Dial M for Mother-in-Law
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About this ebook
More than fireworks are exploding at North Pole Beach when Nico's mother, Jingle Belle Kringle, comes to visit, spoiling all their Christmas in July festivities.
Mrs. North knows her eccentric mother-in-law can be a handful, but even she cannot foresee the calamities that will befall them due to Jingle's meddling.
It's up to Mrs. No
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Dial M for Mother-in-Law - Kimberly Kurth Gray
Copyright © 2023 Kimberly Kurth Gray
All Rights Reserved
Year of the Book
135 Glen Avenue
Glen Rock, PA 17327
ISBN: 978-1-64649-350-0 (print)
ISBN: 978-1-64649-351-7 (ebook)
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 1
It was the week before the fourth of July, Rehoboth Beach’s busiest season. Mrs. North and I took advantage of a few more days of peace. Our end of the beach was never as crowded as it was nearer the hotels, but eventually people would spread out until there was scarcely any sand to see.
Mrs. North lay on a recliner, her face covered by a white veil, and her body tucked under a towel. We mustn’t let the sun age us, darling,
she said to me every morning.
I sat on my blanket, sun lotion lathered on my already pink-tinged skin and reading over a few letters that had been sent into the paper for Mrs. North’s advice column.
Listen to this one,
I said, then began to read from the note in my hand.
Dear Mrs. North,
My husband’s family has not warmed up to me. We’ve been married for nearly three years and still they treat me as a guest, like I’m temporary. What can I do to get them to accept me as family? Please help.
Desperate in Dover
Mrs. North sighed. Oh, darling. There’s nothing she can do. I’d say it’s her husband’s fault. I suppose we can’t write that, though.
She pulled up her veil slightly to take a drag off her candy cane cigarette. Let’s write that family relationships take time to build, be patient. Advise her to be kind, helpful, and respectful, but not overly accommodating. She doesn’t want to end up a doormat.
I took notes as Mrs. North went over each letter. There were thirty-six in all this time. The numbers seemed to be growing. Her column now ran twice a week instead of once, just to keep up with the demand. The paper allowed her to respond to three questions in each issue. At this rate, Ask Mrs. North
was going to become a daily feature.
Nico paddled out on his board. Occasionally he’d give us a wave.
A few women walked down the beach calling, Good morning,
to us as they passed. It was hard to find a town friendlier than Rehoboth Beach.
After working a few hours, I helped Mrs. North carry our gear back to the house. She liked to have lunch served at noon. It was always the main meal of the day. I was preparing a Capri Salad and gazpacho, a cold soup I’d come to love. Before this job I hadn’t been all that handy in the kitchen, but with Holly and Ivy—our house elves—on an extended leave to the North Pole, preparing the meals had become part of my daily jobs.
Nico came in just as I placed lunch on the table. I was afraid I’d missed it,
he said looking approvingly at the meal. Let me get out of this.
He pulled at his dripping wetsuit that left little to the imagination but a lot of water on the floor. Nico, with his buff body and man-bun, was nothing like the Santa I had read about in my childhood. Want to help me?
he asked Mrs. North with a wink.
Really, Nico,
she said, her cheeks pinked, but she gave him a sly smile.
There are certain things you don’t want to think about regarding Santa and Mrs. Claus, and s-e-x is definitely the major one. I busied myself arranging the napkins, pretending not to hear their banter.
A few minutes later we were all settled at the table enjoying our meals.
Pass the pepper, Mother,
said Nico.
I am not your mother,
Mrs. North answered sternly.
Nico just smiled. He enjoyed riling her up.
I have our holiday planned,
I announced as the couple dug into their salads.
While everyone else celebrated Independence Day, here at North Pole Beach we were having our first ever Christmas in July. As hard as Nico and Mrs. North worked to see that the world had a wonderful Christmas season, it wasn’t much of a holiday for them. When they returned at daybreak on Christmas morning, a huge breakfast was served before the exhausted couple went to sleep, a sort of hibernation that lasted until Valentine’s Day. I’d been frightened at first, holding a mirror to their noses just to be sure they were still breathing. I was relieved when they woke up as if they’d only slept for one night. Being the guardians of Christmas was hard work.
"On Friday evening we will have drinks on the patio before watching It’s a Wonderful Life in the screening room, I began.
Saturday brunch will be followed by decorating the tree. I hope you don’t mind, but our palm tree in the living room will have to make do. Then on Sunday after breakfast we’ll see what Santa left in our stockings."
Mrs. North rolled her eyes.
After dinner, presents will be exchanged. I’ll serve drinks on the patio and we’ll be just in time to watch the fireworks display. That will be a spectacular way to cap off our Christmas holiday.
Good job, Natalie,
Nico said. And thanks for planning all of this.
Yes, darling,
agreed Mrs. North. I’m actually excited about our little Christmas. I can’t imagine why we haven’t thought of it before now.
It made me happy to please them. I wasn’t accustomed to getting things right. After leaving my job as a