A Christmas Affair: A Seaside Cove Romance (Seaside Cove Romance Series Book 1)

by Davies, Cora

  He's not here! She realized in surprise.

  She tapped her pencil against her thigh and spun around to look again, her long auburn hair spinning around her shoulders. He was definitely not there. She stomped her way back up the aisle and threw herself down into her seat at the head of the room behind the long desk. Why do you care? She scolded herself. It's not about Jack, exactly, it's Dickens village and everyone is supposed to be here!

  "What's wrong with you?" Eli asked. Molly smelled the spearmint coming off his breath as he spoke. Even when they dated he had been a chewing gum addict.

  "Jack Millings isn't here," she whispered venomously. Eli looked around and shrugged. "He has beer lights hanging up in his doorway."

  "He does own a bar Mols," Eli said.

  "He owns a bar in Dickens Village for the next four weeks." Molly jabbed a finger in Eli's direction, and the man rolled his eyes. "There were no beer bottle Christmas lights in the 18th century." Molly scanned the room again quickly, then turned her frustration on Eli. "Why are you on the committee anyway if you don't care about authenticity?"

  "I'm pretty sure there were no twinkling white Christmas lights back then either," Bridget leaned over Eli to whisper at Molly. Molly shot her a daggered look and Bridget leaned back into her own seat again. She mumbled," Authenticity."

  Molly noticed Eli looked a little red around the ears and his checks. "Eli, are you okay? You have a fever or something?"

  Eli shook his head and glared at Molly. Oh, I get it. She had not noticed before, but maybe Eli had a thing for Bridget? Bridget was more serious than the girls Eli usually ran around with, but maybe he was growing up.

  Molly jolted straight up in her seat as a loud boom rang out, and she realized it was a fist hitting the desk in front of her. She slowly turned to see who had hit the table, and felt herself flame just as Eli had a moment ago.

  Jack was standing right in front of Molly, nostrils flared, breathing heavy. He had a cross between irritation and plain anger in his eyes, and Molly puffed herself up ready for whatever argument he was presenting to the Council. Is it me, or is he even sexier when he is mad? He had been mad the night before too when the drunk man propositioned Molly, and seeing him angry now made her think of that moment. He had defended her honor, she realized as her blush deepened a little more.

  Jack was still standing in front of her, not speaking. Molly dug her fingernails into her thighs and forced herself to break the silence.

  "Jack, I'm glad you made it." The words sounded forced, even to Molly. "I believe you were the last Main Street owner we were waiting on." Jack picked up the piece of paper he had slammed onto the desk and waved it around in front of her.

  "What is this?" He demanded, and Molly trembled at the sound of his gruff voice.

  "A piece of paper- I do believe," Molly said with the largest and brightest smile she could retrieve. She heard her voice getting higher with each word, but could do nothing to stop it. "Now, if you'll have a seat, I believe Doug wanted to start. Doug?"

  She looked over to Doug as she called out his name, finally breaking her eye contact from Jack. Doug was looking over in mild interest but did not answer. Molly turned to Eli for support, but he cleared his throat and turned to study a map on the wall.

  "This is not just a normal piece of paper. This is another one of your Dickens bullshit propaganda," Jack growled.

  "Propaganda might be taking it a little far," Molly tried to chuckle and break the tension, but as the laugh left her mouth Jack's eyes narrowed.

  "I petitioned the council to leave my bar out of this nonsense. It's too much work for me to convert everything to "a pleasant 18th century quiet English pub"," Jack's voice oozed sarcasm. "Not to mention the money. For what? One month a year, that I don't even benefit from." Jack's voice raised and as he turned around to address the twenty or so business owners in the room. "I suppose I'm the only one here, aren't I? I sure am. I am the only one who does not benefit from this Dickens Village every year. Instead I lose the few costumers I do have for the month because you're all out playing around in costumes."

  "Why is it that you feel like you don't benefit from the Village?" Doug asked finally finding his way to the podium.

  Jack's voice seemed to lower and become steady again as he realized he had the full attention of the council. "I have an over 21 business, and in case you didn't notice, Dickens is mostly families with small children. None of them are leaving their kids out on the street like a-" Jack reached his hands around in the air as though he was searching for the right words. "18th century Dickens street urchin- so they can come in and buy a beer.

  "When I woke up this afternoon I found this on my front door," Jack began waving the flier around again as Molly sat back in her seat, bobbing her head around trying to read what it said. "From another overzealous Christmas enthusiast!"

  He threw the flier at Molly and walked to the back row collapsing into an empty seat. Molly snatched the flier up from where it had fallen on the floor and read it aloud. "All outdoor Christmas decorations must be approved by Dickens Council. Right, well we all know that? Any and all decor placed outside of a business in the spirit of mocking the holiday festival, will be seized by the city. Oh."

  "Where are my lights Molly Smith?" Jack asked, kicking up his steel toed boots on the desk in front of him. This was not Molly's work, but he was convinced it was.

  "I don't know," she stammered.

  "Oh they just magically disappeared, maybe ran off with the spirit of Christmas?" Jack asked propping his hands behind his head.

  "Now, Mr. Millings, there is no reason so act so rude," Bridget said with a disgusted voice, but Molly thought she was probably enjoying the drama. Drama at Molly's expense.

  "Molly had nothing to do with the flier or the beer lights being confiscated," Doug said. "I did that on my own first thing this morning Jack. You know, you benefit from the small business council year round, but when it comes to the Dickens Village, you act as though we are asking you to run naked through the streets on Christmas day- okay no. You'd probably do that one."

  There was a small chuckle that ran through the men in the room, and a couple of high pitched uncomfortable women giggles. Molly thought they must have been thinking about Jack running down Main Street Christmas morning, naked except for steel toed boots and a Santa hat. Maybe a scarf too, they were not barbarians. Molly snorted, then blushed a little as she looked up to see Jack looking at her yet again. Quizzical expression on his face, but she could tell he was also irritated with Doug's joke.

  "I want my decorations back," Jack said to Doug, but did not take his eyes off Molly. She stared back, willing herself not to break the eye contact, but she was feeling dizzy from his energy. His penetrating stare was too hard for her to read.

  "I will drop them off this evening Jack, and you can hang them up inside. But nothing non-approved outside," Doug answered. He was a commanding man, but Molly could tell Jack was making him nervous too. Not many were willing to be on the other side of Jack's temper. It had never bothered Molly in high school, she had seen Jack almost get into several fights with other hot headed boys. She had always been able to calm him down. She could try again now.

  "Right, so now that is established," Molly nodded at both Jack and Doug using the calmest and most commanding voice she could muster. "Perhaps we could get on with the meeting. Some of us do have work to do today."

  "Thank you Molly," Doug said and turned back to the group. "We do actually have an urgent piece of business to discuss this morning. Mr. and Mrs. Boughman, please come on up."

  Molly stole another glance in Jack's direction. He still had his gaze focused on her and nothing else. She forced herself to suck in a breath, and let it out without making a sound. She made herself turn her focus onto the two people Doug had called up.

  Mr. and Mrs. Boughman were a loved couple of retired elementary school teachers in their late sixties. His hair was as white as the snow, and hers was died a fire engin
e red. When Mr. Boughman approached the podium he waited two beats for Doug to step to the side. Doug bowed his head and took a seat as Mr. Boughman turned to address the room.

  "As you all know Mrs. Boughman's health has been acting up this year, we've had to go to the city a few times for treatments. Well, great news is that a spot in a treatment facility has opened down south, and they have room for us. It’s a real top of the line place where cutting edge medical advances are happening." Mr. Boughman looked lovingly at his wife, pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing it. The room broke out in happy murmurs for the couple and congratulations. "But there is one problem."

  Molly's stomach clenched. What could it be? Could they need money to get into the clinic? If so, she was sure the whole town would stand by them and help raise the money for her medical care.

  "We have to leave immediately, and we hate to do that to you, this time of year and all." Mr. Boughman looked around the room, as if asking for forgiveness, but at the same time, daring anyone to say anything at all. Molly felt confused. Of course they wanted all their stores to be represented at the Dickens festival, but surely- oh. It hit her like a ton of bricks.

  "Of course you do, health is what is most important," Bridget said standing up to hug Mrs. Boughman. "We will find someone else to play Santa and Mrs. Claus!"

  The Boughman's were one of their main attractions, a staple in their brochure and to their parade every year. How could they back out just weeks before Christmas? Of course, Molly kicked herself, she understood perfectly well why. They could not ignore any health issues Mrs. Boughman had, and if there was a chance she could get better, they had to take it. But still... They had played the role of Santa and Mrs. Claus perfectly for the past thirty years. They even converted the front room of their shop to Santa's Workshop during the Dickens Village.

  "Santa's Workshop," Molly muttered, almost feeling a tear spring to her eye. The Workshop had been there long before Dickens Village. It was there for her when she was a small girl, with all the wonder of the season presented in one room. No matter how bad things had been at home and for her family, she always knew that she could go to Santa's Workshop at the holidays and be given a hug, a hot chocolate, and a small gift. Even the years her family could not buy her and her sister a single gift for Christmas, she could always count on Santa to give her a new deck of cards, a container of colorful dough, or a large candy bar.

  "Of course, we are leaving the store open and under the care of our niece, and she has promised to keep Santa's Workshop open and operating this year, as long as the town provides Santa and Mrs. Claus," Mr. Boughman said.

  Molly nodded and looked into the audience, was anyone going to volunteer? She looked across the faces, stopping on each one that she thought would make a great Mr. or Mrs. Claus. She had forgotten about Jack until her eyes skimmed by him. He was looking at her again, or was it still? She did not know.

  She could not believe he yelled at her like that in front of a room full of people about a flier on his door. A flier she did not even put there! Of course he was not going to comply with the Dickens Village. The council had been fools to think they could have one hundred percent participation this year, and now things were falling apart. Beer lights and no Santa and Mrs. Claus! If only she could come up with a way to convince Jack to join Dickens Village and to find a new Mr. And Mrs. Claus before Dickens Village started in a few days.

  Think Molly.

  Chapter Six

  Jack watched Molly with interest. Her emotions seemed to be all over this place this afternoon. He wondered if it had anything to do with the drunk man who was hanging around last night. Had he really spooked her so much it passed over into the next day? Or was something else bothering her? He stared at her, willing her to look at him, so he could... Well, he did not know what he would do if she looked at him. Right now he would settle just for looking into her blue eyes.

  The town was losing the Boughmans. He liked them well enough, and was happy they could move on and get treatment for whatever her illness was instead of sitting around here waiting to die. No one should have to do that. But Molly seemed upset about the news. Was she actually so wrapped up in this Dickens Village stuff that she would rather they sit around here as the Clauses, instead of going off to live the rest of their lives? He was tempted to get her alone and ask her.

  Of course, he wanted to get her alone to do a lot of things to her. For her. With her. All of his old feelings for Molly had been hammering at him since last night. He shuddered as he pushed the thoughts away from his mind. Not the time or the place.

  "We can draw names out of a hat. We can ask for volunteers," Doug said as the Boughmans walked back to their seats. Jack looked around. Volunteers for what? To be the Clauses? He quickly dragged his hands from behind his head, to under his butt. No way he was going to be mistaken as a volunteer. Not when they could not even tell him how to-

  "I'll be Mrs. Claus," Molly said. "I'll volunteer, unless someone else steps up?"

  No one else raised their hand. Doug cleared his throat, "Right Molly, do you think you can do it? It's a big responsibility. You won't be able to be at your store as much during Dickens Village. Do you think your staff can handle the rush?"

  "Yes," Molly looked surprised and jerked her head to the side. "My staff is amazing."

  "Right. Well then, that just leaves the role of Santa."

  Jack sat up in his seat, leaning forward and fixed Molly with a strong stare willing her to look at him. What the hell is wrong with me? He did not want to volunteer. He did not want to be Santa. He was not in the Christmas spirit. But if Molly asked him, he would be Santa Claus this year. For a chance to spend time with her over the next month, he would do it. So I repeat, what the hell is wrong with me?

  "No one?" Doug said. "Well, I would do it, I will be out of town for the last few weeks in December."

  Convenient. Jack rolled his eyes skyward.

  "I could ask on the news this evening." Bridget stood up. "We could see if we have a few Santa volunteers. Molly, you're a pretty girl, you'll make an adorable Mrs. Claus. Would you come sit with me this evening for a few minutes so the men could see the beauty they would get to spend the season with if they volunteer?" Bridget smiled her million-watt smile, the one that had so many men telling Jack to turn off the game and put on the news at the bar. Even he had to admit, it was some smile. Just not the smile that Molly had when she was genuinely happy.

  "Um, uh, I guess so?" Molly stammered and ended her with her answer sounding more like another question. Jack noticed she had blushed when Bridget called her pretty. She was more than pretty though. She was the most beautiful woman Jack had ever seen, he was reminded of that fact when he saw her last night. It was a slap in the face for all the years they had missed out on being together. All because of Jack's stupid mistake.

  "Great!" Doug clapped his hands together. "Now, on to other business, Jed were you able to fix the wiring on the toasted chestnuts cart?"

  As all the other Main Street store owners and managers began to discuss their contributions and what they needed help with for finishing touches on Dickens Village, Jack began to wonder if he could sneak out of the classroom without anyone noticing. He looked at the stage, and all four council members seemed to be focusing on Ryan Dyson and how long he would need to tailor the Santa suit to a new owner. Molly was not going to talk to Jack this afternoon, he might as well leave. He seized his opportunity and slid out the back door of the classroom without making a sound.

  He passed by a water fountain on the way towards the door of the building, and slowed down and turned around to take a drink. The fountain shot out in spurts, and Jack ended up with a face full of water before he realized it was coming, and began to cough. He did not hear footsteps come up behind him.

  "Could you do that any louder?" Molly said with a laugh in her voice. He jumped up and turned around surprised to see her standing alone a few feet away. As soon as Jack locked eyes with hers though, she loo
ked away from him. First to the ground, then back up and just to the right of his face. He looked over his shoulder expecting to see someone standing there, but there was nothing except for a few student council posters splashed on the wall.

  "I thought I was going to get out of here without anyone seeing me," Jack said. "You left early too?"

  "I had an idea," she said finally looking at him. He immediately fell under her trance, just like he did when he met her in high school. Every time she would look at him with those beautiful blue eyes he felt as though someone was taking all the air out of the room. "On how you can make money during Dickens."

  "I'm listening," Jack said crossing his arms over his flannel jacket, soft and worn from years of washing.

  "I heard what you said in there, and you're right." She was twisting her fingers together, just like she always did when she was nervous. "You shouldn't have to play along if it isn't going to benefit your business at all."

  "It isn't that it doesn't benefit my business, I lose money this month Mols," the nickname came out of his mouth before he realized it, and he was surprised at how familiar it felt even though it had been ten years since he used it.

  "Well, what if we can talk to the city, and get you a permit to sell beer outside? I've heard you brew your own beers? You could make a Christmas blend, and sell that, hard cider, and spiced eggnog to the tourists." Her eyes lit up, and he wanted to know if it was because of the business talk, Christmas talk, or because of him. "I'm sure you'd make a profit that way! I mean, what parent doesn't want a beer when they are dragging their children around a festival? I know I would!"

  He squinted his eyes and looked at her. His mind began to wrap around her idea and the possibilities. "You know..."

  "What? Bad idea?" she puffed out her chest like she always did when she got ready for an argument. "Well, at least I'm trying, instead of sulking around at Christmas time."