Jake laughed grimly. “If that’s the case, God help us all.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“We can’t leave them out there.”

“You’re right,” Greg said. “But I have to tell you the idea is somewhat appealing. If they are stuck with each other for a while, they just might settle this mess.”

“They could murder each other, too.” Jake knew his wife far too well. When it came to Mary Sutton, she could be downright unreasonable. “I say we go after them—together.”

Jake had no objection to that. Greg owned a large four-wheel drive truck that handled better on the ice than most vehicles. “You want to pick me up?”

“I’m on my way,” Greg said.

Sarah reached for another Christmas cookie. “What did you call these again?” she asked, studying the package. Unfortunately, the letters wouldn’t quite come into focus.

“Pfeffernusse.”

“Try to say that three times when you’re too drunk to stand up.”

Mary giggled and helped herself to one of the glazed ginger cookies. “They’re German. One family on the list had a German-sounding name and I thought they might be familiar with these cookies.”

Sarah was touched. Tears filled her eyes. “You’re so thoughtful.”

“Not really,” Mary said with a sob. “I…I was trying to outdo you.” She was weeping in earnest now. “How could I have been so silly?”

“I did the same thing.” Sarah wrapped her arm around Mary’s shoulders. “I was the one who got us thrown out of Value-X.”

Mary sniffled and dried her eyes. “I’m never going to let anything come between us again.”

“I won’t, either,” Sarah vowed. “I think this has been the best Christmas of my life.”

“Christmas!” Mary jerked upright. “Oh, Sarah, we’ve got to get these baskets to the Salvation Army!”

“But how? We can’t carry all this stuff.”

“True, but we can’t just sit here, either.” She looked into the distance, in the direction of the Women’s Century Club. “We’re going to have to walk, after all.”

Her friend was right. They had to take matters into their own hands and work together. “We can do it.”

“We can. We’ll walk to the club and send someone to get the baskets. Then we’ll call Triple A. See? We have a plan. A good plan. There isn’t anything we can’t do if we stick together.”

Sarah felt the tears sting her eyes again. “Is there any Scotch left?”

“No,” Mary said, sounding sad. “We’re going to have to make it on our own.”

Clambering out of the car, Sarah was astonished by how icy the road had become in the hour or so they’d dawdled over their comforting Scotch. Luckily, she was wearing her boots, whereas Mary wore loafers.