Holiday by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  And how cute, stumbling over his words, asking if she’d really show up to the pageant. She’d rather eat glass, honestly.

  Still, he was kind of adorable. He was gonna walk her to her car before she reminded him of the classroom of kids screaming on the stage.

  She’d have to vlog about it when she got home. Pageant, or no?

  Ditching the elf ears, she spent the next three hours dropping off red boxes of delicious cookies. It was fun, making people smile. Who didn’t love a package with a bow? And her parents baked magic. She picked up two numbers from guys older than Santa and then went through a drive-thru for a cheeseburger.

  She’d had the business phone forwarded to her cell phone, which turned out to be a gigantic mistake. After the twentieth call requesting a candy cane cookie bouquet, she’d let it go to voicemail. Wiping ketchup from her bottom lip, she figured it was no wonder Americans had a weight problem.

  By eight that night she was out of gas; mentally, physically and literally. She rolled the van to a splutter before the pump at the station closest to home and got out to fill it up.

  The teenagers at the pump ahead of her laughed when they saw her and the youngest, most pimply-faced of the group waved.

  “Can I sit on your lap?” he asked. “I want to tell you how good I am.”

  “Go home, sonny-boy,” she drawled, patting her green velvet hip. “Or Santa might skip your house at Christmas.”

  “I’m Jewish,” he said, undeterred.

  “Just my luck.” Would this day never end?

  “You’re the hottest elf I’ve ever seen.”

  She’d give him points for persistence. His friends egged him on, so she finished pumping and held up her hand to the car full of rowdy boys. “Hang on.”

  Teagan opened the back of the van and took out a box of cookies that she’d brought as a spare. Sometimes the delicate cookies broke but this time, there’d been no accidents.

  “Happy Holidays.” She flashed the red pom-pom on her elf hat as she handed over the red box. “You guys can share these amazing cookies—and then come buy some for your family for whatever holiday y’all celebrate. Consider these a gift from Becker’s Bakery.”

  The kid took the decorated box with a grin and a fiery blush at being singled out. “Thanks.”

  She remembered being a teenager all too well. Talk about a hot mess.

  “Enjoy,” she smiled. “And be nice to us elves, okay?” She went to the van and climbed in, driving off and hoping that the Becker’s cookie box didn’t end up on the side of the road somewhere.

  Advertising mattered, and who didn’t like a cookie? Not that she was going to do a damn thing about her parent’s old shop. No, it was time for them to find something else.

  Retire.

  They worked too hard, obviously, or her mom wouldn’t have had the stroke.

  She got home and had to press the garage door opener ten times before it worked. Good God, was everything about her parents wearing out? New batteries went on the list of things to replace.

  Her elf shoes pinched her human feet and she tugged them off, flinging the flimsy felt half-boots across the living room. Teagan decided to do her vlog in the velvet costume and give her viewers a peek at the torture she had in store for the next seven days until Christmas.

  She made herself a hot chocolate, adding the last of the peppermint schnapps. “Where are the ears? It won’t be the same without those things.”

  By the time she settled in front of the laptop camera, it was 8:30 and it took digging down very, very deep to find her happy place.

  “Hellloooo my friends. Thanks for tuning in to the Observationalist. Most of you know me as Teagan, the red-head with a big mouth and lots of opinions. I don’t like the sun, or pink, or anything too confining. I’ve been fighting to be me since I came out of the womb.” She took a fortifying drink of cocoa. “I’m Teagan Becker and I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime glimpse into my childhood.” She tapped her elf hat with the Becker Bakery logo. “You all know that I’d planned on grabbing my backpack and traipsing through Europe. Well, I’ve been absent for the last two weeks—not because I’ve been abusing my Eurorail pass with no access to the Internet, but my mom got sick. Had a stroke.” Teagan looked away and blinked quickly. There was sharing, and then there was over sharing, and she didn’t need to fall apart on the vlog. Her viewers liked her snark, her view of the world as a sometimes jaded, fiercely independent youth. At twenty-five, she wasn’t a college kid anymore but her fan-base had followed her to her first advertising job. Had cried with her when she’d gotten fired for being too Teagan and had sent her donations to go to Europe, see what was out there and report back.

  “I moved to Tallahassee, nine hours away, folks, but it wasn’t far enough.” Teagan’s full-ride tuition was for a Florida State college. She couldn’t go farther. “But how, I ask you, could I tell my parents no when they asked for my help? As self-absorbed as I can be,” she shrugged and smiled apologetically into the camera, “I said yes when they asked me to come home for the holiday and deliver the cookies. They’ve been doing this for thirty freaking years.”

  Teagan stretched her green and white striped legs so that she could put them on the coffee table and took a sip of her mostly schnapps cocoa. “They’ve been baking together longer than they’ve raised me.” She paused. They deserved to relax. “So here I am. Becker’s Bakery, delicious European cookies delivered to your door, in the local Ft. Lauderdale area. Other than that? We ship.”

  She toasted the camera with her mug.

  “One last thing. I met a guy,” she said, feeling her entire body smile as she remembered Riley McSorley’s maroon tie. So staid, so normal. So not her. “He’s a music teacher. Curly brown hair, glasses. Thin. In over his head with those kids, but I could tell he was having fun. Should I go to the pageant, friends? I could tell he might be interested in seeing me again.” She shook her head. “As I told him, I’d rather stick a penci—” The antique phone rang and Teagan jumped, her hand over her heart. “You hear this? My parents, calling from Germany. They aren’t sure I can do the deliveries for the holiday. I am not a fan of being Uber Haus Frau, but I can damn well stick a bow on a box of cookies. Hell, I can even bake.” The phone rang again and Teagan blew a kiss to the camera before turning it off.

  She leapt over the couch and skidded in her tights across the linoleum floor, lifting the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Schatzi!”

  “Daddy,” Teagan said with an exasperated sigh. “I told you, everything is fine. And it is.”

  “I tried to call the bakery number. It went to voicemail.”

  Crap. Had to get all of those orders off the website too. “It’s the season, Dad. How’s Mom?”

  “Sleeping. We found a café that served real dumplings. Mmm. Chicken and a thick gravy.”

  She dropped her chin to her chest, thinking of the calories. The cholesterol. The heart attack waiting to happen. “She’s in a food coma? You know she’s supposed to be eating salad.”

  “Did you eat dinner, liebling?”

  “I had a cheeseburger.”

  “Fast food will kill you.”

  Teagan bit back a laugh. “But dumplings fried in chicken fat are good?”

  “Delicious, I told you.” Her dad chuckled. “We’re on vacation.”

  “You have to live through vacation and come back home. Listen, about this pageant, do you and Mom really go?” Teagan wanted Mr. Music Teacher to see her dressed as a real person and not an elf. It could be he had a thing for velvet and tights. What would he think of her in jeans and a sweater?

  She’d hate to disappoint.

  He’d been adorable, curly hair and glasses. In the past, Teagan was drawn to the muscle guys. They didn’t mind a girl who wasn’t stick thin, preferring to be the center of attention wherever they went.

  “Yes. It’s a lovely event. The children are always so much fun. Perfect, too. We get to see them at their best, and then go home wi
thout the fuss. Though if you gave us grandchildren…”

  “Dad. Don’t you remember the hamster? Gentle, sweet. But oh no. I had the Energizer Hamster who stayed alive by eating its cage mates. Not furry and loving and happy, but Hannibal Lector.” She shivered. “I burned it to ashes when he died to make sure he didn’t come back as a demon.”

  Her dad heaved a put-upon sigh. “Babies are different.”

  Teagan scowled. “I’m not grown up myself yet. Stop rushing me. Maybe when I get back from my ten-year tour of Europe we can talk a grand-dog.”

  “Ten years? That’s too long.”

  Teagan was keeping her options open. She sat in front of her parent’s computer and logged into the bakery website. It took everything in her to keep from screaming. One hundred candy cane cookie bouquets? “Uh, Dad. You did say you had some extra cookie dough made up, right?”

  *****

  The night of the pageant, each kid in the classroom had the combined frenetic energy of a lightning storm and Red Bull. The gorgeous box of Becker’s cookies had been decimated in the first ten minutes and now they were flying high, waiting to perform.

  Dressed in reds and greens and plaids, their teeth bared, they looked like angels walking the dark side. Riley, who normally had his class under control, was barely hanging on. “Mitch, a paper airplane? Really?” He took it away and tossed it in the trash. “I am not explaining to Principal Ricksen how you got a paper cut up your nose. Got it?”

  This of course brought the class to hysterics. Riley checked the clock. The pageant was running thirty minutes behind, due to a nervous vomiting snafu from the kindergarten class. His kids were wild, but they weren’t pukers.

  He was at the point where he’d take the small win. Get through tonight, and then a week’s vacation. Him, his beach towel and the sun.

  “Bev, let’s start another game of Hangman. If you aren’t sure if something is a cuss word, ask me this time.” Riley opened the door to the hall and breathed a sigh of relief when the vice principal waved to him from the auditorium.

  Riley lifted his hand in acknowledgment and turned to his class. “Okay. Show time. Remember, make your parents proud. Make me proud. I still haven’t given the final grade for conduct on your report card.” He met Mitch’s eyes until the kid nodded with a gulp.

  They filed out, side by side. One girl, one boy. No hand holding but elbow to elbow. Riley stepped to the side and then got behind them, his own stomach tense with nerves. He couldn’t imagine what raising a kid would be like if just having them part-time gave him an ulcer.

  The auditorium was dark as they entered through the side door toward the stage. Riley kept a smile in place, nodding at everybody. The parents all sat on the edges of their seats, as if this was better than Broadway. He’d been to Broadway, and would have to disagree—if asked. Nobody had.

  All of the manic energy disappeared as they took their positions on the stage facing the crowd. Three rows of bleachers, ten kids per row. Riley also turned toward the audience for a moment to bow as he was introduced.

  Principal Ricksen gave the announcement. “Mr. McSorley’s fourth grade class singing Jingle, Jingle.”

  He raised his hand, his gaze resting on each of his student’s parents. And then his breath caught and he faltered as he tried to place a pair of wide green eyes in a white face surrounded by a crown of auburn curls. His gaze dropped and she wasn’t wearing velvet but it was her, his elf, in a tight green sweater. She winked. Busted. Again.

  On unsteady feet, he returned his attention to the kids who went right into the act without knowing he’d about lost his cookies.

  She was stunning, beautiful, wonderful. What the hell was she doing here? He was glad he didn’t have to sing, because his vocal chords were frozen stuck—he could barely swallow. Would she hang around after the show?

  He’d been kicking himself ever since she’d dropped the cookies off day before yesterday. First of all, staring at a girl is rude and he wanted to apologize for acting like a, well, a ten-year-old.

  Second? Riley just wanted to see her again. Couldn’t explain it. He’d planned on calling the bakery to track her down. It would take guts, but he’d do it. Maybe Monday. Tuesday at the latest. She was probably married with kids of her own.

  The song wound down and he exhaled, tapping his toe as he waited to start the next one. He met Bev’s eyes and they counted together. “One, two, three…” Then the class started singing about Santa’s rocking party, shaking their butts at certain times like can-can dancers, which brought the house down.

  Riley was acutely aware of Teagan behind him in the crowd as he shook his tail feathers. Leaned forward and shimmied. He could hardly expect his class to do it and hold out on them.

  Embarrassed but manning up, he gave his ass one last shake and turned to the audience, who was up on their feet, laughing and clapping.

  Teagan was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Teagan laughed hysterically the entire drive home. She wished she could’ve stayed but her dad called to ask her to do a special delivery for a long-time customer. She’d captured Riley McSorley shaking his butt on her phone and that video was pure freaking gold.

  Maybe she could blackmail him into a cup of coffee over his holiday break. Nah, he probably had a wife. Girlfriend at least. He seemed like the kind of guy meant to be part of a family.

  Still, she thought, grinning, he was a cutie. In a nerdy way.

  Changing into a pair of yoga pants and an extra-large t-shirt that had been through a thousand washes, Teagan made her way into the dark bakery and turned on the light. It made sense that her parents wanted to please their shrinking client base, she got that, but the deal had been for Teagan to come and deliver what was already ordered. Maybe bake a few dozen odds and ends cookies with the frozen sugar cookie dough, since there were so few last minute orders.

  This spike in business came from out of the blue.

  She wrapped her hair into a bun on top of her head and stabbed a chopstick through it to keep it tight and took her apron off the hook. Didn’t matter she hadn’t been in the bakery since high school, her mom kept it pressed and ready.

  Teagan got the sacred Becker cookbook from the drawer in the office and opened it to the apricot thumbprint cookies, which she’d done plenty of times as a teenager. She hadn’t touched a sifter since.

  The supportive response to her vlog done in the elf costume surprised her, along with the encouragement for more. Her viewers had stayed with her as she’d sorted through self-awareness, applauding her victories as well as consolation for her failures. Teagan set the laptop on top of the counter but out of the way of the mess and hit the camera’s record button.

  “No hostels just yet guys, but I’m counting down the days. I appreciate the support you’ve given. Great advice on the travel backpack, by the way. I highly recommend the savvy backpacker website if this is something you’re interested in doing too. I noticed a few of you placed cookie orders—thank you, but remember,” she held up the spoon and winked, “I’m just one person here. And whoever ordered from Canada? I can’t guarantee a Christmas delivery.”

  Funny how it all came back. Sifting the flour, scraping a level edge before adding the baking powder or salt. Creaming the butter, tasting the zest. She stuck her first batch in the oven. Eleven already? She turned to the camera. “All real, folks.” She pointed to her flour-covered self. “You see why I need to get out of here? I thought I was done being a mess!” She turned off the camera, startled by the ring of the business phone.

  She swiped her flour covered hand on her yoga pants and answered. “I never heard of a cookie emergency, but it’s gotta be important to call at practically midnight.”

  “Uh, er,” a voice said.

  “I was just kidding.” Teagan sighed, thinking of all she had left to do before crashing in her old twin bed. “Sort of. How can I help you?”

  “It’s me, Mr. McSorley. I mean, Riley.”

  Teagan plun
ked down on the plain wooden stool, her pulse thumping at her wrists and a smile forcing her lips upward. “Really?”

  “Yes.” He coughed as if nervous. “It was a nice surprise to see you tonight.”

  “Yes, well, my parents said they haven’t missed a pageant in thirty years. Guilted me into coming, but as it turns out, I enjoyed myself immensely…before I had to go. Dad needed a special bakery favor.”

  “You work for your parents?”

  “Not exactly.” She blew out a breath. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’d love to hear about it. Maybe we can grab a coffee.”

  “Now?” Her brow lifted and she pressed it back down. “I’m still baking. Probably until about two.”

  “Oh, well, I was thinking tomorrow, anyway. We could go to the beach. I was going to suggest the sunrise,”

  “I don’t do sunrise. Unless we’re talking about the one with tequila? And I definitely don’t do the beach.”

  “Tequila. Got it. No beach? Everybody loves the beach.”

  Teagan rubbed at the flour smear on her thigh. “I don’t know if you noticed my skin? I burn. There is no sunscreen strong enough to protect me from the sun. No hat, no umbrella. No way.”

  “Wow. Where are you from?”

  “Born and raised right here.”

  “I was prepared for you to say Transylvania…”

  Teagan snorted at his awful Dracula accent. Was he king of the lame jokes?

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I appreciate a quirky sense of humor. If you really want to have coffee with me, you can bring me a cup at the ungodly hour of eight in the morning. At the bakery. I have a lot of work to do, and I’m a one-man show.”

  “Awesome. What kind of coffee?”

  “Anything with vanilla. And an extra shot of espresso would be really appreciated.”

  “Done.”

  Teagan stretched her legs. She had to get up and moving or she’d pass out. How did her folks do this every year? No wonder her mom got sick! “How did the rest of the pageant go?”