Sandcastles Under the Christmas Moon (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 9)

by McKeehan, Vickie

  He did it all with a bent toward excellent taste in such matters and all while comforting the grieving relatives. Barton had gotten such a good word-of-mouth reputation that he’d taken in new business from people living in nearby San Sebastian.

  Which just proved that Pelican Pointe could be a bastion for new ventures, a harbor for people who wanted to live out their dreams.

  It was that sentiment that caused these newcomers to crowd into the auditorium at The Driftwood with the rest of the chamber of commerce members to hear five-foot-tall Patrick Murphy go over guidelines for the Christmas Festival.

  The hubbub around Durke’s new bar caused Janie Pointer to get upset. Still fuming about Flynn’s incarceration and the fact that he’d lost his beloved pool hall, Janie often exercised her foul mood around anyone who’d listen. As she looked around for somewhere to sit, she turned to the nearest ear, which happened to be Jill Campbell. “When Flynn gets out of jail I’m unloading my share of the Snip N Curl to my sister and getting the hell out of this town for good.”

  Jill, owner of Coastal Pharmacy with her husband Ross, glanced around for a friendlier face in the crowd. She waved at Jordan Harris. But much to her dismay, Jordan took one look at Janie and moved on to sit with Drea and Hayden.

  Jill held up her hands. “I don’t want to make you mad or anything but you might consider moving before then, especially if you’re so angry at everyone. It isn’t Brent’s fault or Eastlyn’s for that matter that Flynn played a part in the meth trafficking.”

  “He wasn’t making the stuff,” Janie pointed out. “Or selling it.”

  “Just allowed it to be pushed out the back door of the bar,” Jill retorted. “Look, don’t jump down my throat. Flynn is where he is because of the decisions he made. Why don’t you focus that anger on the right party? Be mad at him for being stupid. But don’t be mad at Eastlyn and Brent for doing their jobs.”

  “It’s just not the same here for me. Not since Sissy Carr died. When you lose your best friend it’s never the same.”

  Jill had no sympathy for Janie. “It’s because you’re so preoccupied with Flynn’s incarceration you’re taking it out on your customers.”

  “Who bitched about me this time? Let me guess. Ethel said I screwed up her ugly hairdo that she insisted she wanted.”

  “It’s no secret you’ve alienated a lot of customers. Ina Crawford said when you did her hair last week you were so upset you messed up the coloring.”

  Janie rolled her eyes. “Ina Crawford is a complainer, always has been. I haven’t changed a single thing about that woman’s head of hair since I started putting rinse on it when I was nineteen. Ina’s never happy.”

  “Neither are you,” Jill muttered, still trying to find somewhere else to sit. She lucked out when Isabella patted the seat next to hers.

  “Thank you,” Jill whispered as she slid into the vacant chair. “I thought I’d be stuck sitting with Janie for two hours.”

  “Did you get her sob story?”

  “Worse. I got the pissed off attitude.”

  “You know she’s ruined the hair of five customers since Flynn got arrested.”

  “Ina Crawford’s for one. Janie claims she’s leaving town.”

  “Not a minute too soon in my book. I’ve been afraid to go in there ever since she turned Ethel’s hair orange. And Prissie’s steel tresses look more like they belong on a mop rather than on a head of hair.”

  Jill snickered at that as Patrick Murphy called the meeting to order.

  “We have a lot of work to do and a short time to get it done. I need all those people who’ve signed up to have a booth, to report to the right chairperson. If it has anything to do with food or drink, see Jordan Harris. If it’s arts and crafts, Emma Colter is in charge of that. And if you’re signing up to be a caroler, talk to Cora Bigelow, who’s handling the singers and the music. Her assistant, Barton Pearson, will audition the soloists this afternoon at four o’clock at the funeral home.”

  Murphy paused when Prissie Gates tapped him on the shoulder to bend his ear about something. “And I’ve just been reminded that the Christmas tree lighting will be this coming Thursday night. So remember to bring an ornament, either homemade or store bought, to hang on the tree. Thursday is also when Santa and Mrs. Claus arrive in town for the kids. This year, Bran and Joy Sullivan have generously agreed to play the part for the entire season. And while we’re here I just want to take a minute to thank Caleb and Cooper for getting the tree set up. And to Ryder, Zach, and Troy who came through for us again this year by hanging the decorations up and down the city streets.”

  That got a big round of applause from the crowd.

  The mayor waited for everyone to settle down before he announced, “And Dottie Whitcomb wants us to know that the reverend is home and recuperating, but she’d like us to hold off on dropping by to visit for another couple of days.”

  Dottie stood up to add, “Thanks to our new doctor in town, John David should be ready to resume his sermons by next Sunday. And as always, we’ll hold our usual candlelight service on Christmas Eve. So if you were thinking of sitting it out, no need. We’ll be back to our regular routine by next week.”

  Another round of applause from the crowd had Murphy holding up his hands for quiet. “That brings us to the final round of business. As I’ve said many times before, we take care of our own in this town. When someone’s in trouble, we try to help. When someone gets sick, we see to it that they have what they need. But somehow one of us slipped through the cracks. You all know Charlotte Dowling and her grandson, Beckham. Charlotte has been diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. She and Beckham need our help now more than ever. Anything you can do, or give, even if it’s just taking by a covered dish, would help them out. We all remember a time when things were different. But the holiday season is a reminder that we’re all in this life together. Helping out our neighbor is what we do.”

  Twenty-Nine

  The second week of chemo hit Charlotte hard, just like it had the first time she’d taken the strong dose. For two days, she stayed at Bradford House unable to get out of bed.

  While Winona and Stone kept an eye on Beckham, the boy went back and forth to school. And when he wasn’t there, he was usually at The Plant Habitat.

  The Friday he got his first paycheck he came running into the clinic proudly waving the piece of paper in the air.

  Quentin took him aside. “We’ll go down to the bank first thing in the morning and open up a savings account.”

  “But I need the money to pay bills and buy groceries.”

  “That’s not true. Charlotte told me the other day her social security check is automatically deposited into her account. She wants you to use that money to pay the bills and buy some groceries. She was very clear about your paycheck going into a savings account. And that’s what you’re gonna do with it.”

  “Aww, man. I wanted to cash it and carry the money around in my pocket. I never have any to spare.”

  “You can carry around five dollars but no more.” Quentin studied the boy’s face and saw something else on his mind. “You want to tell me what else is bothering you?”

  “In the two hours I was at work, I only sold three trees today.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you don’t get paid on commission. You want to try again and be honest this time.”

  “Faye wants to go rollerblading.”

  “I see. Faye likes you, so what’s the problem?” Silence. Then it hit him. “But you don’t have blades.”

  Beckham’s face fell. “No. She already asked me to go bike riding and I can’t do that either because my stupid bike has a flat.”

  “That’s easy enough to fix. Tell you what. Why don’t you take a certain portion of your first paycheck and celebrate by getting a new tire and the pair of rollerblades.”

  “Cool. But I also wanted to get Gram a necklace, something nice for Christmas. Then I’d planned on buying Nonnie that new sauce pan she wants. She’s
been going on and on about it since Thanksgiving.”

  Quentin put a hand on his shoulder. “Those are all noble gestures. But right now, get the money into your own savings account and then we’ll talk about Christmas shopping down the road. How’s that sound?”

  “Okay. I guess. Will you help me fix my bike?”

  “Absolutely. Now let’s close up the office and get home to some of Stone’s home cooking. Tonight is pork chops and mashed potatoes. And Sydney’s coming for dinner.”

  Later that night, Quentin was in bed when his cell phone dinged with a call. “Hello?”

  “Hey Doc, this is Logan Donnelly. I hate to bother you so late, but my kids are running a nasty fever.”

  “How high?”

  “One hundred and two. Kinsey and I tried sponge baths and baby Tylenol but we can’t seem to get it to go down. And now they’re throwing up.”

  “You want to meet me at the clinic or do you want me to come to the house?”

  “Could you make a house call? I hate to ask but it would save us from having to get the kids out in the chilly night.”

  “No problem. I’ll be right over.” Quentin turned to Sydney. “I have to go over to the Donnelly house.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she said in a half-hearted effort, not moving out of her cozy spot.

  “It’s not necessary. You stay here, get some sleep. Keep an eye on Charlotte.”

  After getting dressed, he grabbed his car keys, cell phone, and black bag and was almost out the door when Beckham appeared out of nowhere at the bottom of the staircase, fully dressed.

  “What are you doing up?”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “Beckham, it’s almost midnight.”

  “I don’t care. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I don’t have school. I want to go with you.”

  “Then grab your coat and let’s go.”

  At the Donnelly house, Kinsey met Quentin at the door, wringing her hands. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I brought my trusty assistant,” he said, tilting his head toward Beckham.

  Kinsey tried for a smile, but worry prevented it from being sincere. “Good. They’ve never been sick like this before.”

  Logan had Liam and Leah, three-year-old twins, hugged up against him on the sofa. The kids’ faces were flushed and they both looked extremely fatigued.

  Quentin squatted down in front of the little girl. “Does anything hurt?”

  Leah nodded and fell back against her dad. “See how lethargic she is. And she’s been pulling at her left ear.”

  “How long have they had the runny nose?”

  “About two days.”

  Quentin opened his bag and took out his otoscope. He used the instrument to look in her ears, her throat and then did the same with Liam. With his stethoscope, he listened to their hearts, felt the lymph nodes along the neck, and checked them for any rashes. “Leah has a middle ear infection in that left ear. Both have swollen, red tonsils. Are either of them allergic to any medications?”

  “Not that we know of.”

  “So they can take penicillin? Okay, that’s a start. Since the pharmacy is closed now, I’ll go over to the clinic and get some amoxicillin. Start that immediately. In the meantime, I’ll write you a prescription to get filled first thing in the morning. Keep them both on plenty of liquids. As to the fever, sponge them down every thirty minutes or so. If it hasn’t subsided by morning, call me and I’ll meet you at the clinic.”

  On the way to the office Beckham was curious. “How come you have to meet them at the clinic if the fever doesn’t go down?”

  “Because I don’t want either one of those kids to have a febrile seizure. High fevers can trigger that.”

  “How’d you get so smart?”

  Quentin laughed. “Years of going to school and even more years of practicing in a real-world environment full of sick people.”

  “I bet you saw a lot of gory open wounds and guts spilling out?”

  “Something like that. It’s not as cool as they make it out to be on TV.”

  “I figured that, mostly because it would mean someone has to die or lose a lot of blood. A lot of kids my age love horror movies. But I don’t like seeing people get killed.”

  Quentin rubbed a hand across his chest as a reminder. “Something else we have in common. Neither do I.”

  “Will Leah and Liam be okay?”

  “With a little antibiotic in their systems to fight the infection, the fever will go down. Their immune systems will take over. They’ll be good as new by next week.”

  “I want to help people like you do.”

  In the darkness of the car, the declaration made Quentin smile. “Then we’ll see if we can’t make that happen.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. It’s a promise.”

  Thirty

  Getting to open his own bank account made Beckham feel like an adult. The teller even gave him a twenty-five-dollar bonus just for opening a new savings account. The catch was it had to stay in there for at least six months.

  “For the next three weeks with each paycheck, you’ll keep adding something to the balance,” Quentin pointed out as they walked through the doors to Ferguson’s Hardware to pick up the new tire and a bike pump.

  When the cashier rang up Beckham’s purchases, he proudly counted out the cash to pay for his items with his own money.

  Inside his grandmother’s garage, Beckham showed Quentin the old red rusted-out BMX he was used to riding. “It belonged to my dad,” the teen explained.

  There was nothing vintage about the 1970s, twenty-inch Aerostar. The chain was intact but needed oiling. “We could paint it and fix it up,” Quentin offered, trying not to count the number of spots on the frame that was corroded metal.

  “I know it’s in pretty sad shape but it has a lot of sentimental value to me. I don’t want to get rid of it.”

  Quentin could relate. “That’s exactly how I feel about that old station wagon I drive. Same thing applies to it. I just can’t bear to part with the thing. Getting this new tire on should at least give you wheels again.”

  “I’ll ride it to work tomorrow. Plus, I want to head over to Faye’s and ask her to go bike riding.”

  After tightening the last bolt, Quentin tested the air pressure in both tires, adding more air to the other wheel. “Take her for a spin. But be back in time for supper.”

  “Sure.” Beckham took off pedaling down the street heading toward Faye’s house.

  Quentin could only hope the bike held up long enough to get the boy to where he was going and back again.

  Sydney pulled up at the curb and honked the horn. She rolled down the window. “Do you suppose we should follow him make sure that thing doesn’t fall apart?”

  “Nah, he should be okay. At least we know now what to get him for Christmas. You got him new clothes so he’s set in that area for at least six months.”

  “Don’t bet on it, the way he’s been eating. He’ll probably grow two inches during that time.”

  “Who’s sitting with Charlotte?”

  “Winona told me to go get some fresh air. So here I am. I have the rest of the morning free. What shall we do?”

  He lifted a brow. “You really have to ask? This seems like the perfect time to spend by ourselves.”

  “My house then?”

  He skirted the hood of the car and got into the passenger seat. “You bet. Let’s not waste another minute.”

  Beckham found Faye sitting on her front porch with a huge bowl of popcorn in her lap, using a needle and thread to string the stuff together to make a garland. Alternating the white popcorn with cranberries and green wooden beads gave it a pop of color. She held it up for him to see.

  “What do you think?”

  “Nice.” He picked up the pine cone garland sitting at her feet. “Did you make this, too?”

  “Last year. We put it around the door. But it’s still good enough to use this year.”

  “I got m
y bike fixed. Wanna ride down to the pier?”

  “I want to finish decorating the tree you sent over. It’s only half finished. Now that Andy has a job, he’s tired when he gets home. I’ve been bugging him about it but he says he doesn’t have a lot of time to do stuff like that anymore.”

  Beckham sat down next to her on the steps. “That’s because the crew he’s working with is trying to finish the hospital in record time.”

  “Will it be in time to save your grandmother?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s not doing so good. It’s just a matter of time. Quentin says it could be a month or she could hold out until summer. But I don’t want her to spend those days suffering if she’s in so much pain.”

  “I’m sorry, Beckham. I know how it is to lose somebody. My mom and dad went quickly. One minute they were here and the next they weren’t. I miss them every single day. Holidays are the hardest.”

  “But you have your brother.”

  “And you have Quentin and Sydney.”

  “I guess we’re lucky to have family. Wanna go inside and finish decorating the tree?”

  “Sure. Maybe we could dig out the rest of my mother’s ornaments and you could help me hang them up. There are boxes in the garage.”

  “I’ll dig them out and we’ll put them on the tree along with this garland you made. We’ll pretend like your parents will get to see it all finished.”

  “I like you, Beckham. You understand what most people don’t.”

  “I like you, too. Maybe we could make hot chocolate after we’re done.”

  “I’ll make it now and have it while we decorate the tree. I even saved back a bag of Oreos in the pantry we can eat with it.”

  “Then what are we waiting for, let’s get this sucker decorated.”

  Thirty-One

  Before Bree Dayton’s first doctor’s appointment to see Quentin she’d spent thirty minutes doing her hair and another thirty applying her makeup. But despite all the prep she was still nervous.