Tough Cookie

love and cherish her. Nate Bullock had tried to provide a better lifestyle for his beloved pregnant wife by making a video that had killed him. Even I was not immune, with my misbegotten attempts to use earrings and treats to purchase a girlfriend for my dear Arch. And hadn’t the lure of money made me ignore my scruples and try to sell Tom’s skis to Doug Portman?

All that night and the next day, Friday, I was cossetted, bandaged, medicated, questioned, and scolded. With Arch and Todd Druckman in tow, Tom raced to the emergency room to meet me. Todd hurried off to see his mother; Arch brought me soft drinks from the soda machine and (bless him!) some of Julian’s life-restoring fudge. Tom gave me updates and called Rorry to tell her I was all right. I learned that Jack Gilkey’s body had been dug out by Killdeer Ski Patrol’s Avalanche Rescue Team. Arthur Wakefield was being charged with breaking and entering and mail theft. The latter was a federal offense. Arthur, Tom said, had hired a lawyer who was a teetotaler.

During a break between X-rays, I visited my old friend Eileen. I had told the authorities that I wanted to be the one to give her the bad news about Jack. Gently, I did so.

Todd comforted her. She patted his head and kept sobbing that she was sorry, just so sorry. Todd said he was fine! And besides, the nurses had announced he could spend Christmas with her, on a guest sofa in her hospital suite. And then Eileen cried some more, but this time with happiness.

Christmas Eve, bandaged, weak, and awkward on my crutches, I slid into a pew next to a surprised Julian and Marla. Tom and Arch joined us. In the pew behind us, three of my former Sunday school pupils were giggling in their home-fashioned shepherd costumes. They tapped my shoulder and twirled for my approval. I gave them the thumbs-up. Tom kissed my cheek, Marla handed the kids sticky chunks of ribbon candy, Julian winked at everyone. Even Arch smiled. You can’t buy what you want, I reflected. It all comes as a gift.

“I’ve got three news items,” Tom whispered as the organist warmed up for the prelude of carols. “Ready?” I inhaled the sharp, invigorating smell of Christmas greens and nodded. “First,” he said, “we found a computer disk with all of Portman’s records. It was tucked inside a cigar box belonging to a Civil War general. Second, we found Nate’s tape where you left it in the bistro freezer. Cinda Caldwell confessed to being out-of-bounds with him when he died.” He tilted his head at me and I nodded. “She was all weepy, said she’d plead guilty to whatever they wanted to charge her with. The district attorney told her thanks, but the statute of limitations had expired on out- of-bounds excursions. And to her surprise, causing an avalanche that killed somebody who was also out-of-bounds is not a crime. She said she was going to give lectures on winter sports safety, donate some of her shop’s profits to avalanche victims worldwide. I mean, the woman has gotten religion.” He took a deep breath and pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “And this, Miss G., is your certificate of reinspection. You passed. The inspector is smitten with your drains. Almost as much as I am smitten with you.”

I hugged him so hard he chuckled like Santa. The service started and the packed church surged into song. We prayed and heard Bible lessons. At the Intercessions, an usher handed the priest a note. He opened it and beamed at the congregation.

“A former parishioner,” he told us, “has given birth to a seven-pound, thirteen-ounce boy. Joshua Nathan Bullock was born to Rorry Bullock at three-thirty this afternoon.”

Everyone smiled and clapped. The tiny white lights on the church’s ceiling-high Christmas tree twinkled and glimmered. I reached out to embrace Arch, and to my surprise, he reciprocated with an enthusiastic, tight hug.

“That’s the best bit of news yet,” I whispered to him.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” Arch whispered back, and I hugged him harder.

What a gift, I thought, to have a son.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Diane Mott Davidson is the author of ten Goldy novels: Catering to Nobody, Dying for Chocolate, The Cereal Murders, The Last Suppers, Killer Pancake, The Main Corpse, The Grilling Season, Prime Cut, Tough Cookie, and Sticks & Scones. Diane lives in Evergreen, Colorado, with her family.

If you enjoyed Diane Mott Davidson’s

TOUGH COOKIE,

you won’t want to miss any of her tantalizing culinary mysteries. Look for them at your favorite bookseller. And look for her latest scrumptious mystery,

CHOPPING SPREE,

available from Bantam Books!

CHOPPING SPREE

DIANE MOTT DAVIDSON

TOUGH COOKIE

A Bantam Book

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Bantam hardcover edition/March 2000

Bantam mass market edition/April 2001

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2000 by Diane Mott Davidson