Visions of Sugar Plums Read online

  "Cripes," Diesel said. "This is frightening. This is like being with the living dead."

  "What about you?" I asked. "Is your Christmas shopping all done?"

  "I don't do a lot of Christmas shopping."

  "Wife, girlfriend, mother?"

  "I'm currently without."

  "I'm sorry."

  He tweaked my nose and smiled. "It's okay. I've got you."

  "Did you get me a present?"

  Our eyes locked, and his expression warmed a couple notches. He raised his eyebrows every so slightly in question, and I felt my temperature rise.

  "Do you want a present?" he asked. Both of us understanding what he was offering.

  "No. Nope." I sucked in some air and busied myself, brushing some dust off my jacket. "Thanks, anyway."

  "Let me know if you change your mind," he said, his voice back to playful.

  Ordinarily, two people walking through Quakerbridge covered in construction dust would attract some attention. At four o'clock on Christmas Eve, no one would have noticed if we'd been naked. I didn't waste time on details such as the right size or color. I went with Lula's method. Fill your bag with stuff close to the register. I finished up at five-thirty, and I wrapped the presents on the way to my parents' house.

  Diesel jerked to a stop at the curb, and we tumbled out of the car with our arms full of boxes and bags.

  Grandma was at the door. "She's here," she called to the rest of the family. "And she's got that hunky sissy boy with her again."

  "Sissy boy?" Diesel asked.

  "It's complicated," I said.

  "Omigod," my mother said when she saw us. "What happened? You're filthy."

  "It's nothing," I said. "A building fell down on us, and we didn't have time to change."

  "A couple years ago I would have thought that was unusual," my mother said.

  "You've gotta help me," Grandma said. "My studmuffin is coming to dinner, and I still haven't got my teeth."

  "We've looked everywhere," my mother said. "We even looked through the garbage."

  "Someone stole them," Grandma said. "I bet a good set of teeth would bring a pretty penny on the black market."

  There was a knock at the door, and Morelli let himself in.

  "Just the person I want to see," Grandma said. "I want to report a crime. Someone stole my teeth."

  Morelli looked over at me. The first look said, help.

  And the second look said what the hell happened to you?

  "A ceiling sort of fell in on us," I told Morelli. "But we're fine."

  A muscle worked in Morelli's jaw. He was trying to stay calm.

  "Where were your teeth when you saw them last?" I asked Grandma.

  "In a glass, getting cleaned."

  "Did you lose just the teeth? Or is the glass gone, too?"

  "The lousy rotten robber took everything, glass and all."

  Mary Alice and Angie were in front of the television.

  "Hey," I said to them. "Either of you see Grandma's teeth? They were in a glass in the kitchen and now they're missing."

  "I thought Grammy was throwing them away, so I took them for Charlotte," Mary Alice said.

  Charlotte is a big lavender dinosaur that lives in Grandma's bedroom. Grandma won Charlotte at the Point Pleasant boardwalk two years ago. Grandma put four quarters down on number thirty-one, red. The guy spun the game wheel. And Grandma won Charlotte. Charlotte had originally been intended for Mary Alice, but Grandma got attached to Charlotte and kept her.

  Some of the stuffing has shifted in Charlotte's big dino body, so she has lumpy spots now... kind of like Grandma.

  Mary Alice ran upstairs and retrieved Charlotte. And sure enough, the teeth were nicely set into Charlotte's gaping mouth.

  "Charlotte's teeth had lost their stuffing," Mary Alice said. "And Charlotte was having trouble eating, so I gave her Grandma's teeth."

  "Isn't that something," Grandma said. "I never noticed."

  We all look more closely at the teeth. They were decorated with flowers and tiny rainbows and colorful stars.

  "I made the teeth more pretty with my markers," Mary Alice said. "I used the waterproof ones so they wouldn't wash off."

  "That's nice, honey," Grandma said, "but I need my choppers on account of I've got a hot date tonight. I'll get Charlotte some teeth of her own."

  Grandma took the teeth from Charlotte and put them into her mouth. Grandma smiled, and we all tried to stifle ourselves. Except for my father.

  "Holy crap," my father said, staring transfixed at Grandma's decorated teeth.

  The phone rang and Grandma ran to answer it. "It was my studmuffin," Grandma said when she hung up. "He said he had a hard day, and he needs to take a nap and recharge his battery. So we're going to meet up at Stiva's after dinner. There's going to be a special Christmas Eve viewing for Betty Schlimmer."

  We always had baked ham for Christmas. The ham was hot on Christmas Eve, and for Christmas Day my mom would set out a big buffet with cold sliced ham and macaroni and about a billion other dishes.

  Kloughn arrived just as we were sitting down to the table. "Am I late?" he asked. "I hope I'm not late. I tried not to be late, but there was an accident on Hamilton Avenue. A really good one. Legitimate neck injuries and everything. I think they might hire me." He kissed Valerie on the cheek and blushed bright red. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Did you throw up a lot today? Are you feeling any better? Boy, I sure wish you'd feel better."

  Grandma passed Kloughn the mashed potatoes. "I hear those neck injuries can be worth a lot of money," Grandma said.

  Kloughn looked at Grandma's teeth, and the potato spoon dropped out of his hand and clattered onto his plate. "Ulk," Kloughn said.

  "You're probably wondering about my teeth," Grandma said to Kloughn. "Mary Alice decorated them for me."

  "I've never seen decorated teeth before. I've seen decorated nails. And people get tattoos all over the place, right? So I guess decorated teeth could be the next big thing," Kloughn said. "Maybe I should get my teeth decorated. I wonder if I could get fish painted on them. What do you think about fish?"

  "Rainbow trout would be good," Grandma said. "That way you could have lots of colors."

  Mary Alice was fidgeting in her chair. She was softly talking to herself, twisting her hair around and around her index finger, wriggling on her seat.

  "What's the matter?" Grandma asked. "Do you need to gallop?"

  Mary Alice looked to my mother.

  "Go for it," my mother said. "It's been too quiet around here. I think we need a horse to liven things up."

  "I know there isn't any Santa Claus," Mary Alice said, "but if there was, do you think he'd give presents to a horse?"

  We all jumped right in.

  "Absolutely."

  "Of course."

  "You bet."

  "Darn tootin', he'd give presents to a horse."

  Mary Alice stopped fidgeting and looked thoughtful. "I was just wondering," she said.

  Angie watched Mary Alice. "There might be a Santa," Angie said, very seriously.

  Mary Alice stared at her plate. There were weighty decisions to be made here.

  Mary Alice wasn't the only one caught between a rock and a hard place. I had Diesel on one side of me and Morelli on the other, and I could feel the pull of their personalities. They weren't competing. Diesel was in an entirely different place from Morelli. It was more that their energy fields were intersecting over my air space.

  Grandma jumped up halfway through dessert. "Look at the time," she said. "I gotta go. Bitsy Greenfield's picking me up, and shell go without me if I'm not ready. We gotta get there early for this one. It's a special ceremony. It'll be standing room only."

  "Maybe you shouldn't do too much talking," I said to Grandma. "People might not understand about the artwork on your teeth."

  "No problem," she said. "Nobody in that crowd can see good enough to know anything's different. What with everyone having macular degeneration and catarac
ts, I don't have to even wear makeup. Being old has a lot of advantages. Everybody looks good when you got cataracts."

  * * *

  "Okay, so tell me again why this guy is your new best friend," Morelli said. We were outside on the small back porch, flapping our arms to keep warm. It was the only place to have a private conversation.

  "He's looking for a guy named Ring. And he thinks Ring is somehow connected to me. But we don't know how. So he's staying close to me until we figure it out."

  "How close?"

  "Not that close."

  Inside the house my parents and sister were dragging presents out from hiding places and arranging them under the tree. Angie and Mary Alice were sound asleep. Grandma was off somewhere, presumably with her studmuffin. And Diesel had been sent in search of batteries.

  "I have a present for you," Morelli said, curling his fingers into my coat collar, pulling me to him.

  "Is it a big present?"

  "No. It's a small present."

  So that eliminated the first item on my Christmas wish list. Morelli gave me a little box, wrapped in red foil. I opened the box and found a ring. It was composed of slim intertwined gold and platinum bands. Set into the bands were three small deep blue sapphires. "It's a friendship ring," Morelli said. "We tried the engagement thing, and that didn't work."

  "Not yet, anyway," I told him.

  "Yeah, not yet," he said, sliding the ring onto my finger.

  Sound carried crystal clear on the cold air. I heard a car pull up to the curb. A door opened and closed. And then a second.

  "Aren't you the one," Grandma said.

  The deeper male voice didn't carry back to us as clearly.

  "It's Grandma and the studmuffin!" I whispered to Morelli.

  "Listen," Morelli said, "I'd really like to stay but I've got this assignment..."

  I opened the kitchen door. "Forget it. You're staying. I'm not facing the studmuffin alone."

  "Look who I've got," Grandma announced to everyone. "This here's my friend John."

  He was about five-foot-nine, with white hair, a ruddy complexion, and a slim build. He wore thick-lensed glasses and was dressed for the occasion in neatly pressed gray slacks, casual rubber-soled shoes, and a red blazer. Truth is, Grandma had dragged home a lot worse. If John had artificial parts, he was keeping them to himself. Fine by me.

  Grandma didn't look nearly so well groomed. Her lipstick was smeared, and her hair was standing on end.

  "Yikes," Morelli whispered to me.

  I extended my hand to the studmuffin. "I'm Stephanie," I said.

  He shook my hand and my scalp tingled and a tiny spark passed between us. "I'm John Ring," he said.

  Oh boy. So this is the connection. This is the reason Diesel was dropped into my kitchen.

  "He's just full of static electricity tonight," Grandma said. "We're gonna have to rub him down with one of them fabric softener sheets."

  "I'm sorry I couldn't make dinner," Ring said. "I had a stressful day." He stepped closer, adjusted his glasses, and squinted at me. "Do I know you? You seem familiar, somehow."

  "She's a bounty hunter," Grandma said. "She tracks down bad guys."

  Zzzzzt. A series of sparks crackled off Ring's head.

  "Isn't that something the way he can do that?" Grandma said. "He's been doing that all night."

  My mother slyly made the sign of the cross and took a step backward. Morelli moved closer to me, pressing himself against my back, his hand at the nape of my neck.

  "Look at the hair on my arm," Kloughn said. "It's all standing up. Why do you suppose it's doing that? Boy, I'm kind of creeped out. Do you suppose it means something? What do you suppose it means?"

  "The air's real dry," I said. "Sometimes hair doesn't lie down when the air's real dry."

  Here I was, face to face with Ring, Diesel was off hunting batteries, and I hadn't a clue what to do. My heart was skipping beats, and I was humming from head to toe. I could feel vibrations coming through the soles of my shoes.

  "I feel like a Slurpee," I said to Grandma and Ring. "How about we all go to 7-Eleven and get a Slurpee?"

  "Now?" Grandma said. "We just got here."

  "Yep. Now. I really need a Slurpee."

  What I needed was to get Ring out of my parents' house. I didn't want him near Angie and Mary Alice. I didn't want him near my mom and dad.

  "Maybe you could stay here and help wrap presents," I said to Grandma. "And Mr. Ring could give me a ride to 7-Eleven. It would give us a chance to get acquainted."

  Zzzzt. Zzzzzt. Mr. Ring didn't seem to like that idea.

  "Just a suggestion," I said.

  Morelli's hand was steady at my neck, and Ring took a couple deep breaths.

  "Are you okay?" Grandma asked Ring. "You don't look too good."

  "I'm... excited," he said. "M-m-meeting your family." Zzzt.

  It looked to me like Ring was having a control problem. He was leaking electricity. And he seemed as uncomfortable with his position as I was.

  "Well," he said, forcing a smile, "this is a typical fun family Christmas, isn't it?" Zzzzt. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Zzzt. Zzzt. "And this is your lovely Christmas tree."

  "I paid fifteen bucks for it," my father said.

  Zzzt.

  The tree had about twelve needles left on it and was tinder dry. My father diligently watered it every day, but this tree died in July.

  Ring reached out, tentatively touched the tree, and it burst into flames.

  "Holy shit," Kloughn yelped. "Fire. Fire! Get the kids out of the house. Get the dog. Get the ham."

  The fire spread to the cotton batting wrapped around the base of the tree and then to the presents. A streak of fire raced up a nearby curtain.

  "Call 911," my mother said. "Call the fire company. Frank, get the fire extinguisher from the kitchen!"

  My dad turned to the kitchen, but Morelli already had the extinguisher in hand. Moments later, we all stood dazed, mouths agape, staring at the mess. The tree was gone. The presents were gone. The curtain was in tatters.

  John Ring was gone.

  And Diesel hadn't returned.

  There was a loud series of explosions outside and through the window we saw the sky light up, bright as day. And then all was dark and quiet.

  "Cripes," my dad said.

  Grandma looked around. "Where's John? Where's my studmuffin?"

  "You mean Sparky," Kloughn said. "Get it? Sparky?"

  "Looks like he left," I said.

  "Hunh, just like a man," Grandma said. "Burn down your Christmas tree and then up and leave."

  Morelli set the fire extinguisher aside and crooked his arm around my neck. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

  "I don't think so."

  "I didn't see any of this," Morelli said. "I didn't see the sparks coming off his head. And I didn't see him set the tree on fire."

  "Me either," I told him. "I didn't see any of that stuff, either."

  We all stood there for some more long moments with nothing to say. There were no words. Just shock. And maybe some denial.

  A small, sleepy voice broke the silence.

  "What happened?" Mary Alice asked.

  She was on the stairs in her jammies. Angie was behind her.

  "We had a fire," my mom said.

  Mary Alice and Angie approached the tree. Mary Alice studied the charred boxes. She looked up at my mom. "Were these presents from the family?"

  "Yes."

  Mary Alice was sober. Thinking. She looked at Angie. And she looked at Grandma.

  "That's good," she finally said, "because I'd hate to have Santa's presents get burned." Mary Alice climbed onto the couch and sat with her hands folded in her lap. "I'm going to wait for Santa," she said.

  "I thought you didn't believe in Santa," Grandma said.

  "Diesel said it's important to believe in things that make you happy. He was in my room just now, and he said he was going away, but Santa Claus would come to vi
sit tonight."

  "Did he have a horse with him?" Grandma asked. "Or a reindeer?"

  Mary Alice shook her head. "It was just Diesel."

  Angie climbed next to Mary Alice. "I'll wait, too."

  "We should clean this mess up," Grandma said.

  "Tomorrow," my mother told her, taking a dining room chair into the living room, sitting across from Mary Alice and Angie. "I'm going to wait for Santa."

  So we all sat and waited for Santa. We put the television on but we weren't really watching. We were listening for footsteps on the roof. Hoping to catch a glimpse of reindeer flying past the window. Waiting for something magical to happen.

  The clock struck twelve and I heard cars drive up and doors open and close. And I heard voices, babbling in hushed excitement. There was a knock on the front door and we all jumped to our feet. I answered the door and wasn't too surprised to see Sandy Claws. He was dressed in a snappy red suit with a red Christmas tie. He held a box, all wrapped up in shiny paper and tied with a golden bow. Behind him squirmed a legion of elves. (Who was I to say if they were fake or real?) All bearing presents. Randy Briggs was among them.

  "Diesel said you needed some help with Christmas," Claws said to me. "Is he okay?"

  "He's fine. Diesel is always fine. He's returning Ring to the Home."

  "How can he do that? How can he get around the electricity stuff?"

  "Diesel has ways."

  "I bet you get harassed, right?" Kloughn said to a couple of the elves. "I bet you could use a good lawyer. Let me give you my card."

  My mother rushed to the kitchen and returned with platters of cookies and fruitcake. My father cracked out some beer. Grandma eyed Claws.

  "He's a cutie," she said to me. "Do you know if he's taken?"

  The party lasted until all the presents were opened, the last cookie was eaten, the last beer swilled. The elves said their good-byes and packed off in their cars. Sandy Claws and Briggs remained with one last box. It was the box with the golden bow, and Claws gave the box to Mary Alice.

  "I made this myself," he said. "Just for you. Keep it always. It's a special present for a very special person."