Free Christmas at the Hummingbird House by Donna Ball Page B

“Come in, we’ll show you around and talk about what we had in mind.  Have you had lunch?  No?  Purline, set another plate.”
    Purline glared at him, and Paul could not help returning a smirk as he edged past her on his way to join Derrick and Mick for the tour.  “What do you know about that, Purline?” he said.  “You were right.  The Lord does help those who help themselves.” 
    He quickened his step and called ahead, “If you’re ready to start right after lunch, the first thing we could use your help with is situating a few Christmas trees.”
     
     
     
    “All in all,” declared Paul as he poured them each a glass of after-dinner sherry that evening, “a most satisfying day.  I’ll admit, I was a bit uncertain when it started out, but in the end … voila.”  He gestured with one of the glasses to the Christmas tree, complete with lights, silver and blue ribbons, and hundreds of sparkling glass hummingbirds, that graced the parlor.  Since Derrick was not actually in the room as he spoke, he put the other glass on the small table beside the fireplace and stepped back to once again admire the Christmas tree.
    Of course, that was the only tree in the house that was completely decorated.  But all of the stands had been assembled and filled with the proper sized tree, the garland had been draped around the windows and doors, and all of the wreaths had been hung.  While placing the hooks for the outdoor lighting, Mick had discovered a sagging gutter, which he promised to replace the following day.  Work would then begin on the light display for the garden, and Mick had every confidence that the delicate hummingbird light sculpture, whose wings were designed to flutter every time it dipped its head to drink from the fountain, would be fully operational by Sunday.  Paul found himself hoping for a dark and gloomy Sunday so that the brunch guests could enjoy the show.
    Derrick came into the room, the telephone handset in his hand, a puzzled look on his face.  “The most peculiar thing,” he said.
    Paul, still gazing at the tree proudly, replied, “Magnificent, isn’t it?  Exactly what I pictured when we bought the place.”
    “I just got off the phone with Harmony,” Derrick said, and Paul looked at him.  “I wanted to thank her for sending Mick, and I managed to catch her on her layover in London.  She didn’t know what I was talking about.  She didn’t send him.”
    Paul was silent, letting the news sink in.  “I don’t know which is more alarming,” he said in a moment.  “The possibility that Purline was right about Mick, or the thought that there is still a surprise from Harmony somewhere in our future.”
    Derrick nodded glum agreement. Then he cheered marginally.  “Maybe he won’t come back.”
    Paul said, “Maybe.”  But he did not look happy about it.
    When the fading daylight put an end to the workday, Mick had roared off on his motorcycle with a promise to return bright and early the next morning.  Paul had wanted to pay him cash for the day’s work, but he insisted he wouldn’t accept payment until the job was finished, which seemed to Paul the mark of an honest man. Surely the mark of a criminal would have been to take the money and then run.  Wouldn’t it?
    Then Derrick brightened.  “It was probably the girls. They heard he was looking for work and sent him over.”
    Paul suggested, “We could call and ask.”
    Derrick hesitated.  “He really can do anything, you know.  Do you remember that outlet that was malfunctioning on the back porch?  He rewired it there on the spot.”
    “He’s a steady worker, and fast.  He got every one of those trees set up and the garland hung without taking a break.”
    “And he said he’d trim back that poplar branch that’s been obscuring our view all summer,” Derrick said.  “You know how hard we’ve tried to get someone out to do that.”
    Paul lifted and eyebrow.  “Did he?” He took a sip of his