Seaside Christmas

by Stacy Claflin

  Conversation drifted her way. That was odd—they'd barely seen anyone on the street aside from Jake, Cruz, and his friend. Were other abandoned businesses being brought back to life? Talia couldn't help feeling like maybe they were starting a mini-revolution.

  She stepped onto the sidewalk, looking at the church building, but seeing what it would be like when filled with decorations. The voices grew louder and curiosity got the best of her. Talia looked down the road, but immediately regretted it. Her dad stood with Cruz, Jake, and another guy who resembled the two brothers. He had to be the third one her dad said would help them with moving the pews and tables.

  Her dad glanced her way and waved her over. Talia groaned silently.

  Nine

  Cruz pulled his attention away from his future tattoo shop and glanced down the road. Talia was headed their way. She was everywhere, and that probably wasn't going to change with her being next door to his tattoo parlor.

  She joined the group and said hello. Zachary introduced himself and they shook hands.

  "We really appreciate your help," Allen said. "We haven't had time to meet many in town yet, and one of the biggest things we need is some strong arms to help us move those pews and tables."

  "I still can't believe anyone turned a church into a restaurant," Talia said, shaking her head.

  Was that a jab at him and his shop? She probably thought his plan of turning a church into a tattoo parlor was the worst idea ever, as if he worshiped the devil while inking skin.

  Zachary turned to Cruz, giving him a knowing expression. At least he wasn't the only one who had thought that.

  Talia continued. "I was just in the sanctuary, and it just has a really wrong feel with those tables in there. I half expected a waitress to come out seat me. It'll be good to get the pews up there and set everything right."

  Cruz clenched a fist. Zachary gave him a look as if to say, take it easy. Cruz would take it easy once they were done with this project and he could focus on his own business—and forget all about Talia and her dresses.

  What he wouldn't give for a smoke. Maybe quitting after his shop was set up would be a better idea.

  "We're glad we can help," Jake said. He'd always been one to try to smooth things over when people didn't get along. Cruz almost laughed. Good luck with helping him and Talia getting along. That would never happen.

  "Are you guys ready?" Allen asked. "I know you guys are eager to get started on Cruz's new place—congratulations again."

  Cruz nodded a thanks. He couldn't help notice the expression on Talia's face. She was obviously as unhappy about being neighbors as he was. He wanted to tell her that if he had any other choice, he would have picked a building as far away from her and her snooty judgmental face as he could get.

  They all followed Allen next door and into the building.

  "It's great so far," Jake said as they all stood in the entryway. Even Cruz had to admit that it really did seem nice. In fact, he hoped he could get his place to sparkle like that.

  "Talia's been working hard on this room," Allen said.

  Cruz frowned. Of course this was the work of her hands. He was glad he hadn't been the one to say how nice it was.

  "I've always wondered what it was like inside," Zachary said. "There's something mysterious about an old church building, you know?"

  "Zachary is an author," Allen told Talia.

  Talia smiled at him. "Sounds like creativity flows through your family." Though ignoring Cruz, it was the closest she'd come to complimenting him.

  "In our ways, we all are," Zachary said. "Cruz is really—"

  "You guys want to see the sanctuary?" Talia asked. "The sooner we can get this done, the sooner you can get on with your days. We don't want to keep you."

  "Good point," Allen said.

  Zachary glanced at Cruz.

  Cruz mouthed, "I told you."

  Allen led them through the large doors into the sanctuary. Cruz was immediately drawn to the stained glass windows. He didn't care much for the religious images, but he appreciated the artwork. It was gorgeous, and the ones that had sun shining through were especially so.

  He realized Allen had started speaking again, and Cruz tried to focus. He glanced around the room, hating to admit the restaurant feel really was out of place. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't gotten the building—though he knew if Bobby hadn't offered the hair salon, he'd still be upset over it.

  Allen led them down a set of creepy, narrow stairs. Cruz half-expected to see a ghost when they got downstairs, but instead all he found only really ugly carpeting and stained walls with cobwebs along the corners and ceiling.

  The pastor didn't seem bothered, and he led them to a room underneath the sanctuary which was nearly as big, but with lower ceilings and plain windows. It smelled of must, but a day airing it out would probably take care of that—much like his own place would need.

  "The tables need to go down here, and these pews need to be up in the sanctuary. Which do you think we should move first?" He stared at Cruz.

  It took Cruz a moment to recover, and realize everyone was waiting for his opinion. "Uh, those pews are probably heavy. Maybe we should focus on getting them upstairs first. Then we can move the tables down after. They look pretty light."

  "Good thinking. We don't want to move the heavy furniture up after we're already tired."

  Cruz noticed that Talia had left the group. He wished she'd been there to see he'd had a good idea, but at the same time, he hated thinking that at all. Who cared what she thought?

  "Would it be easier to move them outside?" Jake asked. "The stairs we just used are so narrow. I'd hate to scratch your walls."

  "Good thinking," said Talia, appearing from nowhere.

  Cruz's jaw and facial muscles tensed at her praise of Jake.

  Allen went over to the door leading to the outside and propped it open. "I'm going to check and make sure the gate is open."

  "Dad, half the fence is destroyed," Talia said.

  "Then maybe we need to move those planks out of the way."

  Cruz walked over to a window and glanced outside, seeing a yard filled with weeds and overgrown grass. There may have once been an old teeter-totter, but the plant life had overtaken it. In another corner sat a pile of old, emptied beer bottles. Clearly from the days when it had been a restaurant.

  He wondered if Allen or Talia had seen those. He couldn't imagine either one of them letting those sit back there. While everyone else went around the building to check out the fence, Cruz checked out the empty bottles. They had to be thirty or more years old, and some of them were in decent shape—the perfect kind of antiques to decorate his tattoo parlor. They could even be worth something down the line.

  Most of them were trash, though. He separated the good ones and stuck them by the building. Later, he'd offer to clean the mess and ask if he could take those.

  The others made their way back through the yard and Cruz joined them. Inside, they discovered that it took three of them to carry one pew—someone on each end, and another in the middle. Whoever had made them had chosen solid wood. Even without cushions, they were heavy.

  Cruz and his brothers grabbed one while Allen directed them outside and around the building, to the front entrance. Talia seemed to have disappeared again. That was probably just as well. She'd probably only end up getting in their way.

  An hour later, they had moved the pews into the sanctuary and had the tables folded and chairs stacked in the hallway.

  "Do you want us to put these in rows?" Jake asked, gesturing toward the pews which sat facing in all directions.

  "Not unless you want to help with sweeping and mopping the floor first." Allen laughed. "No, I'm really appreciative of you just moving them up here.

  "How are you going to do that with all of them in the way?" Cruz asked.

  "We'll figure something out," Allen said.

  "We?" Cruz asked. "As in you and Talia?"

  He nodded a yes. "If we need h
elp, I'm sure we'll find some other neighborly folks. We don't want to wear out our welcome with you guys, and even more with you setting up your own place next door."

  "Well, I am next door. Just come get me when you're ready."

  "I may just do that. Thanks, Cruz. Why don't we get the tables and chairs downstairs so you guys can get going? I don't want to keep you here all afternoon."

  They headed back out into the hallway. Talia walked through the front doors, carrying a picnic basket. "I brought refreshments to say thank you." She set the basket down on an empty counter that had shutters behind it. Cruz couldn't help wondering what was behind them.

  Talia opened the basket and brought out two small thermoses and set them down. Then she brought out more.

  "Hot chocolate and cookies for everyone." She pulled out a plate full of cookies, the sweet ginger smell filling the room.

  Everyone else crowded around, but Cruz hung back for a moment, staring at Talia, trying to make sense of her. She didn't fit any of his preconceived notions. How could she be hospitable and grateful, while at the same time grating and irritating?

  He decided that he didn't care as the sweet aromas of chocolate and cookies made his mouth water. Cruz went around Jake and grabbed the last mug and drank the entire contents in one long swig. He hadn't realized just how much of a thirst he'd worked up.

  Cruz pulled the cup away from his mouth and saw Talia watching him. She turned away as soon as they made eye contact.

  Was she annoyed that he was there? The feeling's mutual, babe. Or was it? Once again, he found himself more intrigued than irritated. He wanted to know what she was thinking—and that annoyed the heck out of him.

  With the sugar buzzing through them, he, his brothers, and Allen got the tables and chairs downstairs in record time. While his brothers headed out the door—thanking Talia for the treats—Cruz pulled the pastor aside.

  "I noticed a pile of garbage out in the backyard."

  "Are you sure you don't mean the yard is a pile of junk?" Allen laughed.

  Cruz chuckled. "It's mostly old beer bottles. I can't imagine you want those hanging around. I'd be glad to get rid of them for you."

  Allen's eyes lit up. "Really? I couldn't thank you enough."

  "I have to admit ulterior motives. Some of them are nice enough to be decoration in my shop. I'm a bit of an antique collector. But if you want them, they're yours. I don't know what they might be worth."

  "Go ahead and keep what you want. I appreciate your honesty. If anything does have any value, consider it a thanks for all your help."

  "Okay. You got a bag I can use?" Cruz asked.

  Allen led him to a small utility closet. "Take what you need, but I'd recommend the stuff closer to the front. That's what we brought. I'm not sure how old the other stuff is. Some of it looks like the same products we had around my house when I was a kid."

  "Yeah, man. I'm kinda afraid to see what's in my new place. There are lots of cupboards and drawers I don't think have been opened in over twenty years."

  "We could always compare our finds." Allen smiled.

  That gave Cruz an idea. "Do you think there's anything else that could be collectible?"

  "I really wouldn't know, but if there is, you can have it."

  "Really?" Cruz raised his palm, and to his surprise, the pastor gave him a high five.

  Ten

  Talia washed the last thermos, her blood still boiling. Everyone else had thanked her for the cookies and hot chocolate except Cruz. She could have stayed at the church, continuing to clean, but no, she'd made the short trek home and made all the guys fresh hot chocolate and cookies. Not the packaged, easy stuff. Real Christmas treats. Sure, she'd used cookie dough she'd already prepared and had sitting in the fridge. That wasn't the point. It was homemade, and he didn't care.

  She grabbed the cookie tin and scrubbed hard enough to go through the metal. What was his problem, anyway? And then to top everything off, he'd caught her staring at him. Her face flushed again, as though she were back at the entryway when he'd made eye contact with her.

  Why was she even concerned with his ingratitude? It wasn't like she'd made everything for him. It was for her dad and his brothers, too. Cruz just happened to be there. It could have been any group of guys from town. It just so happened the most infuriating—and muscular—guy from Kittle Falls kept showing up in her life.

  She would probably be better off if she stopped worrying about him. Why did her heart have to flutter every time she looked at him? Sure, he was good-looking. But that was superficial. If she ever opened herself up to a relationship, it would be because of the man's character.

  Like someone who would help move things in a church when he had his own place to clean out?

  Talia dropped the dishtowel and glanced around for anything else to clean. It was a handy habit of hers, taking her anger out on cleaning. Growing up, her parents knew if they came home and a room was sparkling, they needed to give their daughter some space.

  There were plenty of boxes to unpack, but she didn't feel like doing that. She wanted to clean more stuff. The previous homeowners had left the place shining inside, so there wasn't much left for her to do. The church, on the other hand, had enough to keep an army of angry cleaners busy for a long time.

  She locked up and made her way back to the old building, parking directly in front. If only she had the resources to clean the outside. It needed a good washing just as badly as everything inside. She made a mental note to find a really tall ladder.

  A movement caught her attention from the corner of her eyes. Cruz stood outside his shop, cleaning the outside of the large windows. Talia frowned, her anger growing all the more. She ignored him, not giving him the chance to add insult to injury.

  Talia went inside the church and decided to start on the classrooms. If kids were going to be in there, she needed to make sure those rooms were especially clean. She went back to the utility closet and found cleaning supplies, stuck them in a bucket, and went to the class nearest the sanctuary.

  Though they'd opened all the doors upon arrival, those little rooms were still stuffy. She went over to the window and tried to open it—try being the operative word. It wouldn't budge. She studied it, trying to figure out if someone had painted it shut, or perhaps nailed it, but she didn't see anything. It was just an old window that hadn't been opened in a long time—probably not once during her lifetime.

  They'd been told those rooms had been ignored by the restaurant staff and visitors, and judging by the setup, she believed it. Walking into the room, she felt like she'd entered a time warp. It could have easily been a classroom from the pictures she'd seen of her great-grandmother in her own Sunday school class. Talia had heard all the stories. That old class had been her great-grandmother's pride and joy.

  Talia took a deep breath and decided to give the window another try. The stale, musty air needed to go. She rolled up her sleeves and pushed on it as hard as she could.

  "Do you need some help?" asked her dad.

  "Sure," she grunted, not stopping.

  He came over and together they pushed. His face grew as red as she was sure her own was. Finally, the window budged. Her dad slid his fingers underneath and forced it up. Talia did the same, and soon the window was open a whole six inches.

  She wiped her brow. "I hope they're not all like that."

  "Unfortunately, I'm sure they are. Let me know before you clean the others, and I'll help you with the windows."

  Talia glanced around. "I'm sure this will keep me busy for a while."

  Her dad chuckled. "I don't doubt that. This reminds me of my grandma's old Sunday school room."

  "Exactly what I thought."

  Dad headed toward the door, but then turned back to her. "Oh, and if you find anything that you think might be worth something, set it aside. I'd like to collect those things."

  "Okay. Why, though?" He wasn't the kind of guy who hung onto things.

  "It might make a nice
display somewhere. Or we could sell some of it if there really is anything valuable."

  Talia raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about that?"

  "I told Cruz he could have some valuables."

  She arched a brow. "Okay."

  The corners of his mouth curved just slightly. "Thanks, honey."

  He left the room and she spun back around, staring at the mess in front of her. It actually wasn't a mess so much as three inches of dust covering everything. Whoever had left the room last had put everything away meticulously.

  Chills ran down her back. Talia couldn't help wondering what had closed the church down. Judging by this room, the room was left as if ready and waiting for the kids to return the following week. Her heart ached to think about it, but at least they were preparing to open the doors again and welcome in a new generation of children.

  Talia went over to a shelf and picked up an old book. Dust flew in all directions, including to her face. She sneezed and her eyes watered. Hopefully they had dust masks, or she would have to run to the store—and there weren't many choices. She'd seen a hardware store somewhere nearby. With any luck, she could find it again.

  She set the book back down and went back to the storage closet, not seeing anything. It sounded like her dad was in the sanctuary, so she headed there. He stood on a stepladder cleaning a stained glass window.

  Talia cleared her throat. "Do we have any dust masks?"

  He turned to her. "I gave the last one to Cruz. Maybe he hasn't used it yet."

  "Thanks. I think I'll grab a box from the hardware store. We'll need more later, anyway. Need anything else while I'm out?"

  "Nope." He went back to the window.

  Talia went outside, her nose still burning from the dust. Just out of curiosity, she peeked over at Cruz, and sure enough, he already had on the dust mask. It sat over his beard while he worked on the outside of his building. She turned to get a better look at what he was doing, curious as to why he would need the mask outside.