Spruced Up by Holly Jacobs Page B

afternoon off since she was going to be in surgery and couldn’t pick you up.”
    Lottie worked at my family’s medical practice.  Yes.  Family.  You see, my mother, father, two brothers and their wives were all doctors.  My two sets of grandparents had also been doctors.  The only people in our family who weren’t doctors were me and my Uncle Bill.  Uncle Bill spent two years in jail.  Now, I should mention he went to jail for a crime he didn’t commit but it was a horrible scandal in the family.  Not only was he an ex-con, he had a tattoo.
    If I’d come to town in the spring and my mother had sent Lottie, I’d have chalked it up to Mom being embarrassed of me and sending her minions to do her bidding.  But the last few months, things had changed with my mom.  She didn’t harp about my wasting my talent by not becoming a doctor.  She actually seemed impressed that I’d found both a killer and an art thief.  To be honest, she was actually over-the-moon excited by the idea of my screenplay.
    Frankly, I think she had a bit of a crush on my writing mentor, Dick Macy.  (Yes, really, rather than use any of the other nicknames for Richard Macy, he went with Dick.  Dick Macy.  Geesh.) 
    Lottie and I slogged through the snowy parking lot to her four-wheel drive SUV.  Erie, Pennsylvania was known for a few things.  Its proximity to the Great Lake and Presque Isle peninsula.  The wonderful quality of life it provided its residents.  Its low cost of living.  Its scenic bayfront. 
    And it was known for snow.  Lots and lots of snow.
    Today’s weather wasn’t quite a blizzard, but there was a steady sheet of snow coming down.
    “What’s the weather say?” I asked.  Weather is a stereotypical conversation subject—one that indicates a lack of anything better to talk about.  In Erie, especially in the winter, weather is one of the best things to talk about.  If you don’t like the weather at that moment…wait an hour and it would change.
    “Definitely a white Christmas,” she assured me.
    I resisted the urge to clap.  I’d lived in LA for my entire adult life and missed white Christmases. 
    It was going to be a great holiday.

Chapter Two
     
    The holiday was going to suck.
    After a lovely lunch with Lottie and some catching up (she has two high school girls, a deadbeat ex, works at my parents’ practice, and volunteers at a local health clinic) she took me to my family’s office.  It was The Mac Practice.  I tried coining the nickname Mac-Prac.  It never caught on.
    My mother was at her desk and smiled as I walked into her office.
    “I’m so excited about spending the week with you, Mom,” I said, meaning it.  “Dick is hoping I can make a last pass on editing this script, and I could use some time to relax.”  Between murders, stolen forged paintings, Tiny’s wedding, the boys, and a new boyfriend, it had been a busy few months.  I had fantasies about this week.  Things like sleeping in, late breakfasts, and maybe a frivolous day at the Millcreek Mall and all the other stores on Peach Street, Erie’s shopping mecca. 
    “About that,” Mom said slowly in a tone I recognized—that tone stopped my relaxing-week thoughts in their tracks.  That particular tone had never boded well for my plans.  That tone assured me the holiday wasn’t going to be what I’d planned. 
    “I was hoping you’d find a little time to help me out.”
    “Sure, if I can.”  I thought adding the if-I-can caveat was wise.  My mom is a tricky woman.  “You know if I can do something, I’m willing to help, Mom. But I’m only here until Christmas.” 
    I was flying out first thing the day after Christmas.  Jerome and Peri would be dropping the boys off that day at dinner.  Cal, my newish cop boyfriend, Tiny and her new husband Sal would come over, too.  It was my day-after-Christmas Christmas dinner.  Since I’d be flying that day I couldn’t cook…I was having the meal catered by my