Free Jolly Dead St. Nicholas by Carol A. Guy

dinner tonight.”
    Behind him, he heard Susan mumble something like, “I need to get away from here.”
    Carl followed Jerry inside. “Why don’t you and Susan come out to lunch with us tomorrow after church? We’re going to the Dovetail Inn; it’s Ethel’s favorite restaurant.”
    Jerry felt his stomach clench with anxiety. Carl meant well, but didn’t he realize it was useless. “We’ll skip the lunch, but I would like to meet with you tomorrow afternoon, privately. Mind if I come to your place about two-thirty?” He wanted to out the good reverend, brand him for the home wrecker he was. Plus he needed Carl’s input on another matter, one that was going to need their attention next week by the look of things.
    “Sure. We’ll have dessert while we talk. Ethel’s baked several of her cherry pies. I made sure she saved one back.”
    Ethel’s cherry pie, what could be more comforting?
    “I’ll be there. Who can turn down Ethel’s baking?” Jerry said as he accompanied Carl into the social hall.
     
     
    * * * *
     
    Adelaide’s box lunch had consisted of a ham sandwich, a small package of chips and an apple. She’d eaten quickly; now she was suffering from a slight case of indigestion.
    She checked her watch. It was almost two o’clock. The bake sale was over and the men were coming in to set up more tables for tonight’s dinner. She saw Carl and Jerry enter via the back door. They seemed engrossed in a serious conversation so she didn’t want to intrude. Ethel approached, handing Adelaide the till from the bake sale, which she needed to take up to the safe at once. As luck would have it, she saw Reverend Underwood coming out of the kitchen.
    “Could you open the safe for me so I can put this money inside?” she asked him.
    “I was just on my way upstairs to my study. Let me take it for you,” he offered.
    She noticed the strange look he gave Jerry Hatfield.
    Can’t say I’m surprised. I’ll bet the last person he wants to run into is Susan’s husband.
    She watched as Reverend Underwood approached the door. Carl and Jerry were now headed toward the back corner of the social hall where the extra tables were stored on large, movable racks. She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. An awkward confrontation had been avoided.
    “Penny for your thoughts.”
    Adelaide smiled as she turned to find Vernon Dexter standing there. “Who’s minding the store?”
    “No one. I just closed for the day—sent everyone home, including the people sitting at the soda fountain. Told them to take their business elsewhere.”
    It was typical patter for them. Of course the pharmacy was not closed. On Saturday afternoons Vernon had a retired pharmacist named Marvin Bernard from Marietta come in to fill prescriptions. It gave Marvin some extra money while at the same time allowing Vernon a little break on the weekends. He’d go back at six to close up shop, after which he would put the deposit in the bank’s night depository.
    “You missed lunch, but I saved you one. I think it’s a turkey sandwich, chips and an orange,” Adelaide told him.
    She led him into the kitchen where the aroma of cooking chicken plus fresh apple pie filled the air. She got his box lunch from the refrigerator. They re-entered the social hall, taking a seat at one of the tables. Around them, men were converging to help set up additional tables.
    As in years past, there would be eight double rows, split down the middle by an aisle. All totaled that would be 128 people who had reserved seats for this evening’s dinner. At twelve dollars a pop, eight for children under twelve, the church usually realized a good profit.
    Once Vernon was finished eating he began helping with the tables while Adelaide decided to check on the classrooms, where she hoped they were selling out of merchandise.
    As she was leaving the social hall a small boy tugged on her blazer. “When is Santa coming?” he asked in a plaintive voice.
    She looked down