Chapter One
28 days 'til Xmas
"I'd rather die."
Judging by her determined expression and her firm tone of
voice, Lucy Stone was pretty sure that her best friend,
Sue Finch, had made up her mind. Still, ever the optimist,
she couldn't resist trying one last time.
"Oh, come on," pleaded Lucy. "It won't seem like Christmas
without it."
"Nope." Sue shook her head and shoved a piece of
overpriced lettuce around her plate with a fork. "No
cookie exchange this year."
The two friends were having lunch at the Chandlery, the
toney bistro in the Ropewalk, the newest mall in Tinker's
Cove. The Ropewalk had once been exactly that, a
nineteenth-century workshop complete with a long, narrow
alley used for twisting hemp fibers into rope for the
clipper ships that once sailed all over the globe from
their home port in Tinker's Cove, Maine.
Long a ramshackle eyesore on the waterfront, it had
recently been restored, and local craftsmen had moved in,
creating what the developer called "an exciting retail
adventure with a seafaring ambiance."
Today, the day after Thanksgiving, the Ropewalk was packed
with Christmas shoppers and Lucy and Sue had had to wait
thirty minutes for a table. When their salads finally came
they were definitely on the skimpy side--the kitchen was
obviously running low on supplies. The two friends hadn't
minded; the demands of juggling homes and careers made it
difficult for them to spend time together, and they were
enjoying each other's company.
"It's not like it was, well, even a few years ago," said
Sue. "Then we were all in the same boat. We all had little
kids and plenty of time on our hands. People snapped up
the invitations and brought wonderful cookies." A dreamy
expression came over her face. "Remember Helen's baklava?"
"Do I ever," said Lucy, who had a round face and a shining
cap of hair cut in a practical style. She was casually
dressed, wearing a plaid shirt-jacket and a pair of well-
worn jeans. "It was like biting into a little piece of
heaven." She paused and sipped her coffee. "Whatever
happened to her?"
"She moved away, to North Carolina, I think," said Sue,
who provided an elegant contrast to her friend in her hand-
knit designer sweater and tailored flannel slacks. "And
that's exactly my point. A lot of the old regulars have
moved away. And things have changed. Getting together to
compare recipes and swap cookies isn't as appealing as it
used to be."
"It is to me," said Lucy. "I've still got a family to
feed, and they don't think it's Christmas without cookies.
Lots of different kinds. I don't have time to bake five or
six batches. And to be honest, I don't want to have that
many cookies around the house." She bit her lip. "Too much
temptation. Too many calories."
"I know," Sue said with a sigh. "With the exchange you
just had to bake one double batch."
"But you ended up with twelve different kinds, a half
dozen of each." Lucy started counting them off on her
fingers. "Your pecan meltaways, my Santa's thumbprints,
spritz, gingerbread men, Franny's Chinese-noodle cookies,
shortbread, and Marge's little pink-and-white candy
canes..."
"Marge probably can't come this year," said Sue, with a
sad shake of her head. "The lumpectomy wasn't enough, and
they've started her on chemotherapy. She feels lousy."
"I hadn't heard," said Lucy, furrowing her brow. "That's
too bad."
"I thought you newspaper reporters thrived on local
gossip," teased Sue, referring to Lucy's part-time job
writing for the weekly Pennysaver.
"Actually, I'm so busy covering historic commission
hearings and stuff like that, I never have time to call my
friends." She smiled at Sue and glanced around at the
restaurant, which was festively decorated with artificial
pine garlands, ribbons, and gold balls. "This is fun--we
don't get together enough. So what else is new? Fill me
in."
"Have you heard about Lee?โ
"Lee Cummings? No. What?โ
"Well," began Sue, leaning across the table toward
Lucy, "she and Steve have separated."
"You're kidding." Lucy was astonished. Lee and her
husband, dentist Steve Cummings, had seemed a rock-solid
couple. They went to church together every Sunday, and
Steve had coached his daughter's T-ball team.
โNo." Sue's eyebrows shot up. "Apparently Steve is finding
marriage too confining. At least that's what Lee says."
"She tells you all this?โ
"Oh, yes. And more. Every morning when she drops Hillary
off at the center." Sue directed the town's day-care
center, located in the basement of the recreation
building. "It's all she can talk about. Steve did this.
Steve did that. His lawyer says this. My lawyer says that.
The latest is who's going to get the stove."
"They're arguing over the stove?"
"I think it's a Viking," explained Sue, with a knowing
nod. "But that's just the beginning. They're also fighting
over the books and the CDs and the china and the stupid
jelly glasses with cartoon characters."
"So you think they're going to get a divorce?โ
"It sure looks that way."
"And that's all she talks about?โ
"Yeah. And if I have the cookie exchange, I'll have to
invite her, and if she comes, she'll tam the whole evening
into a group-therapy session. Trust me on this."
"I can see that's a problem," admitted Lucy, picking up
the check. "Come on. Let's get out of here. When the going
gets tough, the tough go shopping."
© 2003-2026