Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery) Read Online Free Page B

of his.”
    “Woodstock?”
    “That’s him.”
    “Cute,” I said, squinting to see if I could
spot Riley amongst the elves in Santa’s Cottage. Honestly, even up
close they tended to look alike.
    “Not cute! Not even close.”
    “Then why’d you put it out there?” I
shouldn’t have answered the phone. I still had a checklist of items
to cross off before the doors opened at eleven. I really didn’t
even have the time to talk to Riley, but sometimes my nosiness got
the better of me.
    “I didn’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell
you,” she said with more condescension than I thought necessary.
“Someone put it out there while I was sleeping.”
    I held in a laugh. “Who would do that?”
    “As if I would know. Hooligans, no doubt.
I’ve unplugged the thing, but I don’t know what to do with it. It.
Has. To. Go.”
    Ah. The real reason she called. She needed my
truck.
    “I’ll take it.” I’d always had a fondness for
that cute little Woodstock.
    “You do not need another lawn decoration.
Perhaps you can donate it.”
    “There’s always room for more,” I said.
    “Whose child are you?”
    “I ask myself that often.”
    “Fresh.”
    “I’ll be over after the big
tree-lighting.”
    “What do I do with it until then? I can’t
leave it out there on the lawn. The neighbors might see.”
    “They probably already saw it.”
    “Lord have mercy,” she murmured. “How am I
going to explain?”
    I laughed. “Have Dad drag it into the garage.
I’ll be there soon.”
    I hung up before she could sneak in another
word and walked over to Santa’s Cottage. Here, Jenny’s ingenuity
really came to life. She literally had a cottage built inside
Christmastowne. It was a small one-story cabin, decked out in
Christmas lights, faux snow, and even faux smoke coming out of the
faux chimney. It was absolutely adorable.
    Outside the cottage, a small picket fence
cordoned off the area and also provided a queue for eager little
kids waiting their turn to see the big guy. There was a reindeer
pen off to one side, and Jenny was still trying to get real
reindeer to put in it for a petting zoo along with a few other
barnyard animals.
    A copse of faux snow-dusted pine trees, holly
bushes, and dozens and dozens of (kill me now) poinsettias added a
nice touch of outdoors. Through a snow-crusted picture window, I
caught a glimpse of Santa’s big velvet chair—which was empty.
    During the off-season Jenny planned to turn
the space into Santa’s workshop and have Santa hang around
all-year, so kids would still be eager to come to the village to
get a peek at the toys he was making. It was genius.
    I followed the empty queue to the open front
door of the cottage. I peeked in and saw Nancy Davidson,
Christmastowne’s photographer, fussing with her camera equipment,
which was set up next to a fireplace that had stockings hung
(embroidered with “Mr. Claus” and “Mrs. Claus”) by the faux fire
with care. Riley stood next to a toy chest—another of Jenny’s
brilliant ideas. Families who wanted their pictures taken with
Santa could spend a fortune on the photos—or they could drop an
unwrapped present into the chest and have the shot for free. The
toys were then donated to a local children’s charity.
    Even though most of the donated presents cost
more than the picture fee, it fostered the spirit of giving and
Riley commented this morning that people had responded
enthusiastically. He had to empty the toy chest hourly to keep up
with the flow.
    Across the room, I noticed Jenny had taken a
wobbly Santa aside and was giving him a talking-to. Mrs. Claus,
dressed in a pretty red dress with green sash, gray curly wig, cute
hat and sensible red pumps, had latched onto a poor male elf. Her
hand encircled his arm, and she cooed appreciatively over his
muscles.
    Nancy headed toward me, and I moved out of
the doorway to let her pass.
    “Thanks,” she said. “I had to get some fresh
air. The fumes...” She fanned her