings at the Roadrunner.

  As Belle had suggested, I'd simply have to contact the mayor again, There was no point in dwelling on lost opportunity, but I wasn't in the best of moods when I went to bed, nor when I woke up the following morning, knowing I had missed an opportunity and not looking forward to attending a funeral in the afternoon.

  Reflecting on the sad occasion, I felt glum, but my pets weren't about to let me get away with a down mood for long. They were as peppy as ever, anticipating the day ahead and, of course, a yummy breakfast.

  After I fed them, I braced myself with some strong tea as I dawdled a bit over a muffin, but, finally, Laddie's eager anticipation of a morning walk kick-started me into action, so I dressed and took him for a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood.