Кэти Дэйли - The Mystery Before Christmas [calibre]

“I suppose that is understandable. It occurred to me that if Secret Santa wanted to be identified, he, or she, wouldn’t be going to so much trouble to remain anonymous.”

“Exactly. But if I refuse to do the story, Dex will just have Brock write it, and Brock won’t hesitate for a minute to unmask Secret Santa if it means a byline in the Post.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, furrowing my brow. “I feel really good about the story I am working on this week, so I guess I’ll just finish it and then try to figure the rest out. I owe it to Dex to tell him if I am going to have a problem with the final article. I mean, if I really don’t think I can write it, I guess I should let him put Brock on it right away. Dex has been so good to me. He has given me a part-time job even though I am in no way qualified to be a newspaper reporter. And if I am going to stay in Foxtail Lake for the long haul, which at this point is exactly what I plan to do, then I really want to earn more hours at the newspaper. I’m hoping Dex will like my work and actually hire me full-time, rather than just paying me as a columnist.”

“It seems like you have a hard choice ahead of you.”

I glanced out the window at the falling snow. “Yeah. I guess I’m going to have to give it some thought.”

Chapter 8

Grover Wood was a long-time local who’d lived in Foxtail Lake for as long as I could remember. He’d married his high school sweetheart, a very nice woman he’d been happily married to for twenty-five years before she passed away due to complications from diabetes. The couple never had children, but according to Aunt Gracie, who knew them better than I did, they’d always seemed happy with their lives in spite of the challenges presented. After Grover lost his wife, he threw himself into work, hobbies, and volunteer duty at the church and library. Most people felt that he was doing okay after the loss of his wife until he was seriously injured in a snowmobile accident this past winter, and the injuries to his back and neck left him unable to work.

I’d learned that Grover had burned through his savings after the accident, and was on the verge of losing his home when Secret Santa came to the rescue. I understood why the man was thrilled with the short reprieve but wondered if having his past debt erased and being paid up three months ahead would really help him in the long run. It seemed to me that what he really needed was a new source of income now that his days as a contractor seemed to have come to an end.

Gracie felt that the man had many talents that could be utilized to provide future income, but I guess the accident had destroyed more than his back; it had destroyed the last bit of hope and determination he’d been clinging to in the wake of his wife’s death. I was by no means a psychologist, nor an expert on grief, but I suspected the man had been able to delay the normal mourning process after his wife passed as long as his life had been busy. But once he was laid up and forced to take some down time, everything he’d been holding together had come crumbling down around him.

Gracie had cautioned me to go easy on him during our interview, and I planned to take her advice to heart. I wanted to learn about his experience with Secret Santa, but I didn’t want to push him over the edge I suspected he was still desperately clinging to.

“Grover Wood?” I asked the man who’d aged quite a bit since the last time I’d seen him, which was probably more than fifteen years ago.

“That’s right. You must be Callie Collins. I remember you from church when you were a kid. Come on in.” He stepped aside.

“Your view is lovely.” I paused to admire the view of the mountains in the distance.

“I’ve always enjoyed it.” He motioned for me to take a seat.

The house was clean and decorated fully for the upcoming holiday. I had to admit I wasn’t expecting that. I guess I just assumed that a man suffering from loss and depression would have let things go. Of course, the man didn’t look depressed. In fact, he looked downright cheerful. Perhaps I’d been wrong in my assessment of what was going on.

“So, you wanted to ask about Secret Santa?” he asked after I’d taken a seat.

“That’s right. I understand that Secret Santa helped to bring your mortgage current.”

“He did. And a lot more as well.”

“Do you care to elaborate?”

“After my wife passed, I threw myself into my work, my sports, my hobbies, and even my volunteer work at the church and library. A busy body is a tired body, and a tired body doesn’t have much energy to commit to feeling sorry for itself, so it all worked out for a while. But after my accident, when I was forced to stay home with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, I guess I might have slipped into a bit of a depression. Things really were dark there for a while. Not only had I lost my source of income, but I’d also lost my hobbies and sports that kept me sane. What it really boiled down to was a loss of the defense system I’d created to help me deal with the loss of my wife.”

“I’m so very sorry.”

“No need to be. I realize now that trying to run from my grief wasn’t the best approach anyway. I needed time to process everything, and I guess that my accident gave me the time I needed. Of course, by the time I began to dig myself out of my depression, I was in quite the financial mess. But then Secret Santa came along and gave me a second chance. One I plan to utilize to the fullest. I have a job interview next week, which I feel really good about, and once my mortgage was made current, the bank was willing to work with me on restructuring my other debt into something a bit more manageable.”

“That’s wonderful.” I smiled. “I’m so happy to hear that things are back on track for you.” I hated to ask my other questions since this seemed to be as good a place as any to end the interview, but then I remembered Dex. “Secret Santa really has been a ray of sunshine in the community. Everyone seems to have their own opinion as to who the mystery man might be. I don’t suppose you’d care to wager a guess?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say Carolyn Worthington is my personal Secret Santa. Carolyn was friends with my wife, and Carolyn and I both volunteered at the library before I had my accident. Carolyn and I would sometimes have coffee after our volunteer shift, so I would say we know each other fairly well. I suspect that Carolyn somehow found out about my financial situation and decided to help out.”

“So you think that Carolyn Worthington is behind all the Secret Santa gifts?”

He screwed up his face. “All the gifts? Well, I don’t know about that. I suppose if she is the one to have helped me out, then it stands to reason that she is the one to help everyone out. I guess I never really stopped to look at the bigger picture.” He paused, crossing his arms over his chest. “She is a bighearted woman. She is generous with both her time and her money. The idea that she found out about my situation and decided to help makes sense to me, but to be honest, I’m not sure about the others. Do you think there might be more than one Secret Santa?”

Did I? It would certainly complicate things, but I didn’t suppose it was impossible that there was more than one Secret Santa out there.

After I spoke to Grover for a while longer, I headed across town to meet up with Stephanie Baldwin. As far as I knew, she’d been the most recent recipient of a Secret Santa gift. I hoped she might have some insight the others had been unable to provide.

As the others had, Stephanie showed me in once I arrived on her front porch. She led me down the hallway that smelled of chocolate and cinnamon and took me directly to her kitchen, where she positively beamed as she showed me her new oven, complete with an electric stovetop. It really was a nice unit. I wasn’t much of a cook or really a cook at all, but I suspected the unit was good quality and featured all the bells and whistles.