Christmas in Angel Harbor

by Jeannie Moon

  Once the baby came, there was no returning to her dream of traveling the world and learning about ancient civilizations, but she never doubted that her little girl was an amazing gift, and always would be. Difficult times and all, Tara was at the center of everything she did. Jane would never regret becoming a mother.

  “You’re drifting,” her mother stated quietly. “Where’s that boat headed today?”

  “Nowhere.” Jane shook off her wanderings with a smile. “I’m going to drift myself into the stockroom. I want to double-check my gift inventory.”

  From the sidelong glance sent in Jane’s direction, her mother didn’t believe her. There was no reason she should. Her mom was many things, but clueless wasn’t one of them. She could always tell when the people she cared about were brushing off her concern. “Right,” Mom said. “You make sure you have enough crystals and bookmarks.”

  “You forgot the journals and dreamcatchers,” Jane retorted as she walked to the back. The gift section was an ongoing tease with her mother. Jane had set aside a small corner of her shop to indulge her need for beautiful things. The section was called Modern Artifacts. Not that books weren’t beautiful, but the color and light brought in by the locally crafted candles, crystals, textiles, and paper goods made her feel more connected to the world outside her small corner of it. “Tracy should be in soon. She can give you a hand with the children’s room.”

  Her best friend, Tracy Kelly, had been a fixture in Jane’s life since they’d landed in Mrs. Sherman’s kindergarten class at Woodbury Avenue School. Obsessed with the large playhouse and the endless possibilities the magical classroom provided, Jane and Tracy had a formed a bond that was more sisterhood than anything. Jane was an only child, and Tracy had brothers, so the two girls grew up together, weathering every storm along the way. In the toughest times, they were there for each other. When her last child had left the nest for college five years ago, Tracy transitioned from part-time employee to Jane’s right hand at the bookstore.

  Once in her office, Jane picked up a heart-shaped piece of hematite. The stone, a gift from her friend Claire, was smooth as silk and cold to the touch, at least initially. After a minute, a tingly warmth would radiate up her arm. It grounded her, and spending a little time in the quiet, holding a piece of the earth, let her collect her thoughts. Her grandfather called it woolgathering, and Jane found comfort in it. The dreams of her youth may not have come to fruition, but she couldn’t help thinking that the course change was for a reason. Understanding that didn’t stop her from ruminating, and sometimes feeling sorry for herself, but she no longer wondered what could have been. Life had a funny way of putting you where you needed to be.

  After she breathed out several times long and slow, Jane’s eyes were drawn to the crystal angel that sat on the shelf above her desk. Setting down the stone, she reached for it. It belonged to her father and before that to her grandfather. Each of them kept it in the bookstore, right in this spot.

  Tradition was beautiful, and Jane respected the Fallon legacy, doing her best to keep it alive and well.

  But changes were coming, and Jane knew there was no way to stop them.

  Chapter Two

  Never in his writing career had Dan felt like he didn’t know what he was doing. Even in the early stages of his career, after he’d drafted his first book, he had confidence in his ability to tell a story. Maybe it was hubris, arrogance even, but he didn’t doubt himself.

  It was probably because he’d always stayed in his lane. He wrote crime thrillers, procedurals. His dad was a cop. Dan was a litigator. The genre fit him, and he was good at it. But it was time for him to leave his comfort zone and write something that challenged him to dig deeper, to bare more of himself.

  Something from his heart.

  This book needed to do more than entertain, it had to inspire his readers. Comfort them. He’d spent a lot of time gutting victims; now he wanted to help people heal.

  He had no idea exactly how he was going to do it, but coming home was the first thing he’d done right in a long time.

  His sister was ten years younger than he was, and in addition to her career, she wrangled a pack of small humans whom Dan rather enjoyed. Never having had any kids of his own, it was a novelty to have their voices as his background music. Looking out of the cottage window at the long, hilly driveway, he saw the three of them charging up from the school bus. Backpacks thumped against their legs, or on the ground. A lunch bag was dropped and retrieved. And on cue, just as they got to the side porch, a yellow Lab burst through the door and pounced. The dog’s tail wagged faster and faster with each squeal from the kids, and Dan took in every inch of the chaos as it raced toward him.

  This was why he’d come home. He didn’t need late-night ride-alongs with the police and gloomy solitude. He needed a bunch of loud kids and a mess of a dog. His new book was about a small town. About families. And the only way he was going to get in touch with the story milling around inside him was to embrace the crazy.

  His nieces and nephew were giving him exactly what he needed, not only for his story, but for this point in his life. Dan was tired of being at odds with himself, of fighting for his peace of mind. He knew somewhere, deep down, was his happy place, but he was still struggling to find it.

  He came to the door of the cottage and Tammy the dog bounded over when she spotted him. Large for her breed, the dog’s coat was more creamy than yellow, making her stand out against the colorful fall leaves like a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The joy that poured off the dog was palpable, and Dan could only smile at the rest of the chaos that ran his way.

  “Uncle Dan! Uncle Dan!” The chorus of small voices almost drowned out Lindsey Buckingham’s screaming guitar. Music often set the tone for his writing, and in this case, it was about the character’s memories. His memories. That’s what was going to make this book different. Special. And a damn big risk.

  “Did you get your words today?” His oldest niece, Ella, was his taskmaster. Every day since he’d arrived, she checked with him, holding his feet to the fire and asking about his plan for the book. She was brainy and artistic, with a lovely sweet soul. He figured she was going to run the world someday. She’d be disappointed if he told her all he had were impressions and feelings surrounding what he wanted to do—the words were fighting him.

  “Not as many as I’d hoped. I was thinking a change of scenery might be in order. Does anyone want to go to town and get some hot chocolate?”

  “Meeee!” All three kids raised their hands and bounced up and down on the stone walkway in front of the cottage. Even the dog barked.

  “It looks as if we have a consensus. Go inside, and check with your mother. If she’s okay with it, we’ll go in…” he looked at his watch “…thirty minutes.”

  The kids didn’t need to be asked twice. With giggles and rapid-fire chatter, they dashed into the house. His sister would either be pissed at him for messing up their after-school routine, or thrilled for an hour of peace to collect herself after her own long day.

  His sister was a doctor. A family practitioner, she worked four days a week, and tag-teamed the kids with her husband who was a teacher. It was a crazy life, but they always sat down for dinner together no matter how busy things were. Their life was a collection of routines, and those predictable patterns provided a safe haven that made the family the center of everything.

  Since he’d arrived a few weeks ago, he’d taken a seat at the table, and there was nothing better. Following the kids into the house, he heard them all talking at once, an excited rush of syllables merging together like a human symphony. His sister was picking words out of the cacophony and finally shushed all of them, directing her gaze at him.

  “I got Uncle Danny, town, and hot chocolate out of that. Perhaps you can explain?” Her eyes narrowed like a mom, but her mouth ticked up in the corner like the little sister he knew. She was always full of fire and energy, and even though she had an MD at the end of her name, Melinda Gallo
Beck hadn’t changed a bit.

  “I thought I’d get them out of your hair for a little while. I need to stretch my legs and they need to burn off a little energy.” It sounded like a reasonable plan to him. He doubted she would object.

  “So, you’re going to sugar them up?” One eyebrow shot up inquisitively, but the sparkle in Mel’s eyes was pure mischief.

  It was only a little sugar. He wasn’t going to have them mainline cookies and ice cream. “It’s a hot chocolate and a trip to the bookstore. How bad can it be? If we go now, I’ll have them home in time to get all their homework done before dinner.”

  “I hate homework.” The grumbling came from his middle niece, Jamie, who at eight had the attitude of a hormonal thirteen-year-old. She was sharp-witted and read people like an FBI profiler.

  “Yep. Me too,” he said. “But you’d better get used to it.”

  With an eye roll that looked like it hurt, Jamie plopped down in the chair. “Are we going?”

  Dan’s sister shrugged and nodded. “Sure. But don’t give Uncle Danny a hard time and don’t be little beggars asking him for everything in sight. He’s not your personal credit card.”

  Like he wasn’t going to buy them something. It was a bookstore. What kind of uncle was he if he didn’t buy kids something in a bookstore?

  “Yes, I am,” he whispered. Jamie liked that and put up her fist for a conspiratorial bump.

  A few years ago, he’d decided the uncle code included a rule that said the answer was always yes. It wasn’t his job to be a hard-ass, and he had no intention of taking on the role. His sister was tough enough.

  “You’ll need to leave me your keys and take my car,” she said, putting the kids’ now-empty lunch bags on a shelf in the pantry while the offspring put the sandwich containers in the sink and bottles in the recycling. If nothing else, Mel presided over a well-oiled machine.

  “The Mom Mobile?” Did he really have to drive her half-minivan, half-SUV thing? It was horrendous. Functional, but horrendous.

  “Yes, and I get to go play in the super-secret-agent-man car. You need the booster seats.”

  Right. Booster seats. “Okay,” he said to the kids. “Put your backpacks in your rooms and meet me at the car. We are on a mission.”

  Dan didn’t know what his mission actually was, but the kids would keep his mind off the trouble he was having starting his book. He had a sense of what he wanted to write, and that what he wanted to say was important, but he was doubting himself with every word that dropped on the page. The idea was still just a blob of thoughts, that needed form and structure.

  Getting out with the kids would give his brain some time to sort out the ideas in his head. Hopefully.

  *

  For a weekday afternoon, Jane was surprised by the consistent traffic in the store. She’d gotten some decorating done early, but the tasks she’d planned to do this afternoon would have to be relegated to tomorrow’s to-do list. People had been in and out all day buying books, ordering drinks, and browsing for gifts. If this was a sign that she was going to have a good holiday season, she’d take it. Watching a couple of teenagers order coffee, Jane patted herself on the back for the decision to add the coffee bar to the shop. She’d hesitated, initially, worried about the expense, but so far it seemed to provide a steady stream of customers, and once people were in the store there was always the possibility they’d invest in more than caffeine.

  Jane thought she had two minutes to breathe, when the bell over the front door jingled and she heard several young voices coming toward her. They sounded excited, and that always made Jane feel happy. Not much compared to kids who were excited about books.

  “There’s a new series I really love, and the third book just came out,” a girl of about ten said as she came into view. Two younger children who were with her, a boy and girl, made a beeline for the children’s room without even looking up. They knew where they were going, and looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember names. Not quite regulars, she thought. But they’ve been here before. She heard a deep male voice, from the front of the store, resonant and strong, moving in her direction.

  “Who is the author?” he asked.

  “I don’t remember.” The girl stopped in her tracks looking back over her shoulder. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not if you know the title, and even if you don’t, I bet I can guess.” Jane walked out from behind the desk and leaned her hip on the display table to her right. She had the child’s attention. “You want the new Camelot Academy book, don’t you?”

  The girl’s azure eyes widened behind her big round glasses, while her little bow mouth curved into an “O.” “How did you know that?”

  “Well, Merlin isn’t the only one with magical powers,” Jane teased. This girl could have been her, once upon a time. The vibe coming off the young lady was sparking with energy and curiosity. Yeah, Jane liked this kid.

  “That’s true,” the deep voice said. “The legend around town is that the Fallons have a touch of magic in them from the old country.”

  When she looked up from her young customer, she saw the owner of that fluid baritone appear from around the corner, and her heart skipped a beat. Talk about a ghost from the past. Never in a million years did she think she’d see Danny Gallo in Angel Harbor ever again. Now it was her turn to be stunned.

  “Oh my God.” Jane was staring, her heart thumping, eyes locked, breath shallow, while her words became lodged in her throat. Danny took another step toward her, his smile growing wider.

  He was a little taller and broader than the last time she saw him. The man had certainly filled out in all the right places, wearing his years like a badge of honor. His dark hair was flecked with silver, and his face was tan, ruddy almost, with crinkles around his eyes. His blue eyes, which glittered like they were sprinkled with stars, were a little more hooded, making him look worldly—like he had a secret to keep. It was possible he did. No one ever knew what the mysterious author was up to. Unlike the boy who used to tell her all his secrets, his inscrutable persona was now part of the draw.

  She was stunned to see him. Stunned and happy. Was she happy? “Danny, I…I can’t believe it.”

  “Hiya, Janie.” He raised a hand in greeting and a smile tilted his mouth. “How have you been?”

  “Uhh. Fine? I’m fine. It’s been a long time. What…what are you doing here?” Lord, she was stuttering. Why was she stuttering? Breathe, Jane. He was a boy she knew a long time ago. Okay, he was one of her best friends—someone very special—whom she hadn’t seen in forever. Whom she’d never forgotten. Who was now a handsome and very famous man, but still…he was just a man.

  She felt a flush rise in her face, the tingle of warmth spread down her neck and into her chest. Why was she so warm all of a sudden? Crap. A hot flash? Now? Looking into the children’s room, she saw her mother had the two younger kids, who had run in ahead of him, fully engaged. Jane had to ask. “Yours?”

  “Oh. No. Not mine. My nieces and nephew. I’m staying with my sister. This is Ella,” he said, dropping his hands on the girl’s shoulders.

  “Melinda’s children?” Not his kids. That made more sense. He wasn’t exactly known as the settling-down type. “Of course, your sister is still local.” Not needing a response to her obvious statement, Jane turned to the girl. “It’s nice to meet you, officially, Ella. I’m Jane. I thought you looked familiar.”

  “We don’t come here that much. My mom takes us to the library.” Jane felt no resentment at the comment. Turning a child into a reader was good for business.

  “Wonderful things, those libraries. Good on Mom. I am glad you’re here today, though. Let’s find that book for you.” Camelot Academy was a hot item. A modernized version of the King Arthur legend, Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, and, naturally, Merlin, were involved in swashbuckling and magical adventures against their rivals from Morgana Prep.

  It was an interesting twist on an old story, written for kids, and it was selling like cra
zy. She wished she was more creative. Lord, how she envied those who could create worlds and carry readers away. People always asked her if she’d ever thought of writing a book; being the owner of a bookstore it must have seemed like a natural question, but Jane was a scientist, and it was a cruel twist of fate that had landed her here.

  A nod from Dan let Ella know the bookstore lady was okay. Jane smiled. The exchange was silent, but very sweet.

  “This way, miss. I’ll get you your book.” She walked to a table right next to the children’s room and took one off a pile of dwindling stock. Something else to put on order. “Here you go. I have a few signed bookmarks from the author. Hang on, I’ll get one for you.”

  Ella followed her eagerly, and Jane had to admit she never got tired of seeing a child excited by a book. The little girl’s two siblings had settled at the table in the children’s corner and were working on a puzzle while her mom stayed close by, chatting them up when she saw they were losing focus. Ever the teacher, she had a nose for what children would love and could spot a new bestseller like an eagle spotting prey. She was never wrong, and as a result they rarely ran out of the hot children’s titles, Camelot Academy included.

  She still couldn’t wrap her head around Danny being here. In all the years since the last time they saw each other, she had no recollection of him being back for a visit, or even rumors of it. As far as she knew, he’d left Angel Harbor far behind him. He certainly never gave her a thought.

  Searching through the drawer behind the large cherry wood sales counter, Jane found the last bookmark signed by the author. “Here you go. I hope you enjoy the book!”

  Ella beamed back at Jane. “This is, for real, signed by her?”

  “For real.” Jane crossed her heart and raised her right hand. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Danny checking out the bestseller table, running a hand over a stack of his titles. His latest, which came out last summer, was still selling well.