Free On Strike for Christmas by Sheila Roberts Page A

theme going here. I hope you’ve got several ways to spin this, because that chorus could get real old after a while.”
    â€œWell, Kay’s funny. And Sharon’s pretty out there. I think I can do something with her. You know what her husband calls her?”
    â€œNuts?”
    â€œYulezilla.”
    â€œOh, sorry I missed meeting her. What is she, Martha Stewart on steroids?”
    â€œHow did you guess?”
    â€œI’m just a genius,” Rick said, and shot a grin at Rosemary. “What about the other one? What makes her special?”
    â€œHer husband’s a cheapo.”
    Rick shook his head. “Let me guess. He doesn’t spend enough on her at Christmas.”
    â€œHe doesn’t spend on anybody, from the sound of it,” Rosemary said. “She gets stuck buying everything. She even gets the presents for her stepkids.”
    â€œSo, she’s a mean, ugly stepmother who doesn’t want to buy anything for her husband’s kids for Christmas. Is that it?”
    Rick was being deliberately irritating. “Never mind,” Rosemary said in disgust, and turned the car toward their last destination, the home of Laura and Glen Fredericks.
    It was after five now, and the Christmas lights on the houses they passed twinkled in the winter darkness like fat jewels.
    â€œLooks like the guys have already been out and done their part,” Rick observed.
    â€œOne afternoon with the ladder,” Rosemary mused. “It doesn’t seem like much.”
    â€œYeah? You try getting out there and freezing your butt off for a day and then we’ll see what you have to say.”
    â€œWhoa,” Rosemary teased. “Does seeing the Christmas lights bring back bad childhood memories?”
    â€œLet’s just say if I ever want lights outside at my place I’m paying someone else to put them up. Are we there yet?” he added.
    Rosemary shook her head at him. “I’ll bet you were fun on road trips.”
    â€œStill am.”
    She checked the address on her tablet. “I think it’s one more block.”
    â€œI can hardly wait to hear what this one has to say,” Rick muttered.
    Five minutes later they walked into the Frederickses’ living room. The room could have been in a magazine with its carefully grouped new furniture and the vase with the Christmas floral arrangement on the sofa table. There was only one drawback: The entire floor was a holiday explosion of boxes of ornaments, tissue, tinsel, and tree lights.
    â€œMy husband and the kids went to get a tree,” Laura Fredericks explained. “He took off work early hoping he’d be able to get it up before you got here.”
    â€œSo, your husband is doing everything?” Rosemary asked.
    Laura Fredericks nodded.
    If this mess was any indication of how her husband operated, Laura Fredericks was in trouble. Rosemary wisely kept the thought to herself. Instead, she asked, “And how does he feel about that?”
    Laura smiled like she was remembering a really good joke. “He thinks he’s got it all under control. Doing Christmas is a piece of cake.”
    Rosemary wrote fast. “Really.” This should prove interesting.
    â€œWe have small children,” Laura continued, “and I work. It’s just too much for me to do everything myself, especially since my husband likes to entertain a lot. He doesn’t know how much work goes into making the holidays happen.” The woman’s smile became positively devilish as she added, “But he will.”
    â€œSo, what all will he be doing?” Rosemary asked.
    Laura began ticking off chores on her fingers. “Putting up the tree and decorating, baking, doing the Christmas cards, cooking Christmas dinner.”
    Next to Rosemary, Rick’s mouth fell open.
    â€œShopping, wrapping presents,” Laura continued. “Oh, and he needs to make the costumes for the kids’ holiday