Magic in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy Book 7) by Meg Muldoon

to you?”
    I raised an eyebrow, my fingers traveling lightly up his arm. The disappointment in his eyes melted away.
    His lips curled up slightly at the edges. 
    “Well, I don’t rightly know, Mrs. Brightman,” he said. “But let me think on it some. I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”
    I smiled back.
    “In the meantime, though,” he continued. “What else did you find out about this ring?”
    I shrugged.
    “Nothing more. I tried to ask Warren about it earlier, but the old man was playing the slots and couldn’t talk long. I thought he’d have called back sooner, but he hasn’t yet.”
    “Well, that’s probably because he’s three sheets to the wind by now,” Daniel said.
    I punched him playfully.
    “Now what are you saying about my grandpa?” I said.
    He grinned.
    “Just that it’s the old man’s honeymoon and he’s been known to enjoy a few now and again.”
    “No, I’m sure you were implying more with that.”
    “I was just stating a simple fact,” he said. “Nothing more.”
    “Mmhmm,” I said, crossing my arms.
    He rubbed my shoulder. Then turned his attention back to the ring.
    “If you want, I can try and find Ralph Henry Baker for you. Or his kin, if he’s not alive. I suppose class of 1958 would put him at about 75 or so.”
    “You’d do that?” I said.
    “Sure thing,” he said. “Things at the Sheriff’s Office have slowed down some with the fall, and I’m sure Mr. Baker would be happy to have his ring back after all these years.”
    Daniel scratched his chin again, as if in deep thought.
    “Now how do you think that ring got there in the first place? Behind the wall like that?”
    I shrugged.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Someone must have put it there sometime before I owned the pie shop. You know, the building’s pretty old. It was built sometime in the 1940s.”
    “Really?”
    I nodded.
    “Any idea what used to be there before?”
    “It’s been a lot of things. An ice cream parlor, a diner… before that, I don’t know. But it’s the kind of thing that Warren probably would.”
    Daniel clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
    “Except he’s probably so hammered right now he doesn’t know the floor from the ceiling.”
    I put my hand on my hip.
    “Daniel Brightman!” I said, angrily. “Don’t you go talking about my grandpa like that! He is an upstanding member of this community and you’ve got no right to sully his good name.”
    Daniel started laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.
    “Okay, okay. I was only having a little fun. My apologies.”
    “Well it’s too late for those now.”
    He laughed a little more, looking at me with shining eyes.
    But a moment later, they drifted back down to the class ring, and the smile on his face faded.
    “You mind if I hold onto this until we find him?”
    “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “Let me know what you discover.”
    “I will,” Daniel said, placing it in the front pocket of his forest-green flannel jacket. “Now where were we?”
    “I believe we were untangling a mess of extension cords,” I said.
    “Ah, that’s right,” he said, grabbing the cable again. “Although I could have sworn it was you doing that – as in the singular. Not the plural.”
    “Really? I think your memory’s a little hazy there, pard .’”
    I smiled mischievously and watched as Daniel wrestled with the pack of orange cords.
     

 
    Chapter 19
     
    “What do you think… this one?”
    From the confines of her stroller, baby Laila shook her head fervently, as if her mother had just offered her a steaming platter of Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and cabbage.
    “Hmm, what about this one, then?” Kara said leaning down, pointing to one that was short and fat and had a long, curly stem.
    But the pumpkin still wasn’t quite up to the baby’s standards. She shook her head again.
    Kara straightened out her back and placed a hand on her hip.
    “Well I’ll be if Laila isn’t the pickiest.