Page 87 of The Merry Matchmaker

Frankie took the box with the gingerbread house from the trunk and was starting across the lot when her excited grandson barreled into her with a hug, knocking her off balance. She lost her grip on the box, and it started to tip.

“No!” cried Natalie, rushing to grab it.

Elinor echoed it in a squeak and stood frozen.

Frankie tried to regain her hold but failed. The box tipped sideways just out of Natalie’s reach and flew to the ground, spilling out the gingerbread house and raining coconut snow.

There it lay, their lovely creation, now looking like pieces of a hobbit mobile home waiting to be delivered. With a disconnected roof.

Elinor burst into tears.

“Snotballs,” muttered Frankie.

“Oh no,” moaned Natalie.

“Crap,” said Adele.

“I’m sorry, Grandma!” cried Warner.

The gingerbread house said nothing.

13

Natalie and Frankie returned the broken house to its box while theothers stood around it. Doctors examining the patient.

“I may as well not go in,” Elinor wailed. “I have to have a gingerbread house.”

It didn’t look good.

“Superglue,” suggested Adele.

“Mom, someone’s going to eat that. You want to poison them?” Frankie scolded.

“No one’s going to want to eat that. It’s been on the ground,” said Adele.

“No one’s going to want to eat it because no one’s going to bid on it,” Elinor corrected her, and a little sob escaped.

“You go on in,” Frankie said to her. “We’ll figure this out. And no more crying. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Adele took Elinor by the arm. “Come on, hon. We’ll think of something. Come on, Warner.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Natalie when it was just mother and daughter and a box of mess. “It looks like it got hit by a hurricane.”

“Or stomped on by Godzilla,” said Frankie. Then inspiration hit. “Nat, I need you to race home and get Warner’s toy T. rex.”

Natalie stared for a minute, then laughed. “And then the dinosaurs came.” It was the family joke whenever a room didn’t get picked up or when a soufflé fell. Always a good way to laugh off disaster.

“That’s right. I’ll run to the shop and make up a sign. Meet you back here in fifteen minutes.”

It was closer to twenty by the time they entered the hall, but since they’d been fifteen minutes early to begin with, it didn’t make them too late getting to the spot on one of the long tables that had been reserved for Elinor’s house. It was at the far corner of the room. Thank you, Barbara.

Frankie could see that the competition was stiff as she threaded her way through the crowd, greeting people and encouraging them to vote for Elinor’s collapsed house...which, she assured everyone, was intentionally destroyed. Mrs. Myrtle, a kindergarten teacher at Carol Elementary, had created a little gingerbread school, complete with tiny toy children enjoying a playground that included a slide made from cookies. Sandra Jackson, who was retired, had obviously spent hours building a gingerbread castle complete with turrets. How the heck had she done that? Another contestant had created a log cabin, and Pastor Gorton’s wife, Becky, had made a gingerbread church.

“Just so you know, this wasn’t my idea,” Becky said to Frankie as Natalie set up their disaster next to Becky’s creation. “Edna Darling bribed me to enter at the last minute. She’s making a big contribution to help repair the church roof. I don’t expect to win, and that will be fine with me.” She eyed the sad, broken house. “Uh-oh.”

“Prayers would be appreciated,” said Frankie as she set out the toy dino and the little sign she’d made.

“Dinosaurs, huh?” Becky said, reading it, and chortled.

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