Duck the Halls: A Meg Langslow Mystery (Meg Langslow Mysteries) by Donna Andrews
Authors: Donna Andrews
Ads: Link
sanctuary, I spotted Michael and the boys, sitting in one of the front row pews, with Robyn and her husband sitting on one side of them and Mother, Dad, Grandfather, Caroline, Rose Noire, and Rob on the other. Robyn caught sight of me and waved, and I hurried to take the seat they were saving for me.
If I’d been picking the seats, I wouldn’t have picked the front pew. Because of limited space, the first two rows of choir members were standing in front of the communion rail, almost stepping on our feet, so we had to crane our heads up to see them and couldn’t get a glimpse of the rest of the choir. I was afraid we’d get blasted when they opened their mouths and began to sing, and the fact that Jerome Lightfoot had set up his music stand not six feet away, in the center aisle, didn’t exactly make me any happier. But the boys were very excited at being so close to the choir, and it was all we could do to keep them from reaching out and grabbing the red velvet and gold lame of their special Christmas robes.
And we couldn’t keep the boys from standing on the pews when a hush fell over the church and Lightfoot nodded to the organist, who had been playing soft background music. The organist struck up the first few chords of “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and the choir all lifted their hymnals purposefully.
Suddenly something shifted in the evergreens over the choir’s heads, and a bright green snake’s head popped out of the foliage, followed by three or four writhing feet of body.
Chapter 13
Scattered screams erupted from both the choir and the audience, and I was terrified that a stampede would take place. Cleopatra, by contrast, seemed remarkably calm.
Fortunately, Grandfather saved the day by scrambling up onto the seat of our pew, and then beginning to bellow out orders and exclamations.
“Cleopatra! Well done! You’ve found her! Quiet, everyone! She’s easily startled. Get a ladder, someone! Let’s get her down before she falls!”
A few people still fled out into the halls, but nearly everyone sat quietly and watched with interest as several sturdy basses and baritones lifted up other, lighter choir members onto their shoulders. Following Grandfather’s bellowed instructions, they carefully untangled Cleopatra from the greenery, carried her down, and placed her across Grandfather’s shoulders. The choir and congregation burst into applause as Grandfather, still wearing his scaly boa, shook the hands of Cleopatra’s rescuers. He and Caroline drafted Horace to help them drive Cleopatra back to the zoo and strode out. Once Cleopatra was gone, everyone—even the people who had briefly fled the sanctuary—seemed in an unusually good humor, and Lightfoot had a little trouble getting them all to settle down so the concert could resume.
In fact, Lightfoot was the only person who seemed at all upset over the incident. He was in a completely foul humor. And kept glaring over at me. Did he suspect me of having arranged Cleopatra’s appearance, to upstage his concert? Or was he just staring at the sling Dad insisted I still wear? People tended to notice it, and a lot of them came over to commiserate with me, shooting him frowning glances as they did, but I wouldn’t have taken him for someone who cared what others thought.
Then again, maybe he was afraid I’d sue. That seemed more in character. I made a point of beaming graciously at him the next time I caught him glancing my way, which seemed to disconcert him more than all the whispering and finger-pointing.
The audience finally settled down, and Lightfoot raised his baton and the concert resumed.
“O Come, All Ye Faithful!” was followed by “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” and then “Ding Dong Merrily on High,” “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” “Glory, Glory, Glory to the Newborn King,” “When Was Jesus Born?” “O, Holy Night,” and “Children, Go Where I Send Thee.”
Josh was clearly enjoying the concert immensely—he was
If I’d been picking the seats, I wouldn’t have picked the front pew. Because of limited space, the first two rows of choir members were standing in front of the communion rail, almost stepping on our feet, so we had to crane our heads up to see them and couldn’t get a glimpse of the rest of the choir. I was afraid we’d get blasted when they opened their mouths and began to sing, and the fact that Jerome Lightfoot had set up his music stand not six feet away, in the center aisle, didn’t exactly make me any happier. But the boys were very excited at being so close to the choir, and it was all we could do to keep them from reaching out and grabbing the red velvet and gold lame of their special Christmas robes.
And we couldn’t keep the boys from standing on the pews when a hush fell over the church and Lightfoot nodded to the organist, who had been playing soft background music. The organist struck up the first few chords of “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and the choir all lifted their hymnals purposefully.
Suddenly something shifted in the evergreens over the choir’s heads, and a bright green snake’s head popped out of the foliage, followed by three or four writhing feet of body.
Chapter 13
Scattered screams erupted from both the choir and the audience, and I was terrified that a stampede would take place. Cleopatra, by contrast, seemed remarkably calm.
Fortunately, Grandfather saved the day by scrambling up onto the seat of our pew, and then beginning to bellow out orders and exclamations.
“Cleopatra! Well done! You’ve found her! Quiet, everyone! She’s easily startled. Get a ladder, someone! Let’s get her down before she falls!”
A few people still fled out into the halls, but nearly everyone sat quietly and watched with interest as several sturdy basses and baritones lifted up other, lighter choir members onto their shoulders. Following Grandfather’s bellowed instructions, they carefully untangled Cleopatra from the greenery, carried her down, and placed her across Grandfather’s shoulders. The choir and congregation burst into applause as Grandfather, still wearing his scaly boa, shook the hands of Cleopatra’s rescuers. He and Caroline drafted Horace to help them drive Cleopatra back to the zoo and strode out. Once Cleopatra was gone, everyone—even the people who had briefly fled the sanctuary—seemed in an unusually good humor, and Lightfoot had a little trouble getting them all to settle down so the concert could resume.
In fact, Lightfoot was the only person who seemed at all upset over the incident. He was in a completely foul humor. And kept glaring over at me. Did he suspect me of having arranged Cleopatra’s appearance, to upstage his concert? Or was he just staring at the sling Dad insisted I still wear? People tended to notice it, and a lot of them came over to commiserate with me, shooting him frowning glances as they did, but I wouldn’t have taken him for someone who cared what others thought.
Then again, maybe he was afraid I’d sue. That seemed more in character. I made a point of beaming graciously at him the next time I caught him glancing my way, which seemed to disconcert him more than all the whispering and finger-pointing.
The audience finally settled down, and Lightfoot raised his baton and the concert resumed.
“O Come, All Ye Faithful!” was followed by “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” and then “Ding Dong Merrily on High,” “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” “Glory, Glory, Glory to the Newborn King,” “When Was Jesus Born?” “O, Holy Night,” and “Children, Go Where I Send Thee.”
Josh was clearly enjoying the concert immensely—he was
Similar Books
