The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three

by Stephanie Taylor

  With as much courage as she can muster, Holly holds her head high and steps down from her porch. Her fingers punch the screen as she pulls up Jake’s number. The phone rings. She walks through the grass, heart pounding. “I’m calling,” she says loudly, approaching Pucci and the bushes.

  She’s only steps away from her dog when the leaves rustle again, shaking like a tree full of angry gorillas. Pucci growls, lowering the front of his body so that his hind end is up and his stance is aggressive. Between the barking and the shaking tree, Holly’s anxiety level is about as high as it’s ever been. She hears the click of Jake picking up her call just as a dark figure springs from the bushes.

  In panic and fear, Holly drops the phone. “Jake!” she shouts. “Jake, help me!” The person who’s been hiding bolts across the yard and through the trees. Pucci gives chase, bounding after a stout man with an odd, lumbering gait.

  “Jake, there’s a man here.” Holly reaches into the grass for the glowing screen and puts it to her ear. Her hand is shaking. “I’m outside my house, and Pucci took off after some guy who was hiding in my bushes.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter 7

  The lights of four golf carts illuminate Holly’s property. Jake had come right away, followed by Cap, Fiona, and Jimmy Cafferkey. Everyone has their headlamps trained on the bushes in question, and Holly shows them where the man went, miming her surprise and how she’d dropped her phone in terror.

  “I think you should stay with me tonight,” Fiona decides. “Grab Pucci and some clothes, and we’ll go to my place.”

  Holly nods, hands tucked under her armpits to stop the shaking. “Yeah, okay,” she agrees. “But I need to pull it together. This isn’t a big deal. It’s just that it’s dark and I was alone. I’m not used to being scared.”

  “That’s the beauty of Christmas Key, lass—you have no reason to be fearful.” Jimmy’s face is full of concern. “But Fiona’s right: let’s get you out of here for a night, and then you can come back in the light of day and reclaim your property from the boogeyman.”

  “It’s not a joke, Jimmy,” Jake says protectively as he surveys the scene.

  “I’m not laughing,” Jimmy shoots back, his voice deep and serious.

  “No, I get what Jimmy means.” Holly drops her arms to her sides and forces herself to take a deep breath and relax. “There’s a weird feeling that won’t go away until I come back here and walk around during the day. I’ll get my stuff and we can go,” she says to Fiona.

  Pucci sits next to Holly in her hot pink golf cart, and they trail after Fiona and the string of other carts in the dark. The flickering electric candles that Holly’s attached to her cart are especially spooky on the thick, forested part of the island, and the black netting that hangs behind her blows forward and tickles the back of her neck like the fingers of a ghost. Holly shivers.

  She’s convinced everyone that she’s fine, and as she grips the steering wheel, Holly tries to make herself believe that it’s true. The only thing in recent memory that’s rattled her is a visit from her mother, or something contentious that’s happening on the island, like Cap Duncan’s recent run against her for her seat as mayor. That had shaken her foundation, but not much else has—ever. Part of what she loves most about her island life is the solid feel of it. There’s safety in knowing that she controls almost everything about her life (aside from the odd tropical storm), and that security is something that Holly depends on.

  She carries her overnight bag into Fiona’s house and fills a water bowl for Pucci.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Fiona stands in the middle of the kitchen, looking at her best friend quizzically.

  “Yeah. I need to show up and look some people in the eye. Not only that, but it would be unprofessional to drop the ball after I’ve put so much work into this pirate thing.”

  “Okay, boss. If you say so.”

  Fiona drives them over to Jack Frosty’s, where everyone is meeting for an evening of bar food and drinks. Joe Sacamano and Buckhunter had torn through a round of Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who got to host the pirates at their bar first. Joe won the best two out of three, so Buckhunter has the honors on Sunday night.

  Main Street is already lined with carts, and Fiona slows down, searching for a spot to park. Buckhunter had agreed to let Holly take over the decorations for the occasion, and she’s done the same thing to Jack Frosty’s that she’s done everywhere else: turned the lights down low, covered the tables with black cloth, and set flameless candles all around the room for ambiance. In addition to her usual props, Holly has also hung black flags with white skulls around the bar, and she’s created a playlist that resembles the soundtrack of a rollicking pirate movie full of adventure to play in the background all evening.

  “Just park in the B&B’s lot,” she instructs Fiona. They pull in under a tall streetlight, and Holly frowns. “That’s weird…Bonnie’s here.” But it isn’t just that Bonnie is parked in the B&B’s lot—which could simply mean that she couldn’t find parking on Main Street either—it’s that she can see the light on in the B&B’s back office. “What is she doing here on a Sunday night?” Holly enters the B&B through the back door, her curiosity piqued.

  Light from the office spills into the dark hallway, but when Holly pokes her head into their workspace, it’s empty.

  Fiona follows her to the front desk, where Maggie Sutter is once again working the night shift. Maggie closes a slip of paper in the spine of the book she’s reading and sets it on the counter. “Evening, ladies,” she says, pushing a glass bowl shaped like an oyster in their direction. “Malted white chocolate balls?”

  The dish is full of little round candies that look like pearls. “Clever, Maggie, I love it. But no thank you,” Holly says.

  Fiona reaches over and takes a handful of chocolates. “I swam a mile today. I’m eating the chocolate,” she says.

  “What’s the scuffle out at your place, Holly?” Maggie asks. She takes off her square reading glasses and sets them on top of her head like sunglasses.

  “You mean tonight? How did you already hear about that?” Holly reaches over and wipes a layer of dust from the base of the lamp that rests on her front desk. She’s had a hard time lately staying on top of both the cleaning and the office work at the B&B, and she makes a mental note to reestablish some order in the front of the house.

  Maggie gives a scoffing chuckle. “Mayor, I can hear the gossip about stuff like that even without my hearing aids.” Maggie taps her left ear with one finger. “Plus Jake already stopped in and had me print out a list of all the pirates and their home addresses.”

  “Did they check in under their real names, or their pirate names?” Fiona asks, swiping another handful of chocolate.

  “Real,” Maggie confirms. She takes the reading glasses from the top of her head and slides them back on as she consults the computer on the desk. “Want me to tell you the names their sweet, unsuspecting mothers bestowed upon them all those years ago, long before they grew hair in every crack and crevice and started belching smoke and whiskey?”

  “Maybe later,” Holly says distractedly. “Hey, have you seen Bonnie? Her cart is in the back and the lights are on in the office.”

  Maggie busies herself with the computer. She lowers her chin and peers at Holly over the rims of her glasses and then she clears her throat—twice. Holly taps on the counter with her fingernails while she waits for an answer. For as much gossip as the islanders engage in, there’s a streak of loyalty that sometimes gets in the way of their willingness to share information about one another, and it often pops up at the most inopportune times.

  Just when it seems that Maggie’s not going to give Holly an answer, the sound of Bonnie’s laughter trickles out to the front desk.

  “Oh, honey, stop,” Bonnie says, her tone begging whomever she’s speaking to to do anything but stop. “I just got this corset tied again!” Bonnie comes around the corner and stops short when she s
ees Holly and Fiona’s surprised faces. Fiona pops another malted chocolate in her mouth like she’s eating popcorn and watching a movie.

  Holly looks Bonnie up and down, noting that her hair is tousled and her lipstick gone. In her eyes is a wild, happy flame. Sinker McBludgeon nearly plows into her from behind as he comes around the corner on Bonnie’s heels, buttoning the cuffs of his loose, white pirate’s shirt.

  “Ladies,” Bonnie says breathlessly. “I was just headed over to Jack Frosty’s and I thought I forgot something here.” She runs a hand through her hair, patting it back into place.

  “And? Did you find it?” Holly asks pointedly. Sinker grins from behind Bonnie’s shoulder.

  “She found exactly what she was looking for,” Sinker says, putting a possessive hand around Bonnie’s waist. He pulls her to his side and nuzzles her neck. This move sends an instant jolt of irritation through Holly.

  “I’ll see you at the bar,” Holly says, grabbing Fiona’s hand. “Come on, Fee.” She yanks her best friend down the hallway, reaching into the office and turning off the lights as she passes.

  They stalk down the street to the bar in silence, but Holly’s feelings about Bonnie and Sinker ooze from every pore of her body.

  “Well, I guess Sinker has a good alibi during the time that someone was prowling around outside my house. But it really disgusts me, Fee,” she says. “The whole thing makes me sick.”

  Fiona slows down on the sidewalk as they approach Jack Frosty’s. A song about sea shanties and buried treasure spills out of the bar as fully-dressed pirates march up the steps from Main Street, ready for some grog and a good time.

  “Holly,” she says softly. “Bonnie is a grown woman. You’ve got to let this one go.”

  “But he’s a terrible person! I’ve seen the way he talks to her, and she barely knows him,” Holly laments. “I’ve already told her: Wyatt is right here waiting if all she wants to do is flirt with someone who antagonizes the crap out of her.”

  Fiona tilts her head so that she’s looking up into Holly’s eyes. Even though Fiona is petite and about six inches shorter than Holly, her tone is firm and serious.

  “Holly,” she says, grabbing her friend’s hands and holding them. “Sometimes a woman has a man right in front of her who everyone thinks is a perfect match, but for some reason, he just isn’t.” Fiona tugs both of Holly’s hands for emphasis, making her shake like a rag doll. “And then some guy shows up in town and sweeps her off her feet. Some people might think she’s moving too fast, but the only person who can truly judge that is her.”

  A man in breeches and a horizontally-striped shirt steps around them on the sidewalk.

  Fiona’s words have penetrated the surface, and Holly is getting her meaning, loud and clear. “You’re right,” she says. “I know you’re right, but Bonnie is like…she’s like…” Holly searches for the right words, not knowing how to formulate an appropriate description of how she feels about her assistant.

  “She’s like your mother. I mean, she’s not like your mother—no one is quite like Coco,” Fiona clarifies. “But she’s like the mother you wish you had.”

  “Exactly,” Holly whispers. “And I only want the best for her.”

  “Which this guy clearly isn’t. At least not from where you stand,” Fiona says, tugging Holly’s hands again. “But as a girl who fancies the tough, mysterious type, I can kind of see the appeal,” she says.

  Holly laughs. Though she doesn’t know much about Fiona’s ex-boyfriend in Chicago, she does know that he was controlling and that it didn’t end well between them. And now that her best friend is dating Buckhunter, she can see that Fiona is right: even though she doesn’t personally take a shine to biker boys and tattooed tough guys, some chicks do seem to dig them. But Sinker McBludgeon? She swallows hard against the bile rising in her throat.

  “It still seems really fast. He’s only been here for forty-eight hours, and Bonnie is totally swept-up in this pirate game.”

  Fiona shrugs and lets go of Holly’s hands. “How long did it take before you spirited River away to your bungalow during his first visit?” Fiona narrows her eyes, mentally calculating.

  Holly takes a deep breath. She knows she’s got this coming. “Okay, but—”

  “But nothing,” Fiona counters. “If you adjust the timeframe to account for their waning years, then Bonnie is actually right on schedule. What took you a week to accomplish only took her two days. That seems fair, given that she’s, like, twenty-five or thirty years older than you.”

  Holly exhales loudly. “I have to get over this, don’t I?”

  “Well, you don’t have to, but it’s going to make this pirate party a lot less festive if you’re sulking in the corner while the rest of us are trying on each other’s eye patches and passing around a bottle of rum.”

  A loud cheer goes up in the bar as if on cue, and the sound of glasses clinking together in a rowdy toast echoes out into the night.

  “Let’s go in,” Holly finally says, linking her arm through Fiona’s. “And if I didn’t say it earlier,” she lowers her voice, leaning down to Fiona’s ear. “I’m sorry about your cousin.”

  Fiona looks up with soft and teary eyes. “Thanks.” She squeezes Holly’s arm. “Let’s have a drink in her honor.”

  “Deal.”

  “Two rum and Cokes!” Fiona shouts to Buckhunter as they enter the bar, still arm-in-arm. “You’ve got a couple of thirsty wenches here!”

  The bar is spinning as Holly reels around the room, laughing and joking with the pirates as they tell stories of the sea and their travels. She drags Fiona along behind her, stopping to talk with men who introduce themselves as Fishkill Ahoy, Two Toes O’Morgan, and Mad Spot of Atlantis.

  “There’s Bucko Chumbucket!” Holly shouts over the music, pointing at Brian, the insurance agent with a wife and four kids.

  “Bucko Chumbucket?” Fiona says with disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. He passed out by my house and I found him on the beach. I thought he was dead.”

  “How did I miss this?”

  “You were busy swimming. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  “Hey, Holly,” Brian says, waving at her as she approaches. “Good to see you.”

  “Bucko, this is Fiona, my best friend, and the island’s only doctor. Fee, this is Brian—he owns an insurance agency.”

  Fiona giggles. The rum has clearly gone to her head as much as it’s gone to Holly’s. “So on the weekend you look like this, and during the week you look like Jake from State Farm?”

  “Do you wear khakis?” Holly snorts, falling against Fiona as they laugh.

  “Right,” Brian says, laughing good-naturedly. “Just like Jake from State Farm. And yes, I wear khakis.”

  “Hey,” Holly says, sobering up. “Where’s that one guy—the really tall one with the long beard and the old-fashioned glasses?”

  “Bowman Sparrow,” Brian says. “It’s his turn to man the vessel.”

  Holly and Fiona sway slightly in unison, hanging onto one another as their drinks slosh like they’re on a boat that’s sailing through choppy waters.

  “What does that mean?” Fiona frowns at him. “Is that some code that really means it’s his turn to dig the holes?” Holly pinches Fiona’s side.

  “We never leave our ship completely unattended.” Brian frowns at her. “A pirate has to protect his booty, you know?”

  “So, wait,” Holly says, thrusting the hand that’s holding her rum and Coke in Brian’s direction. “Someone stays on board all the time and does what? Surveys the horizon?”

  “Exactly,” Brian confirms. “Somebody stands guard in the crow’s nest, watching the land and sea. It sounds like a crappy job, but it’s actually pretty cool. It’s peaceful.”

  “So the other night when we had the barbecue on the beach,” Holly says, putting her thoughts together in a boozy, disjointed fashion, “someone was on board, maybe watching us with a telescope?”

  �
��Right,” Brian says simply. “It was Fishkill’s night, I think.” He points at Fishkill Ahoy, who is currently dancing a drunken, rhythmless jig in the middle of Jack Frosty’s.

  “Listen up—I have an announcement to make!” Sinker McBludgeon holds his beer glass high in the air. “Fellow pirates, friends, and wenches, I’d like you to be the first to hear what I have to say.” The talk in the bar lowers to a smattering of whispers and Buckhunter cuts the music. Holly’s eyes go directly to Bonnie, who is tucked under Sinker’s left arm. She’s got a shiny glow to her that’s reflected in the adoring gaze she’s got trained on Sinker as she waits for him to share his news.

  “What’s this all about?” Fiona hisses, leaning in to Holly.

  “No idea.”

  “Friends,” Sinker goes on. “This lovely woman here caught my eye the very second my boot touched land here on Christmas Key.” Bonnie’s cheeks flush with pleasure. “She’s a feisty, demanding, sexy lady, and I’d like nothing more than to take her as my bride.” Sinker leans down to plant a wet, rummy kiss on Bonnie’s lips.

  The pirates in the crowd whoop and catcall, but the islanders all turn to one another and launch into immediate discussion. Holly’s jaw falls open and she turns to Fiona, stunned.

  Fiona looks just as surprised. “That’s fast, even accounting for the shorter timeline I gave her based on advanced age.”

  “But, no,” Holly protests drunkenly, her head shaking back and forth like she can’t make it stop. “No. Not this guy,” she says, jabbing a finger in Sinker’s direction. “We don’t even know his real name, or what he does, we don’t know anything about him—”

  “Bonnie does,” Fiona interjects.

  “She doesn’t know enough,” Holly laments. “Not what really counts. All we know is that he’s a bossypants jerkface, and that he thinks he’s a freaking pirate.”

  “A ‘bossypants jerkface’?” Fiona laughs. “Let’s get you another rum and Coke, Hol.” She takes the half-empty, watery drink from Holly’s hand and sets it on the nearest table. “Actually, let’s get you out of here before you make an ass of yourself and try to jump on Sinker’s back and beat him to a pulp.”