Positively Pippa

by Sarah Hegger

  Ladder propped up against the side of the house, extension cord curled up like a forest green snake beside it, she got down to item one of her Spending Christmas Alone checklist: Decorate.

  “You’ve got this.” The ladder loomed above her. “There is nothing to fear but fear itself.” And heights. Heights made her knees shaky. No, heights used to make her knees shaky. This Christmas Bella laughed at heights; she climbed ladders in stiletto heels if she wanted to. Bing hit the chorus and Bella joined in.

  “Pick a focal point.” She consulted the pamphlet she’d picked up from Lowe’s when she bought her string of warm white Christmas lights. Reading it out loud to the tune of “Silver Bells” made it less daunting.

  With a telltale squeak her neighbor’s door opened, and Liz Gunn stepped onto her matching porch. Bella waved, and this being the holidays, gave her voice a dollop of goodwill to mankind. “Hi, Liz.”

  Liz, known as Headlights Gunn throughout Ghost Falls because of her propensity for pointing her surgically enhanced chest at anything with a penis, tugged her cardigan over her painted-on sweater and nodded. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Hanging Christmas lights.” While Bella didn’t like the nickname, Liz did always have her perfect double-Ds rounded up and pointing.

  Liz stepped off the porch onto the dried winter grass of her lawn. “On the house?”

  “Yup.” Waving her pamphlet Bella tried to sound more competent than she felt. “It’s easier than you would think.”

  Apparently, you still had to test the lights even if they were new.

  “You’re going to hang lights on the outside of your house?” Liz crossed the small strip of driveway separating their lawns.

  “Yup!” She tossed Liz a chipper little smile. “It’s Christmas.”

  “So I can hear.” Toeing the dark green box of new lights, Liz came to a stop next to her and stared at her house. “You didn’t hang lights last year.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Because last year she had spent most of Christmas, like so many Christmases before, wallowing in the bitter knowledge she would spend another Christmas single and stuck in her rut. This year, no more wallowing. No more pining, and definitely no more bemoaning her single state. As for the rut, that ended today and it all started with Christmas lights. “I’m getting into the holiday spirit.”

  “Aren’t you spending Christmas with your family?” Liz peered over Bella’s shoulder at the pamphlet. Those breasts stuck straight out and Bella moved her arm out of the way.

  “No.” She stomped on the residual all-alone pang and forced another smile. Being alone for Christmas didn’t mean being miserable. “My family went to Florida, and I stayed behind to look after the store.”

  Liz looked vaguely skeptical. “They left you here.”

  “I’m fine with it.” Actually, more than fine. Not that she’d admit this to Liz, or anyone, but escaping Nana’s gruesome turkey dinner didn’t hurt in the least. Her plan for Christmas started with these lights and ended in a glorious new epoch in the life of Bella Erikson.

  Liz eased the pamphlet out of her hand. “It says here you have to check the lights, even if they are new.”

  “I’m about to do that.” Bella took her pamphlet back.

  “You need to plug them in.”

  “I know that.” Plug in hand, Bella marched over to the outside power outlet. Three years she and Liz had lived side by side, barely spoken a word to each other after the incident with the tree—which Bella still didn’t quite believe hadn’t been deliberate—and now Liz wanted to chat. Still, Christmas, goodwill, peace on earth and all that. She shoved the plug in the outlet. Her lawn lit up in a magical sprinkling of warm white. Bing provided the soundtrack and she loved it. “Did you need something, Liz?”

  Liz bent down and connected another string to the lit string. More warm white sprang to life. “Looks like those are fine too.” She flicked her Christmas-themed nails at the ladder. “Why don’t you get up there and I’ll connect the lights.”

  “Really?” Liz wanted to help? Maybe the magic of Christmas got to Liz, too.

  “Why not?” Liz shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  Bella’s guilt monitor crackled. “You staying here for the holidays?”

  “Like I have anywhere to go.” Liz waggled her head and jammed her fist on her teeny-weeny hips. “Are we going to hang these lights, or what?”

  “We’re going to hang these lights.” Bella put her foot on the first rung. She needed a little mantra reinforcement first. Thinking will not overcome fear, but action will. Gripping the higher rungs with both hands, she climbed. First one rung, then two, and away she went. This really wasn’t that bad. Before she knew it, the gutter came within easy reach. “Hand me those lights.”

  “Aye aye, Cap’n.” Liz grinned up at her.

  When she smiled like that, and not the coy lip smirk she did whenever a man wandered into view, Liz looked really pretty. An opportunity to bridge the gap with Liz opened and Bella took it. “Maybe when we get done here, we can hang lights over at your place,” she said.

  Liz pulled a face. “I don’t do Christmas.”

  “Why not?” Everybody did the holidays in some way or other.

  “Doesn’t seem much point.” Liz fed her the string of lights. “With just me on my own.”

  Bella clipped until she ran out of reach, then came down the ladder again. She’d never thought of Liz as lonely. With her flashy clothes and brassy attitude, Liz didn’t strike her as the sort to have vulnerabilities. But then, everybody had a soft underbelly somewhere. Even if they kept it buried beneath a titanium exterior. “I’m on my own.”

  “It says here you need to make sure they’re all either pointing up or down.” Liz squinted at the gutters.

  “Are they?”

  “Yup. Pointing down.”

  “Okay then.” Bella moved the ladder across. “Let’s keep at it.”

  Talk about weird. Her and Liz hanging Christmas lights like they didn’t spend most days giving each other a tight-lipped how-are-you from safe sides of their yards.

  They fell into a rhythm that took them all along one side of the house and into the front. When they reached the porch, the focal point, Bella stepped back and eyed the sloping gutter line. “We need to do something different here.”

  “Like what?” Liz stood shoulder to shoulder with her.

  “A focal point.”

  “Huh.”

  “We could wrap the lights around the poles holding the roof up.”

  Liz scrunched up her face. “Nah! They’re too skinny. A wreath would be nice.”

  “A wreath?”

  “Yeah, hanging in the center there. Do you have one?”

  A wreath would be great. “No.”

  “I do.” Liz nodded. “I’ll run next door and fetch it.”

  “I thought you didn’t do Christmas.” Bella raised her voice as Liz dashed across the lawn.

  “I don’t.” Liz turned and trotted backward. “But I used to be married and we did Christmas. I got the Christmas decorations. He got a twenty-three-year-old blonde who looks like she should be decorating the top.”

  Ouch. She’d known Liz was divorced, but the younger-woman thing must bite.

  “And these.” Liz pointed to her chest. “Can you say ‘alimony’?”

  Bella laughed. Turns out spending time with Liz didn’t suck. Who knew? See, this is what came of opening yourself up to new experiences.

  Liz reappeared with her wreath. “If you wrap lights around it, you can hang it in the center there,” she said.

  “Are you sure?” Bella took the wreath. “We could always hang it over at your house.”

  “I’m sure.” Liz pursed her lips. “Are we gonna stand here all night or get this shit finished? It’s so cold out here my nipples are gonna break through any second.”

  Bella blushed. She couldn’t help it. Nobody in her world spoke about nipples or boobs, or—God spare them—down there. Even in her h
ead the phrase came with Nana’s wide-eyed, furtive glance southward.

  Daring to go where she never had before, Bella said, “Mine too.”

  Perched on top of the porch overhang, leaning forward to hang the wreath, Bella made the mistake of looking down. The ground rushed up at her, dipped, and heaved to the side, taking Bella’s stomach with it.

  “What are you doing?” Liz peered up at her.

  “Ummm . . .”

  “Hang the wreath, and then we can get a glass of wine.”

  Wine would be lovely. “Er . . .”

  “Bella?”

  “I’m stuck.”

  “No, you’re not.” Liz moved to right beneath her.

  “Am too.”

  Liz’s eyes widened. “Are you scared of heights?”

  “Yup.”

  She crossed her arms. “Then why didn’t you let me go up the ladder?”

  Because she hadn’t exactly planned on freezing and sticking to her roof like a demented icicle.

  “Edge back.” As if directing traffic Liz waved her hands. “Move away from the edge and you’ll be fine.”

  “I can’t.” Was the ground getting closer? Or was she leaning even farther over? A whimper escaped her and she shut her eyes. Dear God, that was worse. She popped them open to find Liz frowning up at her.

  A smile suddenly spread over Liz’s face. “You’re really stuck?”

  “Yup.”

  “As in can’t move?”

  “Yup.”

  “You know what this means?” With glee Liz whipped her phone out. “I’m going to have to call the sheriff.”

  “Don’t.” It came out in a breathy hiss. The idea of Nate Evans having to rescue her off her roof burned through her. Ghost Falls would have a field day if that happened. She could hear them all now.

  “Did you hear Nate Evans rescued Bella Erikson from her roof?”

  “What was she doing up there?”

  “Waiting for Nate to rescue her.” Snicker, snicker. “Is that girl ever going to wise up and realize she will never catch Nate Evans?”

  She’d wised up—mostly—and she could do this. All she had to do was edge back the tiniest bit to where she couldn’t see the ground anymore.

  “Hi, Sheriff Evans,” Liz purred into her phone. “This is Liz. Liz Gunn.” She growled. “Liz Gunn from Grizzly Drive. I have a problem.”

  One, two, three . . . edge back. Nope. Bella’s hands refused to let go of the roof lip. Years of limiting contact with Nate, and now this.

  “No, it’s not like that time.” As she spoke, Liz paced beneath her. “Actually, it’s not me. It’s my neighbor.”

  From up here Bella could see the darker roots of Liz’s platinum do. Nowhere in her grand visions of conquering Christmas had she needed a rescue.

  Liz nodded. “That’s right, Bella.”

  Oone . . . twooo . . . and three. Oh God, she was going to fall. She knew it.

  “She’s stuck on her roof.”

  All she had to do was release the edge of the roof and scooch back. This time, her butt scooched but her fingers stayed stuck.

  “Hanging Christmas lights.” Liz hummed and glanced up at Bella. “Actually, right now she looks a bit like she’s twerking on her roof.”

  Bella lifted her left index finger. Then her middle finger. The index finger snapped back around the ledge. Darn! Bella did not get beaten by a roof. Bella, for certain, did not get caught twerking on her roof by Nate Evans.

  “Right you are.” Liz keyed off her phone. “They’re on their way. Do you need anything?”

  “A frontal lobotomy.”

  Liz grinned at her. “Nate said to keep talking to you.” She stopped right under Bella. “So? How you doing?”

  “Not so good.”

  “I can see that. Let’s take your mind off the fact that you’re about twenty feet from the ground.”

  “Erp.” Twenty feet? Her head went woolly.

  “I know.” Liz cocked her head. “Let’s talk about our yummy sheriff.”

  “Um . . . no.”

  “Um . . . yes.” Liz tucked her hands into the pockets of her bright pink cardigan. “Just how long have you been in love with him?”

  “I’m not . . .” Everyone in town knew anyway. “I did have a crush on him. For most of high school.” And a little bit after, but she wasn’t confessing that. “It started in first grade, but it ended when he joined the police academy in Salt Lake.”

  “Wow.” Liz winced. “That’s not what they say.”

  Oh, Bella knew that, only too well. And Liz had no room to talk, calling Nate out at least twice a week and answering the door in her negligee. “And you?”

  “Oh, I’m in lust, not love.” She waved a breezy hand. “I was married, remember. I don’t want anything more to do with love, but lust . . .” She chuckled like a bordello madam. “Now that I’ve got time for.”

  Nipples and down there and sex, definitely sex, were not things Bella had been raised to talk about. Ever.

  “You all right, Bella?” Mr. Powell from across the road stepped onto his porch.

  Her situation plummeted from bad to hideous as Ghost Falls’s biggest gossip followed her husband onto the porch. Bella was supposed to be launching her new epoch, darn it.

  Bella put as much chipper into her voice as she could manage. She did not need the Powells coming over and getting a front-row seat of the action. “I’m fine, Mr. Powell.”

  “She’s stuck on the roof,” Liz called out. “We were hanging Christmas lights, but Bella didn’t tell me she was scared of heights.”

  “Oh dear.” Mrs. Powell came across the road toward them. “I had a cousin who was afraid of spiders.”

  “Vertigo,” announced Mr. Powell as he led the charge. “Irrational fear of heights.”

  “Isn’t that a movie?” Mrs. Powell tucked her hands into her pockets.

  “Hitchcock.” Liz scrunched her shoulders up around her ears. “Man, it’s cold. How you doing, Bella? Hang in there.”

  “Yes, dear.” Mrs. Powell’s face crinkled with concern as she gazed up at Bella. “I’m sure help is on the way.”

  “Did you call Sheriff Evans?” Mr. Powell stared up at her.

  “Sheriff Evans?” Giggling, Mrs. Powell smirked at her. “Are you sure you’re scared of heights, Bella?”

  “Oh, she’s scared all right.” Bless Liz for coming to her rescue.

  Mr. Powell took hold of the ladder and gave it a shake. “Just hop on the ladder, Bella. Seems sturdy enough.”

  “Mike.” Mrs. Powell stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.

  Bella dug her fingers into the roof. She didn’t need to be clairvoyant to guess what was being said. Would Ghost Falls, for the love all of everything, just let this go? She was not wasting away for Nate.

  “Oh.” Mr. Powell scrutinized her. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, young lady?”

  Maybe she should end it now and throw herself off the roof. Then again, they’d only whisper over her coffin how she’d killed herself for unrequited love.

  “Sometimes a girl has to take matters into her own hands.” Mrs. Powell tossed her a conspiratorial wink. “It’s not like you have all the time in the world, dear. You can’t keep waiting for that man forever.”

  “I’m not—”

  “It’s a dreadful waste of taxpayers’ money.” Puffing his chest, Mr. Powell stalked to the ladder and gave it another good rattle. “Now, buck up, Bella. You can’t call the sheriff out unless it’s a genuine emergency.”

  “Really?” Liz examined her fingernails. “It’s one of the perks of living in this town.”

  “Disgraceful.” Mr. Powell flushed. “The man is the representative of law and order in this town, not . . .” He sputtered and huffed for a bit.

  “Man candy?” Liz looked smug.

  Turning his back on Liz, Mr. Powell harrumphed and put his foot on the ladder. “I’m coming up.”

  Dear God, save her that.

  “Oh
no, Mike, your back.” Mrs. Powell fluttered over to her husband. Small and compact, she could easily fit under his armpit.

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Mr. Powell made a manful show of regret. “I would hate to risk her by dropping her.”

  She didn’t want to be ungrateful or anything, but how was this supposed to help her climb off the roof?

  Mrs. Powell patted her husband on the chest. “That’s so like you, Mike, always thinking of someone else first.”

  Liz looked up at her and rolled her eyes.

  Bella stifled a giggle, and then choked on it as blue and red flashing lights turned into her street.

  Oh boy. Nate couldn’t be subtle about this, now could he? He’d delighted in tormenting her since he’d first dipped her waist-length braid in purple paint.

  ENJOY THIS EXCERPT?

  PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY HERE!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born British and raised in South Africa, Sarah Hegger suffers from an incurable case of wanderlust. Her match? A Canadian engineer, whose marriage proposal she accepted six short weeks after they first met. Together they’ve made homes in seven different cities across three different continents (and back again once or twice). If only it made her multilingual, but the best she can manage is idiosyncratic English, fluent Afrikaans, conversant Russian, pigeon Portuguese, even worse Zulu and enough French to get herself into trouble.

  Mimicking her globe-trotting adventures, Sarah’s career path began as a gainfully employed actress, drifted into public relations, settled a moment in advertising, and eventually took root in the fertile soil of her first love, writing. She also moonlights as a wife and mother.

  She currently lives in Littleton, Colorado, with her teenage daughters, two Golden Retrievers and aforementioned husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books. Visit her at sarahhegger.com.