Finding Mrs. Klaus Read online

  FINDING MRS. KLAUS

  JA Armstrong

  © Copyright 2020 Bumbling Bard Creations

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced without

  permission.

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  DEDICATION

  For Patty

  No one made me laugh more in their presence or cry

  longer from their farewell.

  I am forever changed because I knew you, and a better

  person for having loved you.

  Save me a seat at the pub on the other side.

  CHAPTER ONE

  DECEMBER 2017

  “When did you become such a Grinch?”

  “What are you talking about? Do you see my tree?”

  “That’s a twig.”

  “Just because people call you Christmas Carol, does

  not mean I need to become Jolly Holly.”

  “More like Holly Jolly.”

  “Be quiet.”

  Carol groaned. “You know, somewhere out there is

  your Mrs. Claus.”

  “Cute,” Holly replied. “And she’s probably older than

  your grandmother.”

  “What do you care? Think of that toy shop!”

  Holly smacked her best friend. “I don’t need a Mrs.

  Claus if I have the toy shop.”

  “I give up.”

  ***

  OCTOBER 2018

  Holly pulled the lid from the blue storage container and

  laughed. Carol kept all kinds of things. Books. There were lots

  of books. Why did she keep so many books? After all, Carol

  possessed an eidetic memory; something that Holly

  occasionally found maddening.

  “Don’t you remember? Come on, Holly! ‘The

  destruction of words is a beautiful thing.’ You’ve read

  Orwell.”

  “Once in high school, twice in college. Thanks.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Page 184!”

  Holly sniggered. “Yeah, page 184, sure I remember.”

  “What?”

  Holly cleared her throat. “Oh, nothing.”

  “More books?” Carol’s roommate, Maureen, asked.

  “Yep. God knows why she needed to keep them.”

  “You know Carol. Knowledge is power.”

  “Mm.”

  “Hey, are you okay?” Maureen asked.

  “Sure. What do you think? Donate?”

  “Unless you want them.”

  Holly cringed. Orwell, Tolstoy, Chekhov, Melville. Her

  eyes tracked to a thick paperback. Tending Moscow. Third

  Edition. She removed it from the box.

  “That is what you want to take?” Maureen asked.

  Holly shrugged. “Seems like the most interesting find.”

  “No wonder you two were friends.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Tending Moscow? I don’t know anyone except Carol

  who would choose to read that or keep it—except you.”

  “Seems relevant.”

  “And again—”

  Holly placed the textbook in a small pile, put the lid

  back on the container, and moved it to a collection of boxes

  against the wall. The last month had been one of the hardest in

  Holly’s life. It seemed the year was determined to break her. A

  never-ending stream of upheavals culminated in the

  unexpected loss of her best friend. Holly hated to admit that

  she relied on Carol. She never sought Carol’s help financially

  or physically. Carol kept her sane for years. When Holly

  started to believe the world was beyond help, or that her life

  was past the point of repair, Carol always delivered a

  humorous remedy, and a clear perspective—as much clarity as

  a few pints and disco on a jukebox could hope to provide. To

  Holly, Carol was a Jedi Master, stand-up comic, and Harvard

  professor all rolled into one independently employed artist.

  The boxes that lined the living room could scarcely hope to

  define Carol O’Connor. Holly giggled. “Archie Bunker,” she

  muttered.

  Maureen laughed. “She enjoyed that fact.”

  “Yes, she did,” Holly agreed.

  “You were her meathead.”

  Holly laughed. Isn’t that the truth?

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Not even a little bit. Holly could maneuver chaos. She

  could even wade through loss. In fact, she prided herself on

  her ability to handle anything the universe threw her way. She

  might need a time-out, but she never gave up. She had no

  intention of telling anyone how lonely her life had become.

  She had friends, loads of them. She loved her career. She was

  financially secure. What reason did Holly Murphy have to

  complain—about anything? None. Zero.

  Get on with it, Murphy. Holly offered her friend a

  smile. “You know us meatheads, we’re always fine.”

  “That might have more to do with the Jameson you’ve

  been sipping.”

  “Doesn’t hurt,” Holly admitted. Much.

  ***

  Nothing. Dry. Nothing. “Fuck me.” Holly closed her

  laptop and collapsed into her plush sofa. Concentration was a

  game. Like Perfection, it was a game Holly had never

  mastered. Her mind wandered from the words and pictures on

  her screen to echoes of past conversations, images she’d seen

  on the news that morning, and tasks she needed to address in

  her home. Laundry. Dishes. “God knows, I should dust. And

  maybe vacuum.” Her faithful Jack Russell cocked his head

  and woofed. “I don’t know, Potter,” she said. “I could use a

  little magic if you want to throw some my way.” Potter

  grinned. Holly sighed, put away her computer, and beckoned

  the dog to follow her. “Might as well take a walk,” she offered.

  “Maybe a change of scenery will help.”

  ***

  “Have you talked to Holly lately?” Drew wondered.

  “She was here on Saturday.”

  “How was she?”

  “Quiet,” Maureen said.

  “Holly’s never quiet,” Drew observed.

  “It’s been a shitty month for everyone, D. You know

  that. It’s been a shitty year for Holly. She’s okay.”

  “She’s lonely.”

  “Don’t tell her that,” Maureen warned.

  “Why? Carol told her that all the time.”

  “Yeah, well that was Carol, not you, and not me.”

  “She’s been single for too long. And, Potter doesn’t

  count. First off, he’s a he.”

  “Um, first of he’s a dog.”

  “Okay. The point is she can’t hibernate with her

  computer and a canine wizard.”

  “Let it be, Drew,” Maureen warned.

  “I think we should have a party.”

  “What?”

  “You do remember what those are, don’t you?”

  “I don’t feel much like partying.” r />
  “That’s why we need to have one,” Drew argued.

  “Drew—”

  “You know I’m right. Come on, Halloween party!”

  “It’s November.”

  “Turkey party.”

  “Turkey party? Really?”

  “Early St. Patrick’s Day party. Why do we need a

  reason?”

  Maureen drummed her fingers on the kitchen table.

  Carol would likely agree. No. Carol would agree. “Maybe we

  don’t call it a party,” Maureen suggested.

  “Okay. Call it whatever you want. Just call Holly.”

  Maureen’s gaze hardened. Drew was up to something.

  Then again, Drew was always up to something. “Drew—don’t

  get any ideas about playing matchmaker.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m serious. I don’t think Holly’s ready for that.”

  “Holly’s been ready for two years. She keeps avoiding

  it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sure this is the best time to press

  the issue.”

  “I won’t push. I might nudge.”

  Maureen threw her hands up in the air. “I give up.”

  “Not me.”

  That’s what worries me.

  ***

  “Potter! Slow down, buddy!” Holly wondered how a

  twenty-pound dog could drag her one-hundred-sixty-pound

  body. There were only two things that made Potter go crazy:

  squirrels and kids. Holly caught sight of the person who’d

  captured Potter’s interest.

  Blind curls stuck out at peculiar angles from

  underneath a knit hat. A purple mitten that matched the hat

  waved at Holly. “Hi,” the girl said.

  “Hello.”

  “Can I pet him?”

  “Sure. He might lick you until you’re sticky, though.”

  The girl grinned and shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  Holly’s eyes strayed to the playground a few yards in

  the distance. A woman who closely resembled the youngster

  began a slow jog towards her.

  “Ali!” The woman reached her daughter and offered

  Holly a lopsided grin. “Sorry,” she apologized. “She gets away

  from me sometimes.”

  Holly pointed to Potter. “I have the same problem.”

  “Ali,” the woman scolded her daughter.

  “I didn’t go that far,” the girl defended herself.

  “Far enough.” The woman looked at Holly again.

  “Delaney,” she introduced herself with an outstretched hand.

  “Holly.”

  Delaney smiled. “As you might have guessed, this is

  my daughter, Ali.”

  “Hi, Ali. You’ve met my son, Potter.”

  “He looks a bit like you,” Delaney teased.

  “Ragged?”

  Delaney laughed. “Come on, Ali, let Holly take Potter

  for his walk.”

  “Mom—”

  “It’s okay,” Holly said. “I think he was walking me,

  anyway.”

  “At least, you have a leash.”

  Holly almost snorted. She stopped herself. She’d often

  wished she had children. Carol told her to count her blessings.

  At least, you get to use a leash with Potter. “Would you like to

  borrow mine?” she asked playfully.

  “Tempting.”

  Holly looked down at Potter and Ali. Potter’s tail

  hadn’t slowed a bit. “Seems like Potter’s lost interest in

  walking with me,” she said. “Where are you headed?”

  “Just down the street,” Delaney explained. “We live on

  Marlborough.”

  “Would you be opposed to some company? I think the

  only way I’m getting Potter to move is in step with your

  daughter.”

  “I don’t want to change your plans.”

  Plans? Holly had one plan, clear her head and get

  Potter some exercise so he would sleep. Kids and squirrels

  were Potter’s shiny things. One he wanted to catch, the other

  he hoped would catch him. It didn’t matter to her where she

  walked. Potter, on the other hand— “The only plan I had was a

  walk for Potter, and then a nap. For Potter,” she clarified.

  “Same plan here, except I’m the one seeking naptime,”

  Delaney said.

  Holly chuckled. Not a terrible plan. She often

  countered Carol’s reasoning for why dogs made better children

  than children did.

  “I can entertain a child with Disney movies when I

  need a nap,” Holly said.

  “You want a kid, so you have an excuse to watch

  Disney movies.”

  “Not true. I have you for that.”

  “You’re hysterical.”

  “What do you have against kids?”

  “Nothing at all,” Carol said. “I love kids. I just like to

  return them to their proper owner. You know, like a rental.”

  Holly always found Carol’s opinions on children

  amusing. Carol adored her nieces and nephews. Why wouldn’t

  she? Carol was a big kid at heart. Unlike Holly, Carol never

  felt a desire to be a mother. Holly was sure that if Carol met

  someone who wanted a family, she would likely have agreed.

  She didn’t seek parenthood. Holly always wanted a family. At

  forty-five, she doubted that she would ever experience

  motherhood. It left a gaping hole in her heart. Carol did her

  best to tease Holly from the occasional funk. After Holly’s last

  breakup, she’d given up on the idea of having a family with

  anyone. She adopted Potter. That would have to do. She

  smiled at Ali. “Would you like to take his leash?”

  Ali’s eyes popped wide. She looked at her mother.

  “Can I, Mom?”

  Delaney looked unsure. “You don’t have to—”

  “He’ll behave for her,” Holly said assuredly. “Unless

  we encounter a rogue squirrel.” She handed Ali the leash and

  gestured for Delaney to lead the way.

  Ali took the lead, and Delaney fell into step with Holly.

  “Thanks for indulging her,” Delaney said.

  “Who says she’s not indulging me?”

  “Honestly,” Delaney began. “I appreciate it. Ali’s

  wanted a dog since she could speak.”

  “Typical. And you?”

  Delaney sighed.

  “Sorry. It’s none of my business. You don’t even know

  me.”

  “No, no; it’s okay. I love dogs,” Delaney said. “My,

  well, my former—” Her words trailed into silence.

  “Hey, no worries,” Holly said. “Breakups are hell.”

  Delaney nodded.

  “So? How long have you lived here?” Holly inquired.

  “Not to be nosy.”

  “We moved in this past August before school started.

  Fresh start. I hope.”

  “I get it.” Holly did get it. She’d lived with her ex-

  girlfriend for eleven years. She thought that they were secure

  —settled. A twenty-three-year-old graduate student changed

  that in short order. Holly was tempted to move to an island.

  Three towns over sufficed. “How do you like it here?”

  “I’ve always loved New England,” Delaney offered.

  “Not from here?”

  “I was born in Boston, but my folks moved to Chicago

  when I was six. I stayed close to home after that. You?”

  “Me? Oh, I was born here. Well, not here exactly.


  Across the river in Glastonbury,” Holly explained. “Made my

  way out west for college, but I’ve been here since grad school.

  Here, as in Connecticut.” Holly looked ahead and chuckled.

  Ali was skipping alongside Potter, holding what appeared to

  be an animated conversation. “You might end up having to

  adopt him,” she said.

  “She’s in heaven.”

  She’s in good company.

  Delaney noticed a shift in Holly’s mood. “I hope I

  didn’t—”

  Holly shook her head. “Not to pry—”

  “But to be nosy?” Delaney asked.

  “Touché. Curious,” Holly clarified. “What do you do?”

  “You mean besides chase my seven-year-old?”

  “Besides that.”

  “I teach at the local community college.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-oh. I don’t come across as the smart, I guess.”

  “What? No.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Oh. Sorry. What do you teach?”

  “History.”

  “Ancient or recent?”

  “In between,” Delaney replied with a wink.

  “Good place to be.”

  “Good as any,” Delaney agreed. She gestured ahead.

  “This is us.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Would you like to come in?” Delaney asked. “Maybe

  a cup of coffee or cocoa? Unless you’re in a hurry to get

  back.”

  “No. I don’t want you to feel—”

  “Obligated?”

  “I have Potter, and—”

  “I have water, and bowls, in fact. Cups too. If you need

  to get back—”

  Get back to what? It’s not like I’m getting anything

  done. “If you’re sure.”

  “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” Delaney spoke a

  bit louder. “I’m sure Ali would love to show Potter her room.”

  Ali turned around. “Can I?”

  “There are no squirrels in there, are there?” Holly

  asked.

  Ali considered the question seriously. “I have a

  raccoon.”

  “A raccoon?”

  “He’s not real,” Ali explained.

  “Oh. Good thing,” Holly said. “Potter might like him,”

  she warned.

  “It’s okay. I don’t care if Potter eats him.”

  Holly laughed. “Oh, boy, Potter.” Potter wagged his

  tail wildly. “You’ve never had it so good, have you? I hope

  you’re ready for a stowaway,” she told Delaney.

  “Wouldn’t be the first,” Delaney replied as she opened

  the front door.

  Something tells me there’s a story here. Holly heard