Death, Snow, and Mistletoe - By Valerie S. Malmont Page 0,3

the Lickin Creek Little Community Theatre, spelled t-h-e-a-t-r-e,” she explained, answering my unspoken question. “The town's convinced she's the next Eugene O'Neill.”

“She certainly doesn't mind whom she steals from, does she? The only line from Shakespeare she didn't rewrite was ‘Double, double, toil and trouble.’”

“Perhaps she should have,” Ginnie said with a smile. “They did rather resemble the three witches, didn't they?”

“That reminds me,” I said, “doesn't the word wyccan refer to a modern-day witch?”

“Haven't the foggiest. But then I'm a little behind on my feminist readings.”

“I haven't seen the little goddess in the yellow house-dress before,” I said. “The one with the unfortunate name.”

“In my opinion, they all have unfortunate names,” Ginnie replied with a grin. “But I assume you mean Weezie Clopper.”

That name again. “Another Clopper? Is this one married to the borough manager?”

Ginnie nodded. “Unfortunately for her, yes. I understand Jackson is a real tyrant. Word about town is he doesn't want her to associate with Oretta—partly because of the family feud, and partly because he and Matavious are fighting over some family property. That's why she had to sneak out to be in the pageant. If—I mean, when Jackson finds out, she'll pay dearly. I've seen her with some nasty bruises.”

“That surprises me,” I said. “As borough manager, he's in a very public position.”

Ginnie snorted with indignation. “You know damn well abuse happens anywhere.”

“Some life for a goddess!” I commented. “If there's such a grand feud going on between the two branches of the Clopper family, why doesn't Matavious insist that Oretta stay away from Weezie?”

Ginnie exhaled something between a laugh and a whinny. “Can you imagine Matavious making Oretta do anything?”

I couldn't, and we both chuckled at the preposterous idea.

At that moment Oretta bore down upon us. “Corey, I hear you're an animal lover.”

“It's Tori, Mrs. Clopper,” I said firmly, “and I do have two cats—”

“As you must know, I'm president of the Lickin Creek Animal Rescue League,” she interrupted. “Sometimes I need a temporary home. Can you help me out?”

I guessed that it was animals that needed temporary homes and not Oretta. “I don't think I can … You see, I'm just house-sitting …”

“That's grand,” she said. “You'll be hearing from me, Victoria.” She swept away, leaving me spluttering unheard protests.

“I know how you feel about your name,” Ginnie said with a sympathetic smile. “She calls me Virginia all the time. Wrong name or not, you should feel flattered that she's approved you to be a temporary care provider. Not everyone is so honored.”

I groaned. One more animal was all I needed. “Maybe nothing will come of it,” I said hopefully.

“Not a chance,” Ginnie's look told me.

“How about us two outsiders getting together some time soon?” Ginnie suggested. “We need to stand united against the closed circle of Lickin Creek's high society.”

I thought a minute before answering. Ginnie's sense of humor was caustic, her snobbery was appalling, and her dedication to gossip was shameful, but I had to admit I found her amusing, perhaps because she was so different from most of the people I'd met in Lickin Creek. She reminded me of Alice Roosevelt, who also loved gossip and said, “If you can't say anything good about someone, sit next to me.”

I'd already come to the conclusion that I needed to reinvent myself—be more sociable, not so much a loner. For most of my life, I'd moved about with my foreign service family, and friendship always meant saying goodbye. It had been easier to be aloof than to continually suffer the heartbreak of separation. In recent years, I'd worked at opening my heart to others, like my neighbor and good friend in New York, Murray. And then there was my budding relationship with Garnet Gochenauer—one of the two reasons I'd moved to Lickin Creek.

The other reason, of course, was Alice-Ann, who'd been my best friend since college. It was because of her I'd first visited Lickin Creek, and she was a major factor in my decision to stay in town for six months as temporary editor of the Chronicle.

Ironically, after I committed myself to moving closer to the two people I most loved, Garnet accepted a position with the foreign service, leaving me alone in Lickin Creek for at least six months.

And I was truly alone, because something had come between Alice-Ann and me. She unreasonably blamed me for the loss of her fiance last fall, and we'd gone from sharing our deepest feelings to barely nodding when we passed on the street.

I