Happy National Peppermint Latte Day!
Sugarwood, Ontario was known for two
things: maple syrup and our Christmas tree lighting festival that
always went off with a variety of creative challenges but never failed to
impress. I just hoped we didn’t end up finding a body on a bench like we had
during the town’s Halloween bash. Since we had four days to go, I’d taken to
crossing my fingers whenever I thought about it.
“Do you think we have enough decorations?”
Merilee Rutherford, my partner both in Stitch’n’Time and crime solving, had circled
November twenty-seven with a fat, red marker weeks ago.
I gazed around our craft shop. Large shiny balls
hung from the ceiling, strands of garland draped over the top of every cupboard
and cabinet, and a four-foot tree glistened in the front window. We’d spent
hours wrapping empty boxes to pile underneath and added a few needlepoint kits,
fabric swatches, and sewing kits to attract customers.
I grinned. “I think Santa would feel right at
home in our workshop. All that’s missing are the milk and cookies.”
Drake, my Golden Retriever-slash-Husky raised
his head.
“How about a peppermint latte and cookies,”
Merilee asked. “I could run up to the bakery and grab lunch complete with
dessert.”
“Santa’s going to have to bring me a whole new wardrobe at this rate.” I tucked a thumb inside the waistband of my pants. They were getting snug already and it wasn’t even December. I started to tell her to hold the latte. No way was I giving up cookies before Christmas. In the end, I kept my mouth shut.
While Merilee was gone, Drake returned his attention
to the heat vent while I finished hanging one last string of lights around the
inside of the front window swaying to the soft Christmas music we’d already
started to play.
Outside the gloom of the day was brightened by
the swirling blue and red lights from a passing police car. Since there was no
way anyone could be speeding on the roads given the current conditions, I had
to assume the police were on their way to an accident.
Drake got up to amble toward the door.
“Do you need to go out?” I asked.
Rather than paw at the glass, he sat and yawned.
“Good to know it’s not an emergency.”
Less than a minute later, Merilee bustled
through the front door carrying a cardboard tray and a paper bag. Drake stood
as a string of drool seeped from the corner of his mouth.
I laughed. “You smelled cookies. What a surprise."
And who says a character has to celebrate a traditional holiday?
