by Louise Lynn
She noted a set of fancy kitchen knives at the cooking store display that Colton would probably appreciate, since he was better in the kitchen than she ever had been and likely ever would be.
An apron with little fancy cakes on it would suit Esther well, she thought, and glanced at the price tag. Reasonable, and something Esther could use, the best kind of present in Hazel’s estimation.
She’d been wandering around for just over an hour when her toes began to feel numb. Even Anthony Ray was getting tired. She could tell by how he slowed and shook his damp paws as if he were trying to warm them.
She smiled down at her cat. "So even you have your limits, huh? Well come on. I know just where to go."
She headed toward the edge of the fair and the booth she'd seen there but hadn't made a beeline for yet. Mostly because she knew she'd be drawn into a conversation that she didn't have time for just yet. But she also knew the booth in question had a propane heater, a seat in front of it, and plenty of warm tea and spiced cider to go around.
Just beyond was the end of Lakefront Park and the Presbyterian Church that stood there along with the old cemetery. As a girl, Hazel’s father would take her there to look at the stones. Some of the names had nearly worn off completely. Now, it was covered in a thick layer of undisturbed snow that made it look like a black and white photograph.
“Hazy! Are you ready to get warmed up?" Maureen Hart said. Her mother was dressed appropriately for the weather in a heavy wool coat with plenty of layers underneath, Hazel assumed, though she couldn't see any but the ones that stuck out the bottom. From those she gathered her mother wore thermal leggings and at least two skirts and a pair of snow boots.
Hazel hadn't bothered with her snow boots that day, but from the state of her feet, she realized she should have.
"Yeah, Anthony Ray needs to get warmed up too."
Her mother ushered Hazel and the cat around the side of her booth and settled her in one of the chairs in front of the heater. To Hazel’s surprise, not only her own wares were on display there, but a glass case was filled with treats from Esther's bakery.
After all that walking around in the cold, Hazel could use some extra sugar to keep her going. She grinned and pointed at the case. "Let me guess, Esther didn't want to stand out in the cold all day so she got you to sell some of her goodies?"
Maureen poured Hazel a cup of steaming peppermint tea. "She didn't pawn her goodies off on me, I offered. She wasn't even interested in a booth at the Christmas Fair this year, but when I told her she’d have extra money for Christmas, she relented easily enough."
Hazel rolled her eyes and reached for the glass case. Esther's bakery was the best and, coincidentally, only bakery in town so her business did fine without extra sales around Christmas. But the late winter months were hard on everyone since that was the biggest lull in the tourist season. She couldn't blame her sister for trying something a little extra like that. "And she won't mind if I have a Christmas pastry, will she?"
Maureen grinned and plopped a pecan filled pastry on a plate. "Not if you share with your mother, dear. Now, tell me all about this business you and the sheriff dealt with this morning. Marley Sinclair is dead? How did that happen?"
And here Hazel thought no one else knew about Marley Sinclair's death besides herself, Colton, and Celia. She gathered Anthony Ray on her lap and took a large sip of the tea. "Did Cece tell you?"
Maureen shrugged in a way that told Hazel yes, Celia had spilled the beans. "It's just such a shock. I forgot he was alive to begin with. He left his house in such a state I kept thinking he’d died years ago. Was he murdered?" She whispered the last word as if, had he been murdered, the killer would leap out at them.
Hazel shook her head and took a bite of the pastry. Anthony Ray licked up the little buttery flakes that fell onto her lap. "Surprisingly, nope. Natural causes. Looks like a heart attack, which, I know can be faked, but the man was ninety-seven. I suppose it was his time."
Maureen let out a snort of laughter. "Way past his time if you ask me. He was a nasty old coot who’d do anything he could to keep the properties he owned as miserable as possible and the people who lived in them as poor as possible. Not to mention that awful fire in 1989. Those two families died because of his negligence, and he never even apologized or got more than a fine!”
Hazel couldn't refute any of that. "Well, he won’t be able to hurt anyone any longer."
Her mother pushed her glasses up and fixed Hazel with a look she didn't like. "Won't he though? He may be gone from the mortal plane, but that doesn't mean he won’t come back to bother someone. I wouldn't be surprised if his house isn’t going to sell for many years due to the spiritual presence hanging around.” She sipped her tea as if she hadn't said something completely ridiculous.
Hazel sighed. "And you think Marley Sinclair's gonna come back in a pair of chains and rattle them at whoever lives in his house next?"
"It wouldn't be completely unheard of. Dickens knew what he was talking about."
Hazel took another sip of tea and decided not to argue. It wouldn't get her anywhere. While they didn't see eye to eye on ghosts and spiritualism, they could both agree on one thing. Marley Sinclair being dead was for the good of Cedar Valley, no matter how awful that seemed.
Hazel took another bite of the pastry and chewed thoughtfully on the tender filling. She knew it was made with pecans, spices and brown sugar, though she didn't know how Esther managed. "Did you hear about the other incident that happened this morning?"
Maureen's eyes danced. "No, what?"
Hazel explained about John Collins nearly getting hit by Sheriff Cross and his fight with Albert Stone, a.k.a. Scrooge.
Maureen raised her eyebrows and tugged on a strand of frizzy hair that hung out of her knit hat. "That actually surprises me less than Marley Sinclair being dead. You know that John Collins and Albert Stone can't stand each other. They've been at it for ages, as far back as I can remember, actually."
Hazel blinked. "They have? I don't really remember them fighting when I was a kid, and I’m pretty sure John Collins has played Santa forever, right?"
Maureen nodded. "Oh, they didn't do it so publicly back then, but her husband’s bad blood with Albert has always been a thorn in Carol’s side."
Hazel smiled slyly. "It's one of the things you notice when it comes to Carol Collins, your biggest frenemy."
Her mother coughed and took a long gulp of tea. "Frenemy? She's nothing of the sort. We’d have to be friends to be frenemies. Isn't that what that word means? No, Carol is just a nosy busybody who needs to stay out of business that doesn't belong to her. And sure, I do get a little bit of joy out of her husband having fights with Albert Stone every year. At least she can’t hold Edgar's bad behavior against me, because he hardly has any.”
Hazel frowned. “Does this have to do with the time she tried to get your shop shut down?"
Her mother's cheeks turned crimson, and she grabbed the teapot and quickly poured them each another cup. As she did so, Hazel noticed her mother’s hands were shaking. "You know it does. I said she was a busybody. She claimed my shop was an abomination to the town. Ha. I'm sure the tarot cards, crystals, and sage are going to hurt her precious little year around Christmas store.”
Hazel patted her mother on the back and took another grateful sip of hot tea. Anthony Ray leaned over and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose, though he seemed to enjoy the warmth that emanated from it. "Well, at least it didn't work. And your shop is definitely more popular than hers. Which reminds me, you should have seen the look she gave me this morning, it was pure hatred."
Maureen nodded sagely. "There is no one who can hate more than someone who is fanatical about one thing, I'll tell you that much my dear," she said and kissed Hazel on the cheek.
She didn't need to ask her mother what Carol Collins was fanatical about. The fact that she ran a year-round Christmas shop and disapproved of nearly everything else in Cedar Valley told a simple enough story. "I
do wonder what she was upset about this morning though. Isn't she in charge of planning the Christmas Fair every year? Is she mad you got a booth?"
Maureen shrugged. "I have a booth nearly every year and there is absolutely nothing she can do about it. She might help plan the Christmas Fair, but she doesn't own it. And there's really no saying what that woman is upset about from a day-to-day basis. It probably had something to do with John not following her exact orders or some such nonsense. She rules over him like a warden. I'm surprised he stayed married to her all these years."
Hazel didn't know the Collins well, so she did not comment on that. Then something occurred to her, and she frowned. "If Carol loves this fair so much, why doesn't she have a booth? Paul said one opened up last minute and he snagged it, because she gave up her spot. But why?"
Maureen took a sip of her tea and snagged the last bit of pastry. Hazel had eaten more than half, but her mother didn't complain about it. "I'm not sure. It is a bit odd. She always has a booth at the fair, usually the biggest she can afford. Not that I spy on her, but I have noticed less foot traffic headed her way, and her prices keep going up. Maybe business was bad this year and she didn’t have the money.”
"Maybe," Hazel said and chewed on her lip as she finished her tea.
Anthony Ray yowled and stood up to pace in front of the heater, a sign that he was ready to restart their rounds.
"Well, I better get back to work.”
Maureen nodded. "And here's the man of the hour to help you," she said and pointed at a tall figure walking down the path between the booths.
The long black overcoat and top hat only added to his height and gaunt appearance. Hazel was sure he wore stage makeup to make his cheeks look hollow, because she hadn’t remembered Mr. Stone looking so thin before.
A pall of gloom hung around him, as did the character he played, and Hazel wondered if it was his personality that did it or if he was a better actor than he let on.
Maureen jumped to her feet and leaned over the edge of her booth. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Scrooge!” she called like a schoolgirl.
Mr. Scrooge's head snapped in her direction, and his dark eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Bah humbug!”
Hazel snapped a picture of the glaring Mr. Scrooge and followed him at a distance.
The same chill that went up her spine earlier traversed it again, and this time it was much harder to ignore.
Chapter 4
"I don't care if it's historically inaccurate, but I'm wearing this hat from now on," Violet said and tugged a heavy purple knit cap over her ears. She stood inside one of the warming stations with Milo and they both huddled near the heater.
Hazel had spent another few hours wandering the fair and taking photos, and it was now well past afternoon. Her stomach grumbled. Though she’d had a mid-morning snack, she could use a hot bowl of soup. Milo and Violet looked like they could as well.
With a grin, Hazel snapped a photo of them both. "I heard your grandparents are visiting in a few days," she said as nonchalantly as she could.
Violet stiffened, and Milo glanced between the two of them as if he didn't want to be there.
"Uncle Colton finally told you. Took him long enough. He's known for weeks, you know."
Hazel raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell me?"
Violet shrugged. "It's not like I was trying to keep it a secret. It’s just—I know why they're coming. It doesn't have to do with wanting to see me or Uncle Colton for the holidays. They just want to take me back to Santa Rosa with them,” she said and rubbed her gloved hands together.
Milo chewed on his bottom lip but he didn't say anything. Hazel wondered if they'd had this conversation before, and decided they probably had.
It was good that Violet had a new confidant that was around her age, and it kept Hazel from getting in the middle of Violet’s arguments with her uncle as well. But still, she did wish that one of them had told her about the parent situation a little sooner if only to give her time to prepare.
"You don't have to go back with them, do you?" Hazel asked carefully.
Violet's bottom lip trembled. “It’s not that I don't love Gramps and grandma, and I miss Simon like crazy, but I hate it there. I like it here. I actually have friends, you know," she said and leaned her shoulder against Milo's.
Milo beamed like he was standing in a ray of summer sunshine, and Hazel had an inkling what that felt like.
“I’m sure if you talk to them, you guys can figure something out. At least I hope you can. If you can give me any tips on impressing your grandparents I’d also be forever grateful," she said and gave Violet a quick hug.
The girl squeezed her and let out a huff of laughter. "Believe me, it's not like they're hard to impress. You're an independent woman running your own business in a small town and you've outwitted Uncle Colton on several occasions, so they're going to definitely like you. Don't worry too much about it.”
Hazel’s stomach grumbled. She decided she should do something about it, so she dug into her purse for some cash and handed it over to the teens. "Okay, if you guys will run over to Pho Real and pick me and Michael up our usual, you can treat yourselves to some too. Does that sound like a good deal?"
Milo's eyes widened, and he nodded. "Does that include spring rolls?"
Hazel laughed. “It does, my boy. And plenty of them."
Once they returned with the steaming Styrofoam containers full of pho, Hazel made her way toward Santa's Village to share her bounty with Michael.
He looked harassed even from a distance, and Hazel gave him a pitying smile. "Long morning?" she asked under her breath as he bent to take a photo of a squirming two-year-old on Santa's lap.
"Smile for Santa and don't cry. He's not a monster," Michael said as the little girl screeched at the top of her lungs while Santa fought to hold her still.
With a sigh, Michael snapped the photo and the child wiggled free and ran for her parent's arms. “Monster! Monster! That was a monster!” she cried.
"You could say that," Michael finally said, answering Hazel’s question and glanced at the bag in her hand. “Does this mean I finally get my lunch break. I don’t think I can feel my nose anymore. It didn't turn blue or black or anything, did it?” He touched his face with a gloved finger.
Hazel shook her head and turned to the waiting line. “Santa and the photographer need to go on a break, but they’ll be back in thirty. Sorry for the inconvenience," she said and ushered Michael away from the disappointed rumblings behind them.
"How did you do that?" Michael asked as they slipped into Santa's Workshop and the trailer just beyond. "I would've waited until the line was completely gone before I tried to slip away for lunch."
"Something my dad taught me a long time ago. When you're doing something like this, especially out in the elements, you really need to put your foot down when your discomfort becomes too much," she said and set their food on the table.
A few elves were already there, but it looked like Santa hadn't followed, for whatever reason. Maybe John Collins wanted to keep his distance from Hazel after his bad behavior that morning.
Michael took several large gulps of soup and bites of meat, noodle, and vegetable before he looked ready to talk. Once he did, Hazel asked how the morning had been going, and he gave her a long hard look. "Now I understand why you didn't say anything when I offered to do the Santa photography. I know you don't like shooting high schools students, but elementary kids aren’t usually this bad."
Hazel smiled knowingly. “Elementary kids are just there for picture day, so it's fun for them. With this, you'd think they’d be super excited, but half the time either the parents want a picture of their kid with Santa for posterity sake, or–"
"The children are little monsters who want to tell Santa all the things they want on a list a hundred items long, and demand he bring it to them?"
Hazel nodded. “Yeah, that too. Sorry I didn't warn you. I honestly thought you'd be better at it."
Hazel raised an eyebrow. "Oh? They weren't fighting again, were they?"
"Again? You mean they've done this before? They weren’t doing anything in front of the kids, but Scrooge kept sneering at Santa, and on all of his breaks Santa’d go behind the workshop and then Scrooge would go back there and they’d bicker,” he said and snapped a piece of beef in half with his teeth.
Hazel frowned. She could imagine how uncomfortable that whole situation had been, especially when she hadn’t warned Michael about the feud between Scrooge and Santa, even though she didn't fully understand it herself. "Look, I can't believe I'm going to do this, but you've already been at this three hours, right?”
Michael nodded, and his large brown eyes bore into her pleadingly. "Yeah, three hours that felt like three lifetimes, why?"
Hazel nodded resolutely. "Okay, just for today, how about I do the last hour here and you do the last hour out there. Deal? I can talk to Scrooge and Santa and get them to stop bickering in private with each other too.”
Michael beamed. If he hadn't been holding a half-full container of soup, Hazel was sure he would've hugged her. "That would be amazing. Do you want me to take Anthony Ray or do you want to keep him with you?"
She looked down at her black fluffy cat curled at her feet. "I'm not sure if he fits in with the whole Santa's Village aesthetic."
"Yeah, he fits in with Scrooge better," Michael said and blanched when Anthony Ray threw him a glare.
“He's not quite that bad, but we don't want him scratching any of those kids. You’d better take him."
"It's the least I can do," Michael said.
Hazel finished her soup while trying to mentally prepare herself for the dreaded Santa photography.
Chapter 5
Since Cedar Valley was nestled in a valley and surrounded by the High Sierras, dusk fell exceptionally early that time of year.