The base and lights that also were not plugged in.
"Great," I groaned. "It's not just a kleptomaniac tree. It's ahauntedkleptomaniac tree."
I folded my arms across my chest and looked at it. "Listen, tree. You may think you're scary, but I had a fortune-telling booth in here that did the same thing. Been there, done that. So cut it out."
The tree's lights flashed more erratically, but the spinning slowed down.
"There aren't going to be batteries in this tree, are there?" Jack's voice was resigned. "It's just some wacky magic at work."
"The tree steals presents, Jack. Do you really think a lack of batteries is going to stop it?"
"Let's deal with it later," he said. "I need to get some work done in the office."
He kissed my forehead and headed through the connecting door to his office, probably to make calls to one of his many contacts around the world who specialized in deviant artificial trees. No sooner than his door had closed than mine opened, and a man in a suit walked into my shop.
Expensive suit and shoes? Check.
Expression like he'd walked into the town dump instead of a sparklingly clean shop? Check.
Pasty white ferret-looking face and a bad comb-over? Check.
"Hello, Mr. Craven," I said cheerfully, years of training in Southern manners not allowing me to just yell at him to get out of my shop.
He flashed the brightest, most insincere smile I'd ever seen and held out his hand.
"Yes, I'm Delvaney Craven. Pleased to meet you, Miss Callahan. I—"
I shook my head, stopping him. "I don't shake hands."
His expression didn't change. So, he'd already known about me. Interesting. Either he thought I was a fake, or he wanted to know how he was going to die. I'd met many people like that, right after the very unwanted publicity surrounding my discovery of my "gift."
Weirdos.
"Right," he said, pursing his lips. "I'd like to talk to you about your property here. It's a nice-enough place."
He said "nice-enough place" in the same tone of voice I'd use to sayhemorrhoidsortoenail fungus.
It was my turn to narrow my eyes. "Yes. It is. And it's all mine."
"The bank—"
"The bank has nothing to do with my shop, Mr. Craven. We paid off the mortgage decades ago. And I'm not interested in selling."
He gave me an oily smile. "We can make it worth your while, Miss Callahan. You could build another shop. A bigger shop. With better inventory. Or, better yet, live a life of leisure on UltraShopMart's dime."
"I don't want another shop," I said firmly. "Or a life of leisure. I'm not selling. Please leave."
His expression turned nasty. "We'll just see what your town council says. Maybe you could look upeminent domainwhen you're having a slow hour at your little shop."
That did it. Now I was angry.
"Eminent domain is the right of a government or its agent to expropriate private property for public use, with payment of compensation," I said in a bored voice. "Maybeyoucould look up the charter for Black Cypress County when you're having a slow hour in your little quest for world domination. Dead End doesn't steal our residents' property out from beneath them."
He showed his teeth. It wasn't a smile. "People like you always say that, and people like me always win, Miss Callahan."
"I don't think you've met any people like me before, Mr. Craven," I drawled. Then I walked toward him withmyhand held out. "Shall we shake hands, after all?"
He backed away so fast his butt bumped into the door. "Stay away from me. I know about you. And we'll just see what Mr. Shepherd has to say. I bet an ex-soldier could use some money, and—"
