The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three

by Stephanie Taylor

  Holly sets her baseball cap back on her head. “They leave in a few hours,” she says. “And in the meantime, we have guests arriving on the island for a couple of days, and I’d like to make sure we’re all in the right mood to welcome them.”

  “Aww,” Hal says, swatting at the air in annoyance. “More visitors. That’s the last thing we need.”

  “It’s a black family,” Mrs. Agnelli says. “Heard all about it from Millie. Black ladies have such nice skin,” Maria adds, her thoughts obviously rambling in several different directions at once. “Hey, I wonder how old the kids are? We haven’t had little ones around for a long time.”

  “We’re going to find out soon,” Holly says, reaching for Maria Agnelli’s elbow and steering her down the street. “I’m going over to the dock in about ten minutes.” Holly flips her watch over on her wrist and checks the time. “Why don’t you finish walking Noodle and then come over to Main Street so you can meet the family with me, okay?”

  Maria Agnelli totters off down the street with a wave. Her little white dog follows obediently, tail twitching behind him.

  “You go on and meet the boat, if that’s what you’re going to do,” Jake says. “I’ve got Hal. I’ll help him get these holes filled—”

  “And set up a video camera system,” Hal shouts. “I want a security camera on my property now.”

  Jake blinks slowly, and with great patience. It’s not an eye-roll, but it’s close. “We’ll talk about how to make Mr. Pillory feel safe,” Jake says, “and you go on and greet the new guests.”

  “Thanks, Jake.” For the briefest second, she’s tempted to hug him. But then she remembers his anger as he drove off and left her to fill the holes on December Drive, and she thinks about how he rushed over to her house when she called, scared and alone, and the way he drove her home when she got drunk. No wonder her feelings about him are so jumbled up, so complicated: they always have been. Instead of reaching for him, she takes a step back. “I appreciate your help,” she says before walking away.

  “Holly.” Jake jogs behind her to catch up. He’s left Hal standing in the middle of the yard, gaping at the holes in his lawn. “Listen, we need to put this behind us.”

  “Put what behind us?” Holly says, looking up at him as he blocks the driver’s side of her cart.

  “Whatever is eating you. I don’t know why you hate Bridget, but I feel like it isn’t her—it’s something you’ve got to deal with.”

  Holly snorts. “I mean, it’s kind of her,” she says.

  The muscles in Jake’s jaw clench and unclench as he nods, processing this. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Well, I like her. She’s fun, and she has a good sense of humor.”

  “Fine.” Holly shrugs. “I want you to be happy. I’m trying not to be bitchy, Jake.”

  “Then you should try harder,” he says honestly. “Because it’s coming across…badly.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah.” Jake kicks the tire of her cart, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I always feel like you’re looking for something that’s wrong with Bridget so you can gloat about it. I didn’t do that to you when you—” he pauses here, swallowing uncomfortably, “—dated someone else. I tried to take the high road.”

  Holly is instantly filled with shame; Jake is right—he was protective, he was appropriately suspicious, and he warned her that he wouldn’t wait around for her in the event that things didn’t work out with River—but other than an alpha-male arm-wrestling match between the two men, Jake had kept his distance. He hadn’t sneered or pouted the way she’s been doing, and while he’d obviously been hurt, he hadn’t acted the way Holly’s been acting.

  She focuses on a spot on the ground next to Jake’s feet. “You’re right,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’m just…confused.”

  Jake’s stance changes and he sighs with loud disbelief. “About what, Holly? What are you confused about?”

  “Jake?” Hal calls out, wandering around the yard again with both hands on his hips. “I think this tree right here would be a good spot for the video camera,” he offers helpfully.

  “Be right there, Mr. Pillory,” Jake says without turning around.

  “I’m confused about stuff,” Holly says. This clarifies nothing, and she knows it.

  “Okay, fine. You’re confused about stuff.” Jake folds his arms across his chest. “But you need to get a grip on that.” He pulls one arm out and looks at his watch. “And you also need to get over to the dock.”

  Jake turns and stalks away. Holly looks at him for another second before getting into the cart. He’s right: she does need to get a grip on whatever emotions are playing tug-of-war with her heart right now, and she definitely needs to get to the dock. With one backward glance at Mr. Pillory in his knee-high black socks, and Jake in his fitted police shirt and shorts, Holly pulls away from the house and heads back to Main Street.

  Bonnie is sitting at her desk in the office at the B&B when Holly pulls up to the curb. She sits in the golf cart for a minute watching as Bonnie stands and walks over to the white board to write something on their to-do list, and there’s a sharp pang in her heart as she realizes that at some point in the very near future she’ll be the only person working in that office. The phone will ring and she won’t hear Bonnie’s cheerful Southern accent as she says, “Christmas Key B&B, this is Bonnie!” There’ll be no one but herself to run and get coffee for, and when she sees something interesting out on Main Street, her commentary will be to an empty room.

  Holly sets her brake and grabs her purse, giving Bonnie one last look before she heads over to Poinsettia Plaza to check on the pirate who reportedly ended up in Fiona’s office.

  “Knock, knock,” Holly says, poking her head through the door of the waiting room. “Anyone home?”

  “Be right out!” Fiona calls from behind the closed door of her exam room. Holly sits in a plastic chair and picks up a back issue of People magazine to flip through while she waits. About ten minutes later, the door opens.

  “Keep it elevated as much as you can, and take the ibuprofen as needed, okay?” Fiona guides the injured pirate back into the waiting room. He’s got one arm crooked at the elbow, hand held up and bandaged.

  Holly drops the magazine onto the table in front of her and stands up. “Wow, what happened?”

  The man—one of Sinker’s main crew—looks at Holly with embarrassment. “Machete accident.”

  “A machete?” Holly puts her hands over her mouth. Even minor talk of blood and bodily injury make her feel faint. “What happened?” she asks, not sure if she really wants to know.

  “I’ll let you tell her,” Fiona says, one hand in the deep pocket of her lab coat, the other on the shoulder of the pirate.

  “Bunch of guys dared me to crack a coconut with a machete, and I accidentally cracked my hand instead.”

  Holly immediately sinks back into the chair, her knees giving out beneath her.

  “Whoa.” Fiona pulls her hand from her pocket and kneels in front of Holly. “I’ve got you, girl.” She puts her cool hands on the sides of Holly’s face. “Should I get the smelling salts?”

  Holly shakes her head. “I’m okay,” she whispers, trying not to look at the fat, bandaged hand of the pirate. “But more importantly, is he?”

  “I’m fine,” he assures her, lifting the arm as proof. “Ouch.”

  “Keep it steady there,” Fiona warns him. “And get your buddies to do things for you as much as possible. We don’t want you pulling any of the stitches.”

  “Stitches?” Holly groans, leaning her forehead towards her knees the same way she’d done the night before outside Jack Frosty’s.

  “Let’s get you out into the fresh air,” Fiona says, helping Holly to her feet.

  The smell of antiseptic and bandages leaves Holly’s nostrils the minute they step onto the sidewalk.

  “Here we go.” Fiona’s voice is full of kindness and patience. “The hangover can’t be helping with the nausea,” she adds.
“Breathe in and out a couple of times.”

  Holly does as she’s told, nodding to let Fiona know that she’s going to be fine.

  “I’m good. You need to deal with your patient.” Holly points at the door to the building. “I have to pop into Scissors & Ribbons anyway.”

  Just then, Ray Bradford steps out of the salon that’s at the front of the plaza. “Mayor,” he says, holding the door for her. “Good to see you. And you as well, Dr. Potts.”

  “Hi, Ray. Can you make sure she gets to Millie and doesn’t pass out on the sidewalk here?” Fiona hands Holly off to Ray. “I need to get back to the office.”

  “Got it.” Ray reaches for Holly’s arm. “Feeling a little under the weather?”

  “Blood,” Holly says simply, making a face as she lets Ray lead her into the salon. “Stitches and blood.”

  “We’ve got the pirates leaving today, huh?” he asks conversationally as he guides her through the shop.

  “Yeah, I think they’re planning on getting out of here around six or seven.”

  “Ahh, sailing off into the sunset,” Ray says. He runs a hand down the front of his button-up shirt. “That’s a nice touch. And one of them taking a bride home with him is even better.”

  Holly’s stomach plummets. “Right. It…it just…” And she’s suddenly at a loss for words. Her eyes fill with the tears that have been threatening to fall all day.

  “Oh,” Ray says, looking at her with confusion. “Oh, no. Don’t cry. Did I do this?” He looks around the salon helplessly, searching for his wife.

  Holly swipes at her tears roughly. “No, it’s fine. I just drank too much last night and I’m feeling kind of morose today.”

  Ray smiles. “Morose. Now, there’s a good five-dollar word, kid. I’m sorry to hear it though.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Holly sniffs. “Sorry to cry on you, Ray.”

  “Don’t give it another thought.” Ray squeezes her shoulder encouragingly and points at the back of the salon. “Millie is down the hall.”

  Holly passes the row of empty black leather chairs and stainless steel shampoo bowls. The big hair dryer domes are pushed up over their respective chairs, waiting for wet heads to dry, and the front counter is tidy and unmanned. Jazz music is playing over the speakers, and the floor has been swept and mopped.

  “Millie?” Holly calls out.

  “Back room!”

  Holly walks down the short hallway and past the restroom. There’s another door that’s propped open slightly, and she finds Millie inside, crouched on her hands and knees as she searches for something underneath a massage table.

  “This looks great.” Holly gestures at the small room. When the salon first opened, the space had been used to store boxes and supplies, but Millie has painted the room a soft amber color and set up a trickling fountain on a stand in the corner. There’s a series of shelves on one wall with a variety of scented candles, and a massage table covered with a crisp white sheet and pillow.

  Millie looks around. “Thank you. I’ve been putting in some evenings after the salon closes so I can have it ready. I wanted to show it to Calista today when she comes in.”

  “And Calista must be our potential new masseuse?”

  “That’s her. She and her husband have two little boys—twins—and they’re coming down from Toronto. We’ve been corresponding so much lately that I’m getting excited to meet her in person.”

  “I’m sure.” Holly watches as Millie feels around under the table. “Do you need some help down there?”

  “No, it’s fine,” Millie runs her hands along the floor. “I lost one of my earrings while I was making the bed. It’ll turn up.” She stands and brushes her hands against her thighs. “Anyhow, they’re going to be here soon, so I’m heading down to the dock to meet their boat.”

  “I was planning on doing the same,” Holly says.

  Millie’s face breaks into a pleased smile. “Really? Oh, I’m so glad, Holly. You’re such a good mayor—always making people feel welcome here. I love that about you.”

  “I wish everyone felt the same.” Holly leans against the doorframe. The calm atmosphere of the dim room is soothing after racing around in the sun with a pounding headache all morning.

  “Are we back to this nonsense again?”

  “Seems like we are. People are up in arms over the pirates and the holes, and I’m worried they’ll be closed off and not as friendly when your family from Canada arrives.”

  “Oh, they’ll be fine,” Millie assures her. “You get a bunch of old people in one place and they’ve got to have something to complain about. Right now it’s some holes in the road, two months ago it was the camera crew on our island that wasn’t making them famous movie stars.”

  Holly gives a hard laugh, remembering the fervor over the Wild Tropics camera crew. The issue had become a real source of contention.

  Millie closes the door to the massage room and leads the way through the salon. The women walk out onto Main Street and back into the brilliant sunlight of a winter afternoon. There are a handful of people on the sidewalks, and several locals are driving their golf carts down the only paved road on the island. Millie stops to wave at Cap through the window of his cigar shop. Holly catches a glimpse of Brian the pirate in a pair of ratty khaki cargo shorts and his Metallica t-shirt. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he’s ducking into Jack Frosty’s alone. Holly had taken him there for one of Buckhunter’s famous burgers with grilled onions the day she’d found him sleeping in the bushes, and she figures that he’s probably stealing away for another one now before the pirates shove off at dusk.

  “Things have been good again with you and Cap, huh?” Millie asks, watching from under the hand that shields her eyes as the ferry crosses the water. Over the holidays Cap had taken Holly to task when he ran against her for her seat as mayor, and some old secrets had bubbled to the surface, resulting in a particularly emotional village council meeting at Christmas-time.

  “He’s back to his old self,” Holly says. “Still on the wagon, still spending time with Heddie, I think.”

  “That was a doozy, wasn’t it?” Millie wiggles an eyebrow. “Never thought I’d see those two looking cozy again after all the years they spent acting like they barely knew one another.”

  “I’m glad they made up,” Holly says. She never knew about the rift between them, and to see them out having dinner together, or walking to the beach arm-in-arm is nice.

  “Looks like we’ve got an on-time arrival.” Millie looks at her watch. “I’m so excited to meet these people, Holly. It’s been a long time since we actively recruited people not just to visit, but to live here.”

  “I know.” Holly immediately thinks of Bridget, but realizes that she doesn’t count, since they didn’t so much recruit her as acquire her. Before Bridget’s arrival, the last person who’d moved to the island full-time had been Fiona, and that was nearly two years ago. “If they decide to stay, we need to take them around and show them the available houses.”

  “There aren’t many,” Millie says. “And it’s not going to be a popular opinion, but my thinking is that we’re going to want to start considering some spots to develop in case we get more people looking at Christmas Key as a potential home.”

  Holly knows she’s right. As they stop and wait at the dock for the ferry to pull up and anchor, she considers possible locations on the island that would work for new housing. They already have Turtle Dove Estates, a small community of houses near Candy Cane Beach, and there are a few houses scattered up Ivy Lane. Her part of the island is family property that she isn’t willing to divide up and sell, but there’s a good plot of land on the north side of the island that’s ripe for development.

  “Look—I see them!” Millie says, waving as the boat pulls up. Two little boys in matching striped shirts are jumping up and down, hands flailing in the air.

  The captain passes off a small delivery of groceries and newspapers to Holly, then helps the family disembark.<
br />
  “Calista? It’s so good to finally meet you,” Millie says, approaching the woman with open arms. She appears to be around thirty, with smooth skin and eyes the color of jade. Her hair twists and curls into an afro with a wash of blonde on its tips, and she’s petite, with a purple sarong tied around her narrow hips.

  “It’s good to meet you, too,” Calista says, her eyes crinkling happily as she returns Millie’s hug. “This is my husband, Vance.” She steps back and puts a hand on the arm of possibly the largest man Holly’s ever seen, “and these are our six-year-old twins, Mexi and Mori.”

  Vance is at least six-foot-six, with the build of an Olympian and a straight, white smile. In contrast to Calista’s delicate figure and lighter coloring, Vance is as dark as mahogany and as solid-looking as a hundred-year-old oak tree. When he breaks into a smile, his eyes twinkle just like his wife’s. Holly likes them immediately.

  “Vance Guy,” he says in a deep, rumbling voice. He offers Millie a giant hand. The twins make a wild tandem leap from the dock onto the sand, tumbling like puppies and rolling around with laughter. “It’s hard to tell them apart at first, but they go pretty much everywhere together, so we just refer to them as M&M most of the time.” He points at his sons, watching them with obvious pride.

  “This is Holly Baxter, our island’s mayor,” Millie says, remembering that Holly is standing at her side. Holly steps forward and shakes hands with both Vance and Calista.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you both,” she says. “We’re excited to have new faces visiting the island, and your boys are adorable.” She looks at the twins as they get up from the ground and give one another playful shoves. “What did you say their names were?”

  Calista motions to her boys to stop the horseplay. “Mexi and Mori—short for Mexico and Moritz.”

  “Very cool,” Holly says, grinning at the rambunctious kids. “I love unique names.”