I didn’t have to ask what “it” meant. I knew—everyone knew—she’d spent several months in prison as a young woman. She’d been upfront about it last fall when she came back to Jewel Bay and started job-hunting. “So, why’d you come back? I mean, this is a small town and your parents are fixtures.”
“It was time. My marriage had ended. The dog died. And I hoped …” She eyed me over the rim of her mug. “My daughter just started college, in Missoula. I thought that if she and I were close by, my parents might want us all to be a family again.”
Whoa. That topped all the reasons I’d had for coming home a year and a half ago.
“She’s at UM?” I said. “That’s great—only a hundred miles away. She live on campus?”
Merrily nodded, her expression livelier than it had been all morning. “In Jesse Hall. She’s driving up for Christmas with a friend.”
“That was my dorm,” I said, memories flooding in. Mostly good, but I’d been haunted back then by my father’s death during my senior year of high school, and I’d spent too many hours alone in my room or walking the riverfront trails. I’d been so self-absorbed I’d barely noticed the tall, good-looking guy from Minnesota who’d crushed on me. Fortunately, Adam hadn’t forgotten me, and when our paths crossed again, we clicked.
“Ashley loves it,” Merrily said. “She’s always wanted to know about my parents. I haven’t told her what happened back then—my prison stint, or their reaction.”
“Oh. She’s never met them?” Not every family is as close as mine, but I tried to hide my surprise as I did the math in my head. Ashley had to be eighteen, and Merrily thirty-seven or eight. She must have gotten to the business of marriage and motherhood right after leaving prison.
Merrily shook her head. “My parents had cut off all contact, so I stayed in Billings after my release. I made some bad choices young, but at least that was a good one.” Her soft lips curved upward, and she transformed from plain to pretty. She couldn’t be thinking of her marriage, if she’d gotten a divorce, and while I’d only been to Billings a few times, it didn’t seem a likely source of her misty memories. She’d left, after all.
No, I decided, that smile was meant for Ashley. I smiled back.
“Your sister seems to get along with your parents,” I said. Holly Thornton Muir was my cats’ vet, and I’d run into her in the village several times, coming out of the antique shop with her mother or her children. Too late, I remembered Taya’s terrible insult, comparing Merrily to her sister.
A complicated expression crossed the other woman’s face. “Holly accepted Ashley without hesitation, and she’s done her best to persuade our folks, but no luck. Still, I couldn’t give up. I moved back, and I keep trying to talk to them. Maybe this town hasn’t changed much after all.”
That made me squirm.
“I’m being unfair,” Merrily continued, her tone apologetic. “My family’s dysfunction isn’t Jewel Bay’s fault. Though I do wonder if anyone ever called my mother on her behavior.”
Good question. My mom might know. But I could understand how family and village might be intertwined in Merrily’s memory.
“So you’re working at the Building Supply. I hope that’s going well.”
“Yeah. I’ve always been good with numbers and organizing.”
I grinned. “I knew I liked you.”
“Erin?” Lou Mary called. “Ready to open?”
I glanced at the clock. Exactly ten a.m. Lou Mary’s inner time clock never fails. “Flip the sign,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Let’s get this shopping season rolling.”
Merrily slipped off her stool and stood in front of the jam display.
“Bet you missed huckleberry jam,” I said lightly, and she picked up a jar. I gave her a quick tour of the shop, chatting about our locally made cheese, the fresh meat and poultry, and other staples.
“Don’t forget,” I told her a few minutes later as she zipped up her puffy red coat. “Tomorrow at one. I’ll serve lunch. Bring enough cookies for everyone to take home half a dozen.”
Though my mother had moved out when she remarried last summer and I’d moved in a few weeks ago, we’d agreed that the annual holiday cookie exchange should remain at the Orchard, the Murphy family homestead. Some traditions, my mother said, belong to the place where they began.
“I know just what cookies to make. It will be fun, meeting new people.” Merrily set a box of truffles on the counter, next to the jams and soaps she’d chosen, gloves in one hand as she fished in her pocket for cash with the other. “I’ll take these, too, to slip into a package.”
“Love the gloves.” Red-and-black Buffalo plaid, accented with small black buttons.
“A gift,” she said, and a glow spread across her face. She gave me a quick hug. “Thank you, Erin. You’ve been so sweet.”
Outside, she strolled down the street, shopping bag in one gloved hand, her red Santa hat dangling from the other.
“So what in blue blazes got into Taya Thornton?” Lou Mary said. This was her first Christmas at the Merc, though she’d worked retail more than forty years.
“I’ve never seen her so upset,” I said. “It goes back ages.”
“That business with Sally’s ex embezzling from one of her companies?” Lou Mary asked.
Tracy’s eyes widened. “I don’t know that story.”
“Sad, what I know of it,” I said. “Merrily was fresh out of high school. She pled guilty to embezzling from the timber and property management company Sally Grimes inherited. Sally’s husband ran it, but it turned out he was robbing her blind.”
“What was Merrily’s role?” Tracy paused while sorting food-themed ornaments for the tree in the window, the final touch. I’d have offered to help, but I’d learned that when it comes to decorating the shop, Tracy is happier and the results are better if the rest of us stay out of her way.
“That, I never knew. She helped Cliff Grimes in the office. She pled guilty to some kind of theft—I don’t know the right term. He insisted on a trial where he blamed her for everything, but the jury didn’t agree. They convicted him. He died in prison.” I shuddered. “Anyway, her parents disowned her. After all this time, they still want nothing to do with Merrily or her daughter.”
“Such a shame.” Lou Mary rested one arthritis-swollen finger against her perfect coral lip. The bright reds and greens of the season didn’t suit her coloring—a natural redhead, hair slightly enhanced to counteract the effects of age—so she ignored them. Today, she was dressed from tip to toe in soft camel, a double strand of rough carnelian beads wrapped around the base of her turtleneck. “And I thought my ex took the cake.”
“Merrily served less than a year. Whether because she was so young, or because Cliff Grimes was a scumbag, I don’t know. Anyway, this fall, she showed up here.” I sipped my cocoa. “Literally here, looking for a job, but I’d already hired you.” Whether we could afford two employees through the winter remained to be seen, but Lou Mary had become such an asset so quickly that I was determined to make it work.
“Points for chutzpah,” Lou Mary said, her tone both admiring and incredulous, though she and Sally were friends, so I expected she’d heard part of the story. “Returning to the scene of the crime.”
“And to such a warm, welcoming mother,” Tracy said, sarcasm dripping.
“Which is so weird. Taya Thornton was my kindergarten teacher. I loved her—especially at Christmas. She brought cookies every Friday, and we made the best Christmas crafts.” I’d found a dusty box of them when Adam and I cleaned out my mother’s attic. The box sat in my old bedroom, waiting for me to sort through it.
“I can imagine the shame,” Lou Mary said slowly, thoughtfully, “but not holding on to it for so long. Hard feelings chip away at a person.”
“Anyway, Greg Taylor hired her at the Building Supply, in the office. People raised their eyebrows—”
“Sally wanted to organize a boycott, get people to stop shopping there,” Lou
Mary said, shaking her head. “I told her she could have five minutes to indulge her wounded pride, but then she had to get over it. No reason to give other people power they don’t deserve.”
Not for the first time, I wondered what pain had made retail-savvy, smart-mouthed Lou Mary so wise.
“Greg said everyone deserves a second chance.” I stood. “And that’s all I know, except that I like her. She’s what, five years older than me, so I never really knew her, but I’m looking forward to becoming friends.”
“Would you have hired her, with her parents down the block and Sally across the street?” Tracy asked. She tucked a strand of her long chestnut hair behind her ear, exposing a miniature red ornament. The other earring was green. “If you’d had an opening?”
As if “opening” had been the magic word, our front door opened, the chime ringing. I greeted the customer, a loyal shopper, cheeks pink from decorating. She picked up half a dozen jars of the Merc’s huckleberry jam and another six of cherry preserves—her annual treat for her children and grandchildren.
I rang up her purchase, giving her an extra jar as part of our rewards program, and pondered Tracy’s question. Sally hadn’t been the only person who thought Merrily should have stayed away, for her parents’ sake. But this was Merrily’s community, too. How much more should she be punished? Home can be a powerful draw—a year and a half ago, I’d left a great job in Seattle as a grocery buyer for SavClub, the international warehouse chain, to come home and go into business with my mother. Then last summer, I’d been forced to consider whether the life I wanted with Adam would mean leaving Montana, but I’d been spared that decision.
“Three weeks to the big day,” the customer said, bringing me back to the present. “Are you nervous, or excited?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks even though I didn’t know whether she was referring to Christmas or the wedding.
She touched my hand. “You’ll be a beautiful bride.”
I nodded, my lips trembling, my reply stuck in my throat.
Fresca returned as the customer departed, the hug she gave me longer and tighter than usual, the warm, tangy scent of her perfume comforting.
“How are the Thorntons?” I asked.
She frowned, fine lines visible around her dark, moist eyes. “Sometimes, I don’t understand people.”
“Amen to that.”
“We’ll have to be extra kind to that family this year. Including the girls. Bill and I are going shopping. Call someone about that soffit before the ice works its way in and causes more damage. See you this evening.” She gave me another hug, then left by the back door.
And then it was down to business. As if by that magic of the season Lou Mary had invoked, the Elves gave way to shoppers, and we hustled to pack up bags of jam, pickles, and preserves. My mother’s Italian sauces, pastas, and spreads sold briskly. Luci the Splash Artist had created a new pine-scented soap in the shape of a Christmas tree, and by noon, I had to fetch another case from the basement.
A customer commented on the sagging garland and the gaping roof line, and I laughed it off, but the problem was no joke. I called my brother, Nick, and left him a message. He’d been a big help since his return to Jewel Bay last winter, but building repairs took a back seat to his real work. He’s a wildlife biologist studying wolves and wolverines, and tracking his comings and goings would require a high-powered GPS. Adam had learned a lot about home repair since we’d bought the house, but I didn’t want to ask him to take this on—he had enough to do, finishing up the painting and other details in our own remodel. And it was my family’s building, not his. Not yet.
Tracy finished the windows and dragged me out to the street to take a look.
“They’re terrific,” I said, and meant it, though I knew she’d fuss over them all season long. One window showcased our products around a small artificial tree decorated with toy kitchen wares and strung with popcorn garland, burlap bags of kernels from a central Montana farm at its base. My favorite ornament was the miniature red frying pan.
In the other window, a vintage toy train circled a tiny version of Jewel Bay, featuring the Playhouse, the chalet-style Inn at the north end of the Village, Red’s Bar, and Murphy’s Mercantile.
“Simply perfect,” I said and gave her a one-armed hug. “Now go home and feed that puppy.”
A warm glow spread through me. Much as I love happy customers, they don’t happen without happy employees.
Back inside, the scent of lavender mingled with cocoa and coffee. Lou Mary handled the customers while I checked stock and got ready for the Art Walk. If Decorating Day is the village at work, the Art Walk is the village at play. The dozen-plus galleries stay open late, and the merchants join the fun, welcoming shoppers and browsers alike. As I swept up bits of caramel corn, I wondered whether Walt and Taya would participate.
I was glad I’d invited Merrily to the cookie exchange. Sugar and spice are remarkably good for the spirit, especially among friends.
Two
Dark falls early this far north, this late in the year. At five o’clock, I stepped outside to survey the village. It had truly become a winter wonderland, with enough snow to evoke the season but not enough to keep the shoppers and revelers home.
This wasn’t a big sales night. This was a night for villagers and visitors to celebrate, to greet old friends and meet new ones, and to see what temptations the artists and shopkeepers had created. The streets and restaurants were full. Every roof line sparkled, and the bright faces reflected the glow.
But it was chilly and I hadn’t tossed a coat over my red turtleneck, so I hustled back inside.
We were at full strength tonight, with Tracy handing out samples of her chocolates and Lou Mary chatting up every would-be customer. Fresca had returned to serve as semi-official greeter.
“Erin, congratulations!” Carole Hoover, a trim, dark-haired woman, took both my hands in hers and leaned forward, our cheeks brushing. Behind her, Ike, her husband and the long-time undersheriff, beamed.
“Adam is a lucky man,” Ike said. Even in jeans and a parka, he had a commanding presence. “Now that you’re about to be married, maybe you’ll stay out of trouble.” He winked.
“Plenty of trouble to keep me busy here.” I spread my hands. “And congratulations to you, on your appointment as sheriff. January first is the day, right?”
“Yep. Thanks.” A shadow swept across his narrow face. The current sheriff had announced plans to retire when his term ended in a year, but cancer had forced him to quit early. The county commissioners had appointed Ike to fill the seat, and though he and I had disagreed a time or two, I had no doubt that he was the right man for the job.
And while he’d been in the Merc plenty of times on official business, this was a night for fun. “Help yourself to cocoa or hot spiced wine. Snacks on the back counter. ’Tis the season.”
The Hoovers drifted off, pausing at the handmade pottery and wineglasses, talking and gesturing in that abbreviated way couples develop. Discussing gifts for the family, I hoped.
A customer standing next to Luci’s soap display asked if we had any hand sanitizer. “No,” my mother replied, “but check Jewel Bay Antiques down the street. I saw some there in Santa dispensers.”
“Oh, how darling,” the woman said, and I mentally rolled my eyes. Even in Santa dispensers, I thought the stuff reeked.
“Oh, gosh. Look how busy you are! This is going to be a fabulous holiday season.” Heidi Hunter, owner of Kitchenalia across the street, took my arm and drew me behind the front counter—the cash-wrap, in retail parlance—and lowered her voice. “Now, what happened this morning with Taya Thornton and her daughter?”
“Heidi, I hate spreading gossip,” I said.
“It’s not gossip if it’s true. Besides, you were there.”
I made a yeah-maybe noise. Better, I rationalized, to report what I’d seen so unspoken questions wouldn’t cloud the party tomorrow. And so the truth wouldn’t
get embellished beyond recognition. I gave Heidi the nickel version.
“That’s horrible.” Heidi’s eyes widened, as blue and sparkling as the sapphires and diamonds in her tennis bracelet, a gift from an old boyfriend. “Can you imagine screaming at your own daughter in public? Or shunning her for years?”
No, I could not.
Heidi let out a slow breath, her elegant blond hair brushing her shoulders. “I know you kids all adored her in the classroom, but ever since they opened that shop downtown, I’ve thought Taya had a screw loose. I mean, nobody needs that many antique mercury glass ornaments.”
“She just loves Christmas.”
“There’s passion, and there’s obsession. I’ve got to get back to the store, but I wanted you to know—someone from Minnesota called and ordered every piece of Le Creuset cookware on your registry.”
My turn for the wide eyes. “Every pot and pan? That’s hundreds of dollars. Who—?”
Her eyes twinkled. “I can’t tell you. Just make sure you leave room in your new kitchen cabinets.”
She blew me a kiss and swept out the door. Though a registry at a sporting goods store would have been more his style, Adam had gone along with the housewares theme, as he had with most of the wedding folderol. Even a small, close-friends-and-family wedding was turning out to be a bigger deal than I had planned on.
Of course, when it comes to my family, every event is a big deal. And Adam’s family … Well, the Zimmerman clan remained a mystery to me. After weeks of will they or won’t they drama, the older twin brothers Adam called Cain and Abel had cancelled, claiming they needed to finish a project at their construction company by year-end. He’d almost seemed relieved. His mother worried about flying alone, so Adam had booked her on the same flight as Tanner Lundquist, his best buddy since the first day of first grade. Tanner would stay with us at the Orchard. Mrs. Zimmerman and the Contis, my mother’s family, were booked at the Lodge. The Murphy clan all lived in Jewel Bay, thank goodness.
“Hey there.” A pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind, along with the familiar, not-unpleasant scent of woodland sweat and damp wool.
As the Christmas Cookie Crumbles Page 2