Just minutes after Nora left, the phone rang, Luther grabbed it. Maybe it was Blair again. He'd tell her the truth. He'd give her a piece of his mind about how thoughtless this last-minute surprise was, how selfish. She'd get her feelings hurt, but she'd get over it. With a wedding on the way, she'd need them more than ever.
"Hello," he snapped.
"Luther, it's Mitch Underwood," came a booming voice, the sound of which made Luther want to stick his head in the oven.
"Hi, Mitch."
"Merry Christmas to you. Hey, look, thanks for the invite and all, but we just can't squeeze you guys in. Lots of invitations, you know."
Oh yes, the Underwoods were on everyone's A list. Folks clamored for Mitch's insufferable tirades on property taxes and city zoning. "Gee, I'm real sorry, Mitch," Luther said. "Maybe next year."
"Sure, give us a call."
"Merry Christmas, Mitch."
The gathering of twelve was now down to eight, with more defections on the way. Before Luther could take a step, the phone was ringing again. "Mr. Krank, it's me, Dox," came a struggling voice.
"Hello, Dox."
"Sorry about your cruise and all."
"You've already said that."
"Yes, look, something's come up. This guy I'm seeing was gonna surprise me with dinner at Tanner Hall. Champagne, caviar, the works. He made a reservation a month ago. I really can't say no to him."
"Of course you can't, Dox."
"He's hiring a limo, everything. He's a real sweetheart."
"Sure he is, Dox."
"We just can't make it to your place, but I'd love to see Blair."
Blair'd been gone a month. Dox hadn't seen her in two years. "I'll tell her."
"Sorry, Mr. Krank."
"No problem."
Down to six. Three Kranks plus Enrique, and the Reverend and Mrs. Zabriskie. He almost called Nora to break the bad news, but why bother? Poor thing was out there beating her brains out. Why make her cry? Why give her another reason to bark at him for his grand idea gone bad?
Luther was closer to the cognac than he wanted to admit.

Spike Frohmeyer reported all he'd seen and heard. With forty bucks in his pocket and a fading vow of silence floating around out there, he was at first hesitant to talk. But then no one kept quiet on Hemlock. After a couple of prodding volleys from his father, Vic, he unloaded everything.
He reported how he'd been paid to help take the tree from the Trogdons'; how he'd helped Mr. Krank set it up in his living room, then practically thrown on ornaments and lights; how Mr. Krank had kept sneaking to the telephone and calling people; how he'd heard just enough to know that the Kranks were planning a last-minute party for Christmas Eve, but nobody wanted to come. He couldn't determine the reason for the party, or why it was being put together so hastily, primarily because Mr. Krank used the phone in the kitchen and kept his voice low. Mrs. Krank was running errands and calling every ten minutes.
Things were very tense down at the Kranks, according to Spike.
Vic called Ned Becker, who'd been alerted by Walt Scheel, and soon the three of them were on a conference call, with Walt and Ned maintaining visual contact with the Krank home.
"She just left again, in a hurry," reported Walt. "I've never seen Nora speed away so fast."
"Where's Luther?" asked Frohmeyer.
"Still inside," answered Walt. "Looks like they've finished with the tree. Gotta say, I liked it better at the Trogdons'."
"Something's going on," said Ned Becker.

Nora had a case of wine in her shopping cart, six bottles of red and six bottles of white, though she wasn't sure why she was buying so much. Who, exactly, was going to drink it all? Perhaps she would. She'd picked out the expensive stuff too. She wanted Luther to............