“Oh, that’s fine, you just go right ahead. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“But—” How did this go from terrible to worse?
She points at the pot-bellied stove in the corner. “If I get tired, I’ll sit over by the fire and drink some cocoa.”
Is she in cahoots with Shawn? I slump. “Oh, it’s okay, I guess my errand can wait.”
“Now, now, don’t be silly.” She pulls my coat off the rack and shoves it into my arms. “If it was important a minute ago, it still is. I’ll mind the store.” She rubs her hands together and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “It’ll be fun.”
Yes, fun like electrolysis.
Blind fury propels me down the sidewalk, and I barely even see the beautiful Christmas decorations in every storefront. I’m almost to Angel Hair and Nails when Shawn comes out. Smiling. I stride up to him. “What are you doing?”
His brows knit together. “My job?”
“I’m supposed to be relaxing and enjoying Christmas, while you’re out here murdering my town?”
Chapter Nine
“Murder?” Oh, he looks so innocent. What’s he going to do next? Tell me it was all a mistake and enter rehab?
“Who was murdered?” A trembling voice behind me asks.
I glance around to see the Campbell twins. Ninety-five if they’re a day, but they still walk around Jingle Bells Avenue. Ermyl looks frightened, but Elva’s eyes sparkle with excitement.
“No one.” I say quickly. “No one has been murdered.” I shoot Shawn a glare. “Yet.”
“Watch out, young man.” Elva taps Shawn with her umbrella as she walks by. “I’d say you’re in a spot of trouble. Come on, Ermyl. You know children nowadays and their figures of speech.”
“Um, yes. We’ll be seeing you Christmas Day, Kristianna.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I wave good-bye.
They look back and frown at me. The sisters insist I call them by their first names, but I refuse to forgo “ma’am.”
“At least you’re polite to someone.”
I spin around to face Shawn again. “Do you know what you’ve done?” I should have only been gone a couple of minutes, but panic wells in me as I realize how much time has passed since I left the store. “What you made me do?”
He shakes his head slowly. “One thing I’ve already learned, I couldn’t possibly make you do anything.”
I’ve got to get back to my shop, and I have to have someone to help me. “Come with me.”
He steps back and lowers his eyebrows. “With you?”
“Hurry.” I stop short of grabbing his hand and turn the motion into a gesture to follow me. “You’re going to help me repair the damage,” I call over my shoulder to where he is following, though more out of curiosity than anything, I think.
When we get almost to my shop, I slow. “This is the plan. When you go in, I’ll introduce you to Miss Birdie. I’m going to sit her by the fire and you’re going to talk to her until she gets warm enough to take off her coat and give it to me.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Probably. But just listen. Then you’re going to distract her while I look in her bag.”
He nods. “Oh, I get it.” His voice is laced with sarcasm. “I guess Jingle Bells’ natives have never heard of walking barefoot together across hot coals or surviving in the mountains as a team. In order to bond, we’re going to rob an old lady.”
I glare over at him. “Bonding is so not the point here. Getting my merchandise back is. Just work with me. I’ll explain later.” I push open the door.
Birdie peers around a display in the back. “Oh, good. You’re back.” She clip-clops across the wooden floor to meet us. “Not one customer came in. Business must really be down.”
Ouch.
She looks curiously at Shawn behind me. I’m not sure introducing him to another townsperson is a good idea, but I’ve already dragged him in here, and I’m sure she remembers him from the town meeting. Might as well go through with my ridiculous plan.
I make the introductions and motion toward the stove. “Want to sit down and have that cup of cocoa now, Miss Birdie?”
“That sounds lovely.”
Shawn guides her over to the armchair, carefully adjusting it a little closer to the fire right before she sits. Then he relaxes into the rocker beside her. I stand between them, keeping chitchat going. By the time we’ve exhausted the weather and the upcoming holidays, she is shrugging out of her coat. I take it gratefully. “Let me go hang this up.”
I excuse myself and circle around to the back, making a quick side trip through my workshop where I clean out her pockets. Of my things, that is. Not a lot, considering she’d been given free rein. A few of my ornaments and a small snow globe. I need to get my hands on her bag, though, so I leave my finds on the workbench and take her coat to the front to hang on a peg. I can hear Shawn keeping up a running conversation as I walk back to them.
“Would you like to see the petition?” He pulls it out of his briefcase and I stare, mesmerized by the paper that may hold our future. Forget sugarplums. Visions of snatching the petition from his hand and stuffing it in the stove dance through my head. He gives me a hard glance, though, and as I look at Miss Birdie, scooted forward intent on reading the signatures, I realize this is my distraction. Not what I had in mind, but maybe it will do. I slip around behind her and squat, deftly removing two more snow globes, a soft Nativity scene for babies, and a couple of spools of ribbon from her bulging bag. I stuff the other things on a low shelf and carry the ribbon and the Nativity scene to the cash register. She won’t be happy if she doesn’t end up with something.
Five minutes later, she’s bundled into her coat and is clutching her purchases, the ones she happily paid for. After she leaves, Shawn stares at me, obviously waiting for a serious explanation. I hold up one finger and quickly dial Scott’s bookstore number. As I watch Shawn’s eyebrows draw together, I consider saying something cryptic like “Elvis has left the building” or “The Eagle has flown.” Instead I just say, “Scott, it’s Kristianna. Birdie’s heading your way.”
He thanks me and hangs up quickly, no doubt to get his own Birdie box out. I turn to Shawn, who is frowning.
“Birdie’s very forgetful. So she picks things up and forgets to pay for them. We warn each other when she’s on the way and hide our valuables until she’s gone.”
He shakes his head. “This town is nuts.”
I shrug. “Maybe. But that’s just the way we like it.” I turn my back and rearrange my twelve days of Christmas display.
A few seconds later, footsteps sound on the wood floor and the door opens and closes. I turn around to watch him walk down the sidewalk, clutching his briefcase. I wonder if he got Miss Birdie’s signature.
~~~~~
I pull my knee to my chest to tie my shoe and glance over at Garrett. It seems kind of odd to be bowling without Mark and Ami. “Did Mark tell you who was taking their places?”
Garrett shakes his head. “No. I just got a text message from him today reminding me to show up tonight and saying they’d gotten replacements.”
“Weird. I got the same thing from Ami.”
I look up as a vaguely familiar willowy redhead saunters in. She waves at us, or to be exact, she waves at Garrett. Oh yes, it’s all coming back to me now. She’s Mark’s co-worker, Lila. The one Garrett was talking to so much at the wedding.
Before I can comment, Shawn walks in behind her. This night just gets better and better.
Garrett leans toward me. “Don’t look now, but I think we’ve been set up.”
I groan. “Leave it to the honeymooners to think we need dates. What are we going to do?”
“Well, Shawn said he could bowl, and surely if Lila couldn’t, Mark and Ami wouldn’t have invited her.”
“Oh, yeah. Because we wouldn’t have anyone on our team who couldn’t bowl, would we?” I half laugh. “Besides, I’m not worried about winning.”
“Good th
ing,” Garrett says, grinning.
“Easy for you to joke.” I nod to the cash register where our counterparts are paying for their shoes. “You’re paired up with a beautiful accountant. I ended up with a man who’s trying to destroy the town I love.”
He shakes his head. “Come on. That’s dramatic even for you.”
Ha. If I were being dramatic, I would have mentioned that he’s a lawyer, to boot. “What do you mean ‘even’ for me?”
“Oh, wait,” he says, his tone overly apologetic. “Maybe that was someone else who didn’t eat beef for six months after your class visited a cattle farm.”
I blush. “I was only ten.”
“But that didn’t keep you from writing letters to your senators, encouraging them to stop condoning the senseless murder of helpless animals.”
“Okay, so I know how to embrace a cause, but this is not the same thing,” I murmur to Garrett as Shawn and Lila walk up.
Garrett shakes hands with Shawn and smiles at Lila. “Glad you two are here.” He nods toward the next lane where a raucous group of four men are warming up. Their rust-colored polyester shirts proudly proclaim Grease Monkeys. “We were feeling a little hopeless.”
I do a double-take. Hopeless? How did the fact that we were feeling hopeless escape me?
“Lila, have you met Kristianna?”
He sounds really happy to see her. And I’m not sure it has to do with bowling. Maybe I’m the only one not thrilled with this arrangement. I paste a smile on my apparently hopeless face and stick out my hand. “Thanks for coming to help us out. Did you drive all the way in from Little Rock to bowl?”
She shrugs gracefully. “Well, it’s not a long trip, so it isn’t a big deal. Mark said you guys needed a fourth, and I love to bowl.” She maintains eye contact with Garrett while she answers my question. I’m guessing Mark didn’t have to twist her arm.
I glance over at Shawn, who is quietly putting on his shoes. He’s probably afraid to speak to me after the other day. I must have seemed crazy, and now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’m not sure how to act. Logically, I know he’s just a temporary employee. But a part of me feels that he is Summer Valley.
I had The Dream last night. As usual, I couldn’t see the groom’s face. But I had the strangest feeling that Shawn Webber, his dimple flashing, stood patiently waiting for me at the front. Of course, as soon as I hit the halfway mark up the aisle, I ran for the door, but still if it was him, maybe it’s significant that he was there. Or maybe not.
I clap my hands. “Y’all ready to bowl?”
“Sure.” Lila smoothly hoists her bag to the wooden shelf and unzips it.
Behind her back, Garrett nods toward her monogrammed bowling ball bag and winks at me.
I snatch a shiny red ball off the rack and barely manage to hold onto it as my arm extends, stretching almost to the point of no return. Oops. I use the other hand to heave the Mr. Universe special back up to where I got it and ignore Garrett’s broad grin. After I massage some feeling back into my right arm, I carefully choose a lighter ball and set it on the revolving rack. “All ready,” I proclaim to the world in general.
Ten minutes into the game, Lila’s bowling, Garrett’s keeping score, and Shawn comes back and sits beside me, without speaking.
“Hi, Shawn.”
He nods. “Kristianna.”
Lila bowls a strike. Naturally. Because how would it be fair otherwise? She and Garrett high five, then chat for a minute while the pins reset.
I glance back at Shawn. “How’s it going?”
He looks confused, like he wonders if I’m asking about the signature gathering or just in a casual way. He should be confused. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.
“Fine.”
Safe answer.
Lila’s laughter rings out. While the other team bowls, Garrett is apparently regaling her with an amusing tale. When I turn back to Shawn, he smiles at me. “Truce?” he asks.
Anything’s better than this miserable stilted conversation. I nod. “Why not? I came to bowl.”
Garrett unfortunately overhears this last comment and raises an eyebrow. “Glad to hear it. Show us what you’ve got, sport.”
I growl under my breath as I walk by him and take my shot. To my amazement, my ball doesn’t go all the way into the gutter. It kind of dribbles on the border and ends up knocking down two peppermint-striped pins.
“Whoo HOO!” Garrett jumps up like a crazy man with his hand in the air. I stop and stare at him, so he lifts my palm up and slaps it.
I smile. But when I look at Lila’s she’s frowning. “You don’t bowl?”
I open my eyes wide and nod. “Every Tuesday.”
“Do you understand about the arrows on the lane?” She speaks very clearly like I’m really simple. “If you follow them with your ball. . .?”
I hear Garrett snort and I lose it.
Lila seems even more puzzled by my laughter.
Bless her heart.
Maybe if I explain. I straighten my face. “My ball has a mind of its own,” I offer, without so much as a chuckle. “That’s why I’m in a bowling club and not a league.”
“Oh. Okay.” She shrugs. “To each his own.”
I hear my returning ball clunk into place behind me. “Oops. My turn again.” I take careful aim once more and release. Straight down the arrow. At the very last second, it veers right and plops into the gutter.
“Unbelievable,” Lila says from behind me.
I glance over at Shawn. Then back to her and Garrett.
That pretty much sums up my life these days.
Chapter Ten
An hour later, I’m feeling like a Little Leaguer who wandered unawares into the World Series. Oh well, at least my team won. In spite of me. Thankfully, the hard part is over and it’s time for my favorite part of the evening—nachos and root beer. I switch my shoes and hear Garrett say, “You guys want to get a bite to eat in the snack bar?”
“Oh, not me,” Lila pats her rock hard abs through the red polyester shirt. “Way too high in fat.” She glances at me and I guess my open mouth makes her realize that was a bad answer. “I mean. . .I have to get home. Long drive.”
“Okay, then, see you ‘round,” I call.
She nods to me, then loops her arm through Garrett’s and smiles. “Ga-ar-rett. . .” The way she says it makes it sound like it has umpteen syllables. “I’m having some trouble with my laptop. Mark said if I brought it with me, you might look at it when we got done.”
“Oh, sure.” Garrett’s brow furrows. “You have it here?”——
“It’s in the car. I thought you might just walk out with me and look at it there.” She smiles. “I have a good heater, so we won’t freeze.”
Garrett gives me a wide-eyed look that I try to read. Does he want to be rescued? Or excused from our weekly ritual? I don’t say anything. He’s a big boy. If he wants food, he’ll have to just tell her. And if he’d rather go off with the redhead, that’s his business.
“See y’all,” he says and guides her out the door. Well, I guess that answers that.
I stare after them. Does being a good bowler make her think that she has the right to bat her eyes and take Garrett? Not that it’s my business. I’m just saying. . .
“Sorry you got stuck with me.”
I swing around to face Shawn. “Oh, that’s okay.” Brilliant. I’m sure that made him feel better. I smile, but do not bat my eyes. “Want to get something to eat?”
He nods and puts a hand on my elbow as we go up the steps to the snack bar and order our food.
When we’re done, he guides me to a small table in the corner. Again with his hand on my elbow. A little proprietary considering this isn’t even a date. But maybe that’s just my latent lawyer hostility showing. Or my not-so-latent town-name-change hostility.
He pulls a chair out for me. “Do you like to bowl?”
I sit. “Sometimes.”
“You do it with gusto.” He sit
s down across from me.
“That’s not a phrase you hear every day.”
He grimaces. “My dad used to say, “Shawn, whatever you do, do it with gusto.’”
“So are you gathering signatures with gusto?” I’m detached. Just asking a man about his job. Nothing more.
“It helps if you believe in the cause.” He picks up the laminated menu and glances at it, then back at me. “In this case, I do, so yes.”
“Do you realize how expensive it would be for us to change the names and themes of our shops? Yet, if we don’t, we’ll be left behind. Who will want to go to a Christmas-themed shop in Summer Valley?” My voice gets loud and people around us turn and look.
He opens his mouth, and I hold up my hand.
“Rhetorical question, Shawn. Don’t bother answering.” Tears sting my eyes. So much for detached.
“It’s no bother.” His voice is even, but I can see a flare of anger in his eyes. “This is just a temporary job for me. But it’s one that makes sense. Every time I meet with the Summer Valley representative, he stresses that we’re here to save the town. That’s our number one goal.”
I snort. “I’m getting pretty tired of hearing this ‘saving the town’ line. Don’t you have anything new in your repertoire?” I glance toward the bowling alley door. How long does it take to “look” at a laptop? I need moral support.
A pony-tailed blonde shoves our nachos and drinks down on the table and hurries away.
“You’re not the only one getting tired of something. I’m tired of being treated like Public Enemy Number One just for doing my job. Especially by you.” He narrows his eyes. “I can’t imagine why I keep seeking you out.”
“Well, from now on, don’t do me any favors.”
Garrett appears beside me and pulls up a chair. “I’m starving. Mind sharing?” He takes a chip from my nachos without waiting for an answer.
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