He took Abigail downstairs, walking gently so as not to wake Ainsley. They’d come up with a system whereby Ainsley took the first “shift” and Wolfe took the second. It was fair in all regards, but he couldn’t help feeling a little animosity toward her, simply because she was sound asleep, warm under the covers, and he was nodding off while walking down a flight of stairs.
He made it to the kitchen where Abigail watched with seeming thoughtfulness as he, using one hand, managed to scoop the coffee into the filter and turn the coffee maker on. There was no use sitting down. As soon as he did, she would start wailing. He glanced at the clock. She wouldn’t be fed for another hour, so all he had to do was wait and hope he didn’t faint from fatigue.
While the coffee took its time dripping into the pot, Wolfe walked and bounced, walked and bounced. What a delight this little girl was in his life, even when he felt like he might die if he didn’t get a chance to shut his eyes for a few minutes. It amazed him how instantly he’d fallen in love with her. He’d only known her for a few seconds when he realized he would give his life for hers without a moment’s thought.
Having Abigail made him miss his parents. He wished they could see this lovely baby that had come down through their family tree. Holding her made him wonder about his ancestors and think about those who would come after him. So much was wrapped up in such a tiny bundle, it was often hard for him to fathom. And harder when deep, stabbing pain kept shooting through the back of his eyes.
Abigail’s eyelids fluttered, which meant she was on her way back to sleep. Maybe he wouldn’t need that coffee after all. Gently swaying back and forth, he tried not to make a sound, barely breathing, as he watched her body slowly relax. Her tiny fists uncurled, and then her head fell back a little, and the next thing he knew, she was in a deep, sound sleep, oblivious to everything around her.
At the bottom of the stairs, Goose and Bunny raised their heads, seeming to feel his pain, and looking pretty exhausted themselves. Wolfe tiptoed toward the staircase, trying to ignore the flip-flop sound of his slippers, the loudest noise in the entire house at the moment. Licking his lips and trying to take in a deep breath, he slowly placed one foot in front of the other, climbing while balancing the baby in such a way that she thought she wasn’t moving at all.
Almost there. Steady…
But just as he was about to reach the halfway mark on the stairs, the silence was undone by a knock at the front door. Goose and Bunny scrambled to their feet, announcing the visitor with vicious barks. They were smart dogs, and this wasn’t the time of day someone would normally come calling.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Wolfe turned on the staircase and rushed downward, jiggling Abigail into a fully awake state as she bounced around in his arms. “Goose! Bunny! Hush!”
But it was useless. The dogs wouldn’t stop until they saw whoever was at the door. Wolfe peered through the peephole into near darkness. He could see someone standing on his porch step. It looked like a female. He undid the locks and swung open the door. The cold hit him first, followed by Lois Stepaphanolopolis’s excited voice, which made Wolfe blink like someone was throwing sand in his face.
“Hold on, hold on!” Wolfe said, raising one hand. Her stream of words came to a screeching halt. Wolfe rubbed his eyes, the left one in particular, since it had started to spasm at the thought of having to make a wakeful appearance.
“Are you okay?” Lois asked and then in a coochy-coo voice said, “Hi, baby Abigail.”
“Am I okay?” Wolfe tried to focus his eyes. “Why are you asking me if I’m okay?”
Lois put her attention back on him. “Because you don’t look like you’re feeling well.”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Wolfe said with a grand gesture toward the night sky, “it’s the middle of the night.”
“I thought it was morning.”
“Do you see the sun?”
Lois glanced around and then upward, like it was the first time she’d noticed the lack of daylight. “Well, the clock said a.m.”
“Lois, is there an emergency?”
“No,” she said with a smile. “An urgency, though.”
“Are you certain it’s urgent enough to wake us up?” Wolfe was having a hard time keeping his foul mood inside.
“Yes.”
Suddenly Wolfe noticed a large envelope in Lois’s hand as she held it out toward him.
“What’s this?”
“Genius, all wrapped up in manila.” She winked. Then she slid past him into his house. “Oh, coffee! Great!”
Wolfe sighed and shut the door. The only person who didn’t seem to be having a good time at this hour was Wolfe. Abigail was kicking her feet and staring at the bright lights. Lois was chattering and helping herself to coffee. “…Dickens was a creative genius. He was before his time. Unappreciated. But that is going to stop here and now. I am going to bring A Christmas Carol into the light for everyone to see.” She handed him a cup of coffee. “Sugar? Cream?”
Wolfe’s head spun. “Uh…no…“ Why was she offering him sugar and cream?
“Come on in,” she said, gesturing toward the living room. “Make yourself at home.”
Wolfe pressed on one of his temples. “I am home.”
“That’s a compliment,” Lois said, obviously pleased. “I’ve always wanted to make people feel comfortable. Sure I can’t get you anything?”
“Lois, you’re making no sense.”
“Aha!” Lois said. “That’s what they said of Dickens! But he does make sense. Lots of sense. You just have to get over his poor grammar, odd use of punctuation, and apparent fondness for King James.” She leaned in. “I think he might’ve been illiterate, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a gift for storytelling.”
Wolfe sat down. His legs couldn’t carry him through this kind of conversation anymore. But with all the noise, Abigail didn’t seem to mind sitting, and she turned her small head to look at Lois. Wolfe gulped his coffee. “Lois, Dickens wasn’t illiterate. He wrote in a style that was indicative of the time and place in which he lived. That book was published in London in 1843.”
Lois looked thoughtful. “Well, I guess that explains ‘bah’ and ‘humbug.’ The British always have had an odd relationship with words, haven’t they? Gobsmacked. Codswallop. And did you know they spell gray with an e? Why not spell purple with a q?”
“Lois, as much as I would love to sit here and try to explain the phenomenon of Charles Dickens to you, I really need to get my daughter to sleep and then myself.”
“Let me give you some advice. If you let those young ones nap all they want, they won’t sleep at night.”
“It is night, Lois. See? Outside? Pitch black!”
Lois shrugged and sipped her coffee, peering at him over her mug. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t tell you so. Now, about Dickens—”
“Lois, I don’t want to talk about Dickens right now. I want to sleep.”
Lois sighed and nodded, then rose and went to the door. Thank goodness, Wolfe thought as he managed to get himself to a standing position again, trying to be a good host and see her out the door. Ainsley had taught him good manners. They usually didn’t come in handy, but he tried anyway. Lois opened the door. The cold air came in again. “Well, then, good night, Wolfe.”
“Good night, Lois.”
“We’ll chat tomorrow?”
“Fine.”
Lois waited, standing at the door, holding its knob like it might fall off if she let go. “Then, good night,” she said.
“Yes, yes. Good night.”
Lois’s smile faded a little. “Well, what are you waiting for? An escort?”
“What are you talking about?”
Lois gestured out the door. “Exit’s that way.”
“I’m not leaving. You’re leaving.”
“I am?” Lois looked around, then at the coffee mug in her hand. “Oh…how embarrassing.”
Which part? Lois was acting very strangely, and Wolfe??
?s manners were out the door already. “So, off you go.”
Lois nodded, still looking confused, and then walked out, leaving the door open and keeping the mug. Wolfe watched Lois walk down his porch steps. “Lois,” Wolfe called, against his better judgment, “are you sure you’re okay?”
Lois turned and smiled. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure? You’re acting very confused.”
“No, no. Don’t worry about me. I’ve just been up working.”
“Maybe you need to get some sleep.”
“Sleep. Bah! Sleep is overrated!”
Could’ve fooled him.
CHAPTER 3
“Why did you get married?” said Scrooge.
“Because I fell in love.”
“Because you fell in love!” growled Scrooge, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas.
WOLFE WOKE TO SOUNDS of crying, but as he pried open one eye, he noticed the room was filled with sunlight. It was already morning? He could’ve sworn he’d just put his head down and rolled to his side.
He could tell from Abigail’s cry that she was hungry, which meant it had to be around nine. Ainsley had her on a strict schedule. She had them all on a strict schedule. Even the dogs had to be put outside at certain times to make sure they didn’t wake the baby.
Wolfe sat up, willing both eyes to open. Crawling out of bed, he shuffled to the bathroom, turned on ice-cold water, and splashed it on his face.
Downstairs, he found Ainsley feeding the baby. There were dark circles under Ainsley’s eyes, but she was gazing sweetly at Abigail.
“Hey,” Wolfe said.
She looked up and her smile drooped. “Are you okay?”
“Why?”
“You just look … well … you look …”
“Dead?”
“Worse.”
Wolfe went over to the coffee, which he knew would be cold by now. He poured a cup and drank it anyway. Ainsley picked Abigail up to burp her over her shoulder. “Bad night?”
“Weird night.”
“Weird? What happened?”
“Lois came over.”
“What do you mean she came over?”
“That’s what I mean. In the middle of the night. To talk about Charles Dickens.”
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
Wolfe stared into his coffee. “No, not really. I mean, sleep deprivation can do weird things to people. Maybe I imagined the whole thing.”
“Why would Lois come over in the middle of the night to talk about Charles Dickens?”
“I never found out. I asked her to leave.”
“You know she sleepwalks.”
“Yes. And apparently sleep stalks too.”
Wolfe took Abigail, who was getting irritated because she couldn’t burp. Wolfe knew if he stood, leaned forward a little, and patted her back just between the shoulder blades, she’d let a good one rip.
“Good girl.” Wolfe kissed Abigail’s cheek, then handed her back to Ainsley. He fell onto the couch next to them and leaned his head back. “Can you die from sleep deprivation?”
Chuckling, Ainsley went to the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee. “You have to snap out of it. We have a lot to do today. We’re going to put up the Christmas tree, and we need to get our lights up. Do you know we’re almost the last house to put up lights?”
“Huh.”
“Plus, I’d like to go into town today and get Abigail a nice Christmas dress.” She handed him his coffee. “Can you get Abigail dressed for me? I need to take a shower. Her clothes and a fresh diaper are over there. Remember to put the blanket under her in case she has another accident like yesterday.” That had been fun. And had required them both to change clothes. “When you’re finished, give her the pacifier, set the timer for ten minutes, and then take it out.”
Wolfe gave her a look.
“That’s what the book says. So they don’t get too attached.”
Wolfe was going to find that book and strategically misplace it. He watched her bound upstairs, wondering how she had the energy to bound. He barely had the energy to blink.
Ainsley seemed made for motherhood. Every aspect of it was delightful to her. Though Wolfe would never admit it to her, or anyone else for that matter, it was harder on him. It didn’t come naturally. He loved his daughter with all his heart, but changing a diaper wasn’t “the sweetest thing ever.” Ainsley approached it like it was a minor miracle. Wolfe approached it like it was—well, a dirty diaper. There was nothing adorable about it, no matter how many ways Ainsley described it.
Abigail lay on the blanket, seemingly content. Wolfe kept his coffee on the table and knelt on the floor. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Now, we’re going to do this on the count of three.”
Oliver leaned in eagerly as he listened to every word Lois said. “Uhhuh. Go on.”
She talked very fast, but he thought he was catching on. At least to the important parts.
“So you’re saying that I would need to be at practice three times a week? Plus weekends?”
“Yes,” she answered.
He nodded. “I can do that.”
“You’re sure? You don’t want to talk to Melb first? It’s quite a commit—”
“No, no. She’ll be fine with it,” he said, glancing toward the kitchen where Melb was feeding Ollie Jr.
“I need total dedication to the vision, Oliver. I need to make sure you’re on board, one hundred percent.”
“Yes. Totally. One hundred percent. If you need me to be there five days a week, I’ll be there.”
Lois reclined in her chair and studied him. “You really see this, don’t you?”
He nodded, though he had to admit he wasn’t sure what she was talking about.
“You’re catching the vision! I can see it in your eyes. Thank goodness,” she sighed, “because I have to say, I’ve shared this with a few people, and they didn’t seem to be getting it. But you get it.”
“I do. You were saying something about late-night rehearsals, right? That’s a sure thing?”
“It’s a possibility. We don’t have a lot of time. I’m still trying to cast the parts. Which part are you interested in?”
“Which part has the most lines and will require me to be at every rehearsal?”
“That would be Scrooge, but—”
“Great! I’ll take it.”
“Oliver, no offense, but you don’t really seem like you could carry the role of Scrooge.”
“Bah, humbug.”
“Well, that was convincing.” She raised an eyebrow. “But you’re going to have to frown a lot and seem heartless.”
“Not a problem. I want the role.”
“All right. It’s yours.” She leaned forward to hug him. “Thanks, Cousin.”
Oliver walked her to the door. “Go get some rest. You look tired.”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve never thought more clearly.”
“Oliver?” Melb called from the kitchen. He closed the door behind Lois and walked to the kitchen. Ollie held his bottle.
“Yes, dear?”
“Is Lois still here?”
“Just left. Listen, she wants me to play the lead role in her Christmas play. I couldn’t turn her down. She was practically begging me, nearly in tears. I had to say yes. There’ll be some rehearsals and all that. Hope it’s okay.”
Melb looked at him skeptically, but then smiled. “Sure. By the way, I was thinking we might go out in the backyard today and introduce Ollie to all the different colors of leaves. I want him to feel the textures of the grass and the bark on the trees. Maybe spot a cardinal.”
“Oh … uh, yeah … You know, honey, I would love to, but, um, I’ve got that thingy this morning.”
“What thingy?”
“Oh … you know … What is that called …?”
“The community center Christmas meeting?”
“That’s it!” She wiped Ollie’s face and turned
to him. “You’ve changed.”
Oliver swallowed. Uh-oh.
“Having a child has made you a really unselfish person. You never liked community service much before, but look at you now! Giving of your time.”
“Right …” He glanced at his watch. “Well, speaking of time, I’d better be going. I’ll see you in a few?” Hours.
“Sounds good! We’ll take Ollie out later, when it’s a little warmer.”
Oliver nodded as he grabbed his coat, car keys, and wallet. Racing out the door, he got into his car, locked it, turned the ignition, and careened out of the driveway, hoping to escape before Melb realized the community meeting was yesterday.
Wolfe sat in the coffee shop, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, wishing he could doze off. The three shots of espresso were doing a fine job of confusing his body signals. Part of him wanted to slip into a deep, sound sleep, while the other part of him wanted to juggle something.
At least he was out of the house for a little while.
“Well, well, you’ve escaped.”
Wolfe looked up to find Alfred standing above him, removing his silk scarf and pulling off his expensive leather gloves. He smiled and sat in one of two free chairs at Wolfe’s table. “You look like you could use some adult company.”
Wolfe smiled mildly. “That bad?”
“Remember that deadline that you missed by four months? Remember how I flew to your house, we stayed up all night working on it, and finished it at eight the next morning?” Wolfe nodded. “You look like that, times ten. Maybe what you need is a good, old-fashioned shove back into your career. Give you something to do with your time, hmm?”
Wolfe shot him a look. “It’s just a little harder than I thought it would be. They sleep and eat, you know? How hard can it be? Except they don’t sleep.”
Alfred chuckled. “Oh, now, Wolfe, cheer up. Isn’t this Christmas spirit supposed to carry you from the day after Thanksgiving until the first day of the new year?”
“You’re being facetious, aren’t you?”
“How can people keep this up for so long? It’s barely December. Everybody is getting carried away here. If I don’t smile and say good day to everyone I meet, they start wondering why I don’t have my Christmas socks on.”