Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

Funny how life turns out sometimes, I thought. Francie’s vengeful little game backfired on her. No wonder she’d been inconsolable. She thought she’d murdered the colonel by sending the tart. I started to giggle and poor Bernie couldn’t hold back his amusement any longer. It was contagious. In a flash, everyone, even the colonel and Francine Vanderhoosen, laughed and wiped teary eyes.

When we recovered, the colonel asked, “Just one thing. Did I leave a door unlocked? How did you get MacArthur out of my house?”

The color that had returned to Francie’s face turned an ugly shade of red.

“A neighbor knew where you hide the key,” I said.

My vague answer wasn’t lost on the colonel.

He looked straight at Francie when he murmured, “I see.”

Just then the knocker banged on the door again. Daisy barked and we all heard the door open and close. Wolf appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the colonel. “Glad to see you hale and hearty, sir. That explains why we didn’t have any record of your demise.”

The colonel grinned. “I’m fairly pleased about it myself.”

“I didn’t expect to find so many of you gathered here,” said Wolf. “I came to see Mrs. Winston, but I suspect she won’t mind if the rest of you hear what I have to say. The Loudoun County fire chief called me this morning. They know how the blaze at Natasha’s home started.”

TWENTY-NINE

From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

Dear Sophie,

My guests are still hanging around for the weekend after Thanksgiving. I’m itching to start decorating for Christmas, but I don’t dare make that kind of mess until my mother-in-law leaves. How do I create a transitional ambiance without a lot of work?

—Eager in Earlysville

Dear Eager,

Think red and amber. It doesn’t take a lot to create a cozy winter feel. Look around for wide-mouthed jars in shades of amber and red, drop a votive candle in each and use them on your table or mantel. The amber and red glass will cast a soft romantic glow. Use similar narrow-necked jars and glasses by popping in a single branch of berries or pine and place them among the candles. Just be sure they don’t get too close to the flames!

—Sophie

Mars tensed and protectively snaked an arm around his mother’s shoulders. They wouldn’t arrest June for arson, would they? Even if she did set the fire, I felt sure it was an accident.

“Apparently there were small glasses of candles on the stairs in the foyer,” said Wolf. “It seems they had something flammable tied to them.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Stairs are no place for candles. One of them caught fire. It ignited a basket of dry pinecones on the stair landing, basically a basket of kindling. The basket rolled down the back stairs into the kitchen and the blaze spread from there.”

Andrew and Mars stared at Wolf, speechless. June rushed Wolf. She hugged him like a long-lost friend and Wolf broke into a grin for the first time in days. Pointing a finger at her sons, June said, “There is nothing wrong with your old mother. Just because I have a few wrinkles and I sag in the wrong places doesn’t mean I’m ready for the old folks home. And don’t you pretend you weren’t planning on that. I’m young enough to see a gentleman friend and enjoy myself and that’s what I intend to do. Talking to a ghost doesn’t mean a person is a looney tune.”

She straightened her shoulders and strode from the room.

Simultaneously, Andrew and Wolf said, “Ghost?”

Their question brought Mars to life. “It’s nothing. Wolf, would you mind going over to Andrew’s house to tell Natasha about the fire? We’ll follow you. Mom should come with us.” Mars walked across the kitchen toward Wolf, paused, and turned. “Colonel, perhaps you’d care to join us for lunch? Bernie?”

Hannah jumped up. “It’s been fun but we have a little shopping to do . . .”

“Good golly, Hannah. Haven’t you seen every bridal store yet?” asked Dad.

“Christmas shopping, Dad.”

But we’d forgotten all about Francie. She huddled on the bench, forlorn. Everyone else had someplace to go and something to do. Following the colonel wouldn’t be fun for her anymore. Actually, I wasn’t sure she deserved much sympathy, but I felt sorry for her anyway. She left my house as though each step zapped her strength.