"Better than mine," she whispered back.
"I thought you said he'd never been to the U.S."
"He was educated in London."
"Oh." And Enrique went up another notch. Handsome, educated abroad, a doctor. "Where did you meet him?"
"In Lima, during orientation."
A cheer went up as Enrique opened a tall box and removed a lava lamp, one passed along by the Bellingtons.
When the gifts were done, Luther announced, "Dinner," and the crowd moved to the kitchen, where the table was covered with the Hemlock donations, though the food had been arranged and rearranged until it looked original and festive. Even Nora's smoked trout had been dressed up by Jessica Brixley, perhaps the best chef on the street.
The carolers were frozen and tired of the snow, though it wasn't heavy. They heard the news about dinner, and moved inside, along with Mrs. Linda Galdy's handbell ensemble.
The man with the orange-and-gray beard Nora'd met by the peanut butter at Kroger appeared from nowhere and seemed to know everyone, though no one seemed to know him. Nora welcomed him and watched him carefully, and finally heard him introduce himself as Marty somebody. Marty loved a gathering and quickly warmed to the occasion. He cornered Enrique over cake and ice cream, and the two immediately launched into an extended conversation, in Spanish no less.
"Who is that?" Luther whispered as he limped by.
"Marty," Nora whispered back, as if she'd known him for years.
When everyone had eaten, they drifted back to the living room, where a fire was roaring. The children sang two carols, then Marty stepped forward with a guitar. Enrique stepped forward too and explained that he and his new friend would like to sing a couple of traditional Peruvian Christmas songs.
Marty attacked the guitar with a vengeance, and the duet began in a nice harmony. The words were unknown to the audience, but the message was clear. Christmas was a time of joy and peace around the world.
"He sings too," Nora whispered to Blair, who just radiated.
Between songs, Marty explained that he'd once worked in Peru, and that singing the songs made him miss the place. Enrique took the guitar, strummed a few chords, then softly began another carol.
Luther leaned on the mantel, alternating one foot at a time, smiling gamely, though he wanted to lie down and sleep forever. He looked at the faces of his neighbors, all of whom were entranced with the music. They were all there, except for the Trogdons.
And except for Walt and Bev Scheel.
Chapter Twenty
After yet another foreign carol, and during a boisterous round of applause for the Enrique and Marty duet, Luther slipped unnoticed from the kitchen and eased through the darkness of his garage. Dressed in snow attire-overcoat, wool cap, muffler, boots, gloves-he shuffled along, aided by the plastic cane he'd vowed not to use, trying not to wince with each step, though both ankles were swollen and raw.
The cane was in his right hand, a large envelope in his left. The snow was still light, but the ground was covered.
At the sidewalk, he turned and gazed upon the gathering in his living room. A packed house. A tree that improved with the distance. Above them a borrowed Frosty.
Hemlock was quiet. The fire truck and ambulance and police cars were gone, thankfully. Luther looked east and west and saw not a single person moving about. Most of them were in his house, singing along now, rescuing him from an episode that would undoubtedly be remembered as one of his more curious.
The Scheel house was well lit on the outside, but almost completely dark within. Luther crept up their driveway, his boots rubbing his wounds, the cane making the entire venture possible. On their porch he rang the doorbell and looked again at his house directly across the street. Ralph Brixley and Judd Bellington came around the corner, hurriedly stringing lights on Luther's boxwoods.
He closed his eyes for a second, shook his head, looked at his feet.
Walt Scheel answered the door with a pleasant "Well, Merry Christmas, Luther."
"And Merry Christmas to you," Luther said with a genuine smile.
"You're missing your party."
"Just have a second, Walt. Could I step in?"
"Of course."
Luther limped into the foyer, where he parked himself on a matt. His boots had accumulated snow and he didn't want to leave tracks.
"Can I take your coat?" Walt asked. Something was baking in the kitchen, and Luther took that as a good sign.
"No, thanks. How's Bev?"
"She's having a good day, thanks. We started to come over and see Blair, but the snow started. So how's the fiance?"
"A very nice young man," Luther said.
Bev Scheel entered from the dining room and said hello and Merry Christmas. She was wearing a red holiday sweater and looked the same, as far as Luther could tell. Rumor was that her doctor had given her six months.
"A pretty nasty fall," Walt said with a smile.
"Could've been worse," Luther said, grinning, trying to enjoy himself as the butt of the joke. We won't dwell on that subject, he declared to himself.
He cleared his throat and said, "Look, Blair's here for ten days, so we won't be taking the cruise. Nora and I would like for you guys to have it." He lifted the envelope slightly, sort of waved it at them.
Their reaction was delayed as glances were exchanged, thoughts were attempted. They were stunned, and for quite a spell couldn't speak. So Luther plowed ahead. "The flight leaves at noon tomorrow. You'll need to get there early to get the names changed and such, a slight hassle, but it'll be worth it. I've already called my travel agency this afternoon. Ten days in the Caribbean, beaches, islands, the works. It'll be a dream vacation."
Walt shook his head no, but just slightly. Bev's eyes were moist. Neither could speak until Walt managed to say, with little conviction, "We can't take it, Luther. It's not right."
"Don't be silly. I didn't purchase the travel insurance, so if you don't go then the entire package is wasted."
Bev looked at Walt, who was already looking at her, and when their eyes locked Luther caught it. It was crazy, but why not?
"I'm not sure my doctor will allow it," she said feebly.
"I've got that Lexxon deal on the front burner," Walt mumbled to himself as he scratched his head.
"And we promised the Shorts we'd be there New Year's Eve," Bev added, sort of musing.
"Benny said he might drop in." Benny was their oldest son, who hadn't been home in years.
"And what about the cat?" Bev asked.
Luther let them shuffle and strain, and when they ran out of their flimsy excuses he said, "It's a gift from us to you, a sincere, heart-felt, no-strings-attached Christmas offering to two people who are, at this very moment, having a difficult time finding an excuse. Just go for it, okay?"
"I'm not sure I have the right clothes," Bev said predictably.
To which Walt replied, "Don't be ridiculous."
With their resistance crumbling, Luther moved in for the kill. He shoved the envelope at Walt. "It's all here-airline tickets, cruise passes, brochures, everything, including the phone number of the travel agency."
"What's the cost, Luther? If we go, then well reimburse you."
"It's a simple gift, Walt. No cost, no payback. Don't make it complicated."
Walt understood, but his pride got in his way. "We'll just have to discuss it when we get back."
There, they were already gone and back. "We can talk about everything then."