J Stanley - The Battered Body

“Nah,” Bennett argued. “They’ve just got cotton candy all over their faces.”

“I feel sorry for their parents. How are they ever going to get those kids to sleep? They’re totally hopped up on sugar,” Lindy remarked with ill-disguised glee.

“Speaking of sweet,” Lucy gestured across the street, where a minivan had come to a stop in a parking spot reserved for event volunteers. “Isn’t that Milla?”

Beneath the sheen of a streetlamp, it was easy to recognize the lavender hue of Milla’s van as well as her vanity plate, which read LV2COOK . James groaned. “Oh no. She’s brought her sister, the harpy, with her. Brace yourselves, my friends. This woman is as fork-tongued as a serpent.”

“Oh come on.” Lindy swatted James with the end of her crimson scarf. “How can anyone related to Milla be mean? You must be exaggerating.”

“Trust me. Paulette Martine is Queen of the Shrews,” James answered nervously as Milla, Paulette, and Willow crossed the street and headed toward Gillian’s house.

Lucy, who had been watching the newcomers’ arrival with interest, gripped James by the hand when he mentioned Paulette’s name. “You didn’t tell us Milla’s sister was the Diva of Dough! Oh, James! Do you think she’ll be baking cakes while she’s here? I watch her TV show all the time. Man, oh man…” She paused to lick her lips. “You know frosted cakes are my big weakness, and this woman makes them like nobody’s business. How lucky for you that she’s related to your daddy’s future wife!”

“Yes, I’m feeling really lucky about having her join the family,” James mumbled caustically as Milla stepped onto the porch.

“Hello, my dears!” she shouted merrily, but James sensed that her smile was partially forced. “I’m so sorry to barge in on your fun like this. Normally, I’d be all snuggled in my nightgown with my darling Sir Charles the Corgi at my feet and a Nora Roberts novel in my hand, but my sister was just dying to witness our little event, so here we are. Did we miss the whole thing?” she asked anxiously.

“It’s just about done,” Lindy answered regretfully. “That’s the Department of Finance limo,” she explained to Paulette and Willow, who had yet to speak. “They toss chocolate coins to the kids along with little slips of paper telling them that it’s never to early to open a bank account.”

“How quaint,” Paulette responded flatly, and then pursed her lips. “And this ‘assemblage’ is what passes for entertainment around here? You voluntarily stand out in the frigid cold while vehicles decorated with as much kitsch as can be found in your ‘dollar’ stores pass by distributing stale, tasteless confections.”

Bennett leaned over to Lucy and whispered, “Does she talk like that on her show? All highfalutin and frostier than a snowman?”

Lucy nodded, surprisingly unruffled by Paulette’s criticism of their holiday event. “The Christmas Cavalcade is pretty creative,” she explained to their guest and gestured at the street. “Here comes the Sanitation Department. They’re one of the crowd pleasers because they throw out these little rubber frogs called Mistle Toads. They’re stuffed with gooey chocolate and when you squeeze their bellies, it oozes out of a tiny hole in their mouths. No one knows how the garbage men manage to get the chocolate inside the frogs.”

“How fascinatingly repulsive,” Paulette replied with a frown. “All I really wanted was a cup of hot tea with my sister, but the establishment masquerading as my hotel is only stocked with Lipton. No Ashby, no Mariage Frères, no Tazo-not even a packet of humble Twinings. There’s simply nothing suitable for me to drink in that hovel and I didn’t even ask for coffee.” Paulette indicated Willow with a nod of her chin. “And my assistant was incapable of procuring us a suitable rental car for this evening so that she could track down some essentials, so Milla agreed to pick us up in her uniquely colored van and take us to the home of someone who purportedly had good taste in tea.” She scanned her audience. “Is it possible that one of you has a sophisticated palate?”

Gillian perked up immediately. “That must certainly be me! I have an entire spectrum of organic herbal teas. Would you care to come inside and peruse my pantry?”

Paulette nodded. “You can stay out here, Willow. Perhaps one of the rubber frogs from the garbage truck will turn into your prince if you kiss it with enough desperation. Come along, Milla. No sense you catching a cold with your ‘big day’ coming up.”

As soon as the Diva of Dough, followed by a subdued Milla, entered Gillian’s house, Willow breathed a sigh of relief. James quickly introduced her to his friends and then offered her the last of the hot buttered rum. “I think you may need this more than anyone here.”

“Thanks.” Willow accepted the tumbler. “I used to carry a flask of vodka with me everywhere. Paulette likes freshly squeezed orange juice in the morning before her five or six daily lattes from Starbucks, so I’d just make myself an OJ and add a little splash of survival vodka. It got me through ’til lunchtime, anyway.”

“I’d need more than a flask if I were workin’ with that she-devil.” Bennett pulled on his mustache.

“Well, I don’t even have that now.” Willow looked at the floor, shamefaced. “Paulette smelled the vodka on my breath one day and that was that. I guess it was good because only alcoholics drink at work like I was doing. So now I smoke instead.” She dug a pack of cigarettes out of her coat pocket and grinned abashedly. “I’ll just go out to the street for a minute.” She eyed Gillian’s front door nervously. “If she comes out, just tell her I went to catch one of those frogs. She’d love to think I was obeying her orders to the letter.”

The four friends watched the young woman scuttle down to the sidewalk, where she bent her head down and cupped her cigarette with her left hand, clearly determined to get it lit despite the swirling wind and snow.

“Poor thing,” Lindy said, and then she clucked her tongue. “No one should be treated like that.”

“I told you what Paulette was like.” James lowered his voice. “And I tried to talk to her about being nice because this was her sister’s community and people are kind to strangers in these parts, but I guess she’s not called a diva for nothing.”

“Well, the Diva’s going to miss the finale.” Lucy looked pleased by the idea. “Here comes Santa!”

An old yellow school bus corroded by rust lumbered down the street. The spectators in front of Gillian’s house gave their heartiest cheers and the children began to shriek at the top of their vocal ranges as they hopped up and down in excitement. The bus, which was driven by a very authentic-looking Santa Claus in denim overalls and a red flannel shirt, was occupied by the mayor and her staff. Each adult wore a green elf hat, pointy ears, and a red clown nose. The elves hung out the open bus windows, jingling hand bells and smiling widely in order to display their fake “redneck” teeth, which protruded from their mouths in crooked rows of brown and yellow.

Just below the line of windows, the bus had been spray-painted with the words Hillbilly School Bus. A chicken coop had been erected on the roof and several agitated chickens, ducks, and white geese strutted about on a pile of straw. A shotgun rack had been built behind Santa’s back and he waved at the crowd with a hand brandishing an empty whiskey bottle. Plush raccoons, squirrels, and rabbits hung from hooks inside the open passenger door while the mayor’s four basset hounds occupied the rear bucket seat. Every inch of the bus’s exterior was covered in a mismatched hodgepodge of Christmas lights.