One Hundred Humbugs (Aspen Cove #25)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ruby wiped sweat from her brow as she hauled another box down from the attic. She’d been at it for hours, sorting through Uncle Peter’s belongings in a desperate search for anything valuable. The events of yesterday—Houdini’s escape, the destruction of the town’s Christmas decorations, and her impulsive promise to make everything right—weighed heavily on her mind.

“Way to go, Ruby,” she muttered, setting the box down with a thud. “Promise to replace everything when you can’t even afford to feed yourself. Brilliant plan.”

Pausing to catch her breath, Ruby shuffled to the window. The world outside was blanketed in white, the season transforming Aspen Cove into a winter wonderland. In the yard, she could see Becket already up and about, tending to his goats. Even from a distance, she could tell he was giving Houdini a stern talking-to.

The sight almost made her laugh. Despite the chaos that he had caused, there was something oddly endearing about that troublemaking goat. And as for Becket ... Ruby pushed that thought aside. She had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Alright, Uncle Peter,” she said, turning to survey the cluttered room. “Time to see if you left me anything worth selling.”

Over the next few hours, Ruby dove headfirst into sorting through her uncle’s things. She started in the attic, working her way down, uncovering years of accumulated ... well, junk. There was no other way to put it. Uncle Peter had been a collector of the strange, the useless, and the outright bizarre.

In one dusty corner of the attic, she found a collection of souvenir spoons from places he’d never been. “Really, Uncle Peter?” Ruby muttered, holding up a spoon engraved with ‘I North Korea.’ “I’m pretty sure you never set foot in Pyongyang.”

Moving to the bedroom, she discovered a box filled with pairs of mismatched socks, each meticulously labeled with a significant year. “1969 - Moon Landing,” read one tag. Another declared, “1980 - Who Shot J.R.?” Ruby grinned, realizing her uncle had found an unusual way to chronicle history—one pair of socks at a time. Each mismatched pair represented a moment in time, like a quirky timeline stitched together in fabric, as though he marked the passing of history not with dates on a calendar but with the most unexpected keepsakes.

The living room yielded a bookshelf full of self-help books with increasingly ridiculous titles. “ How to Win Friends and Influence Yetis ,” Ruby read aloud, shaking her head. “ The Secret Life of Sasquatch: Unveiling the Mystery .” She snorted. “Well, at least now I know where you got all your crazy ideas from.”

As she worked, Ruby found her irritation giving way to amusement, and even a touch of fondness. Each item, no matter how useless, told a story about her uncle—his interests, his sense of humor, his unique way of looking at the world.

In the den, she stumbled upon what might have been Uncle Peter’s pièce de résistance: a collection of snow globes, each containing a different gnome scene. Ruby picked one up, giving it a shake. Inside, tiny gnomes rode even tinier bicycles through a swirl of glittery snow.

“Gnomes on Bikes,” read the label on the base. Next to it stood “Gnome Tea Party,” “Gnomes Go Fishing,” and—Ruby’s personal favorite—”Gnome Sweet Gnome,” featuring a gnome family gathered around a miniature television.

“Oh, Uncle Peter,” Ruby said fondly, placing the snow globes on a shelf. “You were one of a kind, weren’t you?”

Just then, a commotion outside caught her attention. Ruby moved to the window just in time to see Houdini making another bid for freedom, with Becket in hot pursuit.

“Oh no, not again,” Ruby groaned, though her words carried more delight than annoyance. She watched as Becket caught up to the troublemaker, scooping him up with both exasperation and affection.

Ruby was tempted to go outside and help, but the task at hand was too important. With a sigh, she turned back to her search.

The kitchen yielded its own treasures—or rather, its own unique brand of useless items. The drawers were stuffed with takeout menus from restaurants that had long since closed. “Pete’s Palindrome Pizza - We deliver forwards and backwards!” one proclaimed. Another advertised, “The Upside-Down Cafe - Where the floor is the ceiling, and the prices are upside down too!”

“Did you ever cook a meal in your life, Uncle Peter?” Ruby muttered, adding the menus to the growing pile of junk.

In a cupboard above the stove, she found a collection of novelty mugs. “I Believe in Bigfoot (He Believes in You Too),” read one. Another declared, “Aliens Abducted My Diet Plan.” Ruby imagined her uncle sipping his morning coffee from these ridiculous cups.

As the day wore on, Ruby’s search became increasingly desperate. She’d been through most of the house and had yet to find anything of real value. The pile of quirky, useless items had grown, but her hopes of finding something to sell had dwindled.

Just as she was about to give up, Ruby noticed a corner of something poking out from under a pile of old newspapers. Curious, she tugged at it, revealing a large, ornate trunk. It was locked, but the key hung from a piece of twine tied to the handle.

Ruby’s heart raced as she turned the key. This was it—this had to be where Uncle Peter kept his valuables. She lifted the lid, already envisioning the treasures within.

What she found instead was a trunk full of old takeout menus and a scrapbook labeled “UFO Sightings (Probably).”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Ruby groaned, flipping through the scrapbook. Page after page was filled with blurry photos of what were just lens flares and oddly shaped clouds. Uncle Peter’s excited notes filled the margins: “Possible alien craft over Johnson’s cow pasture?” and “Martian scout ship or unusually reflective weather balloon?”

At the back of the scrapbook, Ruby found an envelope. Her heart leapt, hoping it might contain forgotten cash or bonds. Instead, she pulled out a series of crayon drawings— childish scribbles of UFOs and stick-figure aliens. With a jolt, Ruby recognized her own handiwork from when she was little.

“You kept these?” she asked, her fingers tracing the faded drawings. Her breath hitched as she realized how much these silly pictures must have meant to her uncle.

Ruby slumped against the trunk, feeling both defeat and unexpected emotion. She’d spent the entire day searching and had nothing to show for it except a newfound appreciation for her uncle’s eccentricities—and a reminder of the connection they’d shared, however brief.

From outside, Becket’s laughter rang out, followed by a chorus of bleats. Ruby shook her head, her frustration fading as she made her way to the window, watching as Becket led his little herd back to their pen.

As she observed him, Ruby was struck by how at home he looked here. In just a few short days, Becket and his goats had become as much a part of the landscape as the mountains in the distance. And if she was being honest with herself, she was starting to feel the same way.

The thought both thrilled and terrified her. This wasn’t the plan. She was supposed to come here, sell the house, and get back to her real life in Chicago. But with each passing day, the idea of returning to her tiny apartment and endless freelance gigs seemed less and less appealing.

“What am I doing?” Ruby muttered, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She thought about the townsfolk—how they’d welcomed her with open arms, how they’d laughed off Houdini’s antics instead of getting angry. She thought about Becket, with his laid-back nature and that wild idea of goat landscaping.

And she thought about Uncle Peter. His presence lingered in every corner of the house—in the quirky collections, the bizarre books, the years of accumulated memories. For the first time, Ruby felt truly connected to the uncle she had never fully known.

With a deep breath, Ruby straightened up. She might not have found anything valuable to sell, but that didn’t mean she was giving up. She’d made a promise to the town, and she was going to keep it—one way or another.

“Alright, Aspen Cove,” she said, a determined glint in her eye. “Let’s see what we can do about those decorations.”

As the sun began to set, painting the snow-covered landscape in shades of pink and gold, Ruby settled at the kitchen table with a notepad and pen. It was time to get creative. She might not have money, but she had two hands, a whole house full of weird and wonderful junk, and a town full of people who seemed willing to give her a chance.

A knock at the door interrupted her brainstorming. She opened it to find Becket, his cheeks red from the cold, a hesitant look on his face.

“Hey,” he said, stamping the snow from his boots. “Just wanted to check in. How’d the treasure hunt go?”

Ruby sighed, stepping back to let him in. “Well, if I ever need a souvenir spoon from a country I’ve never visited, I’m all set. Otherwise...” She shrugged, leading him into the kitchen.

Becket’s eyes widened as he took in the piles of odds and ends scattered around the room. “Wow. Your uncle sure liked to collect things, huh?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Ruby picked up one of the gnome snow globes, giving it a shake. “Want to see the pride of his collection?”

As she showed Becket the various gnome scenes, explaining each one with increasing amusement, the tension of the day began to ease for Ruby. Soon, they were both laughing, coming up with ridiculous backstories for each one.

“You know,” Becket said, setting down “Gnomes Go Fishing,” “these are kind of cute. In a weird way.”

Ruby nodded, surprised to find herself agreeing. “Yeah, they are. I think I’m going to keep them. A little piece of Uncle Peter’s particular brand of crazy.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the kitchen growing dim as the last of the daylight faded. Ruby was acutely aware of Becket’s presence, of the way he seemed to fill the space, bringing a sense of comfort that had nothing to do with the heating.

“So,” he said, nodding towards her notepad. “What’s the plan?”

Ruby took a deep breath. “I’m not sure yet. But I’m going to figure it out. I made a promise to this town, and I intend to keep it.”

Becket’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I don’t doubt it for a second. And hey, if you need any help—or if you decide those gnomes would make good Christmas decorations—just let me know.”

As he turned to leave, Ruby called out, “Becket?”

He paused at the door, looking back at her.

“Thanks,” she said. “For everything.”

His face brightened. “Anytime, Ruby. Anytime.”

After he left, Ruby turned back to her notepad, feeling re-energized. Tomorrow, she decided, she’d start making calls. Maybe Katie from the bakery would have some ideas. Or Doc Parker—he seemed to know everyone and everything in town.

For the first time since Houdini’s escapade, Ruby sensed that things might start to turn around. As she jotted down ideas, she realized that somewhere along the way, making things right with the town had become about more than just fulfilling a hasty promise. It had become about finding her place in Aspen Cove.

She paused, letting that thought sink in. She’d come here with every intention of leaving, but something was changing. As she glanced at the gnome snow globes, now arranged proudly on the kitchen windowsill, Ruby wondered if she was already halfway there. Was it possible for her to have a future here?

As night fell, Ruby stayed at the kitchen table, surrounded by the remnants of Uncle Peter’s life. She picked up a UFO photo, smiling at the enthusiastic scribbles in the margins. It struck her how much life he had lived in this house—how many dreams he’d chased, how many adventures he’d imagined. And now, somehow, she was a part of it too.

And here she was, ready to sell it all off without a second thought.

The realization made her pause. Was she truly so eager to erase all traces of Uncle Peter from her life? To turn her back on this town that had welcomed her with open arms?

Ruby glanced out the window, where she could just make out the shape of Becket’s tent in the moonlight. She thought about how fast he’d come to her aid, how he’d faced down the town’s judgment without hesitation. How he’d made her laugh even in the midst of crisis.

With a sigh, Ruby closed her notebook. She had a lot to think about, and not just about Christmas decorations. As she got ready for bed, she found herself humming a tune—something she hadn’t done in months.