A Christmas to Dismember, Addison Moore [howl and other poems .TXT] 📗

and then my father would read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. My mother would gift us each brand new, warm and fresh from the dryer, matching Christmas pajamas, and we were quickly ushered off to bed.

But the three of us wouldn’t dare fall asleep until we heard the sound of sleigh bells coming from the rooftop. Little did we know it was our father in the attic with a tambourine. There’s so much magic and joy on Christmas Eve, I want to make sure I provide that for others on this special night. And seeing that I’ll have a full house, or an inn full as it were, of family and friends—and three marriage proposals on the horizon— tonight needs to be perfect.

Not a single guest opted to dine in this evening; they all scattered to the four corners of Maine to celebrate with family. I let Nessa and Grady off work early, along with the rest of the staff, and Emmie helped prepare a feast from the Country Cottage Café. I stayed safely away from the kitchen as to not create a culinary disaster. Instead, Jordy helped me set up the formal dining room with a few conjoining tables, red tablecloths, gold runners, poinsettia centerpieces with evergreen boughs and candles, fine china, crystal goblets, and linen napkins. A stately tall blue noble stands proud in the corner, festooned from top to bottom with white twinkle lights and enough red ornaments to qualify as an apple tree. I wanted everything to be perfect. And it was—at least as far as dinner went.

But now dinner is over, the Christmas carols are a touch too loud, and the grand dining room is filled with lively conversations and laughter.

“Bizzy Bizzy.” My father gives me a pat on the back. “You outdid yourself, kiddo. If you run out of room in the fridge for all those leftovers, I’ll gladly take them off your hands.” He pats his stomach, and I laugh.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I made sure there would be plenty for anyone who wanted to take some food home. And don’t forget the desserts.” Emmie and Leo are still pulling out the pies, the cookies, and the mounds of peppermint bark. I told Leo he should keep her from indulging. I’ve hidden a slice of chocolate cake, filled with that platinum diamond ring he picked out, in the reception area in the mini fridge by my desk. And I need Emmie’s sweet tooth to be revved up and ready to go when it’s presented to her.

Gwyneth wraps her arms around Jasper. “Well, son, I can honestly say that you and your wife have been gracious hosts—and hosting us at your very own inn no less. I can’t wait to tell all of my friends the good news.”

Ever since Gwyneth found out the news about the inn, she’s liked me just a little bit more. I’m not sure what that says—not great things. But at least now she finds me brag-worthy to her buddies. Baby steps. I’ll take what I can get.

She scoots my father toward the dessert table.

“I see a pumpkin pie with my name on it,” she purrs.

“I’m going for both that and the pecan,” Dad is quick to warn her.

Jasper pulls me in and touches his nose to mine. “Fantastic.” I take in his spiced cologne and hold it in my lungs a moment. Jasper looks like a delicious dream with his dark suit and slick red tie.

“Dinner? Or the fact I got all three of our fur babies to nestle by the fireplace?” Along with Fish, Sherlock Bones, and Rudolph, Emmie brought her dog, Cinnamon, a curly-haired labradoodle the exact color of her sweet name, and Gatsby, Leo’s blond golden retriever, is here as well. They’ve kept us entertained for most of the evening. And all of them are wearing a bright red bow around their collar, giving them a festive appeal for the night.

He shakes his head. “You. You’re a crime fighter by day, hostess with the mostess by night.”

“Ooh, hostess with the mostess.” I bite down on a flirty smile. “I do aim to please. Play your cards right, and I’ll be taking those hosting skills of mine to the bedroom.” Over his shoulder I spot Elsie, Eve French’s daughter, cuddling up with Rudolph, and he’s licking her face silly. “I take it back. Only two of our fur babies are by the fire. Elsie has really fallen in love with Rudolph, and I can tell he loves her, too.”

Jasper takes a deep breath. “Are you willing to make a little girl’s puppy Christmas wish come true?”

“Let’s talk to Mom first.” I wrinkle my nose as we head over to where Macy and Eve are having an animated conversation with Arthur Silver.

“Hey, hey”—Macy lifts her eggnog my way—“if it isn’t the Bizzy bee herself. Great dinner. I’ll be taking a pie to go.”

“I expected nothing less.” I laugh.

Arthur nods our way. “And good job to the two of you for bringing down Quinn’s killer. I still can’t believe it was Warwick.” He shakes his head at the thought. “I guess you can never really know a person.”

“Some people can surprise you,” Jasper says. “I’m glad things are working out for you, though. And thank you for helping Bizzy with the accounting. We appreciate that.”

Eve presses her lips tightly. “I was rooting for you, Bizzy. The night we were all here for the showcase and Quinn passed away, I thought about this beautiful inn. I really was hoping he would leave it to you. I’m glad to know Quinn did just that.”

“Speaking of things that Quinn left…” I shrug. “You know, Elsie really seems to have taken to Rudolph. Would you, by chance, be open to welcoming a tiny furry cutie pie into the family?”

She sucks in a quick breath. “Yes!” She hoists both fists in the air and gives a victorious shake. “You bet I would! Oh, I can’t wait to tell her. Can I tell her?”

“I’ll go with