Read Online The Nightingale Before Christmas by Donna Andrews - Free Book Online

if picturing me in one.
    Nothing put me into a holiday mood more certainly than really good carol singing, and I was also looking forward to seeing how well the choir did with Minerva as its new leader. We all knew the choir had become happier since its former much-hated director had departed under a cloud. But would they sing as well?
    I should never have doubted Minerva. Or Kayla.
    â€œThey’ve outdone themselves,” Mother exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard them this good, and that’s saying something.”
    As we were filing out—slowly, because everyone kept stopping in clumps to chatter about how lovely the choir sounded and how beautifully the church was decorated—I ran into Randall.
    â€œSo is Clay in or out?” I asked him.
    â€œDon’t know yet,” he said. “The only time I could get the whole committee together was just after the concert. I’m heading to the meeting now. I’ll call you when I know.”
    After the concert, I took the boys home and put them to bed and then wrapped presents while Michael went to the college theater for a quick tech rehearsal. Tomorrow was the first of two nights that he’d be doing his annual dramatic reading of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol .
    It should have been a peaceful evening. I lit a fire in the fireplace, and the smell of juniper and cedar filled the room. Rose Noire and my brother, Rob, joined me, and we all wrapped presents and wrote cards while listening to Christmas music.
    Rob was trying to be secretive, doing his wrapping behind one of the sofas. But since every single present he brought out to place under the tree was a flat rectangle about five and a half by seven and a half inches, I deduced that we were all getting our own personal copies of whatever new computer game Mutant Wizards, his company, had developed for the holiday season.
    But his attempts at discretion and secrecy, however unsuccessful, made him so happy that Rose Noire and I both stifled our giggles and tried to look properly mystified at each stack of presents he deposited under the tree.
    Rose Noire was humming happily as she wrapped another batch of her expensive gift baskets. The fact that Rob and Rose Noire, two of the least practical and businesslike people on the planet, had achieved financial success by doing what they loved usually cheered me and made me believe there was hope for humanity.
    But tonight I was restless. I couldn’t write a coherent note on a Christmas card. I mangled the paper whenever I tried to wrap a present. I kept thinking that I should have gone over to the house to make sure Randall’s workers had cleaned up all the damage.
    Rob, who was happily singing along with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on the radio, didn’t seem to notice my mood. Rose Noire did, though, and did her best to distract me from it.
    â€œAre you sure you’re okay with me giving ant farms to the boys?” she asked. “Because if you’re not, there’s still time to get the organic crayons.”
    â€œI think we’ll be fine with the ant farms,” I said. “As long as you can provide some kind of natural, environmentally safe ant repellant if they get out.”
    â€œThey’re vegan, wheat-free, sugar-free, preservative free—”
    â€œThe ants?” I asked.
    â€œThe crayons. And yes, I have a plan for when the ants get out.”
    When they get out? I’d have preferred if. But still, worrying about a hypothetical ant invasion distracted me, at least briefly, from my larger worries. When the Mormon Tabernacle Choir began booming out “Joy to the World” we all three joined in.
    A little after eleven, I finally got the long-awaited call from Randall.
    â€œShow house committee just broke up.” He sounded exhausted.
    â€œThis late? Well, is Clay in or out?”
    â€œIn, dammit. Not because we really want him, and he can kiss next year’s house