The Wolves of Midwinter (The Wolf Gift Chronicles 2)

The pure and soaring voices of the choir were singing “Coventry Carol,” and there were moments when Reuben gave in to a sudden lock on the music, shamefully tuning out the introductions that he could hardly hear, but warmly shaking hands and urging the guests to be welcome.

Again and again, Felix drew his attention to this or that guest, “Judge Fleming, let me present Reuben Golding, our host,” and Reuben would gladly respond. The state senator he’d met in the village soon arrived, and other people from Sacramento. More clergymen arrived, and two rabbis, both with black beards and black yarmulkes. Frank obviously knew the rabbis, greeting them both by name, and he eagerly led them into the thick of the party.

The excitement was infectious, Reuben had to admit, and now when the orchestra began to play with the choir, he felt that this was perhaps one of the more exhilarating experiences he’d ever had.

People were in all manner of dress, from cocktail attire and black tie to business suits and even jeans and down jackets, kids in Sunday best, little girls in long dresses. Phil didn’t look at all out of place in his tweed jacket and open shirt collar. And there were plenty of women in hats, fantasy hats and vintage hats, and those little cocktail hats with veils that Jim had described.

The sheriff came along in a blue suit with his fashionably dressed wife and his good-looking college-age sons, and there were other deputies from his office, some in uniform and some in civilian dress with wives and children.

Suddenly the word came that dinner was being served in the dining room, and there was a shift in the crowd, as many sought to go into the house, while a long line came streaming out with plates laden with food to find tables.

At last Grace came, with Celeste and Mort, their faces radiant and curious and warm as though the party had already affected them as they’d waited to enter. Grace, in one of her typically handsome white cashmere sweater dresses, wore her red hair loose and down to her shoulders in a delightfully girlish manner.

“Good Lord,” she said. “This is just fabulous.” She was waving at a couple of doctors she knew, and rattling off their names. “And the archbishop is here, how incredible!”

Celeste looked breathtakingly pretty in black sequined silk. She seemed actually happy as she and Mort made their way into the crowd.

Indeed the splendor of the pavilion swept people right through the entrance and into the swim of things.

Immediately, Rosie, the family housekeeper arrived, looking very pretty and girlish in a bright red dress with her full dark hair combed free. Husband Isaac and their four girls were with her. Reuben hugged Rosie. There were few people in the world he loved as much as Rosie. He was dying to show her the entire house, but watched her disappear into the party with Grace and Celeste.

Reuben’s Hillsborough cousins flooded in suddenly with squeals and hugs and breathless questions about the house. “Did you really see this Man Wolf thing!” Cousin Shelby whispered into Reuben’s ear, but when he stiffened she immediately apologized. “Just had to ask!” she confessed.

Reuben said he didn’t mind. And he didn’t. He’d always loved Shelby. She was his uncle Tim’s oldest daughter, and a redhead like Tim and Grace, and used to babysit Reuben when he was a kid. Reuben loved Shelby’s eleven-year-old son, redheaded Clifford, born out of wedlock when Shelby was still in high school. Clifford, a handsome and solemn little boy, was beaming now at Reuben, clearly impressed with the scope of the party. Reuben had always admired Shelby for bringing up Clifford, though she’d never identified the boy’s father to anyone. Grandfather Spangler had been furious about it at the time, and Grace’s brother, Tim, a recent widower, had been brokenhearted. Shelby had become a model mother to Clifford. And of course they’d all come to adore him, especially Grandfather Spangler. Grace doubled back at once to take Shelby and Clifford and the other cousins in hand. And then when Phil’s gray-haired sister, Josie, arrived, in her wheelchair with a very sweet elderly nurse to take care of her, Phil came to collect her and bring her up to where she might better hear the choir.

Finally Felix said they had been greeting people for an hour and a half now, and they could break to have supper themselves.

People were now moving back and forth through the entrance freely. And some people, especially those who had worked at the daylong fair, were even headed home.

Reuben wanted more than anything in the world to wander off in the oaks and see what that was like for the guests, but he was also starving.

Thibault and Frank took over at the door.

Several exceptionally beautiful women were coming in, clearly friends of Frank’s. Hmmm. Friends of Thibault’s as well. Dressed in impressive and revealing gowns and full-length evening coats, they had the sheen of film actresses, or models, but Reuben had no real idea who they were. Maybe one of these beauties was Frank’s wife.

All over the library, the main room, and the conservatory people were eating, many with the aid of little folding tray tables covered with white Battenberg place mats, and the young catering staff refilled wine, and cleared away old glasses and coffee cups. The fires were blazing in every fireplace.

Of course there were furtive whispers of “the Man Wolf,” and “the window” as here and there people pointed to the library window through which the notorious Man Wolf had jumped the night he’d appeared at this house and slaughtered two mysterious and unsavory Russian doctors. But few were asking about the Man Wolf out loud, and Reuben was grateful for that.

Reuben could hear the thunder of feet on the old oak staircase, and the low rumble of those walking overhead.

He grabbed a plate full of turkey, ham, and roast goose, raisin dressing, and mashed potatoes, and moved to the dining room windows to look out on the wonderland forest.

It was just as he had imagined it would be, with families following the pathways, and a band of musicians playing just below him on the gravel drive.

The medieval mummers were making a snaking dance through the crowd. How remarkable they were, their green costumes covered in ivy and leaves; one wore a horse’s head, another a skull mask, and yet another the mask of a demon. One man wore an actual wolf skin cloak, with the wolf’s head on top of his head. Another wore the skin and head of a bear. Two played fiddles and one was piping on a flute, and the “demon” was playing a concertina. The others played tambourines and little drums attached to their waists. The last in line was giving out what appeared to be large gold coins—perhaps some sort of party favor.