The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three

by Stephanie Taylor

  “Well, we got married in Mexico and loved it, and Moritz is after a famous Canadian poet, A.F. Moritz,” Vance says, putting his large hands on the shoulders of one of his sons. The boys are a perfect blend of both parents, with the bright smiles and happy eyes to match, and identical heads of hair that look like mini versions of their mother’s.

  “Welcome to the island, guys,” Holly says, bending her knees and sinking a little lower so she can look them in the eyes. They gaze back at her with unreadable faces, their hazel eyes wide. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m sure they are,” Calista answers for them. “They refused to eat anything before we left Key West, and it’s past lunchtime.”

  “If it’s okay with you, I’d love to take them over to the restaurant on Main Street for lunch while you guys are across the street at the salon,” Holly says to Vance and Calista.

  “That sounds good to me.” Calista looks up at her husband. “What do you think?”

  “Sure. That would free us up to ask some questions and talk to Millie more,” Vance says, putting one hand on top of each boy’s head. “What do you say, men? Can you go with Miss Baxter and be good for an hour or so?”

  “It’s okay, you can call me Holly,” she says to Mexi and Mori. “And we’ll be right across the street from your parents. My uncle owns the restaurant, and he said he’d make you guys anything you want.”

  The twins turn and look at one another. “Sushi?” says the one on the left. “Spaghetti bolognese?” asks the one on the right.

  Holly blinks a few times. “Oh,” she says. “I was thinking more like chicken strips or cheeseburgers.”

  “The boys are actually vegan,” Calista says apologetically. “But they watch the food network a lot, so they’re always coming up with stuff they think they want to eat.”

  “Vegan.” Holly wracks her brain for the parameters of a vegan diet.

  “No dairy or animal products of any kind,” Vance says in a helpful tone. “So just fruits, veggies, nuts, grains—stuff like that.”

  “Maybe a quinoa bowl with avocado and a poached egg?” Calista offers. “That might keep things easy.”

  “Quinoa.” Holly stands up straight and glances at Jack Frosty’s. There’s virtually no chance that Buckhunter has quinoa on hand. Or that he even knows how to cook it. “Would rice work instead?”

  “Sure.” Calista pulls each boy to her and kisses him on the forehead. “Be sweet for Holly,” she warns them. “Thanks for giving us a little time for adult conversation,” Calista says to Holly. “We’re just with Millie if you need us.”

  “No problem,” Holly assures them.

  With a final wave and a reminder to listen to their new friend, Calista and Vance follow Millie up to Scissors & Ribbons.

  “So, what do you guys think? Pretty cool boat ride, huh?”

  One twin turns to the other and makes a face. “I don’t think she has kids,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

  “I don’t think she knows our names,” says the other. And without another word, they take off running in opposite directions, one down the dock, the other into a patch of bushes behind the shops on the south side of Main Street. “Come and find me, lady!” says the one who pointed out Holly’s inability to tell them apart. “I’m hiding from you!”

  “I’m jumping in the water!” shouts the other. “I’m going to swim back to Canada!” Holly isn’t sure whether he’ll really jump in, but her gut response is to follow the child who’s closest to danger.

  It crosses her mind briefly that she could scream for Vance and Calista, but the independent, unwilling-to-fail part of her takes over and squelches that desire. She might not have kids, and she might not know which of these little monsters is which, but she’ll be damned if she’s ready to throw in the towel sixty seconds after their parents disappear.

  Holly watches the land-loving twin dive into the bushes. He’ll be fine, she thinks. Without wasting any more time, she turns and breaks into a sprint, following the other mop-topped munchkin to the edge of the dock with her arms outstretched to grab him.

  Chapter 10

  “And one time I had to put a giant turtle in the back of my cart and drive her over to the beach so she could swim away and find her home again,” Jake says, lifting one of the twins and setting him behind the steering wheel of the police golf cart.

  “But where are all the bad guys?” asks the other twin. By now, Holly has figured out that this one—Mori—has a bit of a lisp, and so his question comes out sounding like, “But where are all the bad guyth?” He also refers to his brother as “Mek-thee,” the cuteness of which helps to mitigate the impishness of both boys.

  “We don’t have bad guys on Christmas Key. This is the safest place on the planet,” Jake promises. He’d been driving down Main Street when Holly spotted him, and he’d pulled up to the curb curiously, eyeing the two smallest visitors he’d ever seen on the island.

  “Then why do you have a gun?” asks Mexi.

  “I think it’s for the pi-wats,” Mori says, pointing across the street at a group of four pirates heading into North Star Cigars.

  “Oh, those aren’t real pirates, guys,” Holly says in a casual tone that she hopes will let the boys see that there’s nothing to be afraid of. “They’re just men who are visiting our island, and they like to dress up like pirates.”

  Mexi and Mori both look at her like she’s crazy. “But they have swords,” Mexi counters. “Big ones.”

  Jake lifts Mori so he can sit on the bench seat of the police golf cart next to his brother. “Eh, fake swords,” he tells the boys. “I bet you have some fake guns or something at home that you like to pretend with, right?”

  The boys exchange a confused look. “No,” says Mexi. “Our mom thinks weapons enforce a patriarchal ideology.”

  Holly and Jake share the most incredulous look that any two humans have ever shared. “What?” she asks, assuming that she’s completely fallen into a different plane and hallucinated the last ten seconds of her life. What six-year-old on the planet talks about patriarchal ideologies?

  “Itthh true,” Mori lisps. “Thee does thay that.”

  “Huh.” Holly is still speechless. They let the boys pretend to drive the cart for another minute or two, and a companionable silence falls over Holly and Jake. It’s almost like the confrontation they had at Hal Pillory’s just hours before never happened.

  “Hey, pumpkins!” Calista shouts, stepping out the door of Poinsettia Plaza. “Have you been good boys?” The twins slide out of the cart and run across the street to their mother. Holly looks both ways and follows them over. “Did they behave?”

  “Yeah, they were fine,” Holly lies easily. “We gave them rice with veggies, and they got to meet Christmas Key’s only police officer,” she says, pointing in Jake’s direction.

  “Excellent. Thank you so much.” Calista smiles at Holly warmly. “And Millie tells us that not only are you the mayor, but you also run the B&B we’re staying at.”

  “Millie speaks the truth. I’ve got you all lined up to stay in one of our suites, and I planned a few things that I thought the kids might like.”

  “You guys are fabulous.” Calista looks back and forth between Millie and Holly. Vance is hanging back in the doorway, talking to Ray Bradford and keeping an eye on the boys as they chase each other up the sidewalk. “I’m blown away by this place.”

  “You’re blown away and you’re exhausted,” Vance adds, coming up behind his wife and resting a hand on her shoulder. “And so are the boys. Why don’t we take a short siesta and then explore the island after?”

  “I’ll go and make sure everything is ready for you,” Holly says, stepping off the curb. She’s happy to be done with her babysitting duties for the afternoon, and is seriously rethinking the other activities with the boys that she’s planning on being involved with. “Come on over anytime you’re ready.”

  “We’ll be there in a few,” Vance promises.

  There’s no one at
the front desk of the B&B, so Holly sits down in the chair that looks out onto Main Street, resting her elbows on the desk. It feels like a million years since she woke up on Fiona’s couch that morning, and it’s only three o’clock.

  “Sugar? Is that you?” Bonnie pokes her head out of the hallway that leads back to the office. “Oh, it is. I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

  Holly wants to tell her that if she’ll just stay on Christmas Key she can see her anytime she feels like it, but she isn’t in the mood to open that particular can of worms. The headache Holly’s been holding at bay all day is threatening to strike again, and she pulls open the drawer at the front desk, hoping to find a bottle of Advil.

  “I met the potential new masseuse and her family, and I watched her kids and fed them lunch.”

  “Ooooh, the new people. What are they all about?”

  Holly searches for the right words as she rifles through the tin of rubber bands and paperclips in the drawer. Behind a small stack of envelopes and a metal letter-opener shaped like a mermaid, Holly finds a beat-up, rusted tin of Tylenol that looks like it washed onto shore in 1957. It’ll have to do.

  “They’re all about vegan food and poetry, as far as I can tell.” She pops a chalky Tylenol tablet into her mouth and tries to swallow it dry.

  Bonnie’s upper lip curls. “As in bean sprouts and Shakespeare?”

  “More like quinoa and contemporary Canadian poets.” Holly makes a cacking sound as the pill sticks in her throat. “Water,” she croaks. She scours the front counter for some of Maggie’s grog and realizes that all traces of pirate decor have been removed. No grog, no gold-painted Oreos, no candy. All that’s left is the black netting that Holly hung from the mirror behind the front desk.

  Bonnie ducks down the hall and comes back with an unopened bottle of water from their mini-fridge in the office. “Here you go, doll.”

  Holly twists off the cap and takes a long swig. She hadn’t even eaten lunch while she watched the twins, and she suddenly realizes she’s dying of thirst, too.

  “Thanks, Bon.” She screws the cap back on the bottle and sets it on the desk. “So the pirates are all checked out, right?” Holly taps on the keyboard at the computer and starts pulling up room information. “Top priority is to get the Seashell Suite set up for the Guys.”

  “What guys?” Bonnie puts a hand on her hip.

  “Simmer down, lady. There aren’t any new men arriving on the island—that’s the last name of the masseuse and her family.”

  “Guy?”

  “Uh huh,” Holly says, clicking the mouse to mark all the rooms as checked-out. “Calista and Vance, and their 6-year-old twins Mexi and Mori.”

  “Mexi and what-y?” Bonnie’s brows knit together.

  “Mexi is short for Mexico, and Mori is short for Moritz. Apparently he’s named after some poet from the Great White North.”

  Bonnie huffs and looks out the front window at Main Street. “I’ll be damned with all these weird kids’ names,” she says, shaking her red head in disbelief. “What ever happened to William and Jonathan? Or Mary and Theresa? I don’t even mind Amy or Jason, but we’re creating a generation of kids with names like Tennessee and Jingle—I don’t know what to make of it.” Bonnie walks over to the window and faces the street.

  “Jingle?” Holly laughs. “I have never heard of a child named Jingle.”

  “You will,” Bonnie says with force. “Or Gouda. Maybe Umbrella. I bet someone’s named their kid Wind Storm already.”

  “That one is a definite possibility.” Holly clicks out of the computer program and stands up, stretching her arms. “Is it just me, or does this feel like the longest day ever?”

  Bonnie doesn’t turn around. “It feels like a day where my closest friend on Christmas Key is avoiding me.”

  Holly’s arms drop to her sides and she stares at the back of Bonnie’s head for a minute. “You mean me?” she finally asks.

  “Yeah, you.” Bonnie turns to face her. “You got so tipsy last night that you had to be escorted out of the bar by your uncle and driven home by a police officer. And today you’ve been MIA. What gives?”

  Holly shrugs.

  “That’s all you’ve got?” Bonnie’s anger flares visibly. “I have a handsome man offering to sweep me off my feet and all you can do is shrug? No ‘Congratulations, Bonnie!’—or ‘I’m so happy for you!’…all I get is this?” She motions at Holly’s dragged-down, hungover face and sagging shoulders. “I was happy as a clam when a man came to Christmas Key and lit your fire, but you can’t feel the same way when it happens to me?”

  Holly wants to speak, but she also wants to climb under her duvet and sleep for the next eighteen hours, so she weighs her words carefully. “I want to be happy for you, Bon,” she says, her words plotted out like tentative footsteps across a rushing stream full of slippery rocks. “But I don’t know what you see in him. Or how you think you know this guy well enough to leave the island and run away with him.”

  Bonnie puts both hands in the air like she’s praying to the heavens; her eyes turn skyward as well. “For the love, sugar. I am not running away with him,” she says in a slow, clear voice. “I’m taking a leap of faith and trying to follow my heart here. I find Doug exciting and dangerous, and when I’m with him I feel sexy and alive,” she explains. Her hands drop to her sides.

  “But you’re sexy and alive without him,” Holly says with a hint of challenge in her voice.

  “Why don’t you want me to be happy?” Bonnie’s eyes are sad. “Is it because you’re not?”

  Holly rears back. “I’m not unhappy,” she says, putting her hands on the edge of the desk. “I’m not…I’m not,” she trails off, her eyes stinging like someone’s just thrown sand in them.

  Bonnie comes around the desk to where Holly is standing. “I’m sorry, sugar. I’m sorry,” she coos, holding out her arms to her friend. “Come here. We’ll work it all out.”

  Holly falls into Bonnie’s arms and holds her tightly. She refuses to cry again. The past twenty-four hours have been an emotional rollercoaster, and she won’t give in to the urge to collapse.

  As the women embrace in a tentative cease-fire, the front door to the B&B bangs open and Mexi and Mori trip into the lobby. Holly lets go of Bonnie and puts on her best ‘Totally In Control’ mayor face.

  “Hey,” she says with a smile. “Welcome to the Christmas Key B&B. Let’s get you all checked in!”

  Chapter 11

  The day drones on as Holly races around the island. She checks in at home to make sure Pucci has food and water, moves the massive loads of linens from industrial-sized washer to industrial-sized dryer at the B&B, and follows up on the details for the pirates’ send-off at sunset. She’s invited the Guys to join everyone as the pirates push off in full regalia, thinking that Mexi and Mori might enjoy the festivities, but she’s trying to scare up a couple of extra eye patches for the boys and hoping that the islanders will be receptive to seeing new faces in the crowd just as they’re saying farewell to a group of visitors who’ve caused some upheaval.

  “Brian!” Holly shouts from behind the wheel of her golf cart. She slows to a stop near the only pirate she’s taken a real liking to. “I have a favor to ask, Mr. Chumbucket.”

  “Anything for you, milady,” he says, making a swirling motion with his right hand as he bends at the waist theatrically. “For the woman who finds me a cheeseburger, I’d be willing to fall upon my own sword.”

  “I don’t think gutting yourself will be necessary.” She climbs out of the cart and meets him on the sidewalk in front of Poinsettia Plaza. “I’m just looking for two eye patches and a promise that you guys are really sailing off into the sunset as planned.”

  “Done with us pirates, are ye?” Brian puffs out his chest and puts on a pirate accent.

  “No, it’s not that,” Holly backpedals. “But I stripped all your beds and gave away a couple of your rooms, so I’m just making sure.”

  “Yeah,” he a
ssures her. “We’re outta here at dusk. Our wives and bosses expect us home at some point, so—as with all good things—our weekend on the high seas must come to an end.”

  “You ready to get back to Anita and the kids?” Holly asks, remembering their conversation the morning she’d found him on the beach.

  “I am. And I’ve taken your advice to heart: I’m going to embrace my weekends away from work and kids’ soccer games, then I’ll go back feeling refreshed and ready to be the man my wife wants me to be.”

  “Good,” Holly says with a smile. “I’m happy for you, Brian.”

  “Eh,” he says, raising both shoulders. “It’s a good life. And Space Invaders will still be there when I get home.”

  “That a boy.” Holly winks at him and climbs behind the wheel of her cart again. “Oh, and what about the eye patches? Any chance you’ve got some spares?”

  “I think I can scare up a couple. I’ll bring them to the beach with me tonight.”

  Holly gives him a thumbs-up as she pulls away.

  Just a few more hours. If she can make it through the send-off on the beach, she can go home and finally climb into her bed for a good night’s sleep. She looks at the sun making its descent in the winter sky. The end of this hungover, yucky-feeling day is near.

  “Yo, ho, ho,” bellows Sinker McBludgeon. He’s standing on the beach near the skiff that Cap is using to ferry the pirates back and forth to their anchored ship. “’Twas a wonderful weekend of grog, wenches, and buccaneering, but it’s time for us to set sail again, mates.” He peers at his fellow pirates, holding a golden chalice in the air. The other men do the same. “Nothing compares to a weekend of merry-making and exploring the sea, and certainly nothing can compare with the love of a woman.” He gazes at Bonnie meaningfully.

  Holly is standing near Fiona and Buckhunter, arms folded across her chest. She’s working hard to keep her face neutral and her mind open.

  “We’ve got some new recruits here,” Sinker says, nodding at Mexi and Mori. They’re wearing the black eye patches Brian found for them. “And I hope their parents don’t mind them giving up their land-lubbing ways to become men of the sea.”