Chapter Twenty-Five

Ghost Of Their Christmas Past

A week later:

Carolyn opened the front door to a very downcast-looking Claymore. "Good morning, Claymore," she said cheerfully. "Isn't it a lovely fall morning?"

"If you say so, Mrs Muir." He raised his hat as he stepped inside. "I have come to inspect your kitchen before I finally sign off on all the work. Peevey's already muttering about being paid. He said he's made plans to go shopping down in Boston."

He shook his head. "The man said it better be soon or he'll be asking for a Christmas bonus since the festive season's just around the corner. A bonus, I tell you! Like he thinks I'm made of money! Bah humbug!"

He cleared his throat as he stepped into the kitchen. "I trust all is now in order. There are no, um, ah, unforeseen contingencies?"

Carolyn followed him. "Not a single one. Mr Peevey and Mr Burrows did an excellent job. Everything now works like a charm. I couldn't be more pleased with the work."

"Good to know," Claymore muttered. "If you don't mind, I shall begin my inspection…"

"After you…" Carolyn indicated the room.

They both walked around the newly renovated kitchen. It now appeared as if nothing had been touched in the first place. Ed Peevey and Harvey Burrows had been very true to their promise. They'd left the house the previous afternoon, each man proudly bearing one of the first cherry pies to come out of Martha's newly restored oven.

Carolyn walked over to the sink to work the taps. They turned on and off without a single leak or clank.

"Perfect," she said. "Everything's working perfectly now."

Then she remembered one final thing. She frowned at the single socket at the end of the bench. "Um, I'm sorry, I forgot. Mr Peevey said he was going to put a double socket there, Claymore."

She walked back to her landlord. "Didn't he tell you?"

Claymore ignored her as he worked the light switch beside the door. "All the light switches work properly, Mrs Muir…"

He walked across the kitchen. "New copper wire has been installed throughout the kitchen," he continued with a wave of his hand. "I have done everything you requested, and at my own expense."

He shook his head. "It has all cost me a pretty penny and no mistake. And I heard that Miss Rutledge has taken up with that awful Marcus Cornell. He's going to build that shopping mall for her. Well, I say good luck to them both! She could have told me of her intentions before I ordered the lobsters!"

"I'm sure you'll recover in time…" Carolyn soothed as she followed him. "I'm just glad you are paying for all of this. I do appreciate it."

She tried to distract him back to her point. "But can we talk please about the double socket?"

"The plaster has been repaired…" Claymore pointed to the wall where the fuse box used to hang. There was now a large wooden cupboard. "Labour plus materials…"

He shook his head. "Anyone would think I'm made of money…"

"Yes, it's all wonderful. But…" Carolyn returned to the single socket at the end of the bench. "Mr Peevey did promise me he would replace this with a double socket. He said he would talk to you about it."

Claymore reared back. "Mrs Muir, up until now, I have been a generous, open-handed pushover. I have gone above and beyond every expectation that has been heaped upon me."

"Oh, but—"

"No more buts, maybes, or could you please..." Claymore raised a warning finger. "I'm afraid now this party is finally over. And there won't be any champagne to celebrate. I'm fresh out."

"Oh, is that right?" Carolyn smiled at him. "You seem to be forgetting something, Claymore. Or should I say, someone…"

The Captain popped in. "The lady requires a double socket, you money-grubbing sand shark!" he growled. "You will oblige her!"

Claymore stiffened both his stance and his expression. "Enough! I have been haunted, pushed around, abused, shouted at and half-drowned. I have been forced to eat grey food and swallow a foul brew! And we will not talk about those two lobster dinners!"

He scowled. "There comes a point in a man's life where he must finally take a stand. Yes, indeed! And I am standing right here!"

He thrust out his chest. "Do your worst, old Spookface! You can terrify me, send me careening through those doors. But I'll not spend more one cent! You saw fit to ruin my lucrative deal with Miss Rutledge and forced me to eat lobster for a week! That will take some time for me to forgive."

Then he realised what he'd just said and who he'd said it to. He sagged like a pricked balloon. "Oh…" He pressed trembling fingers to his lips. "Ummm…"

"Terrify you, dear boy?" the Captain purred. "Why, over the days we've spent together, I've grown very fond of you. In fact, I've been thinking of setting up my permanent residence…"

He raised two fingers and pointed at his hapless victim. "… at your house. I'm sure I can find some more of that delicious salted mackerel and hard tack. After an early breakfast, you will take a nice long jog along the beach at dawn, every morning. I shall follow you to make sure you do not slacken your pace. I shall have you trim and fit for purpose within six months."

"Over my dead body!" Claymore exclaimed. "Ohhh!" He pressed his fingers to his lips. "I mean, over your dead body…"

He sagged back against the kitchen bench behind him and his face paled. "I really, really detest grey food…"

"Oh, Claymore…" Carolyn smiled at him as she happily watched all the bluster go out of him. The Captain winked at her, knowing all was forgiven and they were on the same page again.

Claymore sighed as he frowned at her. "All right, Mrs Muir. You'll have your double socket in the morning…" He tottered away toward the door. "Why me? Why is it always me?"

Carolyn looked after him in amusement. The Captain turned beside her as he leaned back against the bench. Without thinking, she moved closer to him to lean against his side, seeking the comfort of his closeness.

Again, she felt that almost warm sensation of solidness. His body moved as he began to laugh with delight as Claymore found one last grain of courage. Their landlord turned and shook his fist at them from the safety of the doorway and made a face of discontent. He also poked out his tongue.

Carolyn turned with delight to join in the relieved laughter as the Captain continued to chuckle. Then she leaned back against him again, pushing even closer to revel in the connection that now seemed stronger and more solid since the night they danced on the balcony. She began to hope this was yet another step in their relationship.

"What did you do to him?" she asked as Claymore left the house, slamming the front door behind him.

The Captain looked down at her nestled so close against him. "I simply took away all control of the one thing he values more than his life."

"His money…" Carolyn nodded slowly. "But then, how did you get him to stick to his agreement to pay for the kitchen? He could have gone back on his word at any time."

"Oh, because he'd already discovered that having me as a houseguest was simply too much for his delicate constitution to take. I removed his certainty in his immediate future. He is a man who prides himself on knowing everything right down to the last detail. My popping in and out at all times of the day or night overset him dreadfully. And he is not an early riser."

"Oh, poor Claymore…" Carolyn shook her head. "If only he'd learn."

"Do not pity that man…" The Captain said softly.

He marvelled at the contact between them that showed no sign of lessening. Now there was a sensation of warmth he had not felt before. He wanted to dance with her again. He wanted to hold her close and revel in her feminine softness pressed so intimately against him.

Her soft beauty simmered through him and made him want more. So much more...

"Carolyn, I—"

"Claymore sure looked mad!" Jonathan declared as he opened the front door and ran into the kitchen. "He drove away from here like you were chasing him, Captain!"

"Yeah!" Candy added. "He stopped to tell us we were all very ungrateful and he doesn't know what he ever did to deserve any of us. Then he grumbled something about us having a merry Christmas while he'd be eating gruel for the rest of the year. Then he stormed off."

"Well, he accused me of bribing his workmen with my baking," Martha added as she walked in carrying a basket full of freshly cut flowers. "He said they did extra work around here just to get extra treats and that cost him big time. I never heard of such balderdash!"

"I'm so glad you decided to come home." Carolyn looked up at the Captain and smiled. "Welcome back aboard…"

She wanted to move even closer to him and have his arms around her. She needed to dance with him again. She wished to feel him pressed close against her once more and know another seemingly impossible barrier had been broken down.

She hadn't forgotten that he had promised her another dream. He'd said it would be a gift. She wanted it so badly she could almost taste it. But they were not alone and their burgeoning relationship was still very fragile.

"Thank you, my dear…" he replied, still watching her with sensual amusement in his eyes. "It's so good to be back. I too enjoy a ship that keeps to an even keel…"

"What's for dinner?" Jonathan asked, not noticing his mother's close interaction with the ghost. "I'm starving! Are we gonna barbeque again? That was fun!"

"Well, we've got plenty of frozen enchiladas and pizzas still," Martha told him. "I had to stock up because I didn't know how much longer this kitchen would take. I was thinking we might still be eating them come Christmas Day!"

Both children pulled faces and began to complain. Scruffy also barked his discontent.

Carolyn reluctantly left her newly found closeness with the Captain. She took a step away and stopped to look back with deep regret in her eyes. "How about we find the take-out menus and we all make our choices?"

"Yeah…" Both children danced around her.

"Suits me not having to cook right now," Martha replied. "I'm still trying to figure out where they've put everything. It'll take me another week to properly sort this place out again. Men have no clue how a real kitchen should work."

She shook her head. "The only small mercy I am grateful for, Mrs Muir, is that your parents didn't decide to come and visit during it all. That would have been the icing on the cake."

"It really would have. We'd all be back in Philadelphia right now," Carolyn replied ruefully.

She smiled tremulously at the ghost who was still standing in front of the sink bench. "That's settled then. Would you like to join us, Captain? I mean, after all we have been through, I know I could use a glass or two of Madeira right now."

He bowed his head slowly. "I would find that infinitely delightful," he said, with a gentle smile. "Thank you, Madam."

Their intimate gazes tangled and held as the children and Martha moved around them. Both the Captain and Carolyn acknowledged silently what they could not say out loud.

Soon it would be time for the promised dream. But, this time, she wanted a more personal dream between them that had nothing to do with manuscripts or deadlines. Something more intimate between a captain and his lady.

"Soon…" the Captain murmured as he moved closer to her again, drawn by her softly feminine warmth. "'Tis almost the season for the giving and receiving of such precious gifts…"

"Soon…" Carolyn nodded quickly even as she shivered with anticipation. Her cheeks warmed as she rummaged through drawers, looking for the menus.

※※※※※

Three weeks later:

The time had passed swiftly and the weather changed almost overnight. It went from the unusually soft, golden warmth of late fall to a blasting chill that brought with it snow and ice. Martha and Carolyn spent time making sure all the fireplaces in the house were properly cleaned out and put to good use. Numerous buckets of coal had to be carried up from the cellar as the cold deepened and set in.

Despite its chequered history, the gas fire in the main bedroom was a cheery companion in the chilly evenings. It seemed to Carolyn that she barely had a moment to draw a full breath as they prepared for the festive season ahead. There were gifts to buy to be wrapped and mailed off to her family and friends.

She was secretly grateful when her mother telephoned to say they'd decided to go on an extended winter cruise to the warmer climes of the Caribbean. Harriet and Hazel, Carolyn's nosy and bothersome twin cousins, had agreed to join them.

Carolyn breathed a sigh of guilty relief that there was no mention of any of them visiting Gull Cottage in the near future. She knew it would be a small reprieve.

She knew they would all disapprove of her new venture into becoming a full-time novelist. Racy prose would not be to the tastes of any of her family.

Everything passed in a blur, and she had little time to dwell on ways to advance her burgeoning relationship with the Captain. Martha made sure the kitchen was slowly filled with fragrant sweets and treats, and they both worked to make it a memorable Christmas for them all.

Then, amid the rushing around and last-minute arrangements, the proof of 'A Stowaway On Board' by Danielle Grant arrived by express post. Bridget had telephoned to say she would be sending it and gave instructions about what needed to be done. Carolyn carried the small parcel into the house as if it were somehow breakable and stood holding it in her hands.

"Is that it, then?" Martha asked as she bustled from the kitchen. "Are you just going to stand there staring, or are you going to open it? I want to see it."

"I… I'm going to open it, of course…" Carolyn carried the book into the living room and sat down on the couch.

She glanced up at the Captain's portrait. "It's here," she said.

Bridget had sent her the first printed copy of their book. She'd told Carolyn to use it to do a book review and catch any typos or formatting errors. She had to be entirely satisfied with everything before they could proceed.

"Here…" Martha found a pair of scissors and held them out. "I can't wait to see what she'd done with it. I bet it'll be spectacular."

The Captain appeared behind the couch. "Courage, Madam. Open it…" he encouraged as Carolyn took the scissors.

"Yes…" She nodded quickly, before she cut the twine that bound the parcel together and then slit the sellotape that sealed the brown paper.

The halves of the paper fell apart to reveal a small, neat paperback. The book's title and author had been clearly printed across the front cover. It was the sensual picture that also adorned it that snatched her breath away.

"Oh, my…" Carolyn's hand crept up to her warming cheek.

"Okay…" Martha whistled softly as she sat down to admire the image. "Well, that'll certainly grab any red-blooded woman's attention, if nothing else. It's sure got mine. You do need to make a big splash with your first book. Make your readers want more and that'll do it, for sure."

"It would seem that your Miss Lacey has taken a great deal of poetic licence with my image," the Captain observed drily as he stared at it. "I do not remember giving her my permission to use it in such a blatant way."

"Well, you do suit the cover of this book a lot better than on those cans of Yankee Skipper Clam Chowder," Martha replied with a smile. "And if it will help with the sales…"

She shrugged. "Where's the harm?"

"And it is a work of fiction," Carolyn added quickly. "I mean, Captain Webster isn't dressed like you at all. I'm sure no one would know it was you."

She managed the lie as she stared at the front cover picture of a half-dressed young woman being held close in the brawny, tanned arms of a bare-chested, bearded man in the garb of a nineteenth-century sea captain. He was armed with a cutlass sheathed at his waist and his dark curls danced in the rising wind.

Behind the pair, the background showed a fully rigged sailing ship that was heeled over before the awesome might of an oncoming storm. But they seemed totally engrossed in each other and oblivious to their impending peril.

"'A Stowaway On Board…'" the Captain repeated the title of the book even as he shook his head. "That pair of fools will soon be pitched overboard and drowned. Those sails are not set correctly for such a storm. They would've been torn to shreds in the first blast, and all hands lost at sea. As scurvy as my crew may have been, they did not deserve such an ignominious fate."

He folded his arms. "I do not countenance that, Madam. There will have to be serious changes made before I consent to having my image attached to this."

"What?" Carolyn was jerked from her deep contemplation of the cover. "Oh, yes, of course. That's why Bridget sent this proof to us. We may change whatever we like."

But she could see the value in the image. Martha was quite right. They needed to make a splash with their first book and grab her readers' attention.

"Then, as soon as Christmas is over, we shall settle to making those necessary changes," the Captain replied severely as he turned away to pace the room. "I shall begin by making a list of any nautical faults or errors I may find within…"

The two women barely noticed his discontent as they continued to look through the book and talk quietly together. But they soon returned to the cover to study it in close detail and they both sighed.

※※※※※

Later that evening, Carolyn and the Captain were seated together in the main bedroom. They'd been working together on the proof Bridget had sent when the telephone on the desk suddenly rang.

"Oh…" Carolyn gave a small start at the strident sound. She'd been engrossed in the cover image of the novel while the Captain had glowered at her with his arms folded across his chest.

She picked up the receiver and avoided his gaze. "Carolyn Muir…"

"Carolyn, excellent!" Bridget Lacey replied. "I'm glad I caught you. I'm phoning to see if you got my parcel and, if so, what you think of it."

"Yes, thank you. I got it this morning…" Carolyn replied quickly.

"Well, what do you think?" Bridget asked a trifle impatiently. "What did you think of the cover, I mean?"

"Oh, the cover…" Carolyn kept her eyes down. "It was… well, it was a bit… um, unexpected. But I… like it."

"Madam…" the Captain said warningly. "Have a care…"

"I'm so glad," Bridget breathed. "Our graphic artist asked me if I had any ideas for him with this new line, and I just couldn't get the image of your Captain Gregg out of my mind. He fairly smoulders from that painting you've got in your living room. I was able to describe him in great detail. I have a great memory for faces."

She chuckled lightly. "And all the ladies in the office here agreed. He is the most perfect romantic hero. We need to make a big splash with this first novel of yours and he's going to help us do just that."

"Of course, I understand…" Carolyn glanced sideways. "And I'm sure that, wherever he is, the Captain also approves."

"The Captain is still making up his mind," Daniel muttered.

"And I have something else to thank you for," Bridget continued.

Carolyn breathed a grateful sigh over the change of subject. "Oh, and what is that?"

"Brady O'Flynn," Bridget replied. "I've never expected to meet a man whose company I enjoyed more. He and Bonnie are coming down to Boston to spend a few days with me in the week before Christmas. And we have you to thank for introducing us. I hope you don't mind that we're seeing each other."

"Mind? Why should I mind?" Carolyn queried lightly. "It was a chance encounter between you two, and Brady is a very nice man. I wish you both the very best. I'm glad you found each other."

"Me too," Bridget replied happily. "Thank you. Mail the proof back to me as soon as you're happy with it. I want to get it on the bookshelves before the end of January if we can. Or the middle of February at the latest. Then I want to hear all about your work with that second novel. We have to keep the readers invested in our works."

"You will," Carolyn said quickly. "Thank you and goodbye. Merry Christmas."

"Bye, Carolyn…" Bridget replied. "Merry Christmas."

"At least that keeps one unwanted boarder off my ship," Daniel commented drily. "The way that O'Flynn looked at you…" He scowled.

Carolyn shook her head at him. "I'm so glad they found each other. It truly seems romance is in the air…" She looked at him longingly before she went back to her reading.

※※※※※

The main street of Schooner Bay was gaily decorated for the festive season. Strings of Christmas lights and lanterns had been strung up, waiting for dusk to fall so they could illuminate the townsfolk as they hurried about their festive shopping along the snowy streets.

Carolyn and the children arrived in town sensibly dressed for the deepening cold of the New England weather. They all blew on their gloved hands as they got out of the car and left the main street behind. They crossed a snowy field and entered a Christmas tree lot, looking intently around at the offerings on sale.

The large banner above the entrance to the lot declared in bold lettering…

XMAS TREES

CLAYMORE GREGG, PROP.

Carolyn smiled up at it as they passed beneath. "Trust Claymore to get into yet another money-making venture. The man is incorrigible." She shook her head. "Bah, humbug…"

They were keeping the promise they'd made to Claymore the morning he had driven them out to the airport to fetch their car. They said they would visit his tree lot first. However, they did not have high expectations of any of his prices being within their tight budget.

They needed a suitable tree and the time to find just the right one, at the right price, was growing shorter by the day. In two days, it would be Christmas.

"We did promise him we'd look," Jonathan replied as he stopped in front of a tree that was about his size. "Hey, how about this one? It looks neat."

"Yes, it does. But it's way too small," Candy told him before she crossed to a much larger tree. "I like this one…"

"Hey, yeah," Jonathan agreed, following her lead.

"Sorry, kids." Carolyn shook her head. "We couldn't get that one in the house."

Behind them, Claymore had seen their approach, and he jumped out of his car. He'd parked among the other vehicles at the back of the lot where he could watch and wait for any likely customers to come his way. He was bundled up against the cold in mittens, a warm, fur-collared jacket and sporting a rather jaunty, red, alpine-style hat.

He hurried up to the Muirs as they continued their search. "Ho, ho, ho and merry, merry, merry and all that jazz, you lovely Christmas Muirs! I knew you wouldn't let me down. And see, you've found the best tree! You always have great taste, Mrs Muir. I was saving this one just for you!"

"Sorry, Claymore. It's beautiful, but it's far too big," Carolyn replied. "We wouldn't even get it through the front door."

"That's a pity." Claymore's face fell before he brightened. "Well, I have a better one. Step right over here, please, Mrs Muir."

He guided them toward a handsome, lushly branched, beautifully shaped, tree. "Now, isn't this just lovely?"

"Oh, it is," Carolyn replied. "It would be just right."

"It's the best!" Jonathan enthused. "I love it!"

"I know." Claymore smiled as he preened in satisfaction. "I get a lump in my throat every time I look at it. It's like family to me. I'd hate to part with it."

He sniffed. "But you know I must keep fighting to recoup all those losses I suffered rebuilding your kitchen for you, Mrs Muir." His expression was suitably mournful. "Therefore, I am willing to let my baby go to the right person, for the right price. I can't say fairer than that."

"It's so perfect…" Candy breathed.

"Yeah…" Jonathan breathed. "And it would fit in the living room."

"How much is it?" Carolyn asked, suddenly cautious, not liking Claymore's mournful tone and sad eyes.

"Oh, very little," Claymore replied breezily. "A mere snip at thirty-five dollars."

"Oh…" Carolyn responded doubtfully. "That's a little steep. I wanted a tree, not the whole forest."

"Who wants a perfect tree?" Candy demanded to know.

"Thirty-five dollars is highway robbery!" Jonathan declared. "We could buy three trees for that price over at the scout's lot."

"Little kids, what do they know?" Claymore scoffed, looking put out that his festive sales patter wasn't working as he'd hoped.

He frowned at Jonathan who was handling a small branch of the tree. "Don't touch the merchandise!" The boy jumped back guiltily.

Claymore turned back to Carolyn. "This happens to be the finest tree in the lot, Mrs Muir. It is sheer you!"

Carolyn shook her head. "Yes, well, unfortunately, I cannot always afford what is sheer me. You might have remoulded my kitchen, Claymore. But I'm still paying for the food that comes out of it. The bills never stop coming."

"You drive such a hard bargain…" Claymore looked crestfallen. "Very well, I will… I shall make you a special price. Because of our long friendship and the joyous warmth of the holiday season." He warmed to his theme of dispensing Christmas generosity.

"Oh, that's very dear of you, Claymore." Carolyn smiled, still not quite sure she trusted his willingness to try and make a dollar at any cost.

Claymore lowered his voice. "Thirty-four, fifty…"

"No." Carolyn shook her head firmly.

"How about thirty-four and a half?" Claymore's voice rose with anticipation of a sale.

"No…"

"Thirty-three, ninety-five," he tried again.

"No. Fifteen dollars is my absolute limit," Carolyn confessed.

"Fifteen!" Claymore declared in an offended tone. "I can't give these things away! I must make some profit! You do know that money does not grow on trees!"

"Not even because it's almost Christmas?" Jonathan demanded to know. "How about some goodwill?"

"Claymore, could we see a fifteen-dollar tree?" Carolyn asked patiently.

"Well, step over here to the cheapskate department." Claymore sighed as he walked across the lot. "Don't touch those trees, Miss!" he commanded a potential customer.

"Now, here is a real winner." He showed them a very sorry-looking specimen. He held it up. "This tree, Mrs Muir, usually sells for twelve dollars. But to show you my heart's in the right place, I'll let you have it at the Christmas time price of ten."

"Your generosity is overwhelming." Carolyn shook her head. "But it's awful."

"These are the worst trees I ever saw!" Jonathan declared hotly.

"What kind of way is that to talk in front of a Christmas tree?" Claymore scowled at him. "It has feelings, you know."

"How much is this one?" Carolyn asked, finding another tree.

"Oh, that's twenty-nine, ninety-five."

"Another gyp!" Jonathan complained.

"Now, Mrs Muir, you pay for trees by the foot!" Claymore glared at the boy. "You keep picking out trees with a lot of feet. I cannot give my stock away. I would end up in the poor house eating gruel."

Carolyn shrugged. "Well, you keep quoting prices I can't possibly pay."

"Christmas is a money-making proposition, Mrs Muir, just like anything else. Now no one gave me these trees. I had to pay for them to be cut down and dragged here to my lot. Ed Peevey sure knows how to charge."

"Here's a smaller one…" Carolyn pointed, trying to mollify him.

Claymore was quick with a price. "Twenty-two, fifty. For you, twenty."

"Sorry, Claymore, but you're still out of my class…" Carolyn shook her head. "Come on, children. We said we'd look at Claymore's trees and we have. Now it's time to be sensible and go over to the Boy Scout lot. I'm sure we'll find something there to suit us."

Claymore looked wounded. "Oh, is that any way to treat a friend, Mrs Muir? I have been nothing but fair with you. Now you go right ahead. They have marvellous trees," he declared. "If you like bare branches."

"Now, that's not very sporting." Carolyn frowned at him. "They didn't let us down last year. I bought a very nice tree for fifteen dollars, and they delivered it to the house free of charge."

"Well, I don't feel very sporting, Mrs Muir," he shot back. "Those kids are undercutting me left and right! Soon I won't even be able to afford the gruel!"

"Oh, well, I'm sure you'll find some other way to get your pound of flesh," Carolyn sympathised, rubbing his arm.

"Aw, thank you, Mrs Muir." Claymore sighed dramatically. "It's so hard trying to be an honest businessman making a decent living in this cold, cut-throat world. Marcus Cornell's been undercutting my projects in every direction for months now. It's like he's still carrying a huge grudge because I couldn't sell him Gull Cottage."

"Oh, Claymore, you know the house will never be for sale." Carolyn shook her head at him. "You need to forget the whole idea. You will never win."

She smiled as she turned away. "Come on, kids," she called to the children. They walked away toward the lot gate.

Giving it one last try, Claymore held up a sad little tree. "Mrs Muir," he called after them. "Two dollars?"

"No, thanks." Carolyn looked back but kept walking.

"How about a dollar?"

"No…" Carolyn kept going.

"Fifty cents?" Claymore made his last, desperate pitch. But his quarry had gone out of sight.

He dropped the tree. "Everybody wants something for nothing," he grumbled, heading back to his car. "Who do they think I am, Santa Claus? Ho, ho, ho and ho…"

He walked back across the lot. He reached to open the driver's door of his car and froze in confusion. "Who are you?"

On the front seat of his car sat a plump baby wearing a furry baby bunting cap and suit. He dropped a pacifier from his mouth as he looked up at Claymore and laughed.

"Oh, my stars… Oh, heavens…" Claymore began to babble. "Where's your mummy?" He looked around the lot. "Yoo-hoo? Anyone lose a baby? Yoo-hoo? Over here…" He waved a frantic hand.

But there was no response. The lot was now almost deserted as the cold evening began to close in. The threat of a fresh fall of snow hung in the air, making everyone keen to get home to a cosy fire and a warm house.

Claymore turned back, crouching down to be at eye level with the baby. "Listen, Slugger, if you could give me your name, rank and serial number, it would help. I'm fresh out of ideas here."

The baby gurgled. Claymore eyed him speculatively. "What am I going to do with you? We haven't got a Foundling Home, and the blasted town constable, old Ed Peevey, has gone off to do his Christmas shopping in Boston. I can't take you home with me because I don't know how to take care of you. What you need is a –"

He stopped and his worried expression filled with delight. "Yep, that's it! The Boy Scouts' best friend, Mrs Muir! That's the exact thing to do!"

He giggled as he opened the car door and got behind the wheel. He reached into the back seat and fetched over a blanket. He tucked it securely around his small charge to keep him upright and secure.

He turned the key in the ignition. "Hold on tight, baby. Here we go!"

※※※※※