3 Madness in Christmas River (3 page)

I wiped my brow free of sweat. The kitchen felt overheated and cramped, like it was closing in on me.

“Everything is going to be just fine,” Kara said, flipping through the last few pages of the magazine before slamming it shut. “If you came to the yoga studio with me in the mornings like you said you would, you’d know that by now and I wouldn’t have to keep telling you.”

I took a seat opposite her at the kitchen island.

Normally, I would be running around like a chicken with its head cut off on Black Friday. But I had actually been smart this year: I’d hired an extra seasonal employee in addition to Chrissy to man the front of the house, leaving me to my pie baking in peace.

I was glad to have Chrissy back in the shop. She’d had a real tough time of it after we figured out that her boyfriend was a serial arsonist this summer. She quit working for me for a while, but had come back in the fall.

She was looking a lot different these days. When I first hired her, she had enough piercings and spikes on her to rival a porcupine. But something had changed about her in the last six months. She took all her piercings out, let her hair grow, and her outfits no longer included rips and tears and safety pins. 

I always liked Chrissy, but I was liking her even more these days. She hadn’t let what happened beat her down, even though I knew that it had torn her up inside. I admired her strength.

And I was sure glad to have her working for me this Christmas season.

Every year at this time, Christmas River was crawling with tourists—tourists, who, despite having stuffed themselves the day before, came into my pie shop starved and acting like they’d been trapped on a desert island for the past week, subsisting only on coconuts.  

I couldn’t really blame them, though. My stomach had been growling all morning. But unlike them, I didn’t indulge in anything. I couldn’t really afford to at this stage. A $1,500 wedding dress was waiting for me at the end of the month, and I’d be damned if it wasn’t going to zip up all the way.

“Yoga would really do wonders for you, Cin,” Kara continued. “It just gives you a whole new outlook on things. I think I would have easily lost my mind opening up the new ornament store if I didn’t have my morning session.”

Kara had joined a yoga studio in the fall, and it seemed like every other thing out of her mouth was about the studio or the instructor. She’d been nagging me to go for weeks. I always told her I’d eventually get around to it, but it seemed like I never had time.

“Well, maybe I’ll join you when the madness lets up,” I said. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

“Yoga Instructor Willow says you should always make time for yourself, no matter what.”

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think Yoga Instructor Willow has ever run a pie shop while trying to plan a wedding during the holiday season.”

Kara drummed her fingers against the tabletop.

“Suit yourself, then,” she said. “Live in the dark ages.”

I took a sip from the peppermint mocha she had brought for me in a paper cup from the Christmas Coffee Hut. It was minty and strong, and just the kind of kick I needed.

“So, do you have any more Mrs. Billings stories you can tell to take my mind of my little florist situation?” I said, removing the pies from the pan and placing them on the cold countertop to cool. 

Kara rested her head in her hands.

“
Jesus
, what a nightmare that woman is,” she said. “I mean, I’m not crazy, right? You saw how she was yesterday at dinner. And let me tell you, she was on her best behavior there. She probably had plenty more to say about that fig pie of yours that she was holding back. I could see it in her beady little eyes. It was just eating away at her.”

I laughed.

“Yeah, she seems like a real pain, all right,” I said. “I don’t envy you.”

“It’s just not fair,” she said. “John and I aren’t even married yet, and I’m having to deal with this—”

I raised my eyebrow.

“
Yet
?” I said. “Does that mean…?”

She waved her hands at me.

“No, no, nothing of the kind,” she said. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure if that were the case, that witch of a woman would do everything she could to keep us apart. She hates me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I said.

“No, it is true. You know how I know?” she said. “Because she hates
everyone
. Everyone but John.”

“Well, at least she has that going for her. She believes in equal opportunity.”

“Yeah, she’s practically a saint,” she said sarcastically. “But seriously, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m at my limit with that woman, Cin. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, what about a vacation?” I said. “Why don’t you and John take off to somewhere sunny and tropical?”

She shook her head.

“Too much going on. I just reopened the ornament shop. I can’t leave now during the busiest season of the year. Plus, John’s swamped with referrals before the beginning of the New Year.”

“What about sending
her
on a vacation?” I said. “Call it a Christmas present. To yourself.”

Kara’s face brightened.

“Now there’s a thought,” she said.

“Send her some place far for a while,” I said.

“Like Singapore.”

“South America.,” I said.

“Better yet, Siberia.”  

We both started laughing.

“I’ll suggest it to John when I see him later,” she said.

Her phone on the table lit up and started vibrating. She grabbed it, glanced at it, and then set it back down.

“So are you guys coming out to the tree lighting later?” she said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “Warren and Marie are coming too. Plus, Daniel will be there.”

“So… uh, how’re you feeling about Daniel taking off for a week with the wedding so soon?”

I shrugged.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I said, echoing what he had said earlier that morning, like if I said it, it would make it true.

She raised her eyebrows in a doubtful expression.

She could always tell when I was lying.

“All right, fine,” I said, giving in. “To tell you the truth, it’s not ideal. But it’s necessary. They need his help. And there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t like it, but that’s the way it has to be.”

“I don’t blame you,” Kara said. “A week is a whole lotta time for thinking.”

“Well, it’s not like I won’t have plenty to do,” I said. “I’ve got the planning and work, and we’ve got gingerbread to make, remember? Are we still on for starting this weekend on the house?”

“I’m your man,” she said, nodding.

Usually at this time of year, Kara and I entered in the annual Gingerbread Junction, the gingerbread house competition known throughout the Northwest for its fierce competitiveness. But this year, given everything that was going on in my life, I thought it would be a good idea to sit this one out.

But Kara and I were still planning on putting a house together. I thought it would only be fitting, given how the gingerbread competition had brought Daniel and me together, that we have a little memento of it at the wedding.

Kara’s phone buzzed again. She stood up, grabbed her puffy down coat and pulled it on. She wrapped her elegant, golden-threaded scarf around her neck, running her hand under her long blond hair and bringing it outside of the jacket.

“I better get back,” she said, grabbing her purse. “But listen, don’t let the little stuff get to you. Keep that pretty head of yours on straight.”

“Too late for that,” I said, sighing, and checking my phone again, in case I missed a call from Penny.

I hadn’t.

“Think about sitting beside a quiet stream on a breezy summer morning,” she said. “Meditate on the inner peace you feel, and carry that feeling with you throughout the rest of your day.”

“You sure are all in on this yoga thing, huh?” I said.

She shrugged.

“My boyfriend’s mother is the Antichrist,” she said. “I need
something
to keep me sane.”

She walked through the dividing door, and I heard her say goodbye to Chrissy and Tiana up at the counter before leaving.

I may not have had an insane future mother-in-law to contend with, but I had enough problems of my own to test my sanity.

Maybe Kara was right. Maybe I really should join her at the yoga studio in the mornings.

“We might need a few extra chocolate hazelnut pies,” Chrissy said, sticking her head in the back. “It’s going quick out here.”

“Okay, I’ll have some for you in about an hour,” I said.

I should really have been pleased that the shop was so crowded. The season was starting off on a great foot.

But rather than feel grateful, all I wanted to do was go home, kick off my shoes, and sit on the sofa in front of the fire with Daniel’s arms around me.

In fact, if it were up to me, that was all I’d do this winter.

Chapter 5

The Pine Needle Tavern was teeming with locals and tourists alike when I wandered in around 6.

It had been a long, long day, and walking into the packed tavern, full of loud, inebriated voices felt overwhelming. But the atmosphere was toasty and jubilant. Darlene Love’s
Baby, Please Come Home
blasted from the stereo, and the spirit of the holidays was in full swing inside the crowded pub.

Even though it was packed, it wasn’t hard to find Marie.

She was sitting at the bar, her long red hair hanging in curls down her back. She had a red leopard-print leather jacket on that was borderline tacky, but something that she managed to pull off because she’d been pulling off those kinds of outfits all her life.

She wasn’t alone. Marie was never alone. I swear, when she walked in a room, everyone within a mile knew it.

It was an old-fashioned kind of charisma that she had. She always had the right thing to say at the right time. And people loved listening to her talk.  

Growing up, I had idolized Marie. Though she was rich, she never dressed like she was. She always dressed more like an 80s rock star rather than the wife of a wealthy jeweler. She wore black leather jackets with stilettos, and had a string of animal tattoos on her back that made her hands down the coolest gal in Christmas River anytime she came home to visit.

When I was a kid, she used to smuggle me teen magazines with the latest fashion trends and demo tapes of the hippest music coming out of the LA music scene. Unfortunately, I never really took to any of it. But whenever she blew into town, it seemed like my life got that much more exciting.

These days, she was older, but still had that youthful spirit about her. Her dreams of being a big star hadn’t panned out, but she didn’t seem to be bitter about it. And even though she had more wrinkles than she used to, she could still turn heads. 

When I walked up, the group of old timers were laughing heartily around her. Some had tear streaks down their faces, like they’d been laughing for hours.

“There ya are, Cinnamon, hon,” she said, her face lighting up when she saw me. “That shop sure takes some hard work.”

“Sure does,” I said. “I hope you weren’t waiting here too long.”

She shook her empty glass, which, knowing Marie, had once been filled with rum and Diet Cherry Coke.

“Just finished number one,” she said. “So don’t feel sorry for me. Besides, I’ve got my friends here who’ve helped me pass the time.”

“Well, you ready to head over now?” I asked.

“You don’t want a drink first?” she said.

“Aw, I’m trying to cut back,” I said, patting my gut. “That wedding dress isn’t going to zip itself up.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that hon,” she said. “C’mon,
live a little
.”

She hailed Harold, and tapped the table, signaling two more.

“Marie…” I started saying.

“It’s the Thanksgiving holiday weekend for Chrissakes,” she said. “You’re supposed to enjoy yourself. And you, my dear, barely had any turkey dinner yesterday. You ought to treat yourself tonight.”

My willpower quickly evaporated under her sound logic.

“Well… make it a Wild Turkey for me, then,” I said, giving in.

“That’s my girl,” she said, grinning.

“You’re the devil, Marie, you know that?” I said, shaking my head.

“Believe me, you’re not the first to say it, honey,” she said, laughing.

Harold slid a neat whiskey my way, and a fresh rum and Coke hers. I had no choice but to take a seat next to her and drink what was in front of me. 

She was right. It was the Thanksgiving holiday, and on top of that, it had been one of the longest days of the year at the pie shop. My feet were killing me, and the whiskey was promising a remedy.

The first sip hit my taste buds hard, and I made a face.

“Are you turning into a lightweight on me, Cin?” she said, knocking me lightly on the shoulder.

I shrugged.

“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” I said.

She chuckled and took a long sip from her rum cocktail, which was disappearing rather rapidly.

Marie was legendary for drinking just about anyone under the table while still being able to hold her liquor.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask, does this wedding mean you’re gonna go by
Cinnamon Brightman
from now on?” she asked.

“To be honest, I haven’t decided yet,” I said.  

“
Cinnamon Brightman
,” she said, dragging each syllable out. “I think I like it. Sounds downright cheerful.”

“Well, the name
Peters
hasn’t ever let me down,” I said.

Marie’s straw hit air as she swallowed the last of her Coke. She cleared her throat and stared at the empty drink like she was contemplating whether or not to order another.

“So, Marie, how’s life treating you these days?”

In all the madness of Thanksgiving, Marie and I hadn’t really had a moment to talk about our lives. I was too busy cooking for what felt like all of Christmas River.  

She rested her chin on her hand and sighed. 

“Such a big question,” she said. “I’m not sure how to answer. Good, I guess? Maybe it’s not treating me as good as you. I don’t have a hunky Sheriff I’m getting hitched to or anything like that. But I do all right.”