Mayhem in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy, Book 2) (17 page)

“I knew it,” I said.

He turned back toward me and touched my arm.

“Knew what, Cin?” he said, a sudden fierceness in his voice.

“That there’s something between you two,” I said. “And that you still care for her. And that last night…”

I trailed off.

He pulled away, shaking his head.

“I can see why you might think that on her end,” he said. “You’re right. She still feels that way about me. She made that clear as day when I drove her to her hotel last night.”

I felt like my legs would give out. I suddenly didn’t want to hear the rest. I regretted starting this conversation. I wanted to climb back down that ladder.

I didn’t want to know what lay at the end of this road.

I stood there, barely holding on. Closing my eyes. Afraid of what would come next.

“But what I don’t understand, Cin,” he said, pausing, like he was trying to find the right words. He lowered his voice. “What I don’t understand is how you could ever think that I would do that to you.”

I opened my eyes.

“That’s what I don’t get,” he said. “That you would think that I’d ask you to be my wife, and then I’d turn around and ruin everything we have over someone who’s not a tenth of the person you are.”

That wasn’t what I had expected to hear.

And you’d think that it was what I wanted to hear.

He’d been faithful. He loved me. He didn’t love her.

But as I stood there, staring deep into his sharp green eyes, I didn’t feel good about any of it.

I felt guilty. Guilty for doubting him. Guilty that I hadn’t given him any credit. That I could possibly think he was that kind of man.

That when it came down to it, I didn’t completely trust him.

And hadn’t he given me every reason to? Hadn’t he been the most loyal, trustworthy, and loving person I’d ever known?

“I was at the office, Cin,” he said. “I’d gone to get some work done and I fell asleep there. That’s where I was when you called. And the fact that you thought I was with someone else just kills me.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

All this time I thought he’d been the one hurting me. Now I saw it all for what it really was.

It was me hurting him.

Again and again.

“It just seems like I keep trying to love you and all you do is push me away,” he said. “I don’t know what to do, Cin.”

He put his hat back on.

“I really just don’t know what to do.”

He looked at me one more time, his eyes piercing mine with their steeliness.

And then he walked down the back steps and disappeared around the side of the shop.

Leaving me feeling like someone had just ripped out my heart.

Chapter 41

I sat on the back deck of the house in the late evening sun, reading through the script and rehearsing my lines.

I really should have just quit the play. It was more trouble than it was worth. Who did I think I was anyway? I’d gotten into it to try and find out who the arsonist was for Kara’s sake, and now that part was solved. We knew who he was, and there was no reason for me to continue on with the charade.

But I was anyway. Maybe I was just being stubborn, but I felt like I had to see this through to the end. Aside from the Reinharts, the rest of the cast were decent, innocent people. It wasn’t right that this nut was threatening them, too. I felt like I had to be there. Because no matter how stupid I thought the Christmas River in July festivities were, they were a town tradition, and there was something sacred about that.

I wasn’t just going to sit at home while this guy was still on the loose. Even if that meant I was in danger too.

It wasn’t just about Kara and the arsonist anymore. It was about me keeping my word. About me doing my part.

About me having Daniel’s back, even though he didn’t see it that way.

We were in this together. And I was going to do my part to see that we all got out of it together.

The sliding glass door opened, and I looked up. Warren stepped out.

“Going dry tonight?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“I’m beyond the help of liquor,” I said.

“Sounds pretty damn serious.” 

He glanced down at the big script I was flipping through.

“So you’re gonna do it?” he said.

I looked up and nodded.

He took a seat in the patio chair across from me.

“Well, sounds like you’re mind’s set on it then” he said.

I didn’t answer. I just glared down at the table.

“Well, if you—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” I said. “It’s what you’ve all been saying this whole time. That it’s too dangerous and that I shouldn’t get involved. But it’s too late to turn back now. I have to do it.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Warren said.

“Well what then?”

He grinned. That same, mischievous grin that always cut through whatever negativity I was feeling and made things better. When I was younger, it was the look that always preceded him slipping me a twenty dollar bill to bet at our poker nights.

“I was going to see if you needed help practicing,” he said, tapping the stack of papers. “Seems like a monster. Have you got it all memorized?”

I bit my lip, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion.

Maybe it was his smile, or the support he was giving me, or maybe I was just exhausted by the events of the last week. But I felt the floodgates burst, and the next thing I knew, I was crying into Warren’s shoulder just like I was a kid.

“There, there,” he said, patting my back. “I know it’s a lot to remember, but I’m sure you’ll get it down. You’ll make a great Mrs. Claus.”

I let out a defeated half laugh.

He knew as well as I did that I wasn’t crying over the script.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Warren,” I said. “All I know is that I’ve ruined everything. Everything.”

“Now that just can’t be, Cinny Bee,” he said.

“It is,” I said. “Daniel… he… I’ve just ruined it. I hurt him. I’ve been hurting him all week. And I can’t live with myself. It’s ripping me up inside.”

Warren didn’t say anything for a little while. He just let me cry myself out until I was too tired to anymore.

He had to be the most patient person I’d ever known.

When I was finally a little calmer, he pulled away.

“I don’t know the specifics, but I think I have a pretty good idea about the kind of person Daniel is,” Warren said. “And I don’t think he’s a man who takes things for granted. I think he knows what a gem he has in you, Cin. I don’t know what you did or you think you did, but Daniel knows the score. I have faith in him. Maybe you should too.”

My eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

Warren had never liked Evan. And while he had warmed up to Daniel, I didn’t ever expect him to have such high praise for one of my boyfriends. Warren was always like an overprotective father. He was always looking out for me, and ready to come to my defense if need be.

So the fact that he was saying this about Daniel must have meant that he really liked him.

“Just try and set this aside for the time being and come back to it with a clear head,” Warren said. “It’ll all work out in the end, Cinny Bee. I promise.”

I nodded and wiped the tears away.

“You’re right,” I said.

“Always am,” he said, winking at me.

I tried to regain my composure. Warren reached out and grabbed the script from the table.

“Who does this Reinhart woman think she is, Marty Scorsese?” he said. “Just look at the size of this thing.”

I let out a sniveling laugh.

“If only it were half as interesting as a Scorsese movie,” I said.

“Should we take it from the beginning?” he asked.

Good old Warren.

I was lucky to have him in my life.

I wondered if Nick Calder had had someone like Warren in his, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out to be the destructive firebug that we were all looking for.

Chapter 42

I looked at myself in the shop kitchen mirror as the harsh summer morning light streamed through the back windows. 

I had it all. The stifling wig. The wire-rimmed glasses. The red velvet dress. The black panty hose. The high-heeled black shoes.

I had completely transformed into Mrs. Claus.

And I felt like I might just lose my breakfast.

I was nervous about the play.

But it was more than that.

For the first time in a really long time, I felt alone. Completely and utterly alone.

Outside, I could hear the clattering and clanging of the street crews as they finalized preparations for the street parade.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Nick Calder.

About what it must have been like for him to grow up without a father. About what that does to a person.

What it had done to me.

Even though I’d had Warren, my father leaving had left a big void in my life, one that I hadn’t always realized was there.  

And the consequences of which I was still living through to this day.

I gazed at myself in the mirror a few minutes longer, looking at a version of myself that would be me in thirty years. At the things I had to look forward to: gray hair, bad vision, and being alone. 

A wave of self-pity ran rampant through me like a virus.

Until, I just couldn’t take it anymore.

I ripped the mirror off the wall and threw it onto the kitchen island. The backing clanged loudly against the stainless steel counter top. 

“Enough of that,” I said in the strongest voice I could muster. “Mrs. Claus doesn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. She’s got the whole world depending on her.”

I stamped my heels on the floor for added effect. And even though I knew I sounded stupid, it made me feel a little better hearing those words out loud.

I could almost believe them. 

Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe dressing the part of your character really did transform you into them.  

I was going to need all the strength of Mrs. Claus if I was going to get through today.

All her strength and more.

I heard the front door of the shop open. I grabbed my purse and a plastic bag of comfortable clothes I planned to change into once the play finished up.

“Bravo,” Chrissy said when she saw me.

“Put in a good word for me with Santa,” Carson said.

They both had a bright grin on their faces that bordered on a smirk.  

“Don’t be such smart asses,” I said, giving them a sarcastic look.

Chrissy started laughing.

“No really,” she said. “I mean it. You look great, Ms. Peters.”

“Well, thank you. I guess,” I said, running my hands across the front of the dress. “Thank you guys for taking over the store today. You don’t know what a big help that is.”

“It’s nothing,” Chrissy said.

“Glad to do what I can,” Carson said, draping an arm over her shoulders.

She looked up at him and smiled lovingly.

Judging from that, I guessed things were good between them again. I was glad of it. It was nice to see that spring back in Chrissy’s step. She would need it for the upcoming tourist onslaught that the Christmas River in July festivities always brought. 

“I’m going to have my phone if anything comes up,” I said. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

I started walking toward the door.

Carson grabbed his frilly cowgirl apron with the name of my shop stitched on it, and slid it over his head as he prepared for the day’s dishes. 

It made me smile a little bit seeing that apron on him, the way it always did.

“Knock ‘em dead out there, Mrs. Claus,” Chrissy said.

“Mrs. Claus always does,” I said.

I opened the door. The Christmas River High marching band was rehearsing
Silent Night
, and the music drifted through the crowded streets.

I took a deep breath and stepped outside.

Chapter 43

The parade nearly killed us all.

Even though it was still morning, the sun beat down with no mercy. There wasn’t so much as a breeze blowing down the packed streets. And it was humid. The weatherman had predicted that a storm front would be blowing in this afternoon, and the humidity had come ahead of it.

The cast and crew of the Christmas River in July parade all sat on the same float at the very end of the procession. The whole town was out on the street, including the entire city and county police force plus some state troopers. I couldn’t see him, but I knew Daniel was somewhere out there. 

I felt pretty stupid sitting up there on that float. Parades had never been my thing. I sat next to Ronald, who was buried under a fluffy white beard. Sarah sat at the head of the float, waving smugly.

They’d barely spoken three words together to me since that night I’d come across the arsonist near their house. Ronald was less than his friendly self, and though he forced a smile as he waved at the children, I could tell by the strangulated look in his eyes that he was stressed.

And he wasn’t just stressed about the play.

I waved at the tourists lining the streets, doing my best to fulfill my role as Mrs. Claus and not die of heat exhaustion in the meantime.

“Deputy Brightman told you, didn’t he?” Ronald suddenly whispered.

I thought about playing dumb, but what good would that do? We all knew the truth now.

“Trumbow told me,” I said. “He doesn’t like you much.”

“You must think I’m a real jerk,” he said, his eyes growing dark and downcast from beneath the shadow of his hat.

“I don’t like judging people, especially when I don’t have all the facts,” I said. “But your son’s done a lot of damage, Ronald. I just wonder if there’s something you could do to stop him.”

An overweight kid in a striped shirt waved wildly at me, his little red face lighting up like a Christmas tree when the float passed him. I did all that I could to return the favor, even though it wasn’t how I was feeling inside.

“Well, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do at this point, is there?” Ronald said, his face turning red as he grew flustered. “The past’s the past. I can’t change that.”