Seaside Christmas

by Stacy Claflin

  Bobby shrugged and flicked some ashes. "It worked. I make a lot more fixing cars than selling bikes, anyway. Especially during tourist season."

  "Yeah, I know. Standing room only."

  "Maybe you should do that."

  Cruz arched a brow. "Come again?"

  "Figure out a more creative way to open your business."

  "Like what? I ain't fixing no cars."

  "Better not. I don't need no competition." Bobby laughed. "You got that fancy art degree. Can't you use it for something else?"

  Cruz groaned. "I want to open a tattoo parlor."

  "I know nothin' about art, but there's gotta be something you can do as a front."

  "Hey, I'm not ashamed of my tats."

  Bobby sat taller. "And I ain't ashamed of my motorcycles."

  Cruz shook his head. "I'm not setting up something else so I can hide my passion."

  "It's not hiding it, dude. It's making a business decision."

  "And my business decision is to open a tat place."

  Bobby shook his head. "You're still the most stubborn person I've ever met. You were the same in kindergarten. Your way or the highway."

  "So? I know what I want. Is there a problem with that?"

  "If it gets in the way of you getting what you want."

  Cruz leaned back against the bench. "I'm not going to sell out."

  Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Is that what you think I did?"

  "No, dude. You're doing awesome."

  "But I'm fixing cars over bike sales," Bobby said.

  "You're good at what you do. No one in town goes anywhere else."

  "And you could do the same thing, man." Bobby stared at Cruz. "You can draw like it's no one's business. Remember those posters you did for your brother's grand opening?"

  "Yeah, but I just did that for him. He's family, yo."

  "People wanted to buy those. I heard them asking Rafael."

  Cruz frowned. "I don't want to make posters."

  "Even if it could get you designing tattoos in your own shop?"

  Cruz didn't respond. Why should he do what he didn't want to? What was the point of opening his own place?

  "Just think about it. If you want to open up shop here in town, that might be your only in."

  "But the council said I could open a tat parlor."

  "Thought you said they lied about it."

  "About the building," Cruz corrected.

  "But they're playin' you, man." Bobby dropped the cigarette and squished it, digging it underneath the snow. "They ain't gonna let you open nothing. At least not a tattoo place in Kittle Falls. It'll tarnish the town's reputation."

  Cruz sighed. "Then they're going to regret telling me yes."

  Bobby chuckled. "I don't doubt that. So, where was that church you were going to get?"

  "Near the back edge of town. You know, where everything's all run down."

  "Huh," Bobby said. "Can you find something else near there?"

  "Nothing's available that I know of."

  Bobby sat up, startling Cruz. "Why didn't I think of this before? Dude!"

  Cruz's eyes lit up. "What?"

  "Oh, man. This is perfect."

  "What?" Cruz exclaimed.

  Bobby laughed. "This is going to make the city council cry, yo."

  "Tell me!"

  "Remember when my uncle moved into the nursing home?" Bobby asked.

  "Vaguely," Cruz said. "Why?"

  "Well, he gave all his stuff to family. Everyone else got cool stuff, but he gave me his wife's abandoned salon."

  Cruz raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out where this was going.

  Bobby glanced at him. "My aunt died when I was kid, but she had a hair place for years. Now I own it, and I can rent it or sell it to anyone I want."

  Cruz gave him a suspicious look. "Are you saying…?"

  Bobby nodded, smiling. "I could rent or sell it to you. I ain't got no plans for it. It's just wasting away. I was hoping that part of town would get fixed up and the property value would go up. But if you need it, man, it's yours. We'll figure out details later."

  "Is it zoned for business?" Cruz asked, not allowing himself to get excited yet.

  "Yeah, dude."

  "Where is it?"

  "I think it's near that church you wanted. It's on…oh, what's that road called? Maple or something."

  Cruz laughed at the irony. "Yep, same road."

  Bobby turned to stare at him. "What do you say? Want to do it? No one can say anything about it."

  Cruz's heart rate picked up. "You really think it'll work?"

  "Yeah. It's the best of both worlds. Instead of letting that place rot, you can use it, and maybe I can use the rent money to get better bikes to sell. And it'll piss off the council. It's a win all around."

  A smile spread across Cruz's face. "You know, this could actually work. Can I see the place?"

  "I should probably drive my car, man. I don't think they plow the roads back there."

  "No, they don't." Cruz made a face, remembering. "They stop just before that neighborhood." The last plowed road was the one that Allen and Talia lived on, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to park his bike in front of their house the previous night.

  Bobby rose. "Let me just leave a note and lock up." He ran inside and then stuck a note on the door saying he'd be back in a half hour. Cruz followed him to his cobalt blue '67 Chevy Impala and they drove the short distance.

  Bobby parked next door to the church. "Hey, is that the church you wanted?"

  "Yep."

  "Right next door. How ironic. Come on."

  Cruz checked out the old hair salon. The sign was missing a few letters and the windows were too dirty to look into. If the inside was any kind of a fit for his business, it would take some work. But then again, so would the church. This place might be a better setup, with less moving stuff around.

  Bobby opened the door and a musty odor wafted toward them. Cruz coughed. "Has this place ever been aired out?"

  "Not that I know of. From what I understand, my aunt got sick all of a sudden. She closed shop one day, and just didn't open the next. I think my uncle was scared of it, so he never went in. Thought hair salons were for chicks or something."

  Cruz and Bobby stepped inside, and sure enough, aside from the dust and cobwebs, everything looked untouched, like it was ready to go.

  "What do you think?" Bobby asked.

  "I'm going to have to invest in some face masks." Cruz sneezed.

  Bobby coughed. "Unfortunately. But will it work?"

  Cruz walked around, trying to imagine the hair stations as individual inking stations. It was the perfect setup, actually. Especially if any of the furniture or shelves would still do their jobs. He'd have to clear out all the hair products and replace them with inking equipment. He walked through the main part and toward the back.

  There was a small backroom that doubled as an employee lounge. It wasn't large enough to be a place for him to live, though. He'd really wanted somewhere that would be both, but at this point, he really had no room to complain. If he could rent the building from Bobby, then he'd probably have enough left over to get someplace to stay.

  Bobby joined him. "What do you think?"

  "It could work."

  "If you want it, it's yours. Like I said, we'll figure out the details later. Anyone else, I'd draw up paperwork first."

  Cruz spun around and glanced around the salon area, his mind spinning. "I really think this will work."

  "Awesome." Bobby twisted the key from his chain. "You take this. I have another at home in my safe."

  Cruz took the key. "Thanks, dude. I don't know what to say."

  "Nothin'. And don't get sappy."

  "You think I'm that type?" Cruz asked.

  "Just sayin'. Well, I gotta get back to my shop. Just in case someone has car trouble this morning."

  "Sure." Cruz continued looking around, idea after idea flooding his mind. "Thanks again."

  "D
on't mention it. Seriously. I'm just glad it's getting some use. It's just icing on the cake that it will tick off the council and make my Aunt Edna roll over in her grave."

  Cruz laughed. "Didn't like her?"

  "No comment. Not here, anyway. She might haunt this place."

  Chills ran through Cruz. "Don't say that."

  Bobby hit his shoulder. "I'm just messin' with you. Come on."

  They went outside, and as they did, Talia stepped out of a car. She was the last person he wanted to see after she and her dad had refused to even consider the other church.

  Cruz and Talia made eye contact immediately. She looked about as thrilled to see him as he was her. He had a sinking feeling as he realized they were going to be next door neighbors.

  Her eyes narrowed and she walked over to him, hips swaying. "What are you doing over here? We told you—we're not giving up the church."

  Cruz folded his arms. "No longer interested."

  "Why are you here, then?"

  "Turns out this place is available." Cruz flicked a nod toward the salon.

  Talia's eyes widened. "You're putting your tattoo place next door to us?"

  Bobby stepped forward. "You guys fixing up the old church? Between these two buildings, this might be the start of turning the neighborhood around."

  "Right. A tattoo shop is really going to class everything up."

  Anger burned in Cruz's stomach. It took all of his strength not to tell her off. They stared each other down.

  Bobby cleared his throat. "I gotta get back to the auto shop. You coming, Cruz?"

  "You know it." He spun around and got into Bobby's car without another word to Talia. He slammed the door for added effect.

  "What's up with that chick?" Bobby asked, starting the engine.

  "Nothing," Cruz said, buckling up. "Nothing at all."

  "That was some serious tension back there."

  "We don't get along, is all."

  "That's it?" Bobby asked.

  "What else?"

  Bobby chuckled. "Nothing, man. But she's one hot—"

  "Shut up."

  "You don't want me saying anything because you can't stand her or because you like her?"

  "I said shut it, Bobby."

  Eight

  Talia scrubbed the floor with more strength than she'd cleaned anything else. Why was Cruz going to open his tattoo place next door to their church? How had he managed that? And why? Just to irritate her? She scrubbed harder. Now she would be stuck seeing his face every day.

  "Wow, you're really making progress with this entryway," said her dad.

  "That's the goal, right?"

  "Is everything okay?" he asked.

  "No, it's not."

  He took the scrub brush from her. "What's going on?"

  Talia frowned. "You know that abandoned hair salon next door?"

  "On the right?"

  She nodded, her nostrils flaring. "Cruz is going to put his tattoo shop there. Right next door to the church!"

  "Oh, good. He found a building already."

  Talia narrowed her eyes at him.

  "And you don't think that's a good idea?" he asked.

  "How could it be? Even the city council doesn't want him here. They couldn't have approved him getting that building."

  Her dad put an arm around her. "Don't get yourself worked up. Everything will work out. I doubt Cruz is going to try to run us out of town. He's a good guy."

  She took the scrubber from him and vented her frustrations back out on the floor's dirt and grime buildup.

  "If you're that concerned, we can always talk with him."

  "I'd rather not."

  "He and a couple brothers are supposed to stop by later this afternoon to assist us."

  Talia's eyes widened. "He agreed to help us out?"

  Her dad nodded. "And he even confirmed with two brothers."

  "Well, help is help." She put more muscle into cleaning. She rose, shaking her head. "Maybe I ought to stop with this entry and work on the sanctuary. We don't want to bring the pews in if it's still dusty."

  "The pews themselves are covered in dust."

  Her stomach twisted in knots. There was so much to do, and they really expected to put on a Christmas program? They'd be lucky to have a summer one at this rate.

  He patted her shoulder. "Keep up the good work in here. This is what everyone will see when they first enter. If you keep this up, it'll sparkle better than when it was new."

  "Why is he helping out when he has his own place to take care of?" she asked.

  "Like I said, he's a nice guy."

  She continued scrubbing.

  "Well, I'm going to go back to the electrical box and see if I can figure out how to get the lights to turn on in the classrooms."

  "Sure you don't want to call an electrician?" She pictured him getting shocked and her anger fizzled. "I don't want you getting hurt."

  "I've done this plenty of times. If I can't get it to work after a real try, then I'll give one a call. I'll bet Cruz knows of a good local one."

  "I can look it up on my phone," she said. "That would be quicker, and chances are, there's only one around here."

  He chuckled. "That's very likely. You don't trust me with the electrical box?"

  "I just don't want to see you injure yourself." Talia pulled out her phone and found her browser app.

  "How about this? I promise not to do anything I'm not one hundred percent sure about. If I get stumped, I'll call a professional."

  "Okay, deal." Talia would have felt better about hiring someone first, but at the same time, she knew her dad, and he preferred to do whatever he could himself first. She said a quick prayer for his safety before getting back to scrubbing.

  The morning flew by, and before Talia knew it, her stomach was rumbling. She glanced around the entryway. It looked a lot better—almost ready to welcome people into the building, in fact. There were some cobwebs up near the top of the high ceiling, but those would take a ladder to reach.

  She put all the cleaning supplies back into the closet where they belonged and went downstairs to see how her dad was doing. She hadn't heard anything, so that had to be good news. No fires or explosions—or whatever damage could be done trying to turn electricity on and off from an old fuse box.

  Going down the stairs, she noticed several of the stairs creaked. Hopefully just using them would work those out. The last thing she wanted to think about was making any changes structurally. It was one thing to bring electricity to a room or wipe away grime, but to try to fix stairs—that could get messy. She didn't even want to think about what could be underneath them. The building had to be over a hundred and fifty years old.

  One thing the realtor had mentioned was thinking about getting it earthquake ready. It wasn't a requirement in Kittle Falls, but she said it probably wouldn't be long before it was. They were in California, after all.

  Talia wandered the downstairs, not seeing her dad. She found the fuse box, and it was closed. Talia went over to the reception hall. He wasn't in there, either. She checked the other little rooms down there, still not finding him.

  After going through the entire downstairs, including a really creepy little closet with what looked like a trap door leading into what could only be an even worse basement, she went back upstairs. Had he gone up there, but she'd been so busy cleaning, she hadn't even noticed?

  She checked the sanctuary, the kids' classrooms, the kitchen, and even the two little bathrooms. Where could he have gone? It wasn't like him to just leave without saying anything.

  Maybe he'd decided to go out into the yard and just hadn't mentioned anything to her. She was starting to worry—she only had one parent left, and thought for sure losing him would be too much to deal with. She took a deep breath and scolded herself for jumping to conclusions and being ridiculous.

  She pulled out her phone and sent him a text.

  Where did you go?

  Next door.

  She let out a si
gh of relief and went into the sanctuary. The sun shone brightly through the stained glass, which meant there was a break from the snow flurries. Talia stepped inside and looked at the windows which were still pretty despite needing a good washing. She thought about all the things there were to be grateful for—this practice had grown to be much harder since her mom's passing. Not only in her passing, but in the horrible way she had left this world.

  Talia leaned against the wall. Her mom would have loved all this—the old building to fix up, the charm of the stained glass… but mostly, she would have been proud of her husband for leaving his "safe" job as the assistant pastor at their large church to take hold of his dream of becoming the head pastor. Even if it was a flock of zero so far. She also would have been really happy about Talia going with him to help.

  Not wanting to get choked up, Talia cleared her throat and went outside for some fresh air. With them making progress inside, her dad might be more willing to let her put up some decorations—her favorite part of preparing for the holiday season. The lights and other festive decorations were a beautiful reminder to get in the spirit for all the wonderful things to come.

  The trick this year would be to not think about how much her mom had been involved in making this her favorite season. No more walking home to the scent of freshly baked gingerbread men or snicker-doodles. No more decorating tree-shaped cookies with frosting and sprinkles—at least not with Mom.

  Tears blurred her vision as she studied the church's front yard, trying to imagine the best decorations. Talia wiped at her eyes, refusing to let anything interfere with making the church festive.

  A freshly made wreath for each door was a must. Lights on the two trees out front would be first—assuming the electricity panel would allow that. She studied the roofline. If she could find a tall enough ladder, icicle lights would be the cherry on the top.

  Where would their nearly life-size manger scene go? The rest of their stuff was due to be delivered in the next day or two, and then she'd be able to get everything going. One truckload had arrived with them, but they'd had to wait on the other one. In between the building and what appeared to have once been a courtyard—but was now only weeds—sat an empty space that would be perfect for the manger scene.

  Talia took a deep breath, stepping back for a bigger picture of how everything would look. Snow crunched underfoot and a few solitary flakes fell. They shone brightly in the sun.