Page 7 of Merry Murder Season
After Greg left the kitchen, I dumped the rest of the plates into the soapy water. “I’m sorry you guys are going through this. Especially onThanksgiving.”
“He thinks because it’s Thanksgiving I will come to my senses and agree with him.” Beth smiled sadly. “I guess I think that maybe the same miracle will happen on his side. Maybe we aren’t the match I thought we were. Maybe the only thing he saw in me was my name. Funny he falls in love with two women named Elizabeth, isn’t it?”
“Don’t give up yet.” I rinsed a plate and handed it to her. “Holding on for a miracle is always when the ending is the sweetest. He’s got to realize we aren’t living in the1950s, right?”
Beth shook her head, setting the dried plate on the now clean table to put away later. “I’m afraid he’s stuck there. He wants a life like it was with his first wife, but I’m not Elizabeth. Or I should say, I’m not that Elizabeth. I shouldn’t be treated like I am.”
I washed a few more dishes, letting the emotion in the room calm down a little. Then I turned to look at Beth. “Have youtold him that?”
* * *
Saturday night, Chris Aquilla came to the house, and with Beth, the three of us walked into town early to get the community hall ready for the dart tournament. The town had set up a parking lot on a field near where the barrier closed off the road. A few cars were already parked there, but not many yet. Greg had promised that they would arrive right at seven with the toys I’d bought. Amanda had echoed his promise, but from the look on Jim’s face, I wondered if I’d see any of them before the fundraiser ended. My new family might just be a no-show to the fundraiser. But I wasn’t going to worryabout that yet.
As we arrived at the bar, the owner, Chip Morgan, was outside, hanging lights and garland across the front windows. The adobe building had been built in 1922 and had an Old West façade, so adding modern lights and decorations made it look out of time and place. But I had to admit, the grumpy bar owner was trying. Chip liked things practical and useful. Red-and-green garland was neither. He stepped off the stepstool and pluggedin the lights.
The community hall across the street had already been decorated outside as Santa’s Workshop. We just needed to make sure the hall inside was ready.
“Oh, Chip, it looks magical.” Chris squeezed his arm as we looked at the front of the bar that now radiated a tiny bit of seasonal joy. Along with the neon beer signs that flashed different colors.
Magicalwas one word to describe it.Trailer trash holidaywas another. But who was I to judge? Like I’d told the group on Tuesday, it was for the children. And Chris seemed happy.
Chip grumped as she kissed his cheek, his face turning even more red than the flashing lights. I was beginning to worry about his health. “You better get set up and start taking people’s money before they give it all tome for drinks.”
Chris laughed and herded us all inside the bar. The bar was dark and the lack of seasonal decorations made the outside look positively cheerful. I watched Beth take a step backward as she took in the two men at the bar who, from the bottles in front of them, had been here a while. One tried to stand up andgrinned at us.
“Wow, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” He peered at us, hiseyes narrowed.
I wasn’t sure he could see if there were three of us or six.
“Roger, sit down and wait for your wife to come get you.” Chris turned us right, away from the bar and through a door. This room was bright. It must beChip’s office.
“We just need to pick up the registrations and the cashboxes and then we’ll head across the street and get the hall open.” Chris handed each of us a file and a cashbox. Then she hurried us out of the bar and across the street. Apparently, she didn’t think Roger would listen. Orcall his wife.
The hall had exploded with decorations. A tree twinkled in the corner, with toys already tucked underneath. A table was set up at the doorway with boxes behind it and three chairs. A line had already formed in the room, which held fifteen dart boards as well as high-top tables and chairs.
“Beth, do you want to help us check people in?” Chris asked as we made our way around the table. When Beth nodded, Chris smiled and pulled out a form. “Okay, what we need is their name, their donation, their toy, and their experience in darts. If they’ve played in a local league, they’ll have a rating. I’ve got a sheet listing all the local players. Most people are honest, and it’s a matter of pride with ratings. Some try to drop their ratings so they can get a better partner.”
“I’m not sure I can do this.” Beth’s eyes widened as she looked at the form and the cashbox in front of her.
“You run a church office and just got your master’s,” I reminded her. “If you can’t do this, no one can.”
Beth nodded and Chris gently pushed her into a chair. “I’ll help you with the first one. Troy? Come over here and we’ll getyou signed in.”
I sat in the chair to the left and watched as Chris walked Beth through the process. Then I took the next person. By the time we’d gotten through the list, it was almost time to start and Greg, Jim, and Amanda hadn’t shown up yet.
“I’m paying for Lille and me,” a voice said as he set two boxes of LEGOs on the table. “I hope these are good.”
The boxes of LEGOs were the expensive ones. There was aStar Warsone, and one that looked like a small village. I looked up into Dom’s face. “They’regreat, thanks.”
“I brought the guys from my club with me. So that should help raise money for the kids.” He nodded behind him where a new line had formed. Guys in leathers and jeans, most with a woman on their arm who held the toys. “Gunter, get up here and sign in. You and Trixy are next.”
At the doorway, watching the Demon Dogs sign in, stood Greg and his brother. The gang was all here.
By the time we got everyone checked in and the pairings announced, I was worn out. Chris, on the other hand, was in her element. She had the firstround announced and games started within minutes. She grinned at the overflowing boxes of toys behind us. “I think we did good. Whowants a drink?”
“I’d love a Coke,” Beth said as she finished counting and straightening her money box. “I’ve got over six hundred dollars but I don’t know what Istarted with.”
“There was a hundred in small bills in each box. It’s Chip’s personal donation to the cause. I’ll go get drinks, and you”—she handed Beth her cashbox—“can combine all the boxes and we’ll announce the entry fee donation in a few minutes. I love it when we allwork together.”
