Page 27 of Festive in Death

“Ladies like bags. Don’t you got bags?” Tiko demanded.

“I have pockets. I have a field kit. I’ve got a file bag when I need it.” And she had the dozens of girlie bags that found their way into her closet along with the dozens of shoes, the forest of clothes.

Her husband definitely got that stuff.

“Why don’t you pick one of the five,” Astrid suggested. “Tell me a little about her.”

“Ah. Okay, elegant, classy, not rigid or stuffy, but classy. Mostly goes for soft colors, but can surprise you. Everything always goes together like she worked it out on a program first. Professional, smart. Kind.”

“I like her already. I’ve got something in the back that just came in. I think it might work.”

“Told you they’d take care of you,” Tiko said when Astrid hurried off.

“The stuff in the back isn’t hot, is it?”

Insult covered his face. “What you think? These are good guys.”

“Okay, okay. Shopping makes me twitchy. Why is there so much of everything?”

“So not everybody has the same.”

Astrid came back with a box, slipped out the long, narrow bag. “I only ordered a few of these, just to see how we did. They’re hand-painted. Really special, I thought.”

“Ah.” Eve studied it. Smooth, a little silky, with a pastel garden of flowers and a jeweled butterfly as a clasp.

“Since they’re hand-painted, they’re one of a kind.”

“I guess she is, too,” Eve said, thinking of Mira. “I think she’d go for it.”

“I got a nice silk scarf that color pink.” Tiko tapped one of the flowers. “You fluff it up inside the purse, and you got class, like you want.”

Eve eyed him. “Sold. Moving on. Now I’ve got one who’s out there. Nothing’s too much, too wild, too anything. Color, bright, changeable, bouncy. Oh, and she’s got a kid. A girl kid, not quite a year old.”

“Oh, I’ve got it.” Astrid clapped her hands together. “We have these great mother-daughter bags. Just so much fun. Practical, too, as they’ll convert from shoulder bags to handbags to backpacks.”

Astrid pointed up.

Eve spotted an explosion of bright colors, big bag, small bag, hooked together. And a pair with a sparkly unicorn dancing over each.

“Oh yeah, that’s Mavis and Bella. The unicorn set.”

“Let me get the hook.”

While Astrid did just that, Eve looked down at Tiko. “I bet you’ve got a scarf that’ll go with it.”

“I got a scarf for the mama be perfect, and I got a baby girl cap, a pink one shaped like that horse with the horn.”

“Jesus, Tiko, you’re killing me. Sold.”

Forty minutes after she’d parked, Eve loaded shopping bags in her car, then got behind the wheel.

Then just sat there until her head stopped spinning.

God, she wanted a drink. Two drinks.

Telling herself to be grateful Christmas only hit once a year, she pulled back into traffic and fought the holiday rage of it all the way to the gates of home.

Diamond white lights twinkled in the trees along the drive, lending a fanciful air to the grounds. And the house rose, all gorgeous gray stone and shining glass, a fancy itself with its towers and turrets.

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