Josh Lanyon's Blog, page 16
December 16, 2021
Advent Calendar Day 16
The 16th of December! Can you believe it? Good Lord.
I just purchased my final holiday gift, baked a batch of chocolate cupcakes, and I'm working on a couple of holiday codas. So that ought to do it for the holiday prep.
I'm feeling SO much better now. Body at Buccaneer Bay is finished and safely uploaded everywhere for its December 18th release (pssst! It's actually already live on Barnes and Noble! Pilot error. I got a little overanxious.)
That's the good news. The less good news is I have to tell you straight up, there's no way in hell I can finish The Movie-Town Murders for that Amazon January 4th release. I literally just finished Body at Buccaneer Bay. I haven't even started Movie-Town yet. It's going to take however long it takes. It's the next book up, and I am researching and roughing out the outline, so it's going to happen. But I'm afraid to make promises right now. I can't risk another burn out like the last one. NINE MONTHS. NINE MONTHS BETWEEN BOOKS. That's...not okay. That's not sustainable. I'm sticking to my pledge to work at a sane and reasonable pace from here on out. The important thing (for me, anyway) is I'm not only writing again, I'm enjoying writing again. I'm not about to take any chances with that.
(Sorry if that's a lump of coal in the midst of the festivities.)
So today's Advent goodie is a recipe. In Body at Buccaneer Bay, Ellery's dad has a bowl of New England style chicken and dumplings at the charming Seacrest Inn, and that just looked (in my imagination) so delicious and comforting, I thought I'd hunt down a good recipe we can all try this winter.
This is Yankee magazine's version (adapted from the Farmer's Almanac)
It's dumplings, so I consider it sort of complicated (I've never successfully made dumplings, but maybe this will be the recipe for me).
For the Soup
Ingredients:
1 whole 4- to 5-pound chicken
1 medium yellow onion, diced
5 bay leaves
5 tablespoons salted butter
1-1/2 tablespoons table salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste
Instructions:
Put the chicken into a large soup pot. Cover with about ½ inch of water and add onion, bay leaves, butter, salt, and pepper. Cover, set over high heat, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, partially cover, and very gently simmer until the chicken is cooked through, about 1 hour.
When the chicken is done, transfer it to a cutting board, leaving the broth and bay leaves in the pot. When chicken is cool enough to handle, pull the meat from the bone in small pieces and set aside (discard bones, skin, and other waste).
For the Dumplings
Ingredients:
3 cups all-purpose flour
1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon table salt
1/2 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons water
2 large eggs, beaten
Garnish: minced fresh parsley
Instructions:
Put the flour, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl and whisk to blend. Add the oil and stir to coat the flour, then add the water and beaten eggs. Stir just enough to combine, then knead with clean hands until evenly mixed.
Turn the dough out onto a generously floured board and divide in half. Take the first portion and roll out into a thin rectangle. Slice the dough lengthwise into 1/2-inch-wide strips, then cut cross-wise into pieces 4 inches long. Repeat with remaining dough.
Bring the broth back to a boil. Drop the dumpling strips into the boiling liquid. Reduce heat to a simmer and cook uncovered, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking, until the dumplings are tender (they'll puff up a bit), about 20 minutes. Return the chicken to the pot in the last 5 minutes of cooking. Taste and add additional salt and pepper as needed. Serve hot, garnished with parsley.
December 15, 2021
Holiday Fiction from Haldis!
I burst out laughing when I saw this submission from our dear, dear talented pal Haldis. :-D :-D :-D But you might not get the joke, if you've forgotten a particular coda. So here's Coda 35 to refresh your memory.
And here's a delirious bit of holiday madness from Haldis.
“There’s Mooses in the holly,
And squirrels in the tree.”
Ricky Joe put his ripped and teared heart into every word, trembling hands on his guitar.
“There’s birds nesting in the pine boughs,
But there ain’t no one fer me!”
Ricky Joe took a shuddering breath, put aside the guitar, and picked up his pencil to make a couple of notes. He turned towards the door as he heard it open.
“I’m home!”, called Don as he stepped into the room.
“Donnie! You came back to me!” Ricky Joe jumped out of his chair and flung himself at Don.
“Course I came back to you, Ricky Joe! I’ll always and always come back to you! Shorely ya know that!”
“But you gone up to the coal mines! Them black pits suck yer soul and leave yer bones nothin but dust!”, wailed Ricky Joe. (He made a small mental note to put that in one of his songs)
“Ah, Ricky Joe,” said Don, sounding awful fond. “I just gone up to the mines to drop off my pa’s afternoon libation of Christmas cheer.”
“Meow.”
Don pulled away from Ricky Joe, staring in confusion.
“Did you just meow at me?”
“Weren’t me,” said Ricky Joe. They both turned to the still open door and saw the cat sitting there.
“We seem to have a visitor of the feline persuasion at our threshold, Ricky Joe.”
“We shorely do, Donnie.”
“How can we help you, uh….” started Don.
“Meow,” filled in the cat.
“Mr. Pinkerton,” finished Don.
“Meow,” said Mr. Pinkerton.
“Reindeer!”, exclaimed Ricky Joe.
“Meow meow. Meow,” added Mr. Pinkerton.
“In the bonsai orchard,” cried Don.
“We barely survived last year’s fiery conflagration! One munch and our wee charges will be but a memory in the shadow of yonder coal mine!” (Ricky Joe made another mental note to put that in one of his songs)
Before Don and Ricky Joe could follow Mr. Pinkerton out to the bonsai orchard, a man appeared in the doorway. Just ‘poof!’ Appeared. He was dressed in red leather pants, tall black boots, and a black leather harness on his otherwise bare torso. He had a red and white fur cap sitting on his head at a jaunty angle and a red silk scarf tied loosely around his neck.
“I understand you have my reindeer,” said the man in a low, throaty voice, waving around a white peacock feather as he spoke.
“Santie Claus?!” said Ricky Joe and Don, together, in disbelief.
“You can call me J.X.”, said Santie Claus with a mischievous grin and a twinkle in his eye.
Christopher Holmes sat bolt upright in bed, stifling a scream half of terror, half of mortification, and half of absolutely what the fuck. As he laid back down and got his breathing back under control, he realized there really wasn’t any terror, or mortification for that matter, since J.X. in leather was practically a work of art. And J.X. being all Bossy, well, sometimes Christopher found it annoying, and sometimes…he didn’t. So that only left…
“Bad dream, Kit?”, J.X. mumbled sleepily, as he snuggled a little closer into Christopher.
“More bizarre. I think it will be hard to get some of those images out of my head. Although one of the images, I don’t think I want to get out of my head.”
“Yeah?” J.X. must have heard something in Christopher’s voice, because he had raised his head to look at Christopher, and he seemed much more awake.
“Oh, yeah,” answered Christopher. “How do you feel about silk scarves and feathers? And a Santa hat? And maybe a little leather thrown in for variety?”
J.X. laughed as he rolled over on top of Christopher. “I don’t think I dare ask what you were dreaming, but yeah, I think I can get on board with that.”
And then he proceeded to kiss that dream right out of Christopher’s head.
December 14, 2021
Holiday Fiction from Natasha Chesterbrook!
Happy Tuesday! I can't tell you how delighted I am to have this lovely bit of yuletide joy from our dear friend Natasha Chesterbrook!
Natasha is giving us a holiday peek at Cary and Walter from the short story Slings and Arrows. I know you'll love it. I do. ;-)
Christmas Eve
Downtown Hartsburg doesn’t just decorate for Christmas so much as wrap the town up like a yuletide Easter egg. Festive lights, ornamental evergreen, glowing candles – or what passed for fire-lit but without the potential for accidental arson – and decorated trees in all sizes appear everywhere, in every window, on every building front and some rooftops too. No patch is left unadorned, no proprietor to be outdone by his or her neighbor.
And in a show of solidarity, nature provided the ultimate festive notes as a dusting of frost glittered off tree branches and window ledges alike in the late afternoon sun. Of course, bumper-to-bumper traffic up and down main street made Christmas Eve parking a major pain and even more difficult to find around the only packaging store that still promised Christmas Day delivery – for a hefty fee, of course. Worth it for Carey’s nephew to get the one toy he’d been promised Santa would deliver this year. Even Carey isn’t quite sure what the gizmo does besides blink and make lots of beeping noises. Yet if it wasn’t delivered by tomorrow, no doubt his sister would give him an earful.
After thirty minutes in line to finally ship his package, it was a relief to check that item off Carey’s list. With sunlight fading fast, street lights began to turn on and the store interiors sparkled with full Christmas display. Skirting around a blow-up Santa tilting drunkenly in the chilly breeze, Carey came to a full stop. Just down the block he spied Walter entering the Hartsburg Real Estate building with the look of a man who is about to complete a satisfying purchase – or figured out how to dump his live-in boyfriend of two years. Just find another place to live, right?
Hold on. Let’s back up a little.
Two Weeks Before Christmas
That guy looks familiar.
The auditorium doors slam open and expel a swarm of freshmen – they all have that first-time-end-of-semester-exams-are-coming stare – in a rush to get to their next class. Carey knew it was better to just wait than to try swimming upstream against the oncoming rush, so he spent his time eyeing the only other person standing in the hallway. Where had he seen him before? Had they had a class together?
Now that he was employed full time, sitting in a classroom seemed like a distant memory for Carey. If Walter hadn’t been an adjunct professor while working on his PhD, he doubted he’d even have reason to return to campus. His job with a law firm specializing in LGBTQ rights kept him so busy he barely had time to breath. And trying to figure out if this is how he wanted to use his Anthropology degree left him little time to pursue additional coursework.
Then it came to him. He’d seen this guy coming out of Walter’s office about a month ago. Okay, that made sense even if he did look a bit older than the usual undergraduate and was dressed nicer than most college students. His suspicion that the guy was waiting on Walter ended when the last of the students exited and Carey watched him disappear inside the auditorium.
Curious, Carey opened one of the doors in time to see the guy hand Walter a large envelope. He opened it and removed a piece of paper. After taking a moment to read something, Walter nodded and shook the guy’s hand. Carey frowned but stepped back as the stranger emerged into the hallway and walked out of the building.
When Walter finally met up with Carey, he was as cool as an iceberg which is to say, his normal self.
“Tough crowd?” Carey asked hoping to get Walter talking. It could be a challenge at times.
“No more than usual,” Walter replied, succinct as ever.
One Week Before Christmas
What do you get a guy who really doesn’t want anything? Carey was wracking his brain for gift ideas. After dating for more than six months, Carey had moved into Walter’s apartment, and they were now going on two years of cohabitation. It wasn’t always smooth sailing especially now that they both had demanding pursuits, but he thought they made it work. The problem was that Carey still felt he didn’t know Walter much better than he did at the start of their relationship.
Yes, he knew Walter’s habits – fastidious, always on time, not a multi-tasker but also incredibly patient with Carey who could often blow small setbacks out of proportion or whose occasional lapses in tidiness happened on a daily basis. Walter knew all of Carey’s warts yet still seemed to love him. However, knowing the full depths of Walter always seemed just out of reach. Hence finding the perfect Christmas gift was such a challenge.
Just down from the Hartsburg Real Estate building Carey found a parking lot with holiday parking fees so high the whole company should be placed permanently on Santa’s Naughty List. The building itself is the original site of the Hartsburg’s Land Holdings office back in the early 1900s when most of the area was farmland. Now it housed several businesses including the accounting agency Carey’s law firm uses, a posh hair salon, an artisan design studio and, of course, the Hartsburg Real Estate agency.
Rounding the corner of the building Carey stopped in front of the picturesque window showing large easels with placards touting various high-end condominiums and luxury apartments on the market. All appropriately festooned for Christmas, of course. Beyond the layout Carey could see a huge Christmas tree set up in the large atrium of the building. While admiring the beautiful decorations he recognized the same guy he’d seen outside Walter’s lecture hall. Carey watched him get on the elevator to the second floor.
Carey doesn’t think of himself as an imaginative guy. He isn’t given to making up stories but once an idea starts to form in his head, no matter what, he can’t shake it. Something is off between him and Walt.
Last time they’d really dined out together was at Thanksgiving when they went to Carey’s brother’s house. Sure, Walt had spent the early part of the day working on a grant application for new research funding and Carey used the time to brush up on recent statutes enacted both for and against transgender rights. But they’d attended the dinner as a couple. It was a nice evening although Carey had used the time as a de-stressor, ended up drinking too much and falling asleep on the ride home. He never did get to show Walt just how thankful he was.
Walter seems to recognize that every moment they have is precious and not to be taken for granted. If anything, he is more considerate and caring when they do find a few moments together. But at the same time, Carey can’t shake the feeling that Walter has been acting odd – or odder than usual for Walter. Almost secretive except Carey knows Walter is incapable of real deception. Has he been talking to a real estate agent? Does Walt want to move? He’d talk to Carey first, surely. But maybe Walt wants to move withoutCarey?
Since Thanksgiving, the closest thing to a date they’d had was a visit to the college’s exhibit on Gift Giving through the Ages where Walt seemed more than a little obsessed with the Renaissance period. Now with the upcoming winter break, Carey intended to make this Christmas memorable. Could it be the only memory he’d have is Walt showing him the door?
Carey had a sudden urge to march inside the agency and demand this stranger tell him what is going on. But shouldn’t he really be talking to Walt? Discuss this as adults? Yet what could he say that wouldn’t sound suspicious and untrusting? Carey does trust Walt.
A delicious aroma of tomatoes, garlic, and basil greets Carey when he steps in the door to their apartment. He finds Walter in their kitchen just adding the toppings to a homemade pizza before popping it in the oven. This is one of Carey’s favorites which makes him feel both warm and all the more guilty.
At dinner, the glass of wine disappeared before Carey realized he’d drained it.
“Were you able to find everything on your shopping list?” Walt asked, a slice of pizza dribbling melted cheese rested in his hand.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Carey had been watching Walt trying to determine if there is anything suspicious behind those orb-enlarging spectacles he wore. But Walt is just being Walt which meant he was mostly oblivious to Carey’s questioning looks and obvious stress. In that moment Carey vowed to put his concerns to rest and move on. It was almost a relief.
That night they made love and Walt was as remarkable a lover as the first time. Carey not only felt reassured but even a bit ashamed of himself for ever questioning him.
Back to Christmas Eve
Carey’s feet are frozen to the sidewalk and not because of the frigid temperatures as he observes Walter through the picturesque windowfront. He watches the same guy gifting Walter with a beautifully wrapped Christmas present. Is that how they transfer property these days?
With more agility than he thought he was able to achieve in that moment, Carey turns and races back to his car. He doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t want Walter to break up with him. But after two hours, a couple of texts and a call from Walter – all unanswered – he knows he has no choice.
He finds Walter on the sofa reading a book, not an e-book but a real paper and hardcover book. The scene is so familiar and warm that for a moment Carey feels like he’s wakened from a bad dream and everything he thought was wrong has magically fixed itself. Then he notices the wrapped gift he’d spied earlier resting on the end table and he knows this nightmare isn’t over.
The concerned look on Walter’s face confirms it.
“What’s happening, Walter?” The question comes out much harsher and higher pitched than Carey would have wanted.
“What do you mean?” is Walter’s wary reply.
“Are you leaving?” And Carey couldn’t keep the accusation out of his voice this time.
Slowly, as if speaking to a child, Walter says, “Did you want me to leave?”
“No! I’m not…this isn’t… stop answering my questions with questions!”
Walter stands silent and Carey tries to will away the tears that are forming in his eyes.
He practically begs, “Don’t go. I love you, Walter, and we can fix this whatever it is.”
Walter’s arms wrapping around him feel like a warm spring day after several long months of winter freeze. “Why would you think I’m going anywhere?” Walt whispers against his cheek.
Carey’s tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth, but he manages, “I saw you talking to that real estate agent.” He swallows reflexively. “I thought you’d decided to move.”
He can feel Walt frown, “An agent?”
“At Hartsburg Real Estate…” Carey suddenly feels foolish but plows on. “You came out of their building earlier.”
Walter takes a step back but keeps his hold on Carey. Instead, he hands him the damning present.
“That building houses more than just a real estate agency,” Walter states with dry efficiency. “This is for you.”
Confused and more than a bit overwhelmed, Carey opens the small, gaily wrapped parcel. Inside a box, nestled within a soft cushion of cotton wadding, lays a shiny silver ring of intricate latticework.
Walter breaks the silence. “It’s a Gimmel ring. They were quite popular during the Renaissance period – like the ones we saw in the college exhibit. I had an artisan in the building’s Design House create it for you. Our names are engraved inside.”
Carey remembers this part of the exhibit. A Gimmel ring is a set of interlocking hoops that form one complete ring meant to symbolize the bonds of love. They were commonly used as betrothal rings.
“It’s beautiful, Walter.” Carey hesitates but goes on, “Is this an engagement ring?”
“It can be whatever you want it to be.”
December 13, 2021
Advent Calendar Day 13
Are you starting to suspect me of showing cartoons to keep the kiddies occupied while I run around wrapping Christmas presents and signing cards and such-like? WELL, YOU'RE RIGHT. ;-D
I'm literally editing the final chapter of Body at Buccaneer Bay, which means that there's a chance I might actually be able to write a coda or two for this year's Advent Calendar! AND we've had a couple of very fun contributions come in too, so more good stuff this week, but in the meantime, let me turn the TV on, pour your cocoa, and leave you to enjoy this little bit of holiday crossover kookiness.
Casper the Friendly Ghost's Christmas Special.December 12, 2021
Advent Calendar Day 12
Today, just a lovely picture. A dark and snowy street, but inside warmth and soft lights.
Perhaps someone is spending the holidays alone, lost in memories, when his solitude is disturbed by an unexpected knock at the door...
December 11, 2021
Advent Calendar Day 11
Okay, something totally different today. Something that always amuses the heck out of me, and hopefully will entertain you too.
(Don't worry, you'll get the joke even if you're not familiar with Hemingway's work.)
December 10, 2021
Advent Calendar Day 10
I'm just about done with my holiday shopping, the tree is trimmed, the halls are decked, the freezer is stuffed to bursting with holiday treats (also the liquor cabinet) and the Office Elf is wrapping my presents for me, so I'm in pretty good shape and able to completely focus is on finishing Body at Buccaneer Bay for it's December 18th release.
So today it's just a jaunty little holiday song from 1940s (actually, I'm sure it's older, but this version is from the 40s). "Little Jack Frost Get Lost" sung by Marjorie Hughes (performed by Frankie Carle and His Orchestra).
You're be humming this all day. You're welcome. ;-)
December 9, 2021
Holiday Fiction from Meg Perry!
Woohoo! Meg Perry to the rescue!
Dear Merrymakers, the talented and generous Meg Perry has once again contributed a delicious morsel of festive fiction to the Advent Calendar. This year her series regulars Jamie Brodie and Pete Ferguson decide to get away for the holiday, and guess where they decide to visit? ;-)
Small World
“I want to go to New England.”
My husband, Pete Ferguson, and I were sitting on our front porch in New Mexico, adult beverages at hand, watching the sunset. A warm spring breeze was ruffling my hair; my feet were propped on the porch rail, and contentment was spreading through my veins along with the Glenfiddich.
I’d never felt less like going anywhere.
I said lazily, “Sure. We’ll go sometime.”
“I mean this December.”
I turned my head to look at him. He had a dreamy, pie-in-the-sky expression on his face that I recognized well. It usually meant trouble for me in the end.
“We’re going to be in North Carolina in December.” We were spending the holidays with my entire extended family. Even my German cousins were coming.
“We can go to New England the week before. It’ll be perfect timing. We’ll be on the East Coast anyway, and we can recover from jet lag before we join your family.”
“It’ll be cold.”
“No colder than it would be if we stayed here.”
I wasn’t too sure about that. “It might snow.”
“Yes!” Like that was a good thing. “Just picture it.” He spread his hands in front of him, panorama-style. “A quaint New England fishing village, decorated for Christmas.”
“We decorate for Christmas.”
“Twinkling lights, hot cocoa by a fireplace…”
“We can have cocoa by the fireplace here.”
“Strolling along the harbor, enjoying the ocean breeze…” “More like a gale-force wind, that time of year.”
“Watching boats come and go, eating fresh lobster…”
He had me there. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten fresh lobster I. s it still in season in December?”
“I bet it is. What do you think?”
“I think you should stop sniffing the candles at the Hallmark store.”
He laughed. “It’ll be romantic.”
I sighed deeply. “We’ll have to drive to LA first to leave Ammo with Ali and Mel.” At the sound of his name, our yellow Lab thumped his tail on the floor.
“So, we do that a week earlier than we’d planned to.”
There was clearly no point in arguing. I said, “Okay. I’ll look at flights. Tomorrow.”
He beamed. “It’ll be great!”
Uh huh.
One week before Christmas, we flew from LAX to Boston. I’d been shocked to locate accommodations in the off-season in a quaint seaside fishing village, a bed and breakfast in a place called Pirate’s Cove - seriously - on an island off the coast of Rhode Island. So, once in Boston, we picked up our rental SUV - with four-wheel drive in case of snow - and headed south.
Getting to the island required a ferry ride from Newport. The “ocean breeze” was frigid, and the ferry rocked in the whitecaps on the bay. By the time we disembarked at Pirate’s Cove, we were both tinged with green.
Our B&B was a place called the Seacrest Inn. It did look inviting as we drove up. A lit, fully decorated Christmas tree stood in one window; the other windows glowed with light à la Thomas Kinkade.
Ours was the only car in the parking area.
The door opened as we hauled our bags from the trunk, revealing a woman wearing an apron. She waved at us. “Welcome! You must be Pete and Jeremy.”
I said, “Yes, ma’am. I go by Jamie.”
“I’m Nan Sweeny. I’m so delighted that you’re here! Come in, get out of that cold wind.”
We trundled into a reception area with a crackling fire. Overstuffed chairs and sofas were scattered around the room; the decor was strictly nautical. Nan said, “You must have had a long day! Did you fly into Providence?”
Pete was raptly taking in the Christmas tree with its lighthouse ornaments and the jars of sand and seashells. I said, “No, Boston.”
“Oh! It’s a lovely drive through the country, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, you have to call me Nan.”
“Yes, ma’am. Nan.”
She giggled. “Let me show you to your room.”
The room was up a flight of stairs and at the end of a cold hallway. She opened the door and waved us in. “Each room has its own thermostat, so you can set it however you like. I thought you might appreciate the warmth.”
The room was toasty. It would be too warm to sleep, but I said, “We do. Thank you.”
Pete was peering out the window. “There’s a lighthouse out there!”
“Yes, that’s the North Point lighthouse. You’ll have a wonderful view of it in the daytime. Are you early or late risers?”
I said, “Tomorrow, probably late.”
“How does breakfast at eight sound?”
“That sounds perfect. Thank you. Where’s the best place to get supper tonight?”
“Oh, that’ll be the Salty Dog pub. It’s on Main Street in town.”
The stiff wind off the harbor was bitterly cold, but the interior of the Salty Dog was warm and inviting. There weren’t a lot of patrons. The man behind the bar waved at us. “Welcome! Sit anywhere you like.”
“Thanks.” We chose a table near the fireplace. A college-aged girl appeared at our elbows as soon as we were seated. “Hi! I’m Libby. What can I get you to drink? We have hot mulled cider.”
I said, “Ooh. That.”
She laughed. “I’ll be right back.”
Pete perused the menu while I scanned the room. A few clumps of people who had to be locals were scattered about. Another male couple was seated to my left. I shared a glance with the guy facing me - then he did a double take and stared.
I narrowed my eyes at him. He looked away.
Libby reappeared with our cider and took our orders. Once she was out of earshot I said, “There’s a guy to your right who’s staring at me.”
To his credit, Pete didn’t immediately look over. “Which one? The dark-haired one?”
“No, the other one.” The guy had light brown hair. He was wearing jeans and an Aran sweater, but his demeanor screamed cop. “I think he’s law enforcement.”
Pete grinned. “Well, you do look suspicious.”
I sipped my cider. “Here he comes.”
The guy stopped a couple of feet away from our table so that he wasn’t looming over us. Considerate. He asked me, “What’s your last name?”
I crossed my arms and scowled at him. “Who wants to know?”
Recognition dawned on his face. “Brodie.”
Whaaaat? “Who the hell are you?”
“Sorry. Jack Carson. I’m the police chief in Pirate’s Cove, but I started my career with LAPD. I knew a guy, a homicide detective at West LA Division, who looks a lot like you.”
Pete was chuckling. I said, “Kevin.”
“Yes. Kevin Brodie. You must be brothers.”
“We are. I’m Jamie. This is my husband, Pete Ferguson.”
Pete said, “I was ten years on the street with LAPD. Kevin was my partner for a while.”
Carson shook his head in disbelief. “What are the odds? Is he still at West LA?”
I said, “No. He’s a social worker with the DA’s Victim Services now.”
Carson looked like he thought that was crazy. “Has anyone broken his marksmanship record at the academy?”
“Nope. Would Kevin remember you?”
“He might. I was homicide, too, but at Wilshire. We’d see each other at West Bureau meetings.”
“I’ll tell him we ran into you.”
Pete asked, “How’d you end up here?”
Something flickered in Carson’s eyes. “Long story.” He turned to his dinner companion, who’d come up behind him. “Turns out, our New Mexico visitors are actually from Los Angeles.”
“No kidding.” The dark-haired man was incredibly good-looking. “I’m Ellery Page. How on earth did you stumble across Pirate’s Cove?”
I said, “You have the only seaside B&B in all of New England that’s open in December.”
Page laughed. “I’m sure. Several of our other businesses stay open all year, too. I own a bookstore just down the street. You’ll have to stop by.”
I was sure that my face had lit up like - well, a Christmas tree. “What kind of bookstore?”
“A mystery bookstore. It’s called the Crow’s Nest.”
Of course, it had to be a mystery bookstore. I hoped I didn’t sound snarky. “This place has all the ingredients for a cozy mystery series.” Page and Carson shared a look. Carson said, “Yeah, well. Tell Kevin I said hello.”
“I will.”
Page said, “I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow.”
“Absolutely.”
The two men pulled on coats and left, wishing a good night to everyone in the room. Our lobster rolls arrived, and we dug in. I said, “Mm. This is good.”
“Yep. Are you glad we came yet?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
December 8, 2021
Advent Calendar Day 8
Happy Holidays! Happy Wednesday!
Many years later, I'm still on my quest for the perfect chocolatey Christmas cocktail. Not that I don't love my Gingerbread martinis or my long-time fave Pimm's Cups, but every so often I get a hankering for a chocolate martini with a little bit of holiday zing.
So the Office Elf came across this, courtesy of Town and Country A lot of those martinis look really, really good, but especially interesting to me is the Snow Cap. There are several variations on this--sometimes they're called Snowflakes or Snowslides or Snow Falls--but they always seem to boil down to Kahlua and vodka.
(If you've got a choice chocolate holiday cocktail, could you share it in the comment section down below?)
Anyway, here's the recipe for Town and Country's Snow Cap. If you try it, let me know what you think. And I'll return the favor. ;-)
The Snow Cap
Ingredients
1.5 oz Baileys
1 oz vodka
1.5 oz coconut cream
Oreo dust
coconut wafer (What, pray tell, is a coconut wafer? Anyone?)
Instructions
Add Baileys, vodka, and coconut cream to shaker and shake with ice. Strain into martini glass rimmed crushed Oreos. Garnish with coconut wafer.
December 7, 2021
Advent Calendar Day 7
Some of the best holiday cartoons are Disney classics, some of which you can watch for free on the Disney channel.
Like, fer instance, Pluto's Christmas Tree which was made in 1952 and is less than seven minutes long. You've got seven minutes before you've got to rush off and Do All the Things, right?
