NO BAKING. That was a hard no from Nat.
No matter how luxurious the Grand Lodge's kitchen was, she would not be tempted into turning on an oven or handling a spatula. Kitchens and Nat Quinn did not go well together.
Yes, Gigi and Jack were adorable, as were Cyrus's hapless parenting attempts, but she drew the line at cooking. She'd always relied on Zoe and Jecca for the culinary aspects of the holiday, and there was good reason for that.
No matter how attractive the prospect of making holiday cookies with Cyrus sounded, she would not succumb.
And she had bigger worries than baking right now.
She reluctantly got up from the dining table to call Zoe and ask why she was sending cryptic emergency texts.
Nat headed for the relative privacy of the living room. She glanced down as she crossed the foyer. Sure enough, the print shop bag had been "relocated to a safer location", as Gigi would put it.
Sneaky, Gigi. Very sneaky.
Nat's first thought was that something had happened to Marisol, so she sent her a text first. The reply came in less than a second.
"Jecca is taking me home," Marisol texted. "I ate way too much and Zoe's bartenders gave us a punch that was a little too strong for me."
That was not a surprise. Zoe's Christmas punch was famously potent, and often described as flammable. Marisol should've known that. Nat almost suspected that her mom forgot about the punch's alcoholic contents on purpose.
"Are you done with work yet?" Marisol texted. "It's almost Christmas, you know?"
Nat sighed. All the punch in the world could not prevent that text.
"I know," Nat texted. "Have a good night, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Unless you're working..." Marisol texted back.
Nat gave up and texted a bunch of Christmas emojis. In Holiday Lake, when you don't have anything nice to say, you send a snowman emoji.
That done, she dialed Zoe. If the emergency wasn't about Marisol, then what was it? And why was everyone having emergencies on Christmas Eve?
If this kept on, she really would need that beach vacation.
Zoe answered on the first electronic ring. "Are you home yet?"
"No," Nat replied. "I'm still working."
If eating Chinese noodles and laughing could be described as working.
The evening had not felt like work at all. She was looking forward to wrapping presents tonight, and she never looked forward to that. Somehow, she always managed to get a horribly painful paper cut.
This time, she didn't mind it.
"So am I," Zoe said. "Although my staff is still chowing down on noodles. Those kids can eat."
"The noodles are fantastic," Nat replied. "I'm not surprised they're lingering over them."
Her reply was greeted by silence.
"How would you know?" Zoe asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. "You ran out of here so fast, you didn't get a bite."
Nat winced. "I just, ah, ate with Cyrus and the kids."
"I thought he called you in to help out with the presents, and I was all indignant because he was treating you like the hired help. I was just snarking to Jecca about it. Are you saying it was all a ruse to invite you to dinner?"
"No, of course not," Nat replied. "Cyrus wouldn't..."
Or would he?
Nat couldn't help but smile at the thought. Had Cyrus Blackstone engineered a present-wrapping emergency just to spend time with her?
"Of course he would," Zoe said. "No one needs help wrapping presents any more, Nat. You just put the gift in a bag and stuff crepe paper around it."
Nat's fists clenched. "Zoe, we talked about this. You know how I feel about putting presents in bags."
Zoe sighed. "It's the work of the devil. Yes, you've told me. Not everyone feels that way, you know."
"I've dedicated my life to the anti-gift bag crusade."
"You need a new hobby. I suggest Cyrus Blackstone."
"There's nothing there," Nat responded a little too emphatically. "Anyway, what's your emergency, Zoe?"
"It's not my emergency. It's yours." Zoe paused, as if trying to choose her words carefully.
This was not a good omen. The owner of the Holiday Lake Inn was not usually a careful speaker. Zoe had a charming tendency to blurt things out.
But tonight she was weighing her words.
"You know how quickly word spreads in this town, right?" Zoe asked. "And how much people have longed for Madame Joy's to open again?"
"Yes, " Nat said. "As you may remember, I too have lived here my whole life."
"No, you haven't. You moved to the metropolis."
"It was Minneapolis. And it was only for two years."
"Minneapolis has succumbed to the evil Starbucks empire, so I rest my case." Zoe said. "Anyway, my point is that folks for miles around have been waiting for Madame Joy's to open, so when I brought in the Chinese food I have every ex-employee for miles coming in for the freebies."
"Not surprising," Nat muttered slowly, sensing that a punchline was coming.
"It's because of our holiday spirit." Zoe, the girl who never said no to the Candy Cave's Free Fudge Fridays, said.
"Riiiiiight," Nat replied.
"The point is that Holly came in."
"Holly, your manager?" Nat asked, confused. Why wouldn't Holly come in? She worked there.
"No, Holly from the print shop. Apparently, someone dropped by her shop and told her we had Chinese food."
"Oh," Nat said, betraying her guilt.
That someone had, of course, been her.
"In any case, Print Shop Holly came in to raid my egg rolls, and told Jecca that Joel had been there to put in a copy order."
Of course, Holly told Jecca. Nat had been right there at the print shop, picking up her stuff, but no one had shared any gossip with her. But two seconds after splitting some crab rangoon with Jecca, Print Shop Holly was spilling the beans. Everyone in town told Jecca everything, and she reciprocated.
Nat frowned. "So what? We all have flyers and postcards made at the print shop."
In fact, the best way to keep track of what was going on in town was to visit the print shop. The little shop on the northeast corner of the plaza had survived all corporate predations and technological advances, and the Holiday Lake residents faithfully returned to check their P.O. boxes, print out their Christmas cards, and scan their personal documents there. Come to think of it, it was time to get new business cards—
"It wasn't a flyer," Zoe exclaimed. "Why would he be printing a flyer? Tomorrow is Christmas Day and he doesn't have any trees left."
Zoe had a point. Nat knew perfectly well that Joel had no trees left, having cut down the last one herself.
Okay, maybe she hadn't personally cut it, but she'd supervised.
"It could be anything," Nat said. "A supply agreement, a tax document, an end-of-season sale—"
"For Christmas trees?"
"You sell turkey with all the trimmings all year long," Nat pointed out.
"That's different. Cranberry sauce has no expiration date."
Actually—" Nat started.
"Oh, you know what I mean," Zoe said. "You can eat it all year round. Can't do the same with a Christmas tree."
That wasn't entirely accurate. Some families did choose to have Christmas trees outside of the Christmas season. It was eccentric, but not unheard of. Nat had several clients who, for various reasons, most of which involving divorce, celebrated Christmas in July, tree, lights, and everything.
"Zoe, he could have been doing anything. We have no way of knowing—"
"It was a contract," Zoe said. "That's what Holly told me."
Was nothing sacred in this town? Print Shop Holly was ratting on her clients?
"Wait," Nat said. "Did Holly tell you about your surprise birthday party? Is that how you knew to get a blow-dry and manicure for it?"
Zoe fell silent.
"It was just a birthday treat." She finally said. "I confess nothing."
"Fine, but let's focus," Zoe said. "The point is that Joel was in the printing shop on Christmas Eve making copies of a contract. Emphasis on that last word."
"It doesn't mean—"
"A contract that provided for the division of property."
"Why would—?" Nat began to ask.
She didn't know what was more shocking, that Holly had read Joel's legal documents and disseminated the information, or that Joel was drawing up a contract that sounded like—
"And he was there with a blonde," Zoe continued. "A tall, attractive blonde in an elegant business suit. That's what Holly said."
"The same one?" Nat asked.
"The one he'd been having dinner with?"
"Yes," Zoe said. "I mean, I can't be sure it's the same woman, but I think it's safe to assume. Elegant, glamorous..."
"That rules out most of this town," Nat said.
Zoe laughed. "Hey, I have my moments."
"Young?" Nat asked, opting not to comment on Zoe's fashion adventures. She had a huge collections of ugly Christmas sweaters, so she certainly couldn't judge.
"That too," Zoe said.
"Has anyone told my mother?"
"Good heavens, no. Jecca took her home early. She had a little too much punch."
"Good," Nat replied. "Let's not have her find out until I can talk to her."
A tall order in this town, as she well knew. One thing was for sure. She'd have to figure out a way to keep Marisol away from the print shop.