Christmas Cove, page 4
America followed him to the kitchen, where he flipped on more lights. “Ever since what?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You said the cell signal is spotty since . . . what? Something good must have happened for the story to end on that note. I’m an editor, remember?”
“It wasn’t something good, it was something bad,” Leo said and shifted subjects. “The fridge is stocked with some essentials, and the pantry, too.”
“Thanks,” America said and opened the fridge door. He had supplied everything she might need, from bread to eggs, a variety of wine, milk, and produce. A guilty pang hit her stomach that she was planning to depart the next day, and he had gone to such lengths ensuring she would have a pleasant stay at the cabin. She closed the door. “What was so bad?”
“It’s in the past. Really. And there’s nothing we, the city I mean, can do about it,” he said with a sharp point. “The reality is that cell service is hit or miss, and there’s a phone, albeit an antique one, that you can use. So, have at it.”
America was sure there was more, way more, to his tale. No matter how long she played twenty-questions with the man, he didn’t sound like he was in the mood to give up anything else.
While she had inspected the fridge contents, he had made his way to the door. “What time should I expect you out tomorrow?”
“Whenever the driver gets back, I suppose. Midday? Is that agreeable?” she asked.
With a nod, Leo opened the door, and a rush of cool, fresh air filled the space. “If you need anything, my number is on the fridge. Don’t hesitate to ring me.”
She wanted to say something. Anything. A thank you. An apology. Any variation of a salutation would have worked fine, but she was dumbstruck by his kind consideration of her predicament. She simply stood in her indecision to act and watched him pull the door nearly closed.
Through the crack, he said, “All righty then. Have a pleasant evening,” and pulled the door tight.
CHAPTER 8
Leo beat the side of his balled-up fist on Edwin’s front door, and a light flickered to life beside the window. He kicked the ground and scuffed his foot along the coir doormat, where one would knock snow from their boots. But alas, there was no snow, just disappointment of a different kind in the air.
“What is going on out here?” Edwin said as he cracked open the door. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in.”
Leo headed straight for the kitchen. “You got a new brew?”
“On tap.” Edwin said.
Leo didn’t even care about the flavor, though he enjoyed taste-testing Edwin’s craft beers whenever he created a new batch. On the wall above the butcher-block bar hung mugs and steins that Edwin had collected from his travels around the world. Leo took his favorite off the hook and tilted it under the tap. Pulling the lever, the amber liquid bubbled out and filled the stein. Like a professional bar-jack, he released the tap without overflowing the rim.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Edwin said and took an etched gray mug down from the hook on the wall.
Not ready to answer, Leo sipped the chilled beer and savored the taste and crispness of apples and pumpkin. The fresh flavor surprised him, not because it hit the autumn nail on the head, but because Edwin’s flavors usually leaned towards the practical and away from the enjoyable. This one was anything but standard. The man’s improvements had not gone unnoticed.
“This is really good,” Leo said and placed the drink on the counter.
“I tried something different.”
“I can tell,” Leo said and nodded his approval.
Edwin pulled Leo’s mug across the counter and held it hostage. “You can have it back when you tell me what you’re doing here.”
“You know, I can just fill up another mug,” Leo pointed at the rack of hooks filled with a dozen or more steins. Edwin’s unamused face told him to get to it. “I met the woman—”
“Is she pretty?” Edwin interrupted.
“Does that matter?” Leo said and reached for his mug, but Edwin pulled it just out of Leo’s reach.
“It might,” Edwin teased.
“Fine. She was pretty, but I didn’t really notice because she was too busy criticizing the lack of holiday décor. And not just at the cabin. Apparently, our town isn’t festive enough for her liking.”
“Our town, and the cabin for that matter, has absolutely no festive anything. Are you surprised? I told you we should have decorated the cabin earlier.” Edwin pushed the mug back down the counter to Leo, satisfied with the answer Leo had offered.
“I know, and it pains me to admit that you may have been right” Leo had a long drink. “She said she’s checking out tomorrow.”
The booking was the first one he’d received in a while, and even though she mentioned paying him for the whole booking, he wouldn’t take the money. No matter how much he needed it, it felt a little like stealing. He would just hope for another booking in the new year. And perhaps he had stumbled upon a clientele he had previously been unaware of. Even during the summer months, writers would want somewhere quiet to come and work. Somewhere with breathtaking, albeit dry, scenery.
Leo snapped his fingers. “You know how we’re always looking at ways to revitalize the area. What do you think about hosting retreats? Health and wellness folks could come in the spring or fall. Writers and such could come in the winter. Fitness types could come in summer. It could work.”
“What made you think of that?” Edwin said and pulled up a stool to the counter for himself and one for Leo.
“She’s a writer. And it got me thinking that other people may want to come stay here for some peace and quiet.”
Edwin laughed. “Okay. But you said she’s leaving. Not really a ringing endorsement.”
“It was a thought. I just wish I had more answers,” Leo said. “This place means so much to me, you know? I wanted to become mayor so I could make a difference here, but there’s not much I can do when we can barely afford basic city functions.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You only won by ten votes.”
“I was the only person on the ballot.” Leo downed the remainder of his beer and licked his lips, wanting another. “Carol got three votes, and she wasn’t even running.”
“Even if your idea could work, there’s no money in the town budget, or the resources to support an influx of people here,” Edwin said and refilled Leo’s stein.
“Thanks for this.” Leo raised his mug to Edwin. “Cheers.” The mugs crashed together, and beer spilled on the wood counter. “You know what would help? I need the woman to stay and write her article. It would be free advertising.”
“And what happens when word gets out? Where will the people stay? Your cabin is the only respectable structure in town that can support guests. And how many can you fit in there? Six?”
“Five, actually.”
Leo didn’t mind Edwin’s direct and somewhat wise line of thinking. And the truth of it was, no matter what Leo did, there would always be challenges. He needed to do something, or the town was doomed.
“You know what my father taught me when I would face something hard? He would say, ‘Take the first right step and let tomorrow’s problems worry about themselves’,” Leo said, and let a sip of beer cool his mind. “Getting her to stay is the first problem, and one I’m guessing won’t be easy. But what if I get her to stay and write about the Cove? Some publicity might help this town get back on track.”
Edwin downed the rest of his drink and walked around to the sink. While washing his mug, he stayed quiet. Leo could tell by the way the old man’s eyes shifted back and forth that he was weighing things in his head. Edwin’s vast life experience was something that Leo had come to lean upon often since moving to Christmas Cove, and he didn’t take their special relationship lightly.
As counselor and friend, Edwin had stood beside Leo every step of the way as he navigated his role in the beleaguered town. He wasn’t likely to mislead him now. So, he waited patiently for the man’s thoughts. Luckily, Leo needn’t wait long.
“What would make her stay?”
Leo already knew. “Christmas. She seemed put off by the fact that there wasn’t any here. And who could blame her? All the stuff online shows this place like it used to be. A Christmas wonderland.”
“This is Christmas Cove. I told you we should have put some decorations in the cabin, but you didn’t listen,” Edwin said and took Leo’s mug to wash it. “Give her what she wants, but make her think it’s her idea or it won’t be genuine.”
“Isn’t that a little sneaky?”
“Think of yourself as a Secret Santa, giving her exactly the thing that she wants for Christmas. And who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy having something to do.”
“You always know how to walk that fine line between friend and enabler,” Leo said. “I have an idea. A peace offering, if you will.”
“You mean, bait?” Edwin laughed. “How can I help? Anything you need, I’m your man.”
CHAPTER 9
America heard a knock at the door and sat up in bed, removing her white satin sleeping mask. She scrambled for her watch and looked at the time. The day had well arrived, and the knocks continued.
“Drat!” she said. “I’m coming.”
She pulled on her robe and flopped the messed covers up over the mattress, reminding herself to make it properly later.
“It’s me, Leo,” the voice sounded from the other side of the door, with a knuckle tap on the sidelight window.
Lucky for her, she had pulled the sheer drapes before settling into the most comfortable bed she ever had the chance to sleep in. It was no wonder she had fallen so fast and deep into a restful slumber.
The brass knob was cold to the touch, and she hesitated before unlocking the bolt. What does he want, she thought? Perhaps he was ready for her to get out of there.
She opened the door.
“Morning,” he said with a bright smile.
“I’m sure you’re ready to turn this place over,” America said and rubbed sleep from her eyes. “I overslept.”
“I see that,” he said. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“I was about to call my office and make my travel arrangements, but it’ll take at least five hours for a driver to get up here,” America said. “That’s if they can even book a driver for me today.”
“About that,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I have something that may change your mind.”
Curious what he could be up to, she opened the door a bit wider. His smirk and a playful glint in his eye had her cheeks burning. “What could you possibly—”
Leo stepped aside and revealed a narrow pine tree about six feet tall. “Ta-da,” he said. “It bothered me that you were so disappointed last night, and I thought perhaps this would help it feel more like Christmas here for you.”
The gesture amazed her. “No one has ever gotten me a Christmas tree before. I don’t know what to say.”
He motioned to bring it inside, and she allowed him to pass before overthinking the situation. Leo brought it to a corner in the living area near the stone fireplace and fluffed the branches. “This should rest for a while before we decorate it.”
“We?” she said and shut the door to the cool morning air.
“Why not? I assume you didn’t pack all your own decorations on the off chance you would have a bare tree in need of decking?” Leo didn’t see her shake her head, and he continued, “Now, can you get dressed in something warm? I have somewhere I’d like to show you.”
“I don’t understand. You know I’m leaving today, right?” she said.
“We’ll see,” he said. “Eggs?”
America stopped at the bedroom door and thought she had misheard him.
“Over medium? Toast?” he added.
“With butter,” she said and entered her room. It seemed someone else was planning her day for once, and she was too curious about this man to put a stop to it. But her controlling, organized brain was going to have a meltdown later, she was sure.
Out in the kitchen, a pan thundered against the iron stove top, and porcelain dishes clinked against the stone counter. While he busied himself with eggs, America rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out a pair of jeans and a white tank. In the bathroom, she threw on the clothes and pulled her hair up into a loose bun. Stray curls framed her face and helped to hide the indentations left behind by the trim of her sleeping mask where it had pressed against her cheek.
During college, when her late-night study sessions had made for unbearable mornings, she had perfected the five-minute-face. There was nothing a little bronzer and mascara couldn’t do. Adding some crimson lip stain, she was ready for the day. She nodded at her reflection in the mirror. “Not bad.”
Through the wall, she heard a muffled ding of the toaster. America reached for her socks and boots and held them in one hand. She searched the bedside table for her phone and lamented that, due to the mysterious something bad that Leo had alluded to the previous evening, it would do her no good while in Christmas Cove.
She opened the door and remembered her sweater. Stumbling back in, she grabbed the white cable-knit turtleneck and headed out again. She stood poised at the doorjamb. Leo stared at her from the kitchen. His smirk turned to a chuckle as he saw her recover from her near fall, and she followed suit with a little giggle of her own.
“Everything all right?” he said with a remnant of his amusement still in his throat.
“Yep!” she said and made her way to a barstool at the counter.
“It sounded like wrangling cats in there.”
“More like squirrels,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, what do you know about wrangling cats?” Her boots hit the counter, and she pulled on her socks as Leo buttered her toast and plated it. The eggs slid from the pan and landed on top of the toast. He placed a cut strawberry on the side of the plate and slid the whole thing across the marble to her. Her mouth watered.
“This looks delicious,” she said. “Aren’t you going to eat, too?”
“I ate hours ago,” Leo said. “Plus, I’m trying to get us out of here quicker. So, I figured me making you breakfast while you got dressed would help move things along.”
“Are we in a hurry?”
“Kind of. I want to beat the fog.”
America had a mouthful and nodded as she chewed. Leo busied himself with cleaning the breakfast mess as she finished eating. He shot a smile at her between tasks, and she averted her gaze to the crumb littered plate.
“Thank you, even if your motivations are on the selfish side,” America joked once she finished her last bite. “Wherever did you learn to make eggs and toast the right way?”
“Years of trial and error.”
“Really? Self-taught, I can appreciate that in a man. You made them just the way I like it. Breakfast was absolutely delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Leo clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Now, what else can I do?”
“You aren’t kidding about this fog, are you?”
“Time’s ticking,” Leo said and tapped a finger on his bare wrist where a watch would sit if he wore one.
“I just need to make that phone call really quick.”
“I don’t need to turn this place over right away and you can make your call once we get back from this little errand.”
“If you’re sure.”
He nodded, and something in his strong and calm body language made America want to know just what he was on about.
She tied her boot laces and pulled the sweater over her head, careful to not get her lip stain on the white knit. She stood and spun around, looking for where she had put her coat, and stopped when she got back to Leo. Standing by the door, he held her coat out to her.
“You look . . . good,” Leo said. “I hope that’s okay for me to say?”
Heat hit her cheeks, and she tucked a tendril behind one ear. “Thank you . . . for getting my coat. I always know where everything is when I’m at home, but here . . .”
“Organized much?” he said and helped her into the red puffer.
“I like things predictable,” she said. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just you,” he said and opened the door.
“You’re not going to murder me or something? Are you?”
“Ouch!” he said and held his arm out for her to take. “Do you trust me?”
America had a dozen chances and a dozen reasons to turn him down, but like a tide being drawn into shore, she took his arm. “I do,” she said.
CHAPTER 10
America gripped the over-window handle so tight that her knuckles turned white. Leo’s truck bumped along a gravel track. No amount of cuteness could make up for the truck’s fifty-year-old shocks.
“Relax. We’re nearly there,” Leo said and patted her knee with his right hand.
“Hands on the wheel,” she said, and just in time.
The truck lost traction for a moment and they skidded sideways on the slick ground. Leo braked and pulled the truck to the side. Outside the window, America saw only bare trees and brown bushes. Their vibrant fall colors had long since fallen off. The sun, low in the sky, shone through the sticks and cast web-like shadows across the ground around them.
Leo got out of the truck, walked around and opened the door. He took her hand and helped her out. The ground was not only wet, but squishy from years of plant buildup mixing with the soil. It reminded her of the play surface at the park she used to go to as a child.
“Are you sure you aren’t going to murder me?” she said with a wink. His hand came around the small of her back and guided her away from the truck. “Where are we?”
Leo led her through the bushes to a small overlook, long forgotten by time. “You asked me last night about what happened to Christmas . . .”
