Just South of Christmas

by Grace Palmer

  She leaned back in the chair with Bandit at her feet. Melanie watched as the kittens woke up, one by one. Besides the charcoal male, there was a pretty black-and-white female, and two calicos, a boy and a girl. Their mother was busy bathing them one by one and eventually, they settled in and drank while the momma cat laid on her side, eyes fixed warily on Melanie once more.

  Watching the little family somehow calmed Melanie. She’d always found solace in caring for creatures big and small. Without the clinic, she would have never made it through her divorce. In some way, the clinic was to her what the inn was to her Mom: something to cling to when everything else was going under.

  These animals needed her. She had to keep going for them.

  “Did you have anyone, Momma? Or excuse me—I should say, Rudy. Might as well get you used to the name. You look pretty solid. Were you someone’s pet? You didn’t have a chip. Or were you just an independent lady who had people that cared enough to look after you when you decided to show up? Did you have a safe place to be? A refuge?”

  Refuge. She sighed.

  Until Colin, her only refuge had been the clinic. While she loved her family, the inn didn’t feel like a true home. The constant flow of guests in and out helped ensure that she always felt like a stranger there.

  And with Derek—well, in the early years he’d been her safe place. At least she’d felt that way. Looking back now, though, it was never right. Never real. The real feeling of belonging, of being safe and being loved, hadn’t come until Colin.

  Yet here she was, doubting him. His behavior this evening was so out of character, so hurtful, that she could not help but wonder: were those feelings of security and belonging ever real?

  Or were they just something she’d convinced herself of because she needed to feel loved at last?

  Was he really the knight in shining armor she always made him out to be?

  Or was he perhaps just as wrong for her as Derek?

  The tears forced their way into her eyes then and she broke down, crying in front of the crate containing the cat. Rudy would soon have a place to belong. She would have someone to love, someone who loved them in return.

  While all that waited for Melanie Baldwin was doubt, and uncertainty.

  Again.

  9

  Georgia

  “Should I be worried about Melanie, do you think?” Georgia asked as she and Joel continued their walk. They were almost at the inn now but there were a couple of rather fantastically decorated homes to still admire. However, her mind kept traveling back to her oldest child and the troubled expression she’d seen on Melanie’s face.

  Joel shook his head. “She’ll be fine. She and Colin had a little spat, as couples do. They’ll work it out.”

  She sighed as she rested her head on his shoulder while they walked along with the rest of the crowd. “I suppose I’ll never stop fretting over my kids.”

  “Nor should you.” He turned and kissed the top of her head. “It’s what makes you a great mother, caring for your kids no matter how old they are. But I think you can rest assured. They’re all doing well. Look at them.”

  He nodded in the direction of Eddie and Tasha who were walking, hand in hand, beside Ashley and Drew. Both couples seemed blissfully happy, chatting and laughing amongst themselves.

  Perhaps she was being silly to worry. They were all adults now, and their lives were shaping up nicely. Drew had at long last settled on a real grown-up career, after working as a mechanic and then giving freelance journalism a try. Tasha appeared happy with her acting studio and helping Eddie and Damien put on plays at the community theater. And even Melanie, when not fighting with Colin, was by all accounts settled and thriving.

  “You’re right, Joel. I know you are. I just can’t shake that fear of something going wrong. Ever since Richard….” She stopped and glanced up at him. Georgia didn’t like mentioning Richard, her ex-husband, to Joel. But he didn’t seem to mind and waved a hand, signaling for her to carry on, so she did just that. “Ever since he left so out of the blue, I can’t shake it. This feeling.”

  “That is part of life, my love. We were both lucky that we only experienced such a sudden shift in our lives once. Besides, terrible as it was at the time, we found one another. You know the saying. Every ending is a new beginning. And I’m rather happy about our new beginning.”

  He let go of her hand and instead wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. She looked up as a snowflake fell into her eye. She giggled and blinked, to Joel’s amusement. “You are adorable, do you know that, Georgia Baldwin?”

  “If you say so, Mr. Abbott. If you say so.”

  They stopped walking then, letting the crowds pass them by. Illuminated by the light of the street lamp, they looked each other in the eye. She loved the twinkle in Joel’s eyes when he looked at her. At once, she beamed at him and leaned forward, kissing him. It was a warm, soft kiss, the kind that gave her flutters of happiness.

  “Joel Abbott, look at us. Making out in the middle of the street. Like we’re teenagers.” She grinned at him and he gave her a stern nod.

  “Indeed. Let ‘em watch; we’ll teach ‘em a thing or two. In fact, I’d rather the whole town stop and stare. I love you.”

  “And I love you.” They were about to kiss once again, ignoring the looks they were drawing from the crowd, when suddenly—

  “Get a room, y’all!” Alma laughed as she passed them, flanked by Cheri and Barb who both laughed as well. Blushing, Georgia waved at them and then looked up at Joel.

  “I feel like a teenager sometimes when I am with you.”

  He smiled and pinched her cheek. “At our age, anything that makes us feel younger, I’ll gladly have more of.” He kissed her, this time on the forehead just as the snow flurries were starting up again.

  Together, they walked hand in hand toward the house of Magdalene Peterson, a woman who loved nothing more than decorating for Christmas. Her yard was full of lit-up reindeer, and she even managed to put a Santa disappearing into her chimney on the roof. Or rather, she’d managed to convince Hector and Hazel, her grandchildren, to do it for her. The old woman sat on her front porch, a glass of wine in hand and waved enthusiastically with her husband, Magnus, beside her.

  Georgia’s heart felt full at the sight of them. “They’re each in their nineties. Can you imagine?”

  “And still together. It’s charming. They seem a happy couple.”

  “Maybe that will be us one day.”

  Joel laughed out loud. “I might have to lay off your delicious baking then if I have any hope of living to my nineties.” Georgia slapped the back of her hand playfully against his stomach and shook her head.

  “Joel, you’re bad. If you don’t watch yourself, you’ll find nothing but fruit salad waiting for you from now on!”

  “That and a few long walks on the beach might do an old man’s body some good, actually.”

  While she loved their playful banter, she found herself swept up in the rush of the crowd again. The inn was now within sight.

  “Oh, dear! I didn’t even notice we’d almost reached the end of the Walkabout. I had better rush ahead with Alma and the other ladies. There are chicken wings to heat up, a wreath to hang up, and tea and coffee. Oh, my! Sometimes I take on too much.”

  “You do. But you love it. And you are so good at it. I’ll meet you at the inn in a little while.”

  After one more quick kiss on the lips, Georgia rushed off and made her way toward the inn, with Alma, Stella, and Cheri in tow.

  “Mom!” Tasha called out. Georgia stopped and turned, letting her friends walk ahead.

  “What is it. dear?”

  “We’re splitting to go caroling,” Tasha said. “Unless you need us at the inn to help. I know Mel and Colin left already.”

  Georgia shook her head. “No, hon, I have all the help I need. The ladies are all pitching in and Drew and Ashley will be there, too. So you and Eddie go and have a good time caroling. I know how muc
h you love it.” She leaned forward and gave Tasha a kiss on both cheeks before turning and rushing toward her friends.

  Georgia, Alma, Stella, and Cheri made their way past the crowds and towards the inn to set out the refrigerated foods and heat whatever needed to be warmed up.

  “Be careful with the choux wreath!” Liza called after them when they passed her.

  “Will do,” Georgia called back.

  The women were halfway down the street when Alma came to a sudden stop.

  “What is this?” She pointed up ahead. Georgia narrowed her eyes and gasped. One of her recycling bins was turned over, the lid open, and garbage was flying and rolling down the street.

  “Oh, goodness gracious! Goodness gracious! We can’t have the street outside the inn littered with garbage with all these people on their way! Quickly, help me get it.”

  The women rushed towards the trashcan and grabbed the assorted cans, cartons, and bottles that had tumbled out of the recycling container. Georgia could only imagine the spectacle they were to the people behind them. Four older women squatting, hopping, and running after empty cartons in the middle of the snow flurries.

  “Oh, no!” Cheri cried out. “I’ve gone and got milk all over my hands and arms!” She stood with her arms stretched out, milk dripping down. “What a disaster!”

  “It’s just milk, hon. Don’t be so dramatic,” Alma chided her.

  In response, Cheri pouted and made her way towards the inn’s door, arms stretched out in front of her. Georgia could not help but giggle at the sight. She loved Cheri dearly, but the woman had a tendency toward histrionics.

  “You look like Frankenstein’s monster, walking like that.” She laughed, her arms stretched out the way Cheri was holding hers. The ladies chuckled at the joke. All except Cheri, who glared at them.

  For a moment, Georgia was concerned her friend was seriously offended but then the sweet-natured blonde lady giggled. She then marched forward, legs as stiff as her arms, a perfect imitation of a horror movie zombie, aside from the laughter she could not contain.

  Relieved that the perceived offense had been averted, Georgia rushed up the steps toward her friend, keys in hand. She had just passed Cheri and was about to unlock the door when she noticed something peculiar.

  “Did I not lock the door?” She turned, looking at Alma who shook her head.

  “I am certain you did. Yes, I know you did, darlin’. I watched you do it.”

  Georgia shook her head. “Well it’s unlocked now.” To prove the point, she pushed the door handle down and gave the door a little shove. It swung open at once. The four women stood in front of the open door, looking at one another with uncertainty.

  “Maybe you did just forget. Or it didn’t catch properly,” Stella suggested and started to dig in her purse. “Let me go in first.”

  Georgia was about to protest when she spotted a can of pepper spray in Stella’s hand.

  Noticing her stare, Stella shrugged. “What? I didn’t grow up in a quaint seaside town where nothing bad ever happens. I grew up in the real world where a woman needs to protect herself.”

  “I hear that,” Alma agreed.

  Without further protest, Georgia stepped aside and motioned for Stella to enter, pepper spray stretched out in front of her at the ready.

  Stella had stepped inside the hall and hadn’t taken more than five steps when she stopped and gasped, lowering the pepper spray.

  “What is it?” Georgia asked as she hurried behind her.

  But Stella didn’t need to answer. Georgia saw it all for herself.

  The dining room, so lovingly decorated when they’d left for the Walkabout just a few hours earlier, was now a wreck. All the tables and chair were turned over, the bright lights that were previously strung across the windows lay on the ground, ripped away. The Christmas tree was toppled over. It was like a picture taken in the wake of a natural disaster.

  Georgia clutched her hand to her necklace and stepped back, leaning against the wall for support. She felt the hot tears fall down her face because she knew at once: this was no accident.

  “What is it?” Alma demanded and stepped past both Georgia and Stella only to stop in her tracks and gasp. “Mercy! Who would have done such a thing?” She turned to Georgia, reaching out toward her. “My dear, I am ever so sorry.”

  Stella marched on toward the kitchen. She didn’t need to say anything. Georgia knew from the expression on her face that the picture in there was not much better.

  Bracing herself, she followed in Stella’s footsteps.

  “Don’t, Georgia. You don’t need to look.” Stella held her hand up to stop her, but Georgia gently pushed past her.

  Her heart sank even further as she took in the damage. “Oh, no! Oh. Why? Who would…” Words suddenly failed her. She thought the dining room was a disaster zone, but the kitchen was ten times worse. She clasped her hands in front of her face as she looked around.

  The cookies and cakes were all on the floor, many looking as though they’d been stomped on. Liza’s beautiful wreath was recognizable only by the little red bows she’d placed on it. The fridge door stood open and sandwiches, chicken wings, mashed potatoes, and even the custard pudding had been thrown to the floor.

  Everything was in ruins. Everything.

  A wailing sound filled the air and it took a moment for Georgia to realize it was coming from her own mouth. All at once, Alma was by her side, clutching one arm and rubbing her back with her free hand.

  “Now, now. Hushhh. It’s alright. We will clean up and…” She stopped. There was nothing to say that would make any of this any better. When even Alma Anderson was at a loss for words, you know it was bad.

  And it was. Horrific, in fact.

  Georgia didn’t know what to say. This was her home as well as her business and someone had dared to invade it—and ruin it. Fortunately for her, Alma’s shock wore off quickly and she took control of the situation.

  “Well, we ain’t havin’ an after-party here, friends. Cheri, make an announcement to the people. Have them go to The Duke instead, first drink is free for everyone! Stella, will you fetch Joel? And right quick.” She glanced at Georgia who stood silently as she leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the wreckage before her. “And get the rest of the troop while you’re at it.”

  When both of the women were on their way to their assigned tasks, Alma stepped in front of Georgia and rested her arms on her shoulders.

  “We’ll find out who did this. Don’t you worry, my dear. We’ll clean this mess up and then we’ll catch out the culprit. Nobody gets away with messin’ with Alma Anderson’s best friend.”

  Georgia slung her arms around Alma’s waist and rested her head against her shoulder. She couldn’t stop thinking the same things over and over.

  Who would do such a thing to her?

  And why?

  10

  Tasha

  Tasha and Eddie walked hand-in-hand, along with a group of about twenty other carolers as they approached the home of Paul and Greta Francis, the owners of Willow Beach’s original general store.

  Retired now, the elderly couple lived in a modest Cape Cod-style cottage in the oldest section of town. The residents in the neighborhood were also mostly elderly, many of them having lived in their homes for almost their entire lives. Now too old to take part in the Walkabout, they had for years missed out on the festivities.

  That is, until Gwen Powers, Tasha’s mom’s good friend, organized the Willow Beach Caroling Choir. Now, each year, a group of volunteers made their way to the area to spread cheer among these citizens by singing joyful carols and bringing assorted baked goods.

  Tasha loved the tradition when she was a teenager. After returning from Los Angeles, she had gladly joined the Choir again. It was one of the things Tasha cherished the most about their cozy little town and one that she had sorely missed while living away. Something about it just encapsulated Willow Beach for her, in a way that was a stark contrast aga
inst the dog-eat-dog world of Hollywood.

  It felt good to be back home for Christmas.

  Full of enthusiasm, Gwen rushed forward, a woven basket full of baked goods in hand, and knocked on the door. It took only a moment before Paul Francis answered, a smile on his wrinkled old face. Of course, he had been expecting them.

  “Well, hello, Mr. Francis!” Gwen greeted in her usual sweet voice. “Who is in the mood for some Christmas carols? And perhaps some lovely choux pastries?” She offered him the basket of pastries.

  He took two with a mischievous grin. “Don’t mind if I do.” He turned back toward his wife who joined him. “Greta! Have a pastry, dear. Any special requests for the singers?”

  His wife pondered the question over for a moment and then broke into a wide smile. “Why, I should love to hear ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful.’ That would make me very happy.”

  Gwen put on her best surprised face. “You had to start us off with a tricky one, Greta!” she laughed and then turned to the group. “Are we up for the challenge folks?” Sounds of agreement came from the folks clustered on the front walk. Eddie squeezed Tasha’s hand, winking at her with encouragement.

  Tasha wanted to smile. Really, she did. But her face was frozen.

  Not from the cold—but from the bad memory the song always brought up in her.

  Once upon a time, “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” was one of her favorite Christmas songs. However, since her last experience singing it, she’d sworn it would never cross her lips again.

  And it never did.

  Until now.

  She wanted badly to sit this one out. However, she had no choice. This was the carolers’ first stop, and with Tasha playing such a prominent role in Willow Beach with the community theater, she had a lot of folks who’d grown used to looking to her for guidance. Even now, she felt their eyes on her.