Merry Me

by Amanda Siegrist

  Merry Me

  By Amanda Siegrist

  Copyright © 2016 Amanda Siegrist

  This ebook may not be re-sold or re-distributed to another person unless consent is given by this author. If you wish to share this book, please purchase an additional copy. It may not be re-produced in any format for your own rights. If you did not purchase this book, please return to your favorite retailer to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters in this book are a product of the author's imagination. Places, events, and locations mentioned either are created to help inspire the story or are real and used in a fictitious manner.

  Note: The towns mentioned in this story are fictitious, except for St. Cloud. That is a real city in Minnesota full of culture, beauty, and kindness. You should visit it someday. 

  Merry Christmas.

  May your days and nights be filled with holiday cheer!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  "Merry Christmas, Chief," Bernie from the hardware store said as Chief Elliot Duncan strolled by.

  "Hey, Bernie. How's the family?" Elliot asked, slowing his pace even as his feet itched to reach his car and drive as far away from Mulberry as he could.

  "Just fine. James is dying to have that new racecar thingamajig, so I have to head to the store after work. Hope they're not sold out." Bernie laughed, wiping a hand over his forehead as if he hoped to dodge a bullet.

  Elliot laughed as well. "Good luck, Bernie. Have a nice day."

  "You too, Chief."

  Elliot kept walking, as his truck loomed closer. Just a few more steps to freedom. How many times would people wish him a merry Christmas today? It wasn't that merry. Oh, he played it off well enough that everything was merry, hunky-dory, and all that fine jazz. But he couldn't stand Christmas since the day his mother passed away three years ago. And for some reason, because she didn't pass away near the holidays, he always thought of his mom this time of year.

  Probably because she had always managed to make it bright and merry from day one. Baking delicious treats, stopping by at the police station almost every day, dropping off cookies, cakes, pies, and every other treat she had felt that him and the other officers would enjoy. Heck, many of the townsfolk had been aware of the delicious treats she made and knew they were welcome to the wonderful baked goods as well. He hadn't even been chief then, just another officer in the building. That hadn't mattered to her; she still stopped by making nice with everyone.

  And his parent's house, the wonderful smell of cinnamon that hit his nose every time he walked through the front door, or the Christmas music that would be lightly playing in the background. Sure, his mom probably had the TV on as well. It didn’t matter. She wanted to hear the joyous music all the time.

  She loved Christmas. That made him love Christmas. Now she was gone. What was the point? It'd be better if the holiday never existed.

  No more visits with treats to the station. No more cinnamon wafting to his nose, especially since his dad sold the house and moved in with him. No more Christmas music just for the hell of it.

  His dad tried to make this time of the year special, but Elliot would slap the off button to the radio with a flick of his wrist or barely glance at the burnt cookies his dad always attempted to bake. He could hide his feelings about the holiday to everyone—except his dad.

  Sighing heavily as he pulled the truck door open, the point of the holiday was to make it merry for his dad. He missed her just as much as Elliot did. She had been an amazing woman.

  "Merry Christmas, Elliot."

  Looking over the truck door, Marybeth Jenkins stood on the sidewalk in her dashing red-velvet coat and black high heels. His eyes drifted over her form, her coat grabbing his attention as nothing else peeked out from underneath. It left a man to his imagination. Marybeth had a nice body. She displayed it to him often enough with seductive, form-fitting clothes. Not that it ever enticed him. He didn't want a woman this time of year, especially Marybeth. Too loud in her wardrobe, too forward in her advances. That sort of personality made him cringe.

  "Hi, Marybeth."

  "Care to join me for lunch?"

  "Thanks for the offer, but I'm going home for lunch. I told my dad I'd be there."

  Her face dipped a little.

  Out of nowhere, he offered a polite smile. Why did she keep trying? He always brushes her off. She should've gotten the hint by now that he wasn't interested.

  "Rain check, then?"

  "With the holidays here, it might get difficult."

  "I'm a patient woman, Elliot. Have a wonderful day," she said as she sent him a sweet smile and continued walking down the sidewalk.

  Elliot rushed into his seat, slamming the door before another person could stop him. Driving through town, a permanent smile and friendly wave signified the holiday spirit, even as his heart spiraled into misery. He might not appreciate Christmas anymore, but it'd take a true detective to see the real pain inside.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled into his driveway. A loud grumble from his stomach erupted as he opened his door. What could be on the menu today? Hopefully his dad didn't forget to cook. Occasionally it happened, and he'd crack jokes that his dad's age was catching up to him.

  Too bad it wasn't his turn today. The burger joint he passed had made him salivate. Next week he'd enjoy the burgers when his turn came around. Thank goodness, he always made plans with his dad to have lunch. His excuses to politely shut down Marybeth were running out. She seemed eager today for his attention. He hit a good day when his dad didn't actually make other plans. Recently retired, that happened a lot.

  The slam of his door didn't drown out another gurgle. He froze to regain his composure. Bringing his dad into his despair wouldn’t make the day any better. Probably only bring up old arguments.

  About two years after his mom died, his dad had moved in with him after he suffered a small heart attack that left Elliot nervous. He lost his mom to cancer and he hadn't been prepared to lose his dad as well. He had suggested to his dad about moving in. It took a lot of talking and finagling to get his dad to agree. The one huge argument that always surfaced from his dad was, "How are you going to meet a nice woman with an old crotchety man living with you?" He always responded back with, "You're not that old or crotchety."

  At one point in time, sure, it would've been nice to find a woman and start a family. Now, the chance was too risky. The pain that always squeezed his heart every time he thought of his mother nearly made him keel over to the ground with no chance of regaining his stance. The perfect solution was to avoid that kind of pain. Keep his heart locked up to any woman.

  Another protest escaped from his stomach. He took two more steps to the porch and slowed his pace again. On the small table between the rocking chair and the front door sat a present. His feet dragged as he approached the bright package. Like most things associated with Christmas, receiving presents shoved too many painful memories front and center. With any luck, it was his dad's.

  The paper looked fairly old as he turned it around in his hand. A light tannish-brown background with little multicolored presents littered in a haphazard pattern and a bright red ribbon with glittery snowflakes tied neatly around the box. His hand jerked as he zoned in on
the ribbon. Tied so perfectly. So delicately. Damn, his mom would've wrapped it like that.

  A small portion of white stuck out from underneath the ribbon. Carefully, he pulled out a tiny blank envelope. He turned toward the door to head inside and ask his dad who left the gift here, knowing in all reality, his dad probably set it here and just forgot. That memory of his concerned him sometimes.

  The oddity of the paper, the uniqueness of the bow overtook his control as he pulled out a white card with a lovely green wreath circling the border.

  May your holidays be ever bright. May your wishes be ever right. May the spirit of Christmas fill you with love and comfort until the end of night.

  His brows dipped as he read the card. The words reached inside his heart, hammering once at the lock firmly in place.

  No name attached. Who was the gift meant for?

  A puzzle.

  Maybe the answer was hidden inside. He carefully removed the bow and tore open the wrapping paper. The cover to the box was a glittering silver color, sparkling like a diamond, with a shiny silver strip of ribbon from one end to the other. The box itself was a light gray with white snowflakes and dark gray stars sprinkled around it. Why wrap such a pretty looking box? He lifted the lid to the box. The puzzle instantly morphed into a further complex mystery.

  Inside, snuggled in a nice ball, was a pair of Christmas socks. The socks, patterned in red, green, and white with a fluffy white band on top, reminded him of Santa's hat. Who in the world would give him a pair of socks, Christmas ones at that? He started to put the cover back on the box when a flash of green hit his eyes. Pushing the socks aside, a nicely folded twenty-dollar bill appeared. Now, he could appreciate that gift. He had no use for the socks.

  Regardless, he shoved the lid back on the box and opened the front door. His dad would know the mystery of the box. End of complication. Unless it was a secret Santa sort of thing. Did he miss a memo at work about it? Daphne, the queen of the front desk, was always trying to instill the holiday spirit every time he turned around. Pretending around her had become difficult.

  Please, don't be that ridiculous tradition. He had a horrible time picking out gifts, even before his mother died.

  "Hey, Dad. Where are you?" Elliot yelled, shoving the door closed behind him as he set the box down.

  "In the kitchen. Is it snowing yet?"

  Elliot hung up his jacket in the closet, grabbed the gift, and walked quickly to the kitchen. "No. I didn't think we had snow in the forecast."

  "Yeah, the weatherman said we're supposed to be getting three to four inches come nightfall."

  Elliot chuckled. "Doesn’t even look like it wants to. You know how those weather people are."

  Gregory looked at Elliot as he pulled the mayo out of the fridge. "Whatchya got there? Someone give you a present?"

  Elliot tossed the box onto the counter. "It was on the porch outside. Did someone stop by? There's no name on the card."

  Gregory stared at the box with glazed eyes, then abruptly turned around to grab more ingredients out of the fridge. "No one stopped by that I know of. Weird."

  "Yeah, it's weird. I'll wrap it back up. I just wanted to see if it said inside who it was from." Elliot sighed as the bright red ribbon grabbed his attention, its glittering snowflakes sparkling like elegant white lights on a tree.

  "Why would you wrap it back up?"

  A better question would be—why did he open it up to begin with?

  "Not sure when I would ever wear these socks, Dad. They look like they're for a woman. Look how long they are," Elliot said, pulling them out of the box. They hung in his hand, almost the entire length of his forearm.

  "They look perfect for you. You need a bit more Christmas spirit in you, Elliot. Your mother wouldn't like how much of a Grinch you've turned into. Maybe that present was just waiting for you to unwrap."

  "Dad, did you give me this ridiculous gift?"

  Gregory shook his head. "Maybe it came from one of the churches in the area."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You know, donating a gift to a family in need."

  "I'm not someone in need," Elliot said, shoving the socks back into the box. His mystery just turned into a case like the ones that landed on his desk at work. He never walked away from those and he wasn't about to start now. There were definitely people who could use this gift, especially the twenty dollars. Not him. He had plenty of money.

  "I don't know about that, son. You are in need of a lot of things," his dad said softly, grabbing the bread from the cupboard.

  "Like what?"

  "If you have to ask, then you're worse off than I thought. Enjoy the holidays for once. If you're so pressed to refuse such a thoughtful gift, then give it back," his dad replied as he slammed the bread on the counter.

  Elliot flinched. "How? It doesn't say who it's from."

  "You're the chief of police, figure it out."

  He ran a hand through his hair as his dad yanked two pieces of bread out of the bag. "I didn't mean to upset you, Dad."

  "What makes you think I'm upset?" his dad replied, slamming the cupboard door shut.

  Elliot sighed. Why couldn't he hide his despair for the holiday better? Now the rest of lunch would be stilted as he attempted to make his dad feel better. He would make his father feel better before he left, even if he had to throw on Christmas music. Maybe his mom's favorite song would cheer his dad up.

  The grumbling of his stomach was lost in the sound of joyous holiday music as it filled the room. A smile slowly crept up his dad's face as Elliot turned the volume up another notch.

  He took a seat at the table, his back to the gift. That didn't force it out of his mind. How hard could it be to find the owner? The peculiar look in his dad's eyes at the mention of the church gave him a starting point.

  ***

  Lynn blew a breath up towards her bangs, resisting the urge to scream from the top of her lungs. The morning had been horrible trying to find the perfect gift, and the afternoon wasn't looking any better.

  Walking toward the back supply room, she leaned against the wall as every sound from the diner melted away.

  The morning had proved to be one of the most challenging she had in a while. Tis' the season to donate. Something she did every year, no matter how tight money became. Just one nice little gift to donate to the church and feel like she contributed like every other faithful churchgoer. She loved Christmas and the holiday spirit, the thought of giving a gift to a person and watching as their eyes lit up with excitement.

  But, like every month, money was scarce.

  Nothing dazzling had struck her eye as she roamed around her house, visiting each room like a drill sergeant inspecting the bunkhouse. No money to buy a present. And nothing worthwhile in her house. Failure had never been in her vocabulary. Something extraordinary would pop up in her house somewhere. Any nice, well-maintained thing would do.

  But there was the crux of the problem. Well-maintained.

  Old, worn, and from the thrift store. The very definition of her belongings. No one said it would be easy being a single mom to a seven-year-old. When had life ever been easy for her? No money for those nice pair of shoes, or the new video game that just released, or the new movie that everyone had to see. Laura, her wonderful daughter, just understood. Money was tight, and when Lynn could afford to spoil her, she would.

  It wasn't often. But when she did, oh boy, what a treat. Regardless of having no money, being barely able to pay the monthly rent or sometimes scrounging for spare change just to buy food, her daughter's happiness was top priority. Her daughter deserved it. She always did her homework right away, kept her bedroom clean, rarely talked back with attitude. Such a good little girl. Too mature, really, for her age. She deserved the world.

  While she may not own the fanciest or the most fashionable clothes, she had decent clothes that fit. She would stick a needle in her eye before she allowed her daughter to walk out of the house with floodwater pants or shi
rts that didn't reach her wrists or any clothes that were a little too tight. They were poor, but her daughter would never look poor. She drew the line at that.

  Hand her a needle and thread and she'd create a masterpiece worthy in the designer world. Something she did every so often with Laura's clothes. Laura always displayed a smile and enthusiasm, giving Lynn pause at whether she was masquerading her true feelings. In the end, it didn't matter. She had no money for the really nice stuff anyway.

  She had ended the torturous search in her bedroom, hoping for anything lovely to pop out and say, "Wrap me!" Except, the only thing to pierce her vision had been the twenty-dollar bill lying on her dresser. Who used money as a gift? So impersonal. Something she wasn't. Thought and care went into each gift she gave every year. And she had to buy Laura's presents.

  Banging her head on the wall as the cooking sounds from the kitchen still couldn't pull her away from her turmoil, the pain radiated down her spine as it sunk in. Spineless. Taking the easy way out this year. And that twenty was now lost to another family instead of her precious daughter.

  Considering there were only two more weeks until Christmas, she only had two presents so far. She always made it a point to give Laura five. It didn't matter how she managed to do it, short of stealing, she'd never do that. But always five gifts. Faltering this year wasn't acceptable. Some extra brainstorming was in order to achieve her goal.

  She had already bought a beautiful monkey watch from the zoo when they made their yearly trip to the Twin Cities. Laura's face had lit up when she saw the watch in the gift shop, and Lynn had slyly purchased it before they left. A whopping twenty-five dollars later, setting her back, of course. Just meant more over-time at the diner. Nothing new there either. But imagining Laura's excitement when the paper tore from the present and the watch was revealed, that's what mattered. Her daughter's happiness.

  The second gift waiting patiently to be opened was a beautiful monkey quilt she started making last Christmas. Every time she walked into the thrift store, her eyes zeroed in on anything monkey-like. Laura just loved monkeys. Lynn knew without a doubt that she would love the quilt.