“That does sound very cool, but why would I enter something like that? I told you I’m not continuing with fashion. I love my job—”
“Oh, Mina, you can’t work in this stuffy bookshop forever.” Mum leaned forward, her eyes dancing. “Unless… you don’t think Morrie will go in for a Christmas proposal?”
I choked on my mouthful of Champagne. Bubbles shot up my nose. Behind me, Heathcliff snorted. Morrie, thankfully, was in the hallway greeting Mrs. Ellis and Jonie, and hadn’t heard her.
I hadn’t officially told Mum that I was dating all three guys. I hadn’t been hiding it, but in typical Mum fashion she chose to see what she wanted, which was that I was madly in love with rich, successful Morrie, who would sweep me off my feet in a whirlwind romance, marry me, and then keep his mother-in-law in the fashionable manner to which she intended to become accustomed.
I snatched the pamphlet from her hand. “What? Mum, no. And don’t suggest it, either. I’m not ready to get married.”
Especially since I had three boyfriends and I couldn’t marry all of them.
“Nonsense! You’re young and in love, and Morrie is perfect for you.” Mum dug around in her box, pulling out something green and waving it about in triumph. “Ah-hah! I knew I had some mistletoe in here. I’m going to go hang this over the door. Then Morrie won’t have a choice but to make his move.”
“Mum, please—” But it was too late. She trotted off, trailing a string of mistletoe behind her.
After drinks and snacks were handed out, we gathered around the fire and exchanged gifts. Quoth presented me with the most beautiful painting – a portrait of me sitting in the velvet chair, reading a stack of my favorite books while a row of white skulls grinned down at me from the shelf above. I immediately made Heathcliff bang a nail in the office wall so we could hang it up. Quoth beamed to see how much I loved it, and his smile burned brighter than all the Christmas lights in the shop.
Morrie handed me my own cell phone. “I’ve installed a new app for you.” He pointed to the icon. It was an audiobook store, and he’d already loaded my account with enough money to keep me in books for a year. I could listen to my favorite authors while I stacked the shelves. I immediately downloaded Shunned by Steffanie Holmes and started listening.
My chest fluttered with nerves as I passed around my presents. They were all the same size and shape and went to everyone in the room. When I’d finished them up last night and wrapped them for under the tree, I’d felt quietly confident that I’d found the perfect gift for all the people I loved most. Now, I was having second thoughts. As Heathcliff took the parcel in his hands, I fought the sudden urge to snatch it back.
“What’s this?” Heathcliff tore off the wrapping to reveal a sheaf of papers. “Are you going to use this to bludgeon me until I agree to be on the cloud?”
“‘How Heathcliff Stole Christmas.’” Morrie read the title aloud from his copy. “Mina, what is this?”
My cheeks burned with heat. “It’s a story. I wrote up the mystery of the stolen tree and how we solved it. I thought…”
I couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I’d typed out the story in a fit of excitement over the last few days, late at night while sitting at Heathcliff’s desk and on my phone while I waited at the vet clinic. Now, in the warm light of the fire, with six pairs of eyes staring back at me, I felt a complete fool. What a dumb Christmas present. Why would they want to read my ramblings? I should have just gone with the Dutch chocolate ravens...
Morrie’s eyes widened as he flicked through the pages. “This is amazing. And hilarious. You’ve spent at least three paragraphs describing how handsome I am. I approve.”
“Mina, I had no idea you could write.” Mum flicked through her ‘clean’ copy – there was a certain scene that appeared only in the guys’ manuscripts. “
“She was always my star pupil,” Mrs. Ellis declared, turning the pages eagerly. “I hope there’s lots of raunchy parts.”
“Look at the dedication,” Heathcliff whispered, his knuckles white as he gripped the pages.
Beside me, Quoth’s eyes darted across the paper. “To the men of Nevermore,” he read aloud, his voice trembling over the words. “It has made me better loving you … it has made me wiser, and easier, and brighter.’”
“That’s from Henry James,” I muttered. I’d written and rewritten that bloody dedication a hundred times in my own words but nothing seemed sufficient. I thought the words of one of my favorite writers might accurately convey my feelings for the guys.
Quoth threw his arms around me. “This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Morrie bent down and swept me into a fiery kiss. “It’s pretty great, gorgeous. You have a hidden talent for slinging words. Maybe there’s a creative career in your future yet.”
Heathcliff’s dark eyes bore into mine. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t say a thing. Instead, he tore me from Morrie’s grasp and devoured my lips with his. In his kiss, he said all the things that words were impossible to convey.
My heart fluttered at their praise and acceptance. I’d wanted so badly for them to like my gift, to understand that by bringing me into their world they’d given me the greatest gift of all. I wanted them to see how wonderful they were through my eyes.
After everyone finished reading and exclaiming over my story, Heathcliff handed out small wrapped boxes to Morrie and Quoth. He then removed a small envelope from his pocket and held it out to me.
I stared down at the envelope in his hand. “You already gave me a gift.”
“Maybe I’m making up for previous infractions.” He tapped the envelope in my hand. “Open it.”
I slid my nail under the seal. Inside was a Christmas card covered with dancing sheep in Santa hats. It said, “Seasons Bleatings,” which was totally more of a Morrie joke, but I’d give Heathcliff credit for originality. Inside was a folded paper covered in tiny writing. I held it up to the light and squinted at the words.
It was the deed to the shop.
“Look.” Heathcliff jabbed a finger at the top paragraph. “Bertie helped me draw it up. I had to give him a massive bonus to finish it on Christmas Eve, so he’s the happiest accountant you ever saw. There’s your name, all nice and proper. We’re now co-owners of Nevermore Bookshop.”
My name. All I had to do was sign on the line and Nevermore belonged to me. Heathcliff had given me the best gift of all – a future. A home.
Morrie leaned over my shoulder and whistled. “That’s hardly fair. Even my app can’t top that. I’m going to give you the deed to a real castle next year. Maybe that fancy Briarwood property near Crookshollow. Let’s see the Earl of Dour-ton Abbey top that.”
I smiled at the gift box in Morrie’s hand. It was one of the boxes Heathcliff had been trying to hide. “What did you get?”
Grinning, Morrie held up an engraved silver keychain shaped like a book. “Mine says, ‘World’s most annoying criminal.’ Quoth got one, too. His has a line from ‘The Raven.’ And both of them include a brand new key for the flat. Our Grand Old Duke of Sourpuss is quite good at this Christmas thing.”
He was at that.
“I love you boys like you were my own sons. And Mina, you are like a daughter who doesn’t run away to Paris on Christmas.” Mrs. Ellis was on her fourth flute of Champagne. Her cheeks glowed pink as she leaned forward to pat Buster’s head. “I’m so sorry again Jonie caused you all that trouble. But thanks to you, another mystery has been solved.”
“Except for a few loose ends to wrap up,” I pointed out as Quoth hopped off my shoulder and fluttered upstairs. “We still don’t know where Roland went during the night. Or why the bauble was in the hallway upstairs.”
“I must’ve had all those baubles and shite stuck to my clothes when I knocked over the tree,” Heathcliff said. “I was trying to wrap your present with those poxy supplies your mum left lying around, but everything was so f
iddly and complicated, and I was too drunk. I dragged everything upstairs and dumped it in my room to figure out in the morning. That bauble must’ve come along for the ride.”
“As for Roland, I can answer that.” Morrie held up his phone. “It looks like our favorite tree-loving photographer made a little midnight jaunt into Kings Copse wood. He’s just uploaded a series of time-stamped photos to a dendrophilia website. Here, look—”
“That’s okay.” I shoved the phone away. “I think I’ve seen just enough of Roland dancing skyclad under trees. What about Bertie? Did you find out why he came back to the shop?”
“He really did just collect the tax forms from last quarter. He returned our accounts ledger this morning.” Heathcliff thumped the thick leather-bound book sitting on his brand-new desk. “Apparently, we’re due a significant tax refund. I thought I might use some of it to purchase a permanent supply of Christmas decorations for the shop.”
I grinned. “Or it could go toward a cloud accounting system—”
“Or I could find a new accountant who won’t hassle me about cloud accounting,” Heathcliff shot back.
“Arf!” Buster’s ears flattened. His tiny paws churned as he immediately careened off into the shelves after Grimalkin.
“I’m so glad to see Buster’s doing well,” I grinned.
Instead of answering me, Jonie flung herself at Heathcliff, wrapping her arms around his torso.
“What’s it doing?” Heathcliff demanded, staring down at the child in disbelief.
“I think it likes you,” Morrie said.
“Then it’s a bloody fool.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Heathcliff. I should have come forward and told the truth.” Jonie buried her face in his coat.
“S’okay.” Heathcliff stared at his hands.
“I didn’t mean for everyone to hate you, especially not your friends. I know what it feels like to be rejected by the people you love. I hope you can forgive me.”
Heathcliff patted her head like she was a dog. That was the closest he’d probably be able to get to expressing his affection for Jonie. They really were both quite alike.
Quoth shuffled into the room in his human form, his tentative steps bringing him to Heathcliff. He stared up at his friend with wide eyes, then threw his own arms around Heathcliff’s neck. “I’m sorry, too.”
“It’s okay, birdie.” Heathcliff tried to pry Quoth’s fingers from around his neck, but Quoth was used to hanging on tight.
“I’m not going to miss out on the fun.” Morrie threw himself into the group hug. Grimalkin leaped from the Poetry shelf and sank her claws into Heathcliff’s shoulder. Mum helped Mrs. Ellis to her feet so they could squeeze in. Jonie grabbed Buster from the floor and the two of them joined in, piling on Heathcliff until he was just a stony face in the middle of a huddle of love.
Grinning from ear to ear, I stepped forward and enveloped them all. My three wonderful, wild, crazy, enchanting boyfriends who made every day so special – especially Christmas. My mother, who drove me crazy but who was also amazing. And Mrs. Ellis and Jonie, who had wheeled their way into all our hearts. I couldn’t be happier to be sharing this Christmas with them.
“Who pinched my arse?” Heathcliff growled.
Morrie grinned. “Guilty.”
I laughed. Having all of us together like this – that was what really made Christmas the most wonderful time of the year. The magic of Christmas wasn’t in the food or the carols or the decorations – it was the people.
Although… the food and booze and blazing fire sure helped.
Morrie glanced up, his brow furrowed. “Mina, why is your mother holding a bunch of leaves over my head?”
“It’s mistletoe. She thinks she’s going to push you into proposing to me.” I glared at my mother, who only beamed in return.
“I could propose if you like.” Morrie’s tongue danced across my earlobe. “I propose we drag Heathcliff into that supply cupboard over there, and the two of us can stuff your stocking while you ride us like a reindeer—”
“Morrie!” I slapped his arm. “We’ve got no time for that. It’s almost noon. We’ve got somewhere important to be.”
“That’s right!” Morrie slapped his forehead. “I nearly forgot.”
“I wish you had,” Heathcliff muttered.
A slow, happy smile spread across Quoth’s face as he, too, remembered what I had planned next.
I planted both hands on Heathcliff’s shoulders and shoved him toward the door. “No arguments. If you want to know about the true meaning of Christmas, you’re going to come with me, and you’re going to like it.”
“I’m good not knowing, actually—” But Heathcliff’s protests fell on deaf ears as I dragged him out into the snow.
“Heathcliff Earnshaw, you’ve given me the best Christmas I’ve ever had, and I love you like mad for it. Now, allow me to return the favor and give you a Christmas you’ll never forget. Come on, we don’t want to keep your public waiting.”
Epilogue
“Do I have to do this?” Heathcliff grumbled.
“Yes.” I gave him a shove toward the door.
“They’ll eat me alive.”
“They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.” I paused, watching as children at the front of the line trembled with fright. Okay, maybe not. “Anyway, that’s not the point. If you want the village to love you again—”
“I don’t want them to love me,” Heathcliff grumbled. “Before you came along, my idea of a perfect Christmas was eating jam toast alone in my room.”
“Fine. I want the village to love you again. Or at least find you mildly tolerable. And this is the best way to do it.”
“I bet Morrie left the oven on. I’ll just pop back to the shop and check—”
“Nope.” I shoved him into the room. Heathcliff wheeled his arms, trying to keep his balance. He whirled around, facing the audience of parents and children. His abrupt and un-Santa-like entrance stunned them into silence.
Or maybe their silence was because even though I’d warned the parents in advance, no one could quite prepare for the visual feast that was all 120kgs of Heathcliff Earnshaw bedecked in a bright-red Santa Claus costume.
“Ho,” he said, in a tone one might use if they were about to head to the gallows.
I gestured at him. More, I mouthed.
Heathcliff glowered at me, then turned back to his rapt audience. “Hohoho,” he added with a despondent sigh.
“Let’s give Santa a big round of applause!” Morrie appeared from the size of the stage, wearing… well. He’d taken one look at the costume-store elf costume I bought him, declared no polyester would ever touch his skin, and had something sent up from London that was… well, it clung in all the right places. I’d noticed all the mums and quite a few of the dads checking him out.
Scattered applause rose from the gathered children. A few confused smiles broke out. “Why does Santa look so grumpy?” One boy asked.
“Because his lazy good-for-nothing elf hasn’t brought Santa his Scotch,” Heathcliff growled.
“Now, now, Santa,” Morrie tsked, reaching for the pillow Heathcliff had stuffed under his red jacket and giving it a friendly pat. “We all know you’re on a juice fast this Christmas. Your doctor said you need to lose some of this excess cookie weight. So no alcohol, and a strictly low-carb diet.”
The children giggled. Heathcliff turned an even darker shade of I’m-going-to-murder-you.
I picked my way toward the back of the youth center, watching two of my boyfriends entertain a horde of kids while boyfriend number three croaked his approval from the rafters. My heart swelled to three times its size.
I found Mum with Mrs. Ellis and Jonie, manning a table laden down with Christmas treats donated by the village. Last night, we’d spent hours going around all the tables at the pub telling the story of what had happened and asking people to donate for the kids as well as to the animal charity tree. Argleton had really come through for us
– kids and parents who often had nothing to eat were gorging themselves on fruit mince pies, trifle, chocolate fudge, Florentine biscuits, and leftover cuts of meat and piles of roast potatoes thanks to Richard at the Rose & Wimple. We’d invited everyone in the village to show up for the party, and it looked like most of them had shown up. Tabitha looked amazing in a red sequined dress and Elizabeth’s black stone earrings as she greeted guests at the door. Even Roland crept around the room, snapping pictures for a new, “wholesome” version of the calendar.
Beaming with pride and joy, I loaded up a plate of treats for me and Quoth and settled in to watch the show.
“Who’s first?” Morrie clapped his hands in glee as he herded the children toward Heathcliff’s throne. “Come on, don’t be shy! No need to crowd, you’ll all get your turn. Santa is going to be here all day.” His maniacal grin proved he was taking way too much pleasure in this.
Oh Morrie, don’t ever change.
“Look at Heathcliff,” Mum commented as she helped Earl Larson choose from the giant pyramid of Yorkshire puddings. Early slipped a piece of roast beef to the kitten perched on his shoulder, who mewed with pleasure.“I never knew he was so civic-minded. He even looks like he’s enjoying himself.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I grinned. “But he does make a great Santa Claus. I wonder if we can convince him to do this every year?”
“I said no handing out caramels!” Heathcliff yelled at Morrie from his throne as a small girl clambered up on his lap with a handful of candies. “They’ll get sticky fingers all over the presents and—”
“Don’t listen to Santa, kids.” Morrie shoved two more children toward him. Cameras flashed like lightning strikes as the parents recorded every moment of Heathcliff’s ordeal. “Free caramels for all. Here, have a handful while you wait your turn.”
“Croak.” Quoth sighed as he settled on my shoulder. I nuzzled his head, watching in part-horror, part-joy as Heathcliff dumped a bowl of caramels down the back of Morrie’s elf leggings.
How Heathcliff Stole Christmas: A Nevermore Bookshop Mysteries novella Page 10