Winter at the Beach

by Sheila Roberts

  Jenna doubted he’d done much work to begin with, but she kept her mouth shut and helped herself to a second cookie. Pete was right about one thing. Nobody baked cookies as scrumptious as Aunt Edie’s. They had a cookie exchange with their beach friends coming up, and Jenna doubted anyone would be able to top her aunt’s creations.

  Seth said as much when he popped in for a sample, and Aunt Edie flushed with pleasure.

  “I enjoy baking for people who appreciate it,” she told him.

  “We all appreciate it,” Jenna said. “Well, my thighs don’t thank you.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your thighs,” Seth told her, and out of the corner of her eye Jenna could see that matchmaker grin sneaking on to her great-aunt’s face.

  “There’s nothing going on between us,” she said to Aunt Edie after Seth had left.

  “My dear, I may be old, but I’m not so old I can’t see when a man and a woman are attracted to each other.”

  “Attraction and commitment are two different things, and I don’t see that happening.”

  “It will,” Aunt Edie predicted. “Of course, when the time comes I don’t know how you’re going to choose between him and Brody.”

  Jenna didn’t, either. Although Seth seemed determined to make her choice easy.

  Actually, so did Brody. He arrived that evening to take her to The Drunken Sailor for line dancing, wearing jeans and a T-shirt under a vintage leather bomber jacket, a Santa hat on his head. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a romance novel. A Man for Christmas... Santa’s Naughty List... Kisses and Cookies. Except who cared about cookies with a man this hot? Smear his pecs with icing and put him on a plate.

  Oh, good grief. Stop already.

  “What’s with the frown?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I’ll just get my coat.”

  Of course, he had to visit with Aunt Edie and admire her decorations. “But where’s the mistletoe?” he asked Jenna as she stepped away from the coat closet.

  And there was that same speculative look on her aunt’s face again. “We’ll have to get some,” Aunt Edie said.

  Maybe they would.

  Why not spend some time under the mistletoe with Brody? He was fun and generous and had turned out to be a good friend to her and her aunt. He was gorgeous and sexy, and thank God they were only going line dancing. That wasn’t a contact sport. Not that Brody ever danced anyway. He preferred to sit at the bar, drink a beer and watch.

  “I like watching you in action,” he said when she, as usual, tried to coax him out on the floor. “I can’t do that if I’m trying to learn all those complicated steps.”

  So Brody drank beer and schmoozed, and Jenna worked up a sweat and made a fool of herself. Something for everyone.

  He brought her home and turned her loose with only a playful tug on her hair since she’d declared a moratorium on kissing early on in their relationship. “But all bets are off once I get your aunt to put up that mistletoe,” he warned with a smile that showed off his dimples.

  That little tug on her hair was enough to get her hormones stirred up. Ah, yes. She could fall for Brody. But Brody was a ladies’ man, a player. She’d been played once and that was once too often.

  Still, what if he got serious? Could she?

  Take it slow, she advised herself. She didn’t need to rush into anything.

  * * *

  At the chamber of commerce meeting the next week Brody was all business. “Jenna, where are we with the festival?” he asked after calling the meeting to order.

  “We’re in great shape,” she was happy to report. “Everyone has posters up and all our restaurants are ready with specials.”

  Sandy’s, where they were meeting, was sure to win a prize for best-dressed restaurant. Holiday wreaths with seashells hung about the restaurant itself, and on the miniature beach in front of its entrance, a big mechanical Santa wearing sunglasses greeted customers, while an elf sat in the lifeguard chair. The restaurant was offering drink specials both Friday and Saturday night.

  Sandy’s wasn’t the only place that had gotten into the spirit of the festival. Santas were everywhere, even at cranky Susan Frank’s Beach Babes, where one was modeling a scarf and a beach hat. A miniature sleigh filled with dolls and teddy bears sat in the storefront window, all wearing little Santa hats and sunglasses.

  When Jenna had expressed surprise that she was decorating and offering special festival coupons, she’d replied, “I said I thought this was a bad idea. I didn’t say I wouldn’t participate.” If she’d decided not to take part, she’d have been the only one.

  “The mayor’s going to be on Beach Beat tomorrow talking about the festival, so everyone be sure to tune in,” Jenna informed her fellow chamber members.

  Kiki had been irritated that the mayor was talking about the festival as if it had been her idea, and going on the radio was one more way she’d take credit for what Jenna had done. Jenna was fine with it, though. She didn’t want to be talking on the radio any more than she wanted to ride on a float in the parade.

  And it looked like there’d be plenty of participants in the parade.

  “Who all will be represented?” Tyrella prompted Jenna when she got to that part of her report.

  Tyrella’s employees were going to be marching as the shovel core with shovels slung over their shoulders like rifles. The men and their buddies and boys had been practicing several stunts, which they claimed would dazzle parade-goers. Jenna hoped nobody’s shovel went flying. That would be all they needed, to have someone along the parade route knocked out by a shovel.

  She read from her list, starting with Beach Lumber and Hardware, then continued, “We’ve got Something Fishy, the Porthole, the Driftwood Inn, the Oyster Inn, Best Western, Quality Inn, Cindy’s Candies and our local Elks chapter. The Quinault Chamber of Commerce is sending their float and we have representatives coming from Icicle Falls and Puyallup, as well. Doggy’s is going to have a giant hot dog and their employees will be wearing hot dog costumes. Rian has her pet parade set to go.”

  Rian nodded. “I think every dog in Moonlight Harbor’s going to be present.”

  “Moonlight Harbor Evangelical is going to have a flatbed truck with Dickens carolers singing Christmas carols, and I believe Our Lady of the Sea is planning some kind of float with a living Nativity. Father Brannon tells me they’ll have a sheep and a goat in addition to the holy family and angels and shepherds. Good Times Ice Cream Parlor will be going along the parade route giving out coupons, and the funplex staff is going to be driving go-carts, right?” She looked to Nora for confirmation and Nora nodded. “We’ve got the Moonlight Harbor Horse Club and the fire and police departments. Oh, and the high school marching band. Then we have our own royal court and, of course, Santa bringing up the rear. His elves will be walking alongside the float and throwing wrapped peppermint candies into the crowd. Thank you, Cindy, for donating the candy,” she added.

  “Is Santa going to be in a sleigh, then?” asked Susan Frank.

  “No, but he’s going to be in a horse-drawn carriage.”

  “Since when does Santa ride around in a horse drawn carriage?” Susan sneered.

  “Since the mayor got involved,” Nora muttered.

  “The mayor knew someone,” Jenna said, and left it at that.

  “Well, no matter what he’s in, I hope he doesn’t get blown away,” Susan said. “You know the weatherman’s predicting a big storm for that weekend.”

  “The weatherman’s always wrong,” Brody said and gave Jenna an encouraging smile. “Looks like we’re in great shape for the festival.”

  “We are.” She’d never planned something this big in her life, and she had to admit she was pretty darned proud of herself. And, like Brody said, when did the weatherman ever get anything right?

  It seemed everyone in town was talki
ng about the festival, and Jenna did her part to fan the excitement, visiting the various shops and restaurants, gushing over their holiday decorations and taking pictures to put on Facebook and post on Instagram.

  The Drunken Sailor had decked out their life-size lady pirate wood carvings with blinking Christmas light necklaces, which gave a holiday glow to the massive cleavage spilling out of their pirate vests. The kite shop had a Santa posted by the cash register holding a kite, and Rita Rutledge had gone all out to make Books and Beans festive with a glittering ten-foot tree decorated with teacup and coffee mug ornaments. All the coffee bags on her merchandise rack wore little Santa hats and she was wearing one as well when Jenna stopped in for an eggnog latte.

  “I’m sure I’m going to win the best-dressed business award,” she said to Jenna.

  “You’re definitely in the running,” Jenna told her.

  So was Nora. Both Good Times Ice Cream Parlor and the funplex dripped with colored lights. She’d placed wooden facades of Mr. and Mrs. Santa in the ice cream parlor, and customers were enjoying sticking their faces in the empty space provided in the figures’ heads. When Jenna visited, she took a picture of a couple of teenagers posing and got their permission to post it on Instagram.

  “Everyone’s having so much fun with this,” Tyrella said when the women gathered at Aunt Edie’s for their cookie exchange that Friday evening. “The festival’s going to be great. And, speaking of great, I need the recipe for these rock cookies,” she said to Patricia Whiteside. “Please tell me it’s not top secret.”

  “I’ll share,” Patricia assured her. Everyone was supposed to come wearing an ugly sweater, but the ugliest Patricia could do was a soft, pastel blue pullover accented with a silver scarf. It was beautiful and elegant, like the woman wearing it.

  Courtney’s sweater was a garish thing sporting a Christmas tree decorated with all manner of pom-poms and appliques. She’d embedded it with lights that blinked on and off. If she spilled something on herself she’d get electrocuted. The yellow fringe on the bottom took it to new heights of tacky.

  “It makes me think of our float,” Jenna told her, “but not in a good way.”

  Courtney held it out and admired her own handiwork. “I call this design Bad Holiday Trip.”

  “You weren’t on a bad trip when you made these cookies,” Nora said, and helped herself to another potato chip cookie.

  “That was my aunt’s recipe. I love ’em,” said Courtney. “They’re about the only ones I make. I’d rather play with fabric than bake. Anyway, why bother when I can get Annie to bake for me?”

  Annie Albright lived and breathed all things culinary. Jenna hoped someday Annie would be able to make her dream of owning a food truck come true. Meanwhile, though, everyone enjoyed the treats she brought to their gatherings.

  She’d outdone herself that night, bringing Kiefles, a Hungarian treat, along with a fudge she’d created using white chocolate and rose water. Those treats, along with Cindy Redmond’s whipped shortbread, Nora’s holiday drop cookies and Aunt Edie’s latest creation, which she’d called Fruitcake Bites, gave everyone a nice selection.

  “Are we going to see these at the festival?” Nora asked Annie as she put another Kiefle on her plate.

  “I was thinking about it.” Her brow furrowed. “I really hope the weatherman’s wrong. I want to do at least enough business to pay for my booth.”

  “You will,” Jenna predicted. Dear Santa, please don’t let Mother Nature make a liar out of me.

  * * *

  “I kinda wish I could stay,” Sabrina confessed to Jenna two days before the festival as she helped Jenna fold event brochures for the motel office.

  “Me, too,” Jenna told her. “But your dad and your grandparents are looking forward to seeing you. This will be your Christmas with them, and they’ve got a lot of special things planned.”

  If you asked Jenna there ought to have been a medal created for single moms who shared with men who didn’t deserve their generosity. Not for the first time, she reminded herself that Damien’s parents had done nothing to deserve being deprived of visits with their granddaughter.

  “I know,” Sabrina said and frowned. “I wish you and Daddy were still together.”

  Jenna didn’t. He’d caused her enough grief.

  She hugged her daughter. “We did make you pretty miserable and I’m sorry about that.”

  “You didn’t,” Sabrina said. It would appear that she’d finally figured out who the real culprit was.

  It was all Jenna could do not to say, “You’re right. I didn’t.” Instead, she said, “Sometimes things happen.”

  “Aurora happened,” Sabrina said with a scowl. “I hate her.”

  “But she loves your dad.” God alone knew why. “So try to find the good in her,” Jenna advised, and then reminded herself that she should do the same, for both Aurora and Damien.

  Okay, so he’d fallen for someone else. So he’d turned his wife’s and daughter’s lives upside down. They’d landed right side up. Sabrina was doing well, and Jenna was happier than she’d been in years. He’d actually done her a favor. Maybe she wouldn’t wish him a lump of coal for Christmas.

  Anyway, ’twas the season to be merry, and between hanging out with her new Moonlight Harbor friends and getting her daughter ready for the Christmas ball, Jenna’d had plenty of opportunity to be merry.

  Sabrina had enjoyed plenty of merriment, too. She’d been smiling ever since the dance, and Jenna was glad she’d given her permission to go.

  All the parents had organized a progressive dinner for the kids before the dance, and they’d come to Aunt Edie’s for dessert—hot fudge sundaes with peppermint ice cream. Jenna had taken a ton of pictures, which she’d sent to her family and Damien, who’d texted a reminder to make sure Sabrina obeyed the curfew.

  I still don’t like her seeing him, he’d texted.

  They’re not dating, Jenna had informed him. They’re just hanging out.

  Like her and Brody. Except he’d come over that same night to watch movies with her and Aunt Edie and spotted the mistletoe Edie had hung in the entryway. “It’s about time,” he’d said, making a little shiver of anticipation dance down Jenna’s spine.

  When they’d finished with the movies and Jenna walked him to the front door, he’d taken full advantage of that mistletoe, drawing her to him. “’Tis the season,” he’d murmured, his voice low and sexy.

  Then, before she could object (not that she was going to), he’d kissed her, slowly and thoroughly. “Now, that’s what I want for Christmas,” he said when they were done.

  “Only a kiss? Right,” she’d teased.

  He’d sobered. “Yeah, I want more. You know I do. When you’re ready, Jenna, just let me know.”

  She was getting more ready all the time. She hadn’t said that, though. Instead, she’d just nodded. She had to be sure.

  Sure or not, it felt good to be wanted, good enough that she managed to welcome Damien kindly when he showed up the Friday afternoon of the festival to get Sabrina for their weekend together.

  He looked at her suspiciously. “What are you so happy about?”

  “Do I need a reason to be happy?”

  “Well, no. But you’re never smiling when you see me.”

  “Maybe I’ve got the Christmas spirit.”

  “Maybe,” he said dubiously.

  And maybe I’m close to finally getting over you and everything you did to me. She hugged Sabrina. “Have fun and I’ll see you Sunday night.”

  “Have fun tomorrow at the parade,” Sabrina said, and hugged her back. “Next year I’ll ride on the float,” she promised.

  They got into Damien’s car, and Jenna waved them off. A gust of wind caught her coat and pulled. A little wind, so what? It was always a little windy at the beach. Everything would be fine.

  * * *
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br />   The Marshes and the Browns entered Moonlight Harbor on Friday afternoon. The town was dressed up for the holidays with lights strung on frames shaped to look like Christmas trees set up at the white rock gateway. Every shop in town sparkled with lights, beckoning shoppers to come on in, but Taylor couldn’t afford to accept the invitation.

  The kids caught sight of a family of deer munching grass along the road and were thrilled, and Sarah took a picture.

  “How fun is this!” she exclaimed.

  Loads of fun, Taylor thought irritably.

  They pulled into the parking lot of the Driftwood Inn where she was about to spend a miserable weekend. This was the charming beach motel Sarah had reserved for them? No wonder her sister had gotten a deal. A fresh coat of paint and some driftwood couldn’t disguise the fact that the place was a relic. They’d passed a couple of attractive ones—with no-vacancy signs—on their way in. Those had looked more expensive, so, naturally, her sister would’ve passed them up.

  “Try to smile,” Greg said under his breath as they got out of the car, and she scowled at him.

  “This is lame,” she said.

  Okay, she was sounding bitchy. But she was feeling bitchy. They’d caravanned down, following Sarah and Chris and the boys, keeping in touch over the phone. They’d all stopped at the Dairy Queen in Aberdeen, and she’d barely had enough cash to cover their burgers and shakes. Nice of Greg to insist they could pay for their own meal. They couldn’t pay for anything these days.

  The boys began racing around the parking lot, Miranda at their heels. “Miranda, come here,” Taylor called.

  “Boys, settle down,” Sarah ordered, and they came bounding over to her like a couple of oversize puppies. “You shouldn’t be running around in a parking lot,” she scolded.

  “Can we go to the beach?” asked Christopher.

  “I want to go to the beach,” said Miranda.

  “Let’s get checked in before we do anything,” Chris suggested.

  The wind was cold, and it was starting to rain. All Taylor wanted to do was go inside and get warm.