Page 3 of Death By Llama (Friendship Harbor Mysteries #7)

TWO

Brandy let out a peel of laughter like Justin was as funny as the entire cast of Saturday Night Live. But her laughter abruptly stopped at the sound of a sharp shout, followed by more raised voices.

“I think you spoke too soon,” Dave said to Justin, although he didn’t tear his entranced gaze away from the glassblower.

We all, except Dave, turned to see who was causing the ruckus.

I couldn’t locate who was shouting until I spotted Oliver in a Victorian tailcoat and top hat rushing toward two men.

The men, one dressed as a caroler and the other dressed in a full Victorian St. Nicholas costume, stood nose to nose.

Both men frowned in anger, their faces flushed.

Although the redness could be from the summer heat. Suddenly my cheaply made costume didn’t seem quite so bad. Better air flow.

Justin immediately headed over to help Oliver, who didn’t seem to be controlling the two men’s heated argument. Brandy and I exchanged a look and then followed. Dave remained entranced by the glassblower and the glowing molten glass he twirled at the end of a long tube.

As we approached, we could hear what the two men were saying.

“You know full well I was supposed to be Saint Nick at this event.”

“Yeah? Well, I guess you weren’t up to snuff, were you?”

“Now, gentlemen,” Oliver attempted to interrupt, keeping his voice even. “I don’t think this is the time to argue about what roles you’re playing today.”

Neither man looked in his direction.

“Excuse me,” Justin said, stepping between both men.

“Why don’t you just stay out of it, buddy?” said Saint Nicholas, the larger of the two men. I suspected that was why he had been cast as Saint Nicholas today. He stood out in the crowd with his imposing build. And his beard looked more legit too.

But Justin was also tall and imposing and did carry a badge. He also wasn’t dressed from head to toe in red velvet, so I thought that automatically gave him the upper hand.

“Well,” Justin said calmly, “I can’t really do that because I’m the sheriff in this town, and we don’t appreciate fights at our festivals.”

The two men stepped away from Justin, looking uncomfortable.

“You can fight about your casting issues at a later date,” Justin said.

“Yes,” Oliver agreed. “That would be a good idea. Right now, we’re trying to create a festive event for our visitors.”

Saint Nicholas cast an unimpressed glance at Oliver, which garnered a grimace in response from my friend.

But Oliver had been an actor himself since he was a toddler, so he knew how dramatic other actors could be, and he quickly blew off the judgy look, clapped his hands, and said loudly, “Come on. Let’s create a wonderful Christmas in July experience for everyone today. That’s what you’re getting paid for.”

Okay, so he couldn’t resist getting in a little dig.

The two men parted ways, heading in opposite directions. Brandy rushed over to Justin, wrapping her arms around him as if he had just confronted an armed robber and wrestled the perpetrator to the ground.

“You handled that so well,” she gushed.

Justin looked a bit uncomfortable at her praise. Even he realized it was too much given the situation.

But that didn’t stop him from tipping an imaginary hat and saying, “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Brandy giggled riotously again as they headed back down the alleyway of vendors, leaving me with my longtime bestie.

Oliver shook his head, then said with sincere woe, “Brandy is a drag these days.”

I couldn’t contain my nod of saddened agreement. “I keep hoping this besotted stage will end and she’ll become normal again.”

Oliver shook his head, watching them walking away, Brandy still draped on Justin’s arm. “She is just so bad at being in love.”

I wanted to be kind, but I found myself nodding again.

“Speaking of love, I’m going to go on the assumption that Cameron didn’t tell you about his little surprise.”

I blinked. I should have expected Oliver to bring up the unexpected visit of my parents, but I was still processing it myself.

But my expression said everything Oliver needed to continue. “I didn’t know either. I would have definitely spilled the beans on that one.”

Oliver knew I loved my parents and I loved surprises. But the combination of those two things together? Not a good fit.

A strange pang of anxiety churned in my belly. I still couldn’t say why I was reacting this way.

“Cameron was just trying to do something nice for me,” I said. As soon as I said it, I realized my defense of him sounded painfully weak.

Oliver lifted an eyebrow which nearly disappeared under the brim of his top hat. “I know you’re happy to see your parents, but I also know you need time to prep yourself to deal with Momma Lea.”

Oliver had experienced my mother many, many times since our early teens. Oliver was one of my friends that my mother always liked, but Oliver also knew how to charm even the most difficult person. Which made him a great person to be the innkeeper of this posh—newly restored—inn.

But I also knew Oliver’s wasn’t bringing this up to discuss my parents. He wanted to know what I felt about Cameron flying my parents in from California.

How did I feel? Like it was overstepping our agreement. Okay, we hadn’t made an agreement about meeting family, per se. I still thought that it was something we’d discuss. Together.

But I didn’t want didn’t want to discuss any of this with Oliver. Not right now, with tons of people around and my thoughts all convoluted.

Rather than talk about it any further, I changed the topic.

“We should probably go find my booth. Things are going to get started soon, and I want to make sure Jimmy has everything he needs.”

Jimmy was my cook, and he and Janelle, one of my other servers, should already be here, getting things set up.

Oliver looked as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he nodded. “I have a lot to do too. We’ll catch up later, right?”

I could tell he was worried about my reaction. I usually was an open book, always sharing more than I should.

“Of course,” I assured him. “And we have lobster rolls on our menu today.”

Oliver grinned. “Oh, you will definitely see me later then.”

I smiled, hoping he could see my thankfulness for his friendship in my expression. He tipped his hat, and I knew he was mimicking Justin’s earlier gesture. My smile turned into a genuine laugh. That made me feel better.

“Come on, Dave,” I prompted as I passed my bartender, still standing at the glassblower booth.

Dave blinked as if coming back to reality after being hypnotized.

“That guy is a banger,” he said, which actually made me chuckle again. Apparently, “banger” was Dave’s new favorite word.

We headed down the alleyway of vendors, eventually locating the Steamy’s Pub stall. It was set up next to another food vendor—one I’d never heard of. Opulent Occasions.

And “opulent” was the right description.

Their booth was stunning, decorated with burgundy velvet curtains all around the scaffolding.

The front was adorned with evergreen boughs, tastefully glittering ornaments, and ribbons of gold and silver.

Red poinsettias dotted the greenery giving a rich and elegant pops of color.

Even from where I stood, I smelled the aroma of mulled cider and roasted nuts.

Then I looked at the Steamy’s booth. I had rented a tent, which, thankfully, was canvas at least. I’d almost gone with white Tyvek, but decided since it was Cameron’s grand opening, I should spring for the classier tent rental.

But our decorations were just green and red garland and some white lights—all found in my grandmother’s boxes of old Christmas ornaments.

We looked like Opulent Occasions’ dollar store next-door neighbors.

Thankfully, I could smell the delicious scents of clam chowder and steaming lobsters coming from the pots Jimmy had set up on gas burners on the other side of our makeshift, particle board counter.

“Your llama is a real b?—

George Sprague, who was Steamy’s number one patron and resident barfly, sat on a barstool at the end of the counter, eyeing Jack, who nibbled at a tuft of dandelions next to where George sat.

“Did you bring that stool from the pub?” I asked him before he could finish his comment about my beloved pet.

I could admit Jack Kerouac could be ornery and probably hadn’t been terribly cooperative with George and Jimmy, who’d agreed to bring him to the event today. Jack didn’t love getting loaded into the back of a truck. Or a sedan. Which had happened on one occasion.

“Well, I needed a place to sit,” George said as if that fact should be obvious. “Especially after wrestling that bi?—”

This time, his insult was interrupted by our neighbor from Opulent Occasions.

“Steamy’s? That’s a fun name.”

I turned to see a couple in their mid-thirties that could only be described as the personification of a “Ken and Barbie Holiday Collector’s Edition.”

They stopped several feet away from our little booth as if our glaring lack of taste might rub off on them. Definitely not locals.

“Steamy’s has been the pub name since nineteen seventy-three,” I said, trying not to fidget with my elf costume. “Change doesn’t come readily in Friendship Harbor.”

They both looked fantastic in stylish Christmas clothing. The woman wore a red velvet skirt and a silk blouse with a bow at the neck. The man wore a suit jacket and a bow tie with holly on the silk material.

“Change isn’t always a bad thing,” the man murmured under his breath.

“Your booth is so fun, too,” the blonde woman said, smiling brightly.

I tried to decide if there was any irony in her voice, but her smile seemed genuine. The man, however, appeared thoroughly unimpressed.

“I guess with a kitschy name like Steamy’s Pub, you definitely wanted to play up that aspect of your business,” he said. He literally looked down his perfect nose as he surveyed our cobbled together decorations.