Violet's Valentine (Love in Holiday Junction #1)

by Tami Franklin

  Vi heard him laugh as he walked home in the darkness. “See you tomorrow,” he called out as he climbed his own front porch.

  “Good night,” she replied, settling down on the swing again. She wasn't tired, wasn't used to going to bed so early. Setting the mugs down on the porch, she started the swing rocking again with her toe.

  Liam Durant. Now that was a name she hadn't thought about in years. She had been crazy about him in high school—they'd been crazy about each other—and the two of them had been nearly inseparable for almost three years. Liam had been the golden boy of Holiday Junction High School—football captain, student body president, honor student—and he'd been just about the handsomest guy she'd ever seen. She'd had a terrible, all-encompassing crush on him—one that Kade had heard about endlessly, God bless him—and she'd wished and prayed that one day he'd notice her.

  Then one day, he did. He approached her at her locker with that dazzling smile and those blue, blue eyes, and asked her to the Homecoming dance sophomore year. They'd been together ever since.

  But Violet never planned on staying in Holiday Junction . . . and once she left, she'd never planned on coming back. She was going to go to New York to become a Broadway star. It was her dream, and she knew, even at eighteen, that Liam wasn't going to be a part of it.

  So, they'd had that wonderful summer after graduation. And the weekend before he headed to UCLA and she headed to Connecticut, she'd ended it. He'd been hurt, of course, and surprised—although at the time, Vi couldn't understand why. She'd thought she was being practical. Logical. High school was over and they had different plans for their lives, so why try to drag something out that was destined to end eventually?

  Since then, she'd had moments when she'd regretted the decision. At least how she handled it, if not what she'd actually done. It had been cold, she knew. Not very nice.

  But the past was the past, Vi thought with a sigh. And here she was right back where she started.

  Liam Durant.

  She whispered the name out loud, just to see how it felt.

  It felt nice.

  Maybe coming back to Holiday Junction wasn't such a bad thing after all. She had her friend back, which was awesome. And it would be fun to see Liam again. Just to talk . . . catch up, nothing more.

  She leaned back in the swing and gazed up at the stars, lost in thoughts and memories.

  Vi was standing by Kade's car when he left the house the next morning. Bundled up with a red knitted scarf wound around her neck and a stocking cap perched on her blonde head, she looked like a ski bunny ready to hit the slopes. She held a steaming travel mug of coffee with both hands, sipping at it gingerly.

  “I forgot how cold it is at seven in the morning in February,” she said as he approached.

  Kade shook his head with a mocking smile. “The Big Apple made you soft, Chalmers.” He unlocked the car and tossed his satchel into the back seat.

  “We have subways, Kade,” she said longingly. “Subways are warm.”

  He grimaced. “And they smell like B.O. and pee.”

  She shrugged. “A minor drawback.”

  They got in the car, and Kade blasted the heat as he backed out of the driveway. Violet let out a little moan of appreciation when the air finally warmed and held her hands up to the vent. “So what can you tell me about the principal, Ms. Beatty?” she asked.

  He blinked at her in surprise. “You haven't met her?”

  “Only over the phone and Skype,” she replied. “I wasn't able to fly out for an interview, so we did it online. She seemed nice enough. Supportive.”

  He smirked. “Desperate.”

  “Hey!” She hit his arm, barely avoiding spilling her coffee. “But yeah, you're probably right. It must be tough to lose a teacher mid-year.”

  They talked a bit about the school and the staff until they pulled into the faculty parking lot at Holiday Junction High School. The school hadn't changed much since they graduated, Kade thought, trying to see it through Violet's eyes. Lots of red brick and concrete—a grassy courtyard at the center of four wings arranged like spokes around a wheel.

  “Bring back fond memories?” he asked as they approached the entrance.

  Vi smiled. “Go Bearcats!” She threw up a fist, and Kade laughed.

  She followed Kade into the office, which actually had changed a bit. The drab gray carpet had been replaced by more drab gray carpet, and the fluorescent lights replaced by LEDs.

  HJHS was nothing if not energy conscious.

  Kade probably could have left Vi there and headed to his own room to prepare for the day. But he felt somewhat responsible for her—it being her first day and all—so he hung out while the secretary, Lydia, gave her room keys, a school map (like she needed one of those), and a binder containing school policies, emergency procedures, phone numbers, and the like.

  “You're supposed to review it all before you start,” Lydia told her. “But given this is an unusual situation, we're forgoing protocol just a bit.” She waited a beat, and Kade knew she was waiting for Vi to ask about the unusual situation. Lydia tended to be a bit of a gossip.

  “Okay, then, I'll show you to your room,” Kade said, grabbing Vi's elbow and steering her out of the office. “See you later, Lydia!”

  The secretary waved, disappointment evident on her features, and he released Vi once they were out of sight. “Sorry,” he said. “You would have been there for twenty minutes if she got started.”

  “Thanks,” Vi said, offhanded. She was looking around the hallway, examining the signs on the walls as they walked. “It's so weird,” she said. “It's different, but it's exactly the same, if that makes sense.”

  “Well, wait until the kids get here and you'll see how different it is,” he replied. “We have about a third more student body now than we did back then . . . all crammed into the same sized building.”

  “Great.” She came to a stop at the double doors to the Commons—the center of the school, where all the hallways converged. It was empty at this time of day, tables and chairs lined up against the walls for use at lunchtime. Vi walked in and turned a slow circle, her eyes drifting to the skylights overhead.

  “Remember the Homecoming dance, sophomore year?” she asked.

  “I've been to a dozen Homecoming dances,” he replied. For some reason, he really didn't want to talk about that particular dance. “It's hard to remember them all.”

  “Going as a chaperone doesn't count.” She shook her head. “It was so much fun. They hung little twinkle lights all up there.” Vi waved toward the ceiling. “It was a Great Gatsby theme, and they had all those gold and black balloons, and a champagne fountain—”

  “—it was Sprite.”

  She arched a brow. “So you do remember.”

  “Hard to forget a Sprite fountain.” He made a face. “And all those feathers. I was picking them out of places for weeks.”

  “Now that I didn't need to know,” she said, cringing. “Way to taint the memory of a magical night.”

  “Magical? Seriously?”

  “It was! I wore this sparkly dress and Liam kissed me for the first time right over there.” Vi tilted her head toward the corner. “Who did you go with? I can't remember. Was it Amy?”

  “Amy? No.” He laughed, shaking his head. “No, I believe for that illustrious event, I went stag.”

  “That's right!” She pointed at him, and he got a sinking feeling. “We did the dance that night. Do you remember?”

  “Nope,” he said quickly. “I have absolutely no recollection of any such thing.”

  “Oh, yes you do.” Vi began to bounce from foot to foot, rhythmically, reaching for his hands.

  He pulled them back quickly. “I do not!”

  But he totally did. For some unknown reason, Vi had been obsessed with swing dancing the summer after ninth grade. And for some unknown reason, Kade had gone along with learning her rather extravagant choreography. They'd practiced in her room, knocking books off the shelves and
making a general racket, until Lou had insisted they “rehearse” (as Vi called it) in the back yard.

  At Homecoming that year, the D.J. had thrown in some swing music—Kade assumed because of the theme—and Vi had dragged him out onto the dance floor. He would never have admitted it, but it was one of the highlights of his high school career.

  And one of the worst nights of his life. Because it was during that dance that he realized he'd fallen for his best friend . . . his best friend who was undeniably in love with Liam Durant.

  “Come on,” Vi said pleadingly, reaching for him again. “Just a little bit. For old time's sake?”

  Kade rolled his head back, eyes on the ceiling. What was he thinking? He shouldn't even be considering this. It was silly. It was unprofessional. It was—

  “Please?” Vi begged, hands clasped before her.

  Kade sighed and took her left hand in his, slipped his left around her waist. “I can't believe I'm doing this,” he mumbled. “If anyone sees—”

  “No one's gonna see!” Vi looked around quickly, just to make sure. “Now a one, and a two, and a—”

  They started in on the familiar steps. It had been more than ten years, but they'd done it so many times it came back to him instinctively. He twirled her away, then back again and Vi's smile was infectious.

  “Come on now,” she said, matching his steps. “Do the flip!”

  Without even thinking, he grabbed her around the waist with one hand, and under the knees with the other, flipping her over. She landed on her feet and bounced up onto her toes. With a laugh, she threw her arms around his neck.

  “We've still got it,” she said, looking up at him, her blue eyes shining.

  Kade's own hands were around her waist, under her coat, the fabric of her sweater soft beneath his fingers. He inhaled sharply and smelled that vanilla flowers scent again, clean and fresh and warm.

  His stomach flipped, and Kade froze. What was he doing?

  He stepped back, sliding his hands into his pockets. Why were they trembling? Probably because this was a horrible idea. Anyone coming in could have seen them and easily drawn the wrong conclusions. It was so unprofessional. So inappropriate.

  They weren't kids anymore.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Violet asked softly. She went to touch his arm, but he jerked back and she looked stricken. “Kade, what's wrong?”

  “Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, nothing. It's just . . . we probably shouldn't be doing this at school, you know? It's not exactly professional.”

  Light dawned on Vi's face. “I didn't even—” She took a step back herself. “Sorry. I shouldn't have—”

  “It's okay—”

  “No, it's not. I didn't think—”

  “Vi, it’s fine.” Kade grabbed her shoulders, squeezed them once, then let go. “Seriously, it's no big deal. We should probably get to class, though. School starts in half an hour.”

  Vi nodded. “You're right. And now, I'm freaking out about facing a room full of sixteen-year olds.”

  “Some are seventeen,” he offered.

  “Not helping.” She smiled at him, though. “Drama and music still down that way?” she asked, indicating the hall behind her with a thumb.

  “Yep. I'm the other direction,” he said, backing away. “See you at lunch?”

  “In the faculty break room,” she said, forcing a note of awe into her voice as she walked backward, too. “I finally get to see it.”

  “It is pretty amazing.”

  “It's a thing of legend,” she said. “Is it true you have cupcakes every day?”

  “I guess you'll just have to wait and see!”

  “I can't wait.” Vi grinned, adjusting her own bag over her shoulder. “How do I look?” she asked, holding her hands out to her sides.

  “Ready to mold young minds.”

  “Now that's a frightening thought,” she said, widening her eyes and forcing her mouth into a comical frown. “See ya!” And with that, she turned on her heel and headed down the hall.

  Kade did not watch her go. Well, not any longer than would be completely normal and appropriate, that is.

  A freckled girl with curly red hair raised her hand.

  “Yes?” Vi consulted her class seating chart. “Madison?”

  “It's Madi,” she corrected. “Will this be on the test?”

  Violet tried not to roll her eyes at the girl. “We're simply reading through the first act to get a feel for the language,” she said. “Shakespeare's writing has a certain rhythm.”

  Madi narrowed her eyes. “So it won't be on the test?” She relaxed a bit into her seat.

  Oh no you don't.

  Vi arched a brow. “Anything we discuss in class could be on the test. You never know.” She ignored the chorus of groans.

  Another hand shot up, and she glanced down at the list again. “Andrew?”

  “Is it true you were a movie star?” Whispers broke out around him and the boy grinned, the cowlick on the back of his head bouncing.

  “No, I was not a movie star.”

  “She wouldn't be here if she was a movie star,” a blonde girl—Taylor—scoffed. “Idiot!”

  “You're an idiot!”

  “Shut up!”

  “All right, that's enough!” Vi raised her voice to be heard over the escalating din. “Quiet down unless you want detention!”

  That threat seemed to work as well as it ever did. The noise quieted a bit, but for a disgruntled rumble, which she ignored.

  “I was a working actress, in New York, for the past few years,” she said. “I was in some plays, a few commercials . . .”

  “You were on TV?” Taylor perked up, already pulling out her phone. “What commercial? I want to find it on YouTube—”

  “Phones away,” Vi ordered. Taylor wrinkled her nose but obeyed.

  “I'll be happy to discuss my career at another time,” she said. “For now, back to Taming of the Shrew, please.”

  More grumbles, and just when Petruchio announced his intention to woo Katarina, the bell rang.

  “Don't forget the assigned reading tonight!” she shouted out over the kids filing out. They weren't listening, of course.

  Vi collapsed into her seat, exhausted.

  And that was only first period.

  The next class filed in and she got to her feet. Tomorrow, she was definitely wearing flats.

  “Hello, class, I'm Miss Chalmers, your new teacher,” she said. “How about some Shakespeare?”

  The class groaned.

  It was going to be a long day.

  She made it through the rest of her classes, had lunch in the faculty lounge—no cupcakes. Kade was a big, fat liar—and emerged into the parking lot after school relatively unscathed.

  Well, her feet hurt and her voice was a little raspy, but other than that, it went pretty well, she thought.

  “You survived!” Kade called out as she approached. He was leaning insouciantly against the hood of his car, looking way less tired than Vi felt.

  “Three drama classes and two choirs, thank you very much,” she said with a little bow. “How are you so relaxed? Math must be much way easier to teach.”

  He snorted. “That must be it.”

  “I'm serious,” she said as they got in the car. “I mean, you give 'em a textbook, assign 'em thirty problems. Done. You can sit back and play solitaire the rest of the hour.”

  Kade gave her a wry look. “Solitaire? I'm not eighty.”

  “Whatever,” she said, too tired to argue. “I just want to take a nice, hot bath and—”

  “Grade papers?” he suggested.

  She made a face. “You're no fun.”

  “I take offense at that,” he retorted. He turned out of the parking lot and headed down the street. “I am an immense amount of fun. And I know exactly what you need right now.” He held up a finger when she opened her mouth. “It's not a bath,” he said.

  She frowned. “I can't imagine what would be better than a
bath.”

  He turned onto Main Street and passed the town square. “You sure?” The corner of his mouth quirked up.

  Vi turned in her seat to study him. “What are you up to?” she asked slowly. Then she looked out the windshield, scanning their surroundings.

  “Oh!” she said suddenly. “You mean—”

  He nodded.

  “It's still here?”

  Kade grinned. “Of course.”

  They pulled to a stop along the curb, and Vi looked up at the store front before her. A green and white striped awning shaded the wide front window, but she could still read the gold-painted letters: McKenna's Creamery. She gave a little gasp. McKenna's had the best ice cream in the state . . . in the world. Probably in the universe.

  “Are you coming in?” Kade asked. He was standing beside the car, poking his head back in. “Or are you going to stare longingly at it all day?”

  Vi scrambled for the door handle. “I'm coming!”

  A rush of nostalgia hit her when she opened the front door. Warm, sugar cone scented air washed over her face as a bell rang overhead.

  “Be right with you!” a voice called from behind a curtained doorway. The shop was empty—no big surprise on a freezing Monday afternoon in February.

  Vi took in the black and white tile floor, the pale turquoise walls . . . the gleaming wooden counter and spinning barstools. “It looks exactly the same,” she murmured.

  “Nothing changes in HJ, you know that,” Kade said, approaching the glass-fronted cases. “I think it's in the town charter.”

  Vi climbed onto one of the stools and gave it a spin. “Remember that time we challenged each other to see who could eat a Colossal and spin the longest without getting sick?”

  Kade made a face. “I do,” he said. “I lost.”

  Vi laughed and spun around again. “That you did.”

  The curtain parted and a young woman walked out. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. She was tall and lithe with long brown hair and dimples creasing her cheeks as she smiled at them. A smile that was very familiar.

  “Oh my—” Vi stood up and nearly stumbled over the stool. “Lena?”