Page 7 of Holiday Hideaway
“Yeah. To his credit, Sticks, or George, went along with the gag. I felt so bad for him I drove him to the costume shop in Simpkinsville. He rented a velvet cape and a crown and went onto the football field and waved to the crowd like he thought it was the funniest thing in the world. Totally had everyone in school rooting for him. Denny was fit to be tied.”
“How’d you figure out it was Sticks?”
“He’s downstairs right now, singing along to Christmas carols on the radio. We were in glee club together. He sang a solo to ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ at our Christmas concert. I would have recognized that voice anywhere.”
“So he’s Old Man Crowe’s nephew,” Ruth said. “Hang on. I’ll get the rest of the four-one-one on him.”
Tilly waited as Ruth dug deeper.
“His girlfriend is a super-bossy woman named Vanessa,” Tilly said.
“Here we go,” Ruth said. “Geez. He’s got a BS from MIT, master’s from Stanford, second master’s from MIT, PhD from MIT. Founder and owner of something called TechKnow. Ooh. Here’s some photos of him in the society pages of theBoston Globe. The lady friend is Vanessa Blanchard, owner of a company called Events by Vanessa,” Ruth said. “Wow. Here’s a photo of them together at some society soiree. George has definitely improved with age. Total stud. And Vanessa is stunning.”
“Text me that photo,” Tilly said. “But in the meantime, good ol’ George needs to go back to Boston. This attic is freezing, and I’m getting tired of living on crackers and instant oatmeal.”
“Right. We need to scare him out of that house,” Ruth said.
“I tried. He’s not afraid of mice. Or ghosts.”
“Spiders?”
“Already here,” Tilly said. “You could knit a blanket with the cobwebs.”
“Bats? I’d run screaming for the hills if my house was bat infested.”
Tilly shuddered. “Me, too, but I don’t think Amazon ships live bats.”
“My neighbor sells Tupperware. I could ...”
“My luck, he’d probably order a salad spinner and a cake taker. We need something more radical, like Old Testament–level plague. What else have you got?”
“Gina’s niece is a Jehovah’s Witness. Absolutely relentless ...”
“We need him to leave, not go into hiding,” Tilly said with a moan. “Anyway, even if he did leave long enough for me to escape this attic, where am I gonna go? The only vacancy we have is right here. At the Crowe’s Nest. George can’t stay heremuch longer; this Vanessa chick wants him back in Boston for some charity ball on Friday. So they can announce their engagement. Poor guy.”
“Can you keep hiding out that long?” Ruth asked.
“Not like I have a choice,” Tilly said, her tone grim.
DAY 3
The sound of heavy machinery rousted Tilly the next morning. She ran to the window overlooking the backyard in time to see a bright-yellow tow truck attaching a winch to the bumper of her car.
Her phone rang with an incoming text from George.
Hey there. You can tell the maintenance guy I had his Kia towed. Also, about that exterminator?
“No. No, no, no,” Tilly moaned as the truck made its way back down the driveway with her twelve-year-old Kia in tow.
She looked over at Smoosh, who was still curled up at the foot of the sofa. “Now what?” she asked. He raised his head, wagged his tail once, and went back to sleep.
She stared down at the phone while she tried to think.
Finally, she started typing.
Where did the car get towed to? Exterminator in Florida for holidays. Strongly suggest you follow suit. Piney Point rodents extremely aggressive. And prolific.
His deep-throated laugh echoed throughout the house.
