Twilight Christmas: A Carolina Coast Novella (Carolina Coast Novels Book 3)

by Normandie Fischer

  “What, Mama?” Ty asked. “What’s it say?”

  She let him take the note. He read it and passed it on the Clay. Once again, her world had flipped and upended this modicum of security.

  “Can they do that, Mama? Can they make us move?”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid so. I knew it could happen if they sold the house and the new buyers didn’t want a tenant. It was always a possibility. But with the market slow, they hadn’t had even a nibble in years.” She leaned forward and covered her face.

  Clay stepped forward. “They haven’t given you proper notice, not when they’re saying the first of the year. That’s not thirty days. You need to call Rita. Get her involved.”

  Annie Mac stood and took a deep breath. “We’ll be fine. I just have to start the search again. There’s bound to be something out there.”

  Katie sidled up and grabbed the tail of her shirt. Ty was trying to be brave. She could see it in the lip he had tucked between his teeth and the hunch of his shoulders. Her kids loved living here, this close to Tadie’s family and near enough to Hannah’s that they could play with her dog, Harvey, any time. Moving again would devastate them.

  Annie Mac turned to her son. “You need to thank the lieutenant for a lovely time.”

  “He already has, Annie Mac. No need to repeat it.”

  “Well. Okay, then. I’ll thank you for all of us.”

  “I’ll be on the lookout for a place. Ask around again.” His eyes seemed to say more.

  She knew exactly what that more was, but she couldn’t do it. Even if it would answer her housing problem to perfection. And her loneliness problem. And her children’s need of a daddy.

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

  At the door, he said, “You know . . .”

  “I do. Thank you. We’ll see you later.”

  She took a deep breath as he left and, turning, confronted an obviously angry son.

  “Why didn’t you ask him to stay, have dinner with us?”

  Surprised by the boy’s sudden attack, she said, “I didn’t think he’d want to.”

  “If he doesn’t, it’s your fault.” Ty picked up his bag and stomped off to his room. “You drove him away. You always drive him away.”

  Annie Mac’s fingers slipped up to cover her cheeks. Where had that come from?

  As if she didn’t know.

  7

  Annie Mac

  A slouching Ty finally came out of his room and sat at the computer, opening one of the math games he’d downloaded. Annie Mac checked her watch. “One game, and that’s all.”

  He shrugged, but he didn’t turn around. His fingers were too busy typing. And he was probably still angry.

  She’d sunk right on past angry, although not toward Ty. No, she directed her rage like darts aiming for the bulls-eye first at the realtor, then at the owners, and finally at herself. If only she’d paid more attention to that lease, she wouldn’t be in this position.

  Up went another prayer, where it probably got stuck on the ceiling when she looked around their comfortable little place and let the fury return. The apartment wasn’t perfect. The kitchen was too small, and the bedrooms didn’t give the kids much wiggle room, but it felt like home. They all three loved being close enough to walk to visit friends and downtown.

  And now?

  The phone’s ring set her heart thumping, as if the caller’d read her thoughts as they slid from prayerful to murderous in less time than it took to say amen. Once murderous dropped in, it tugged guilt right in with it.

  Annie Mac tried to wipe her thoughts clean. She’d promised—at least herself—that she’d renounce guilt, hadn’t she?

  Renounce. The word sat like chocolate on the tongue, leaving a sugar coat that made a person forget the bitter. Renounce. Like giving up a bad relationship and repudiating negativity.

  Right. As if.

  The phone’s repeated jangling yanked her back to her messy present. She grabbed the handset, clicked it on.

  It was Rita. Annie Mac tried to put a little positive into her voice. “Hey, girl.”

  “How’re you doing?”

  “Okay. I mean, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound okay, and you sure don’t sound fine.”

  “I am.”

  “Annie Mac.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Talk to me.”

  Talk to her? Tell Rita about this latest? Rita who’d been through so much herself and yet had been there for Annie Mac all these months? How could she ask Rita for more help?

  “The kids are really looking forward to the pageant this year.”

  “I bet they are. But, honey, that’s not what put that choke in your voice.”

  Annie Mac covered the mouthpiece and cleared her throat. “Didn’t know I had a choke in it.”

  “Spill. You can’t fool me. We’ve spent too much time together for you to go telling me a lie now.”

  That brought a hoot past Annie Mac’s lips. “A lie? I’m not lying.”

  “Girl, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not? What do you call that?”

  “Keeping my counsel?”

  “Well, that put me in my place.” Rita’s voice quieted, as if she felt hurt.

  Lord, have mercy, but the last thing Annie Mac wanted to do was wound Rita’s feelings. She took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “They’re kicking me out of this place. First of the year.”

  “Oh, honey, no. Right after Christmas?”

  “They sold the house. The agent, who promised to have the furnace fixed and forgot to mention this little detail when I talked to him, tacked the note to the railing. Seems the new owner doesn’t want to rent. Only to own.”

  “I should have studied that lease for you before you signed, acted the lawyer I am. I would have made them reword it. But they should have to give you thirty days.”

  Annie Mac sighed. “I was so excited to get the place. And the agent told me it was a standard rental agreement.”

  “Well, best I can do for you now is look at it.”

  “I’d be grateful.”

  “Why don’t I stop by in an hour, maybe an hour and a half? That work for you? I’m headed to Tadie’s, and Martin’s gone to Raleigh to see his parents. His mama is going to have a knee replacement, so he wanted to check in with her before the surgery.”

  “Sorry about his mama, but thank you. That would be perfect.”

  It would be, if Rita could use her legal expertise to get things changed back to the way they’d been, which seemed highly unlikely.

  No, she’d blown it again. Made another hasty decision with which she’d have to live.

  When would she learn?

  Annie Mac stacked her papers when she heard Rita’s knock. Katie still played quietly in her room, having a tea party with Agatha. Her soft voice came through the open doorway.

  “Ty, Rita’s here. You need to finish up and go in your room to read.”

  “Aw, Mom. I’ve almost won.”

  Annie Mac checked her watch. She’d been ignoring him, which meant he’d probably played three games, not the one she’d demanded. With a sigh, she said. “Five minutes more. Then it goes off.”

  She opened the door and ushered Rita into the kitchen, which opened to the dining area, which opened into the living area. “Hey, Ty,” Rita called to the boy’s back.

  He waved without looking.

  “Ty!”

  “Sorry.” He turned. “Hey, Miss Rita.”

  “That’s better.” And then to Rita, “What can I get you? Tea, coffee, water?”

  “Water would be great. Thank you.”

  Annie Mac filled two glasses and joined her friend at the table. “You look as gorgeous as ever. I don’t know how you manage to do that every single time I see you.” She’d always admired how put together Rita seemed, her lovely features and café au lait skin accented by the rich colors she wore. Today she’d paired a crimson V-neck and khaki slacks.

  “And
you, girlfriend, look frazzled. Let me see those papers.”

  Annie Mac handed them over. Rita slid the original lease from its folder, read it quickly, and then perused the letter. Finally, she replaced them and took a long drink of water.

  “A full thirty days’ notice will buy us a little time. Remember, honey, we found this place. We can find you something else.”

  Annie Mac stared at the papers as if there’d be a clue magically hidden in the midst of them, some reprieve that would last longer than a month. “In spite of the fact that the furnace isn’t working again, this seemed so perfect. Close to school, close to Tadie’s and Hannah’s.”

  Rita laid a hand over hers. “I bet it feels as if nothing wants to work out, but it will. Don’t lose faith.”

  Rita said that? Rita, whose child had been killed by a man Annie Mac had brought into their life, Rita could show such compassion and be so encouraging? It made Annie Mac want to fold in on herself.

  “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known,” she told her friend. “Thank you.”

  Rita waved away the compliment. “Pooh. You need to know my mama better. She’s the one.”

  “I’d like to.”

  “Okay.” Rita stood. “I’m going to take this information with me and draft a letter to the owner’s representative in the morning, including a mention of the need for heat. And we’ll start looking for a new place for you. One that has a working furnace. You’re going to need that soon.”

  “We sure needed it the night it went out.”

  “When that norther came through?”

  Annie Mac nodded and gave her friend a hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  She watched Rita head down the stairs and to her car, and then she shut the door and turned out the light. All she had to do was be around Rita for an hour, and her own problems began to feel miniscule. If anyone could fix things, Rita could.

  She squared her shoulders and went to play mommy to her two. Surely, she could at least be good at that.

  For tonight.

  8

  Clay

  Clay considered himself a patient man. When you were a detective in a small town police department, you needed to be, especially when there wasn’t all that much happening on a regular basis now that they’d put a major supplier out of business. Of course, another would emerge eventually, because voids liked to be filled, but if someone were here already, he was lying low and out of sight.

  The county boys were busy. They’d found a dead woman in a trailer near the church Clay attended and were following leads to find her missing children. The woman had allegedly written a note saying she’d taken the children to friends in Greenville, but she didn’t give any names. Sounded fishy to Clay, but until the sheriff asked Beaufort to get involved, it wasn’t his business.

  Times like this, Clay thought of changing jobs, and sometimes, when he faced Annie Mac and thought of the walls she’d erected around herself, he wanted to change towns. Sure, he had friends and his mother living nearby, and he had his house and creek, but having had Annie Mac and her two living there with him, having fallen for her there, sort of took the joy out of sitting alone on his deck and watching the sun rise and set—alone.

  Now she needed a new home. It ought to be right on that creek. With him.

  He checked his phone’s calendar. Christmas was just around the corner, and he’d promised to help with scene construction for the Christmas Eve pageant. He clicked on contacts, found the number for the church office, and dialed.

  When Janis answered, he said, “Good afternoon to you.”

  “Hey, Clay. What’s up?”

  “What do you know about the timing of this pageant thing? I’m supposed to help with scenery construction—though I failed to ask what happened to last year’s.”

  “Good question,” she said. “We had it stored in the barn out back, but vandals took exception to its existence.”

  “Really? When was that? Did you report it?”

  “Sure we did. It was last spring. A deputy came out, took a look at the crime scene, and told us to put a better lock on the door. Not much more he could do really.”

  “Probably not. They haven’t come back or done any more damage?”

  “We installed motion sensor lights over the door, and the new padlock is hefty, so no, nothing else. But that’s why Chuck Whitely and a couple of others have already started building new sets.”

  “When do they need me?”

  “Any time, I’d say. Give him a call.”

  He left a message on Chuck’s phone before checking with his chief to see if anything needed taking care of. It didn’t. So, homeward for him.

  He pulled in at the Food Lion to pick up some spinach and onions to go with the chicken breast that waited his attention. While he was filling a plastic bag with a slew of lemons, a cart rolled to a stop next to his.

  “Hey, Clay. Buying dinner?”

  He turned and grinned at Hannah. “I am. How about you?”

  “Matt got a hankering for a steak. You know he’s restricted, but he figures one a month isn’t going to kill him.”

  “I imagine he’s right. Otherwise, he’s healthy?”

  “He is. And he said he’s taking me away again this year.”

  Clay grinned. “The man has changed.”

  “He has. The trip to Italy opened his eyes, let him know that travel can be fun.”

  “So where next?”

  Hannah grinned. “Now that he’s become the expert, he’s decided to surprise me again.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Curious. Happy.”

  But he saw a sudden shadow pass over her face and remembered. He glanced around. They were alone. “Still nothing on the adoption front? I’m really sorry about that last one.”

  She sighed. She and Matt had had a baby lined up—until the birth mother changed her mind at the last moment. “Yeah, well, we are too. So, we’re waiting. Hoping.”

  With that, she smiled crookedly and backed her cart out of the way. “I won’t keep you. See you later.”

  “Tell Matt it’s about time to man my grill again. Pick a nice day before it gets really cold, and we should do it.”

  “I’ll tell him. It’ll be fun to get the crew together.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” It would, but there’d be a hole in the group if Annie Mac wouldn’t join them. And there’d be awkwardness if she did.

  What a mess. He should have known better. He had known better than to fall for her, a too-young and way-too-wounded woman.

  Standing in the checkout line a few minutes later, he heard himself hailed and looked up to see Eric Houston, a new lawyer in town, just inside the door and waving at him. Thing he liked most about Eric was the man’s boat. Clay grinned at himself. Boats would do it every time.

  “How’s it going down at the marina?”

  “Not bad.” Then, as Clay’s few items passed from the checker’s hands, Eric asked, “You got plans for dinner?”

  “Nah. Just me.”

  “I’ve a new barbecue to christen and some fresh salmon to do it with. You interested?”

  “Can’t turn down salmon. And I’ve got the makings of a salad here.”

  “I just stopped to pick up a couple of lemons. You have enough to share?”

  “I do. How about if I follow you back?”

  All of a sudden the evening looked a whole lot better than it had just fifteen minutes ago. He’d met Eric one afternoon when the other man had been trying to hang onto a dock cart full of outboard on a ramp whose incline made it tricky. After that, Clay’d been invited onboard, and the two of them had talked shop—sailing shop. Clay lusted after something a bit bigger than his Sunfish, and Eric’s boat, Escape, a 37-foot Tayana Pilothouse Cutter, looked like the perfect size. Clay hadn’t wanted to stop stroking the teak. He’d lusted, all right.

  Now, Eric waited on deck, ready to take his grocery bags. “Come on down below. I made sure to keep some tea on
hand. Sorry it’s not freshly brewed.”

  “Not a problem.” Clay followed him down the companionway stairs to the galley. He examined the label of the proffered bottle and then unscrewed the cap and took a swig. “Not bad. Never had green tea before.”

  “Antioxidants.” Eric pulled some baby kale from his small refrigerator. “You hankering for your spinach or some of this kale?”

  “You mean like cooked?”

  “Raw. I make a mean kale salad with Granny Smith apple slices, cranberries, walnuts, and a lemon juice/olive oil dressing.”

  “Broadening my culinary experiences. Appreciate it.”

  “I remember you said you like to cook. So, another thing in common.”

  “Absolutely.” Clay grinned.

  Making the salad took very little time, and while the salmon sizzled on the grill, they sat back in the cockpit, Eric with a glass of wine, Clay still sipping his tea.

  A dock neighbor called out as he headed toward town. “Evening.”

  “I could get used to this,” Clay said, leaning his elbows on the caprail at his back. “So how’s work coming?”

  “Still struggling to attract new clients. It’ll take time.”

  “And your brother? You said he’s why you relocated to Beaufort.”

  Eric moved to the grill to flip the salmon steaks. “I’m here for Hen. That’s all I can say.” He pointed out to the mooring field. “That old wooden boat? The one with the long bowsprit?”

  Clay squinted, saw the one Eric seemed to mean. “What about it?”

  “Before I got here, Henry bought her for a song. We grew up on the water, love sailing. So he’s living on his and working to get her seaworthy and beautiful.”

  “Manual labor and keeping busy. Both good ideas. Hope you don’t mind the intrusion, you know, me asking about him, but how long has he been clean this time?”

  “Almost two and a half years.” Eric sighed.

  “Isn’t that progress?”

  “Yeah, but this is a new town for him, with new pressures. He’s never been trusted with the role of sous chef before, especially not in a restaurant like Aqua.”