Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

THIRTY-THREE

From “Ask Natasha” :

Dear Natasha,

Everyone on my street decorates their houses for Christmas beautifully, except for one little old lady who does nothing. She’s a bit ornery and slammed her door in my face last year when I brought her a fruitcake. How can we convince her to put a wreath on her door and some lights in her windows?”

—Christmas-Crazy in Christiansburg

Dear Christmas-Crazy,

Plan a decorating block party. Ask the city if you can block your street to traffic for one day. Set up a table outside with hot cider in a crockpot and serve homemade doughnuts. Perfume the air by roasting chestnuts. When the whole block gets together to decorate your street, she won’t be able to turn away the wreath you make especially for her or the lights that neighbors string on her home. She’ll be thrilled to be part of the holiday festivities.

—Natasha

“Sophie! It’s the worst . . . the worst possible nightmare!”

I tightened the sash on my bathrobe and ran outside to see what was upsetting Nina. Wrapped in her silk bathrobe, she stood on Francie’s lawn. Francie, dressed in an enormous down bathrobe that doubled her girth, held the leash of a golden retriever. They faced the end of the block. A large truck bearing the arched logo of Alexandria Fine Antiques blocked the road in front of the Wesleys’ house. The front door stood open and men carried furniture up the stairs. Natasha supervised the process.

“I can’t believe it. With all the houses in this town, she had to move into that one,” said Nina.

“She better not start trying to tell us what to do,” growled Francie. “I’m not putting one of her tacky wreaths on my door. And I’m not planting topiary in urns, either.”

I grinned at Francie. “Is that Duke?”

“Yeah, I adopted him. What with all the Peeping Toms and murders, a single woman needs a dog.”

“Francie,” I teased, “you were the Peeping Tom.”

She looked annoyed. “Not all the time.”

“Sophie!” Mom called to me from the sidewalk. Dad wedged around her and carried suitcases to their car.

I trotted over to her.

“We’re ready to go, sweetie. But I have wonderful news. Hannah and Craig had such fun that they’ve decided to be married here. We’ll check out places for the wedding when we come back for Christmas in a few weeks.”

“I thought we were going to your house for Christmas.”

“That’s all changed now. Oh, and June has promised to stay with us, too. It’ll be a big reunion.”

Oh, swell.

I walked Mom to the car and hugged my parents and Hannah. As much as I loved them, it would be good to get back to normal, even for a few weeks. I skipped the hug for Craig, though, stepped back, and waved to them.

As they drove away, Mom stuck her head and arm out of the window and shouted to me, “And I want to see the invitations and menu this time. Natasha’s serving goose!”