Hark! The Herald Angel Screamed: An Augusta Goodnight Mystery (with Heavenly Recipes) by Mignon F. Ballard

lamps and firelight flickered on the hearth. Zee would be stationed in the upstairs hall, I learned, and Idonia in a second-floor bedroom, and every time I heard footsteps cross the porch, I braced myself for Genevieve’s outburst when she saw Zee’s revealing gown. I could hardly wait!
    It served me right, I suppose, to be disappointed. The rose taffeta had faded over the years and Zee had even sewn a lace insert at her throat. Still, she managed to look trim and youthful with an antique brooch at her neck and her hair piled high on her head. Zee had chosen a dark auburn as her hair color for the season and it really was becoming.
    “Zee, you look beautiful! Scarlett would be jealous,” I said, ushering her into the hallway. “But where’s the hoopskirt?”
    She laughed. “I let Melanie borrow my hoop for a party one time and never saw it again.” Melanie was Zee’s daughter by her first husband—or maybe it was her second. “Anyway,” she added, “can you imagine trying to
drive
in one?” She twirled, showing off dainty slippers. “Consignment shop—aren’t they adorable? Of course, my feet are freezing! And how about this fancy brooch Ifound at a flea market? They have the most fascinating things in there.”
    Genevieve came along to hurry Zee upstairs before I could answer, and soon afterward a great swirl of frigid air ushered in Idonia stamping her feet and hugging her new suede coat about her.
    “Good heavens, it’s cold out there! And Zee just ran off and left me as soon as she parked the car. Had to hike all the way from across the road by myself in the dark, and I’d give my right arm for something hot to drink.” Idonia pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into her pocket as she glanced upstairs. “I hope there’s going to be some heat up there.”
    I told her Genevieve had put space heaters in some of the upstairs rooms and that Zee was probably in a hurry because she said her feet were cold.
    “Well, of course they’re cold since she insisted on wearing that sorry excuse for shoes.” Idonia slowly unbuttoned her coat and passed it over to a waiting docent. She wore a prim gray silk with tucks down the front and a lace collar. The infamous gold locket was her only adornment.
    “They’re serving cranberry punch in the dining room,” I told her, “but I don’t think it’s hot.”
    “What’s Melrose doing with himself tonight? Is he planning to drop by?” I called after her as she made her way upstairs.
    She gave me a backward wave of her hand. “He was going to, but his cousin needed him to help out at the funeral home, so I guess he won’t be coming.”
    Fulton McIntyre, of course. Our minister announced in church that morning that Fulton had died, which was no surprise since the man was ninety-three and ailing.
So that’s why Idonia’s so crabby
, I thought. I knew something must have gotten her dander up. If Idonia was upset over playing second fiddle to a dead man, what would she think if she knew what we suspected about her locket?
    I didn’t have time to think about it, however, as guests began to arrive and I stayed busy guiding them from one room to another. From the parlor came the strains of “What Child Is This?” and “Away in a Manger” played sweetly on the dulcimer and for a second I thought I saw Augusta sitting in a corner by the fireplace listening. A closer look proved me right: it
was
Augusta and her expression was so blissful and serene it made me forget for a moment just how bossy she can be. I had mentioned to her earlier that the Dulcimer Man was scheduled to play, so I wasn’t surprised to see her there. Augusta had attended one of Andy’s concerts with me earlier in the year and I knew she was fond of his music. When I glanced in there a few minutes later she was gone.
    “Augusta was in here a little while ago,” Ellis whispered when I dropped by the kitchen during a break later that evening. “Didn’t stay long … guess she came to hear