Page 13 of Christmas Mittens Murder

They walked away, leaving Hayley behind to console the now-devastated Reverend Ted.

Chapter Six

Hayley usually had her Christmas tree up and decorated in the living room by the first week of December, but this year in particular had been unusually busy at the restaurant. Between her business, Christmas shopping and attempting to wow everyone with her gift basket, there had just been no time.

Bruce had bought a fine-looking eight-foot-tall balsam fir tree at the local tree farm, and she had dragged all the boxed decorations out of the garage that morning so they could whip up some spiked eggnog and decorate the tree together when she returned home from the church’s Christmas bazaar.

Unfortunately, given the unexpected events and the endless questioning by the police, Hayley did not make it through her front door until almost seven that evening. She found Bruce, bleary-eyed, sitting in the middle of the living room floor trying to untangle the colored Christmas tree lights like a frustrated child. Judging from the empty glass mug next to him, not to mention his watery eyes and beet-red face, she guessed he had already gotten a head start on the bourbon-laced eggnog.

“There you are!” Bruce cried, dropping the lights and climbing to his feet but stumbling into the couch. He grabbed the armrest to steady himself and then enveloped her in a big bear hug. “Merry Christmas, my love!”

“You started without me!” Hayley scolded him.

“I had no idea how long you’d be stuck at the church answering questions, so I just set up the tree and was going to start stringing the lights. I would never put on the ornaments without you. I know that’s your favorite part.”

“No, my favorite part is drinking your world-famous one-hundred-proof eggnog while sorting through all the old decorations!”

“Coming right up!” Bruce promised as he scurried off to the kitchen.

“And don’t forget I like a dollop of whipped cream on mine!”

Hayley shed her jacket and boots and began to open the boxes of decorations and empty all the ornaments onto the coffee table. She took great care with the ones she had inherited from her grandmother after she passed, some dating back to the late nineteenth century. They were mixed in with midcentury pop art collectibles, including a porcelain Andy Warhol and a Rolling Stones album cover, a portrait of her beloved dog Leroy inside a tiny frame, as well as some homemade ornaments her kids had made in grade school that she had held on to for their sentimental value.

Bruce returned with her eggnog, and after just one sip she felt as if she were wrapped up in a warm blanket. She and Bruce spent the next hour covering the branches of the tree with all the decorations. Bruce went to retrieve the stepladder from the garage so he could affix the Northstar light on top, then set about ripping open the packages of tinsel. Before Hayley could stop him, he was flinging the silver tinsel haphazardly everywhere just like her kids were prone to do growing up.

“Bruce, no! You do this every year! You can’t just hurl it! It’ll look like some tinsel monster threw up all over the tree. There is an art to it. One strand at a time.”

“That will take all night!”

“Nobody ever said art was easy. Here, let me do it.” She snatched the half-empty box out of his hand and began carefully applying one tinsel piece at a time over the branches.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You can make more eggnog.”

“I love that idea!”

He eagerly bounded back into the kitchen, leaving her in peace. She had maybe put on five or six pieces of tinsel when the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was almost nine o’clock. She walked over and opened the door and was greeted by Reverend Ted and his church choir, all bundled up in winter coats and scarves and muffs and mittens, all of them holding lit candles as they began singing the lyrics to “The First Noel.”

“The First Noel the Angels did say

Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay . . .”

Hayley plastered on a bright smile, trying her best to act surprised and full of joy at finding Christmas carolers on her doorstep.

“In fields where they lay keeping their sheep

On a cold winter’s night that was so deep . . .”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Hayley cooed, although she was tired and a little buzzed from the spiked eggnog and knew this song could go on endlessly. She assumed Bruce was hearing all of this and currently hiding out in the kitchen in order to avoid getting dragged in as part of the audience.

“Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel

Born is the King of Israel!”

Hayley applauded. “That was beautiful, thank you so much!” She went to shut the door but they kept going.

“They looked up and saw a star

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