Skipping Christmas (Page 26)

Frohmeyer, Becker, Kerr, Scheel, Brixley, Kropp, Galdy, Bellington-they all eased in around Luther and Nora. Spike was in the middle of them too. As Luther sat there, nursing his wounds, answering banal questions from the boys in uniform, practically all of Hemlock squeezed in for a better view.

When Salino got the gist of the story, he said, rather loudly, "Frosty? I thought you guys weren’t doing Christmas this year, Mr. Krank. First you borrow a tree. Now this."

"What’s going on, Luther?" Frohmeyer called out. It was a public question. Its answer was for everyone.

Luther looked at Nora, and realized she wasn’t about to say a word. The explanations belonged to him.

"Blair’s coming home, for Christmas," he blurted, rubbing his left ankle.

"Blair’s coming home," Frohmeyer repeated loudly, and the news rippled through the crowd. Regardless of how they felt about Luther at the moment, the neighbors adored Blair. They’d watched her grow up, sent her off to college, and waited for her to come back each summer. She’d babysat for most of the younger kids on Hemlock. As an only child, Blair had treated the other children like family. She was everyone’s big sister.

"And she’s bringing her fiance," Luther added, and this too swept through the onlookers.

"Who’s Blair?" asked Salino, as if he were a homicide detective digging for clues.

"She’s my daughter," Luther explained to the uninformed. "She left about a month ago for Peru, with the Peace Corps, not going to be back for a year, or so we thought. She called around eleven today. She was in Miami, coming home to surprise us for Christmas, and she’s bringing a fiance, some doctor she just met down there." Nora moved closer and was now holding his elbow.

"And she expects to see a Christmas tree?" Frohmeyer said.

"Yes."

"And a Frosty?"

"Of course."

"And what about the annual Krank Christmas Eve party?"

"That too."

The crowd inched closer as Frohmeyer analyzed things. "What time does she get here?" he asked.

"Plane lands at six."

"Six!"

People looked at their watches. Luther rubbed the other ankle. His feet were tingling now, a good sign. Blood was flowing down there again.

Vic Frohmeyer took a step back and looked into the faces of his neighbors. He cleared his throat, raised his chin, and began, "Okay, folks, here’s the game plan. We’re about to have a party here at the Kranks’, a Christmas homecoming for Blair. Those of you who can, drop what you’re doing and pitch in. Nora, do you have a turkey?"

"No," she said sheepishly. "Smoked trout."

"Smoked trout?"

"That’s all I could find."

Several of the women whispered, "Smoked trout?"

"Who has a turkey?" Frohmeyer asked.

"We have two," said Jude Becker. "Both in the oven."

"Great," said Frohmeyer. "Cliff, you take a team down to Brixley’s and get his Frosty. Get some lights too, we’ll string ’em along Luther’s boxwoods here. Everybody go home, change clothes, grab whatever extra food you can find, and meet back here in a half hour."

He looked at Saline and Treen and said, "You guys head to the airport."

"For what?" asked Salino.

"Blair needs a ride home."

"I’m not sure if we can."

"Shall I call the Chief?"

Treen and Salino headed for their car. The neighbors began to scatter, now that they had their instructions from Frohmeyer. Luther and Nora watched them disperse up and down Hemlock, all moving quickly, all with a purpose.

Nora looked at Luther with tears in her eyes, and Luther felt like crying too. His ankles were raw.

Frohmeyer said, "How many guests are coming to the party?"

"Oh, I don’t know," Nora said, staring at the empty street.

"Not as many as you think," Luther said to her. "The Underwoods called and canceled. As did Dox."

"So did Father Zabriskie," said Nora.

"Not Mitch Underwood?" queried Frohmeyer.

"Yes, but he’s not coming."

What a sad little party, thought Frohmeyer. "So how many guests do you need?"

"Everybody’s invited," Luther said. "The whole street."

"Yes, the entire street," Nora added.

Frohmeyer looked at Kistler and asked, "How many guys in the station tonight?"

"Eight."

"Can the firemen and medics come too?" Vic asked Nora.

"Yes, they’re all invited," she said.

"And the police as well, added Luther.

"It’ll be a crowd."

"A crowd would be nice, wouldn’t it, Luther?" Nora said.

He pulled the blankets tighter and said, "Yes, Blair would love a crowd."

"How about some carolers?" Frohmeyer asked.

"That would be nice," Nora said.

They helped Luther into the house, and by the time he made it to the kitchen he was walking unassisted, but with a severe limp. Kendall left him a plastic cane, one he vowed he wouldn’t use.

When they were alone in the living room, with Trogdon’s tree, Luther and Nora shared a. few quiet moments by the fire. They talked about Blair. They tried in vain to analyze the prospect of a fiance then a groom, then a new son-in-law.

They were touched beyond words by the unity of their neighbors. The cruise was never mentioned.

Nora looked at her watch and said she had to get ready. "I wish I’d had a camera," she said, walking away. "You up there hanging by your feet with half the city watching." And she laughed all the way to the bedroom.

Chapter Nineteen

Blair was just a little miffed that her parents were not waiting at the arrival gate. Sure it was short notice, and the airport was crowded, and they were undoubtedly busy with the party, but she was, after all, bringing home her one and only. She said nothing though, as she and Enrique walked quickly down the concourse, arm in arm, stride for stride, somehow weaving gracefully through the mob while remaining attached at the hip and staring only at each other.

There was no one to greet them at the baggage claim either. But as they were hauling their luggage toward the exit, Blair saw two policemen holding a hand-scrawled sign that read "Blair and Enriqe."

They had misspelled Enrique, but at the moment who cared? She called to them, and they snapped into action, scooping up the luggage and leading them through the mass of people. Officer Salino explained as they walked outside that the Chief had dispatched a police escort for Blair and Enrique. Welcome home!

"The party is waiting," he said as they stuffed their things into the trunk of a police car, which was parked illegally at the curb in front of the taxis. A second police car was parked in front of the first.

As a South American, Enrique was more than a little hesitant to voluntarily get into the back of a police car. He looked around nervously, at the crush of foot traffic, taxis, and buses bumper to bumper, people yelling, guards whistling. The idea of bolting crossed his mind, then his eyes returned to the beautiful face of the girl he loved.

"Let’s go," she said, and they jumped in. He would’ve followed her anywhere. With lights flashing, the two cars flew away, darting through traffic, forcing others onto the edges of the streets.

"This happens all the time?" Enrique whispered.

"Never," Blair answered. What a nice touch, she thought.

Officer Treen was driving furiously. Officer Salino was smiling at the thought of Luther Krank hanging by his feet while the entire neighborhood looked on. But he wouldn’t say a word. Blair would never know the truth, according to orders from Vic Frohmeyer, who’d finally gotten through to the Mayor and also had the Chief’s ear.