Just South of Christmas

by Grace Palmer

  There was no time like the present to see if indeed they could.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the little church and got out. It snowed again and the gravel was covered in a fresh, powdery snow. It crunched underneath his feet as he made his way to the church door, pulling it open when he got there.

  The interior of the church was as old as the exterior. Ten rows of wooden pews ran down on either side of the aisle. They were white but the paint was chipping away, flecks of it littering the floor. A scent of something tickled his nose at once and he frowned before realizing what it was: myrtle.

  He was about to slide into one of the back pews when he spotted a familiar-looking figure sitting in the front. He frowned for a moment and then walked along the aisle until he was within earshot of the man.

  “Sam?” he said out loud.

  The man turned around, a surprised expression on his face. “Drew, what are you doing here?”

  Sam Walker motioned for him to slide into the pew beside him and when he did so, Drew found himself enveloped in a bear hug by his surrogate uncle.

  “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” he asked with a smile.

  “I come here a lot, just to sit back and contemplate life. Plus, Stella has Liza over today for some girl talk and I decided to make myself scarce. But what about you? I don’t know anyone who comes to this church but me.”

  “I’ve never been here before. I see the church every day on my way to work and the signs…” He shrugged. “I guess they’ve been speaking to me lately, especially today. I could really do with some answers. You don’t happen to have any handy, do you?”

  Sam spread his hands and shrugged. “Try me. What’s on your mind? Knowing you, it’s either career trouble or girl trouble. “

  Drew nodded. “Girl trouble, it is. Ashley broke up with me. Like… Oh, half an hour ago.”

  Sam’s eyes widened at this news. “What? Are you serious? I thought the two of you were rock solid. I know her dad has been dragging his feet about letting you guys get married, but… What happened?”

  Drew shrugged and looked at the stained glass set above the altar. Thus far, the promised answer hadn’t been forthcoming. He sighed, leaned against the hard wooden pew, and slowly started to fill Sam in on the events of the evening.

  When he was done, he turned and looked into his uncle’s kind eyes as he nodded his head.

  “I see. Well. I’m awfully sorry that’s happened but don’t lose hope, son.” He placed a hand on Drew’s back, patting him lightly.

  “That’s easy to say when you’re in your shoes. You’re happily married. You’ve got a career you love.”

  Sam sighed and leaned back. “I do, but it wasn’t easy going. You know that better than most. I think where you went wrong is trying to please the man too much. I think you lost yourself a little bit in there. Do you really like what you do at the property developer’s place? I mean, really?”

  Drew shook his head. “I can’t stand it. I only did it for Ashley, and now…”

  Sam grunted then. “You see? You can’t be doing things for other people. It’s honorable that you wanted to do everything you could to do right by Ashley and her father, but now look where you are. You don’t have her and you’re stuck in a job you don’t like. It’s not right.”

  Drew felt a sense of overwhelming disappointment at himself rise up. He’d failed again. At everything. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Noticing the tone in his voice, Sam raised an arm to calm him. “Steady on, Drew. You have to find out what you really want. Don’t cower to the man. Let some days pass; let tempers cool. Then, after the holidays, go over to Ashley’s dad and talk to him. Man to man. Tell him you’ve done all he asked, you got yourself a career even though you don’t like it. Tell him you got Ashley that job at Mel’s specifically to help her career. Tell him you’re willing to do what it takes, but that you won’t stand for being pushed around. Tell him everything you told me, about how you gave up what you loved and stopped searching for things you feel a passion for in order to fulfill his demands.”

  “I did, though, Sam. I already did.”

  Sam shook his head. “It sounds like what you did was ‘yes, sir’ him half to death. I don’t think you stood up for yourself. A man won’t respect another man that won’t push back. Greg Pearson strikes me as the kind of man who would respect you more if you were a bit more forceful. Stand up for yourself. At this point, what do you have to lose?”

  Drew leaned back. What did he have to lose? Nothing he hadn’t already lost. He nodded at Sam. “I suppose I did come to the right place.”

  “I’m here every Wednesday from seven until nine,” Sam said. He chuckled and boxed Drew in the arm and then pulled him closer to him into another hug. “But you can find me in the shop, too. Don’t be a stranger now, you hear?”

  “I won’t,” Drew answered. “Promise.” He leaned back then and closed his eyes, envisioning just what he would say to Greg Pearson when he saw him next.

  It was time to make some changes.

  20

  Georgia

  Georgia sat at the desk in her study and pored over the books. While her former husband had implemented an electronic system, she still preferred her old-fashioned pen-and-paper method of keeping track of the guests.

  She looked at the calendar and shook her head, crossing out three more reservations, these for January. She wrote Grinch next to them, since the guests had given the article as the reason for the cancellation.

  The inn was currently empty. The last guests had departed early and the families booked in over Christmas had already cancelled. Through the grapevine, Georgia discovered they were staying at Nancy Friedman’s bed and breakfast instead.

  Joel entered then, having just gotten off the phone. “Another one. Hampstead, party of three.”

  Georgia raised her eyebrows. “The two week stay in early February? Really? They were taking up two of the rooms.” She sighed, a wave of desperation overcoming her.

  Wordlessly, Joel stepped out of the room and returned a moment later with a cup of coffee.

  He sat it down on her desk and pushed the little saucer toward her. “Here you go. It looks like you might need this.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you, Joel. I don’t know that a cup of coffee will fix this, but I appreciate it anyway. And you.”

  He nodded at her and pulled out a chair across from her, slipping into it with one smooth motion. They looked at one another silently as his eyes fell to her calendar before her. “How’s it looking?”

  Georgia shook her head. “Bad. Very bad. If this continues, I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay the mortgage. Usually, this is the time of year we get a lot of bookings for spring break, but there’s nothing. Just cancellation after cancellation. Between the vandalism and the bad reviews… Joel, I don’t know what to do if this doesn’t turn around.”

  Joel press his lips together for a moment and then cleared his throat. “If it comes to that, I can pull some money from my 401(k) to tide us over.”

  Georgia looked up, touched by his suggestion but she shook her head. “I can’t ask you for that. That’s your retirement; that’s your future.”

  “Our future, Georgia. We are getting married. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, remember? We’re in this together.” He tapped his finger on the arm of the chair before sighing. “I can’t think of anything else to do. And I’m sorry. I know I’ve said it before but I should’ve taken it more seriously when you voiced your concerns about the effect of the vandalism on the business. I dismissed it and now I can see that I was wrong to do that.”

  Georgia shrugged. She forgave him the first time he apologized. In light of her situation, there was no point in holding on to a grudge over an argument, bad as it was at the time.

  Besides, to say Joel had stepped up was an understatement. Together with Sam, he had arranged for cameras to be installed all around the property, a f
act Drew had quickly added to the website in order to boost guests’ confidence.

  Then he’d interviewed applicants for security positions Georgia was thinking about adding, but once again, with the lack of reservations, she had no justification to hire anybody. It all seemed rather pointless.

  “Joel, if nothing changes soon, I don’t know how to keep the doors open. It’s not even that guests aren’t coming to Willow Beach. They are. They’re just not staying here. They’re flocking to Nancy’s.”

  “Yeah, this all has worked out very well for Nancy, hasn’t it?” He shook his head. “It’s a shame how the bad luck of some benefits others.”

  Silence fell between them. Georgia set her gaze on Joel, knowing that there was something else on his mind. She knew him well enough by now to read him like an open book.

  “What is it? I know there’s something you want to say.” Georgia eyed Joel as he ran one hand through his hair.

  “There is. I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, though. I’m just concerned. I was thinking if this continues and the business doesn’t recover, rather than you lose your life savings, maybe it would be an idea to consider that offer you had. From the man at the Walkabout.”

  Georgia inhaled sharply. “Sell? Sell the inn? I could never…” She trailed off.

  Or could she? She and Richard opened the inn together because they had both been passionate about it. And even after he left, she never lost her love for the business.

  She loved taking care of people. The excitement of each day being different kept her going. Challenges rose up and were solved, unhappy guests were turned into loyal returning customers. Every day was an adventure.

  But then again, she had to admit that it wasn’t the same without Richard. Not that she missed him. Still, now that the inn was hers and hers alone, it felt different. It wasn’t the family affair it used to be.

  To sell, though? It was such a big, scary thought.

  She recalled the conversation with the strange man at the tree lighting the week before. One of his relatives was in her shoes once. Was it his sister that he’d mentioned? She couldn’t quite recall. Everything turned out for the best for her after selling, hadn’t it? And then there was the phone call from the realtor the previous month. That man seemed willing to make an offer right then and there.

  It seemed many people around here were packing up and moving or selling. Even old Helen Slocum sold her lot at the edge of town just this week.

  Maybe it was time for Georgia to move on.

  “I never got the realtor’s number. I was so upset at the mention of selling that I just hung up on him.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Georgia. You could just ask Drew. He has access to the realtors’ database, so I bet he could get an estimate. At least we’d know what the place is worth. No commitment or anything, just gathering information. What do you say?”

  “I suppose. Let me talk it over with Alma and Gwen later. You don’t mind, do you?”

  He smiled at her and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Of course, I don’t mind. Talk it over with your friends and with the kids. We’ll sort it out. Everything will work out. I promise you.”

  Georgia leaned back, comforted in knowing that at least she and Joel were on the same page again, united.

  Later on that evening, Georgia found herself seated in one of Alma’s beanbag chairs. Why a woman of Alma’s age insisted upon having her guests seated in beanbag chairs instead of on a proper couch was something Georgia would never understand. But it was one of her friend’s many quirks that made her unique.

  “Here you go, darlin’.” Alma rushed in from the kitchen, balancing three glasses of wine along with a tray of cheese, crackers, and grapes in her hands. She set them down in front of her friends on a small coffee table with bright yellow place mats.

  “Oh, that looks delicious!” Gwen chirped and picked up a piece of Camembert cheese with a napkin.

  Alma winked.” I thought I would go for a French theme this evening in celebration of Gwen’s very first date with a dashing French pediatrician.”

  Gwen groaned at the very mention of her date the previous night and shook her head. “He is no more French than I am Irish, for one.” She grimaced. “And I would much rather not talk about that disaster you call a date.”

  Georgia pursed her lips before speaking. “That bad, huh?”

  Gwen rolled her eyes. “Worse.” She gulped down some of her wine. “I have never known two hours to pass as slowly as they did last night. The man was tedious. I tell you what sealed it for me…” She paused here and then leaned forward as though she was about to tell them a great secret. “…he doesn’t like Christmas.”

  At once, both Alma and Georgia gasped and Georgia shook her head. “Well, that’s the end of it then. What a strange man. Doesn’t like Christmas? Next!” She shook her head.

  “He must be new in town,” Alma added. “Otherwise, he would have known Gwen Powers is the Christmas Queen in all but title. Next, you’ll tell me he doesn’t care for Valentine’s Day.”

  Gwen said nothing but raised an eyebrow, nodding her head.

  “Well, bless his heart. He surely fell off of a turnip truck, that fellow.” Alma topped off Gwen’s drink.

  “Yes. Called it a ‘Hallmark holiday.’”

  Alma had no more words and simply sat back to down her wine.

  ‘Well, we’ll fix you up with some nice fellow. Don’t you worry, Gwen.” Georgia was about to list all the eligible men she knew in Willow Beach when her friend shook her head.

  “No need. Already taken care of.” Gwen pulled out a business card and handed it to Georgia.

  “The Elves Shoppe?” She frowned as she handed the card to Alma who popped her reading glasses on her nose.

  “Who’s this fellow, then?” Alma asked.

  Gwen returned the card to her pocket book. “A nice, older man who has a stand at the Christmas Market. He’s retired but during the season he sells handmade elves and nutcrackers. I met him while taking a walk after the date finally ended. We’re going to the Christmas Market in Inverness next week. His son is going to watch his stand in the meantime.”

  “Gwen, you work mightily fast,” Alma said, appreciation in her voice.

  “We’re all not getting any younger!” Gwen snorted.

  Georgia sat back as her friends continued to chatter. This was relaxing, and under normal circumstances, she’d have enjoyed herself even more, but with the threat to the inn over her head…

  “Georgia?” Alma’s voice called out. She looked up.

  “Yes?”

  “I asked if there’s any news of the vandal, and since Joel has all but taken over our stake-out with Ben and Sam, I’ve not heard anything about it.” There was still a hint of annoyance in her voice at having had the task taken from her a few days prior.

  “Oh.” Georgia shook her head. With sadness in her voice, she recounted the latest events, causing Alma to ball her hand into a fist and shake it in the air.

  “The vandal. We have to catch that guy. If we could catch him, can you imagine all the positive coverage it would get on the news? All of those people who canceled would be eager to come back and stay at a place like Willow Beach Inn where the owner single-handedly caught the criminal responsible for ruining her business..”

  Georgia shrugged. “Yes, that would be wonderful, but there’s still no real lead.”

  Gwen frowned. “I’d think the person who has the most to gain would be the most likely suspect, no? So, who’s gained?”

  “Nancy Friedman,” Alma blurted at once.

  “Nancy, yes. But there’s also Evelyn Barber. She’s all but said she wishes the inn would go under. Tasha heard her in the hair salon. And she’s not been quiet about the whole Winter Queen situation.”

  “Alfie,” Alma added. “He’d take joy out of hurting Colin’s family.”

  “There’s too many people. It could have been any of them or all of them. Or none of them. What m
atters is that the inn is losing more business than even during an active blizzard season and I can’t hold onto it much longer.”

  Alma leaned forward and patted her arm. “Don’t fret now. Joel is right. Everything will come together. Trust me. No friend of Alma Anderson’s will be brought down by some lowly vandal. I will not allow it. Mark my words, everything will be just fine.”

  Alma winked at her and took a sip from her drink, leaving Georgia to sit back and bite her lip. All she could hope at this point was that Alma was right.

  If she wasn’t, selling would be her only option.

  21

  Drew

  The following day, Drew sat in the break room of the Porter Property Management office and leaned against the glass wall. His banana and peanut butter jelly sandwich sat on the table untouched. He had no appetite.

  Despite Sam’s encouraging words, he’d woken up feeling hopeless and dejected. Talk to Greg Pearson. That was the plan. What a plan! Everything hinged on convincing a man who was more stubborn than even Drew’s own father that he’d been wrong.

  “Hey there, superstar. What’s up with you?” Rachel walked up to his table and stopped, her eyes narrowed.

  “Nothing. What’s up with you?”

  She stood and sucked on her cheeks, a habit Drew found irritating. Looking away, he glanced at his sandwich and poked it with his index finger.

  “Looks delicious. You put that together yourself?”

  He turned his gaze back to Rachel. “What do you want, Rachel? Did you just come over here trying to pick a fight?”

  She shook her head and turned, looking over her shoulder before sliding into the seat beside him.

  “I actually did want to tell you something. It’s about that little old lady you were on about the other day. Slocum? The estate out by the new resort?”

  Drew leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Go on.”