Merry Christmas, Cowboy Page 2

  She walked quickly out of the lot and ran up the stairs, entering through tall, unlocked doors into a swirl of bright lights and animated conversation. A few guests turned to smile her way, but most were occupied with admiring the décor and a bountiful buffet set out on cloth-draped tables.

  Paula caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and flinched. She would have fit in just fine with a younger crowd, but the people in attendance were of the generation that dressed up for an event like this. The attire ran to dark velvets and pearls on the beautifully coiffed women, suits and ties on the men with an occasional cashmere sweater. They had a well-heeled look and thank goodness for it. Paula suspected many if not all were the benefactors of the Christmas House.

  She looked around for the volunteer types, hoping to find someone dressed as casually as she was. Maybe they were in the kitchen with the caterers. She wouldn’t mind joining them. Maybe she could swipe a knee-length apron as a disguise.

  Edith came forward through the crowd, her blond hair freshly stacked and sprayed, her bracelets jingling as she waved. Her plump figure was encased in turquoise brocade, and she wore eye shadow to match. Paula smiled. Edith’s taste in clothes was far from grandmotherly.

  “Paula! Welcome!”

  “Hi, Edith. The house looks beautiful. So do you.”

  “Thanks, honey. Your hair is amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with it down. Who styled it?”

  “The wind.”

  “Oh,” Edith said, then, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Paula steered her out to the front hall. “I didn’t know there was going to be a party,” she replied in a low voice. “I would have changed.”

  “I thought I told you. Oh gosh, I’m sorry. But you look fine.”

  Paula laughed. “I wish.”

  Edith gave her a contrite look. “There are taffeta skirts in the costume closet you could borrow. Our lady elves made their own. There goes one.”

  Paula heard the skirt rustle by before she turned and took in the neon-green plaid the woman wore. “That’s okay,” she told Edith. “Let’s get back to the party.”

  She shook a lot of hands and met nice people who didn’t seem to notice what she was wearing at all. The conversation centered on the house and how much had been accomplished and what remained to be done.

  Plenty, by the sound of it. The check-writers didn’t look like they had a lot of experience with hammers and staple guns.

  Most of the guests gathered for a house tour when the punchbowl was empty and the food had been served, but Paula begged off, taking Edith aside.

  “I can get here by three tomorrow. It’s my day off,” she told her. “I thought I’d do a little Christmas shopping, then come over and really look at the house before I start my shift. I can’t wait to see the theme rooms.”

  “Whatever you want,” Edith said. “I’ll take you around myself. Brandon will be here tomorrow. This isn’t his kind of party.”

  Paula looked at the guests milling around. She didn’t need to ask his grandmother why a fifteen-year-old would skip it. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s a teenager. Up one day, down the next,” Edith replied. “He’s a good kid. But holidays are hard. He keeps hoping to hear from his mom or dad. I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

  “That’s not easy, but don’t let him take it out on you,” Paula reminded her. “You’re all he’s got.”

  “He doesn’t, Paula. I think he knows that.”

  Paula returned as promised the next day. There were only a few cars in the parking lot now.

  This time Paula took her coat. She wouldn’t be leaving until late, and the radio weatherman had said something about a cold front coming in.

  It was nice not to be tired. Her shopping, not that she had much to do, was complete. A sweet-treats basket for her next-door neighbor, gag gifts for college friends who’d moved away, and several department-store cards just in case. She could always use them to shop for herself if she didn’t give them away. Edith and Brandon took a little thought. She hadn’t decided on anything for either of them.

  She went up the front stairs, noticing that the wrought-iron railings were adorned with fresh pine garlands and each first-floor window now sported a wreath with a big red bow. Whoever put them up had left a long ladder against the exterior wall. The Christmas House was getting there.

  A toy sleigh filled with flyers had been set in a sheltered spot by the door. Paula bent down and took a bunch.

  Edith Clayborne opened the door just as Paula straightened. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to hand these out to colleagues with kids. And colleagues with no kids. Gotta get the word out.” Paula slipped the flyers into her tote bag.

  Edith made a face. “Don’t I know it. We might have more volunteers than visitors today.” She peered out from behind the door as if she thought there might be more of the latter coming down the street. There was no one.

  “We can change that,” Paula said briskly. “Larimer Square is a popular place for tourists, and you’re right on the border between it and downtown.” She looked up at the wide fan window over the double doors. “For starters, the House needs a sign. A big one.”

  “That’s in the works,” Edith assured her. “We found a woodworker who restores historic houses, and he donated his time and materials. He’s delivering it today with a friend.”

  “Excellent.” Paula unwound her scarf. “Mind if I come in?”

  Edith chuckled and stepped aside. “Please do. We may need you for more than security. I’m thinking I talked you into the wrong job.”

  Paula slipped off her coat and hung it up in the entryway closet, eyeing Edith’s holiday outfit with amusement. “Nice sweater.”

  “Thanks, honey. The reindeer nose in the middle lights up.” She demonstrated.

  It even blinked. Paula laughed. “The kids will love it.” She tugged her own plain sweater down over her hips. “So show me everything, starting from here.”

  Edith gestured to an older man in a chambray shirt and bolo tie sitting at a card table, counting out bills and change into a decorated box with an open lid. “That’s Norville,” she whispered. “I don’t want to distract him. But he’s handling the door for today.”

  Paula looked at the admission fees on the placard by the box. Five dollars for adults, two-fifty for kids. A family of four or more could get in for ten. Seemed reasonable. But the lightweight box was no place to keep cash. She made a mental note to address that issue later.

  “How late can you stay tonight?” Edith asked.

  “Until closing time. And after,” Paula added. “We should sit down and talk once I have a better idea of how things work.”

  The older woman beamed at her. “What else could I persuade you to do?”

  “I looked at my calendar last night. It’s not as full as I thought. Once you find another security volunteer, I could probably help with community relations, maybe publicity. People can find you online, right?”

  Edith hesitated. “Maybe by tomorrow. Our Web site designer says we don’t have enough photos. She might be stopping by later to take some. When we finish the displays, that is.”

  Maybe and might weren’t Paula’s favorite words. “Is there a task list?”

  “Somewhere,” Edith answered ruefully. “Anything you want to do is going to help, honey.”

  Paula wasn’t that sure. “I guess I could paint pinecones or something. Just don’t ask me to sew.” A delicious aroma was filling the air. “What smells so good?”

  “Gingerbread cookies. Come into the kitchen.”

  Paula followed Edith down the hall, glancing into the room where the reception had been held. She stopped to look when someone in the kitchen yelled for Mrs. Clayborne, and the older woman went ahead.

  “I’ll be there in a minute, Edith,” she called after her.

  There were a number of trees in the room, none of them real. Volunteers in jeans and sneakers—Paul
a was among her own kind at last—had finished decorating two and were starting on the third. A handsome partridge sat in a faux pear tree and two doves adorned the top of a feathery pine. At the moment, beady-eyed fowls were being wired into a blue spruce.

  A college girl turned around and saw Paula. “Hi there. Meet Fifi, Mimi, and Gigi.”

  Paula laughed. “Three French hens. I get it. Keep on clucking.”

  “We will. There’s a lot more to do,” the girl replied. “Twelve Days of Christmas, twelve trees. Nine to go.”

  She stepped back and joined her group to confer as Paula moved on.

  The spicy scent of gingerbread lured her into the kitchen. Edith was admiring trays of cookies set out to cool and chatting with the baker, a thin man in a white cloth jacket and cap. She introduced Paula and handed her a basket of broken ones to sample.

  “We lacquer the perfect cookies once they’re cooled and iced,” the baker explained as Paula nibbled. “They last longer that way. These are for a snow scene.”

  In a twist on tradition, the gingerbread men and women were on skis, their roly-poly shapes in downhill-racer position. Several young assistants with icing bags were making smiles and buttons on wax paper for practice.

  “Wonderful. What fun.” Paula finished her very tasty sample. Edith toodle-ooed her way to the door and she followed.

  “Those kids are from the culinary program at the trade school,” Edith said once they were back in the hall. “I guess they’re not exactly kids,” she amended. “They’re older than Brandon, although not by much. I was hoping he’d meet some new pals here.”

  Paula nodded, not wanting to get into it. Edith had told her before that a few of Brandon’s so-called friends were several steps ahead of him on the wrong path.

  The rest of the tour was fast. Paula was amazed by the variety of the themed rooms but was unable to take in every detail. But there would be time for that.

  As they walked toward the front door, they heard the rattle and clank of a ladder being moved. It was visible through the fan window and so were the workboots of the man who’d just climbed it.

  A large flat shape was being handed up to him.

  Edith turned excitedly to Paula. “The sign is here!”

  “Can we go out and see?” Paula asked. “Wait a sec. I brought a camera. Let’s get a few shots. The Web designer could use ’em.” She went around Edith to the entryway closet and retrieved her tote bag.

  The older woman was already at a side door that Paula hadn’t noticed. “Get me a jacket,” she called. “Any jacket, I don’t care.”

  Paula dragged her coat off the hanger and picked a colorful fleece thing for Edith.

  “You’re psychic. That happens to be mine.”

  Halfway bundled up, they went out and around the mansion.

  “There’s Jake,” Edith said as they approached the front stairs. The man by the door had just let go of the sign. His assistant, a skinny kid in a knit cap, was beside him, bracing the ladder.

  Jake, a blond guy in a padded flannel overshirt and baggy jeans, turned at the sound of his name as the women mounted the stairs.

  “Paula, this is Jake Nilsson, our woodworker. And I don’t know your name,” Edith said to his assistant in a bubbly voice.

  “Hank,” was the mumbled reply.

  “You got it all right?” Jake asked the man at the top of the ladder.

  He was the tallest and strongest of the three, with dark hair that curled over the collar of a worn denim jacket. Paula couldn’t see his face. Way up there, he handled the large, newly painted wooden sign as if it didn’t weigh much, but he was careful.

  “Yeah,” he answered without turning his head, his back to all of them as he concentrated on getting metal hooks into eyebolts that had already been installed.

  “Maybe we should skip the introductions,” Paula whispered to Edith.

  “Goodness, yes. I talk too much, don’t I?”

  Paula noted Jake Nilsson suppressing a smile. But he didn’t take his eyes off the man at the top of the ladder until the sign was safely in place.

  His friend gave it a tap. It swung slightly, then hung still.

  “That’s not going anywhere,” he said with satisfaction. He stepped down from rung to rung, turning to them when he was nearly at the bottom.

  Paula just stared. She knew that face. He looked at her without recognizing her, then started to take off the tool belt slung around his hips. He handed it to Hank. A flat clip holding business cards and a photo and a twenty-dollar bill fell out at Paula’s feet. She bent to pick it up and handed it to Zach.

  “Thanks.” He tucked the clipped things into his shirt pocket.

  Next to his heart, she thought. Meaning the photo of a pretty girl in the snow somewhere. Stood to reason he would have one.

  He was smiling at Edith.

  “Hello. I believe your name is Zach Bennett,” she chirped.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Zach volunteered a week ago,” Edith explained. “Everyone, this is Paula Lewis, from the Denver police department. She volunteered to handle security in the evenings for the next few days. But we hope that won’t be all. She’s full of good ideas. Paula could be with us through December. Isn’t that nice? We are so blessed to have you all.”

  Paula smiled in an embarrassed way. She wasn’t about to remind Zach Bennett that they’d met before. But his intense blue eyes narrowed as he studied her. He looked at her hair first, then the rest of her.

  She pulled her coat closed and pushed tumbling auburn locks away from her cheeks. Heat flamed as a slow smile came over his face.

  “Hello, officer,” he said.

  “Oh, do you two know each other?” Edith asked brightly.

  “Not personally.”

  Jake looked between the two of them. “What?” he said to Zach. “Did she give you a ticket?”

  Zach shook his head. “I took a wrong turn the night I drove in to meet you. She helped me find my way.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Nilsson said dryly. “You never get lost, and you always drive like you’re on ranch roads. You must have done something, cowboy.”

  “He didn’t.” Paula felt a little funny defending him to his buddy.

  Amusement and annoyance warred in Zach’s gaze. “You heard her, Jake. I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yeah?” Nilsson winked at Paula. “That’s not like you.”

  Chapter 2

  Out of breath after climbing the stairs to the attic an hour later, Edith unlocked a door and pushed it open. Paula followed her in. A blast of chilly air and sunlight made them both blink. The shadows of late afternoon hadn’t reached the top floor of the old mansion.

  An ancient iron bed frame took up half of the small room. It was heaped with a generous pile of colorful quilts and pillows.

  “I brought all this from home. I thought it would be nice to have a place for volunteers to relax or even catch a nap. Some of them show up before breakfast and work past midnight,” Edith explained.

  Paula nodded. “You really have a great team.”

  “They deserve a little pampering,” Edith said, shivering in her sweater. “Brrr. That cold front is here. I can feel the draft. There’s a space heater if you need it.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “And you don’t have to work on the bed.” Edith pointed to a table with a lamp, as if Paula wouldn’t have noticed it without her guidance. “There’s that.”

  “I’ll manage. It’s only for an hour.” She’d asked Edith for a quiet space to jot down her notes and a tentative schedule.

  The older woman handed her the plans for the theme rooms and a list of volunteers. “Ask Norville where I am when you come back downstairs. The second I stop, someone needs me.”

  Paula could remember her grandmother telling her the same thing. The memory was poignant.

  She went to the window and looked out. The mansion’s top floor was high enough for a good view of the historic part of Denver.<
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  It was the parking lot below that interested her more. Zach’s pickup straddled two spaces near the gate. The mud was gone. The dark paint gleamed in the fading winter light. She noticed a tool chest made of diamond-patterned steel that hadn’t been there before, a professional model, padlocked and bolted to either side of the back.

  Edith came over. “What’s out there?”

  “Zach Bennett’s pickup.”

  “Oh, my. I guess they needed the space to unload the sign,” Edith said absently. “Did you really meet him before?”

  Paula nodded. “Random traffic stop. I never expected to see him again.”

  “Well, Zach Bennett is certainly worth looking at,” the older woman teased.

  “True enough,” Paula said warily. “And it’s very nice of him to volunteer with Jake, but that’s not why I’m here. Besides, the sign is finished and installed.”

  “That doesn’t mean he won’t be around.”

  Paula didn’t answer.

  “Okay,” Edith said. “I can take a hint.” She shut up.

  For five whole seconds.

  “Jake told me he made the sign to last,” the older woman sighed. “I just hope we make it through the season. Did you get a good picture of it?”

  “Several.” The camera was in her tote bag. Later for photo sharing, Paula thought. She wanted to get to work.

  “We don’t have the house indefinitely. The board would like to keep it going year after year, but after January, who knows?”

  “Let’s just think about what we can do right now,” Paula said, turning away from the window. She set the tote bag on the table and eased herself into the creaky chair, switching on the small lamp.

  “All right, honey. I have things to do too. I’m heading for the Snowbunny Suite.”

  Paula took out the plans. “Second floor, north side, two doors down from the landing?”

  “That’s right. Want me to leave the door open?”

  Paula nodded as she spread out her paperwork. Edith left, clattering down the stairs. The echoes faded into a silence that allowed Paula to concentrate on the task of organizing, which she liked. Lists, plans, schedules were definitely her thing.