There's Always a Catch: Christmas Key Book One

by Stephanie Taylor

  “My kids will tell you that I’m barely a dad to them. In fact, one of my daughters told me that I’m her father, but not her dad. That particular honor goes to the electrician my ex-wife married while I was on the road.”

  There are a million questions that Holly is dying to ask, but she doesn’t. She digs her big toe into the sand at the foot of the stairs and waits for Joe to go on.

  “But let me set you straight right off the bat: it wasn’t because I didn’t love them. There is no more powerful love than the kind you feel for your kids.” Joe puts one hand over his heart. “In my mind, I was doing what was best for them. And—let’s be honest here—I was doing what was best for me. I was a better musician than I was a family man, and I knew that their mom would find someone who could give her what she wanted. And she did,” he says, pulling the hand away from his heart. “Sometimes we make hard choices, but it’s because we want what’s best for everyone involved. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  Holly sets her Yankees cap back on her head, pulling the brim down low. “I think so. You’re saying that Coco did what was best for both of us.”

  Joe smiles sympathetically. “Probably. It might feel like she made a selfish choice, but look around you, Holly.” Joe grips his mug with one hand, pointing out at the wide beach with the other. “Look at what you have here. There’s no way you’d have this life if you hadn’t been raised by Frank and Jeanie. You think a teenage mom could have given you paradise?”

  Holly follows the sweep of his hand, taking it all in. She nods, slowly at first, then more definitively. “You’re right. I know you’re right, Joe.”

  He lets his hand fall to his knee. “If it weren’t for the choices your mother made, you wouldn’t be where you are. You wouldn’t be dragging this community into the future with your big ideas, and you wouldn’t be living with a bunch of old geezers who all act like we’re your grandparents.”

  “Thanks, Joe,” Holly says quietly.

  Joe smiles at her fondly over the rim of his mug.

  Holly stands and takes the three steps up to the porch, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “All right, well, I guess Pucci and I will mosey on.”

  “See you around, Mayor.”

  When Holly glances back at the Ho Ho Hideaway from the water’s edge, Pucci trotting along at her side, Joe is still watching her, bare feet on the railing, coffee in hand.

  Coco is at the front desk of the B&B when Holly arrives, decked out in tight yoga pants and a racerback tank top that shows off her firm breasts and her equally firm deltoids and triceps. She’s wearing a full face of make-up, and her hair is flat-ironed into a shiny sheet of chocolate. Holly catches a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirror over the front desk: puffy eyes from not sleeping well, unwashed hair spilling from a baseball cap, chapped lips, wrinkled t-shirt. She braces herself for the inevitable critical commentary on her appearance.

  “Honey! I wasn’t sure when you and the redhead rolled in, so I’ve been handling things up here,” Coco says, ignoring the fact that her daughter looks like she’s just spent the past month being held hostage in a place with no running water. Coco picks up a small stack of papers and thumbs through them. “You got a call from your accountant in Miami.” She puts a hand up next to her mouth and whispers loudly, “I think someone might have forgotten to pay her quarterly taxes.”

  Holly unclips Pucci’s leash and shoos him toward the back office. He knows well enough to head right back there, and he also knows well enough to stay clear of Coco, who dabs at her eyes with a Kleenex whenever Pucci is around. (She claims that he triggers her “latent dog allergies.”)

  “And the lady from the kitchen came in to find out whether she should make a real breakfast for your guests, or just tea and dry toast.” Coco tosses the messages onto the counter when she’s done reading them. “Oh, and then Cap Duncan stopped by to talk to you about the weather and a boat trip of some sort.” Coco clasps her hands together on top of the desk. “That’s all.” She beams brightly at Holly like a child waiting to get a reward for good behavior. “Now, how can I help out around here today?”

  Holly aches all over from tossing and turning all night. “I think we’ve got things covered here, so why don’t you and Alan go out and explore the beach, or go have lunch at the Jingle Bell Bistro. You can use the B&B’s golf cart to get around. The key is in that drawer by your hip, and the cart is parked in the lot right next to mine.” She points at the desk and makes a break for the hallway that leads back to her office.

  “But I want to help you! And to get a feel for what goes on around the island. You know, I really don’t visit enough or ask enough questions,” Coco says, her hand on the corner of the waist-high bamboo desk as she follows Holly to the hallway. “We both know that I never spent much time here when you were younger, so I feel like you have this whole world filled with people and things that I know nothing about.”

  Holly stops walking, her back still to her mother. Her talk with Joe on the beach had really helped to shed a different light on Coco’s choices over the years, but more questions? More visits? No—definitely not. These are both unacceptable options.

  Holly turns around slowly, a smile plastered on her face. “Well then, I guess we need to immerse you in island life and in the business side of things while you’re here, don’t we?”

  Coco follows her to the office, obviously pleased to be given access to the island’s inner workings. She pulls out Bonnie’s chair and sits down, back straight, ready for action. “So, what should we do first?”

  Holly sets the coffee mug she’s been carrying around all morning on the corner of her desk and opens her laptop. “First we should check our email, and next we should prepare for the redhead to blow in and immediately kick you out of her seat.”

  Coco’s eyelids flutter. “Let’s do the email. I think I need to get the password to that. And maybe some of our bank account information, and probably copies of our taxes for the past few years.”

  Holly doesn’t like any of these suggestions, and what she likes least of all is the self-assured way that Coco refers to everything as “ours”: our bank accounts. Our taxes. Just hearing those words makes Holly grind her teeth in anger.

  “Actually, I’ll get us logged in to email, if you can run to the kitchen and get me a cup of coffee with half & half and two packets of sugar, please.” She picks up her mug and holds it out without looking at her mother. More coffee is the last thing she really needs or wants, but the ability to send Coco on an errand pleases her.

  Coco pauses, pencil in hand, a fresh yellow notepad at her elbow. A tart reply is written all over her face, and Holly waits patiently as her mother wrestles with the desire to speak her mind.

  After a brief internal battle, Coco pushes back from the desk, eyes narrowed. “One coffee light and sweet, coming right up,” she says. Coco straightens the hem of her tank top before she stalks off down the hall, head held high.

  Holly quickly logs out of everything, clears her browser’s history, and then reopens just her email. She double-checks that the filing cabinet in the corner is locked, and shoves a few of the files that she and Bonnie are working on into her desk drawer.

  Once everything in the office is on lockdown, Holly sits and stares at her email inbox, chin resting on her laced fingers as she waits for her mother to come back with the coffee. Christmas Key will become a ski resort and its visitors will sleep in igloos on snow-covered beaches before she’ll give Coco the keys to the kingdom.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The men trickle into the lobby around eleven o’clock, shadows under their eyes, cheeks gaunt and scruffy. In comparison to their rowdy excitement on the night they arrived, they look like a placid, unexcitable bunch.

  “We’ve got toast, oatmeal, coffee, a fruit salad, and lots of water and juice in the dining room,” Bonnie says as they file past the front desk.

  “They look a little worse for wear,” Holly whispers, “but I feel like maybe we’v
e come out the other side.” She mentally tallies the men as they entered the ballroom, hoping she’ll count all nineteen.

  “Some of ‘em are still green around the gills, hon,” Bonnie says. “Hey, did you get back to Cap yet about the fishing trip? He called again while you were walking your mother around the B&B. And incidentally, thank you for keeping her out of our office while I drank my first cup of coffee.”

  “No problem. She was getting way too comfy at your desk, so I thought I’d move her out of there before things got ugly.”

  “She was sitting at my desk? Are you planning on firing me and taking on Coco as your assistant?”

  “Please. I would rather chew off my own foot and let a baby alligator cut its teeth on the bloody stump,” Holly says without even pausing to consider such a horrifying scenario.

  Bonnie is distracted as Bill Hammond makes his way through the front lobby. He’s the last of the fishermen to emerge for breakfast, and he ambles past with a smile for Bonnie.

  “Hi, doll,” she says to him, wiggling her red-tipped fingers. “Sleep well?”

  Bill nods back at her, giving her a wink on his way to the dining room. “Like a kitten next to a fireplace,” he says, patting his round belly. “Now I’m ready for some breakfast.”

  “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” Bonnie shakes her head, still looking appreciatively in Bill’s direction as he walks away.

  “You’re totally unbelievable,” Holly says. “It’s like your man-radar is set to go off in the presence of any human fueled by testosterone and T-bone steak.”

  “I was born this way, sugar.” Bonnie bites her lower lip as she does a little hula-salsa hybrid for Holly’s benefit. “Hey, do I look like Shakira?” she asks, face serious.

  “Like Shakira?” Holly chokes on the words.

  They look at each other and collapse into a fit of laughter.

  “What’s going on?” Coco demands as she walks in. “What did I miss?”

  “Looks like we all missed something,” River says, poking his head through the open doorway.

  “Oh no,” Bonnie dabs at the corner of her eyes, “this was all my fault. Well, actually it was all Shakira’s fault.” The mention of Shakira sends Holly into round two of the giggles.

  “I see tears of laughter, so it couldn’t have been that bad,” River says, patting the doorframe with his hand.

  “You can come all the way into the lobby, you know.” Coco says, looking him up and down with interest as he hovers in the doorway. “We’re a bunch of real nice ladies who won’t bite.” She runs her fingers through her hair in slow motion, popping a hip alluringly.

  Holly looks on, sobered by the reality of her mother brazenly flirting with River before breakfast.

  “I just wanted to see what was on the docket for today.” River turns his attention to Holly. There is amusement in his eyes as he studiously avoids glancing back at Coco.

  Holly clears her throat. “Um, right. I need to call Cap Duncan to make sure you’re still on for the boat trip, but I wanted to see if you all were feeling well enough to be on the water. And we have our daily summer storm to deal with, so I’ll see what time he thinks you should go.” Holly hides as much of her body behind the front desk as she can. Having River see her in her wrinkled t-shirt and shorts is bad enough, but standing next to her overly-groomed mother makes her feel like a wet mutt standing next to a show dog.

  “On the water is the only place most of us really want to be,” River says. “Even if we’re not feeling quite like ourselves yet, we’re still more than ready to get out there.”

  “Well, there is fun to be had on dry land,” Coco says, a hint of suggestion in her voice as she inserts herself back into the conversation.

  River runs a hand over the scratchy whiskers on his cheeks. He looks like he wants to respond—there is definite mischief in his eyes—but he thinks better of it and nods thoughtfully instead. “Okay…well, just let me know what we can do to get out there on that boat.”

  “Of course. I’ll get ahold of Cap right now. Should I call you in your room?” Holly hopes that her professional tone somehow cancels out her mother’s embarrassing overtures.

  “That’ll work. I’m in the Seashell Suite—the one that smells like the inside of a stomach. And by the way,” he says, his handsome features scrunched into a slight grimace, “I’m really sorry about that.”

  “No! That’s not your fault,” Holly says. “I don’t know what happened, but I take full responsibility, and I—”

  “Let’s just forget about it, okay? Honest. We’re tough guys; we’ll come around.” River pulls back from the doorway, patting the wood frame one more time like he’s bookending their conversation. “Just holler at me when you’ve got something, okay?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Holly,” Coco says when he’s safely out of earshot. “I know I wasn’t around much during your formative years, and I might have missed out on some important opportunities to show you how things are done.” She leans backwards to watch River walk down the hall, then places her palms flat on the front counter and turns her attention to her daughter. “But honey, what are you waiting for?”

  “Ladies and gentleman, my mother,” Holly says, spreading her hands like she’s presenting Coco to an audience.

  “I’m serious, Holly!” Coco leans across the counter and grabs Holly’s wrists. “If you weren’t already dating Officer Hotpants, then I’d stop joking around and start fixing you up with that gorgeous specimen.”

  “Oh, speak of the devil…” Bonnie says under her breath. She straightens a stack of papers on the desk as the front door opens and Jake walks in.

  “Jake.” Holly’s eyes widen with guilt like a teenager caught in the glare of a flashlight as she sneaks back into the house after curfew.

  “Hey. I heard things were crazy around here,” he says to Holly and Bonnie, taking off his hat politely and holding it in both hands. “Hi, Coco. How are you?”

  “It’s a little steamy around here for my taste,” Coco says, picking up a brochure from the counter and fanning herself like she’s having a heatstroke. “But other than that, not too bad. How are you, handsome?” She shifts seamlessly from flirting with River to flirting with Jake. As always, Holly is impressed (and somewhat annoyed) at how smooth Coco is; if she’d stuck around Christmas Key long enough, she could have been the sole politician on the island, because who wouldn’t vote in a charmer like Coco as mayor?

  Jake trains his gaze on Holly as he answers. “I’ve been better. But I wanted to make sure our visitors were up and on their feet again, and to offer my help if you all need me for anything.”

  “Thanks for stopping by, Jake. Everyone is up and feeling better. I think we’re good right now.”

  “Well, just holler if you need anything.” He nods at Bonnie and Coco and heads back out to his police cart. The women watch him through the front window, their three heads tilting in unison as Jake leans over to pick up a coin from the sidewalk. He turns and holds it aloft for them to see, grinning like he’s just found the golden ticket. It’s a quarter.

  Holly gives him a half-hearted thumbs-up.

  “What was that all about?” Bonnie asks, one fist on her hip.

  “Maybe his last paycheck didn’t clear,” Holly says, watching him drive away.

  “No, not the quarter. I mean him coming in here like that.”

  “I have no idea.” Holly raises her eyebrows and shakes her head.

  “Your man was just dropping in to see how things were going,” Coco says. “I think it’s sweet.”

  “I was about to tell you that I broke up with Jake a few months ago,” Holly says to her mother. “So he’s definitely not my man anymore. And these guys from Oregon are important to us. Their visit here means business for all of us, so my flirting with one of them would be unprofessional.” She can hear the defensiveness in her own one-sided argument even as she’s making it. Bonnie and Coco exchange a look; for once, they appear to be on the same page.
“Seriously,” Holly says. “I can’t. I really can’t.”

  “Look, if you two broke up recently, then you might think there aren’t enough miles between you and Jake, but let me give you some advice that’s as old as time, dearest daughter of mine,” Coco says, tapping her acrylic nail against the desktop with authority. “The best way to get over a man is to get under another one.”

  Bonnie hoots in agreement. “Ain’t that the truth!”

  “Now, I need to go and track down my darling husband so that he can take me to lunch.” Coco tosses her head and holds out her palm. “Where are those keys to the golf cart again?”

  Holly fishes through the drawer for the keys and hands them to her mother.

  “Sugar,” Bonnie says after Coco disappears up to the Lemon Tree Loft to find Alan. “You know I’d almost never agree with a word that comes out of your mother’s mouth, but on that issue, truer words have never been spoken. And it’s not very often way out here in the middle of nowhere that a viable option comes to you. Young men around this place are as scarce as a hen’s teeth. I’m just saying.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Holly sighs. “I just don’t want to mess up this visit. It’s so important to our overall plan. I need to keep my head focused on the business part—”

  “Shh, shh, shh,” Bonnie shushes her, holding out a hand to stop Holly. “You can be damn sure that if the gender roles were reversed, any man who was the mayor of this island would have no qualms about throwing some bait at a group of female visitors to see if he got any bites.”

  Holly nods reluctantly. Bonnie isn’t totally off the mark, and she knows it.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me,” Bonnie says, pulling a tube of lipstick out of the top drawer of the front desk, “I reckon I’ll go and check on that handsome Bill and make sure he’s got everything he needs.” Bonnie turns to the framed mirror hanging behind the front desk and touches up her bright pink lips, the reflection of her own face and Main Street over her shoulder looking back at her. “And I know you’re headed out to talk with Cap about that fishing trip, but you might want to swing by your place and take a shower, doll.”