Read Online Christmas at the Hummingbird House by Donna Ball - Free Book Online

know we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but you have truly risen to the occasion this time.”
    “Only one of many,” Derrick pointed out quickly.
    “Agreed,” Paul admitted.  “And even though you are leaving us in somewhat of a lurch …”
    “Although I’m sure the two massage therapists you’ve arranged will be fabulous,” Derrick put in, only a little anxiously.  “They’re arriving Wednesday, right?”
    Paul went on, “I can’t think of a better time than this moment to present you with this tiny holiday token of our good regards.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small flat box wrapped in silver foil and elegantly tied with a fuchsia ribbon. “Merry Christmas, Harmony.”
    “They’re earrings,” Derrick blurted excitedly.  “Hand-hammered by a Navajo princess from silver artisanally mined in Arizona and infused with the spirit of the wolf.”  And at Paul’s small eye-roll, he added defensively, “That’s what it said on the card.”
    “Oh, boys.”  Harmony’s overly made-up face lit up with the gentle light of a church luminary as she took the box from Paul.  “I don’t know what to say.”
    “Feel free to add feathers and beads,” said Paul, who made no secret of his dismay over Harmony’s taste in jewelry.  But he smiled when he said it, and Harmony threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard, then did the same to Derrick.
    “You two are just so … surprising!” she declared as she stepped away, beaming.  Her rather bulbous nose was red and she wiped a tiny speck of moisture from her eyes.  Derrick surreptitiously did the same.
    “Of course,” she added cheerfully, “I don’t participate in the pagan ritual of holiday gift exchange, which has really become a hopeless pawn of corporate America, but as it happens I’ve arranged a little surprise for you boys, too.  Oh!  There’s my car.  Help me with these bags, will you, darlings?”
      They loaded her small mountain of luggage into the Town Car, and in a flurry of blown kisses and leopard fur, Harmony was gone.  Paul and Derrick stood on the steps, looking bemused and more than a little uneasy.  “A surprise from Harmony,” murmured Paul.  “Why do I think that can’t be a good thing?”
    “Oh, it could be quite good,” Derrick assured him. “It could be a thirty-foot yacht or a resort hotel in Sri Lanka.  But,” he admitted, “it probably isn’t.”
    “Right,” agreed Paul.
    Gazing once again over the pile of Christmas greenery in their driveway, the two heaved a collective sigh.  “How much,” inquired Derrick dolefully, “do you suspect it weighs?”
    “In total?”  Paul’s expression was speculative.  “Well over a ton, I would guess.”
    Derrick spread out his fingers.  “These hands,” he said, “were never meant for manual labor.”
    Paul shot him an indignant look.  “Like mine were?”
    “And I haven’t wanted to mention it, but my back has been bothering me lately.”
    “Oh, please.”
    Derrick gathered his resolve. “Of course, I really should have clearance from my cardiologist before undertaking any strenuous physical activity.”
    Paul glared at him.  “Seriously?  You’re playing the heart card?”
    “It would appear,” replied Derrick evenly, “that’s the only card I have left.”
    For a moment they were at a standoff, and then Paul decided grumpily, “Well, they sat outside all night, I don’t suppose it will hurt them to stay in the yard a little while longer.  Besides, we have to assemble the stands first.  We’ll make an action plan after lunch.”
    “Assembling stands,” declared Derrick happily, “now that sounds like a task worthy of my talents. Fashioning lace roses, making bows for the garland, designing table decor … those are the kinds of things I’m suited for.  The importance of doing the work you’re meant to do simply cannot be overstated.”
    “Now all we have to do is find someone who was meant to do manual