Mayhem in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy, Book 2) (6 page)

I let out a long sigh. Daniel had even gone through the trouble of asking Warren.

“I don’t know much about these things,” Warren said. “Hell, nobody’s ever proposed to me before. But what I do know about is you, Cin. And if you said no, then I’m sure you’ve got good reasons.”

“I didn’t exactly say no,” I said. “I just don’t want to go down that road again. I mean, I’m crazy about Daniel, but I don’t want to get married. Not to anybody. Simple as that.”

Warren nodded.

“If that’s your gut feeling than follow it and you don’t have to make excuses to anyone,” Warren said, patting me on the leg. “Just be sure it’s your gut talking, though, and not something else.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He leaned back in the chair, and adjusted his broad-billed trucker’s cap.

Then he took a deep breath, and I knew that a long story was about to ensue.

Warren never liked to explain what he meant outright if he could work it into a story. My childhood had been full of his anecdotes. But he knew what he was doing. I sure remembered them.

“When I was a kid, there was this tire swing out on Elk Lake they used to call
The Gallows
.”

I raised an eyebrow and wondered what a tire swing had anything to do with my current situation.

“The Gallows?” I said.

“They called it that because once it got swinging, you were so high up there, the drop might kill you.”

“Sounds like a good place to get hurt,” I said.

He got a distant look on his face.

“But the thing was, I was never afraid of that swing. Not until one afternoon in late summer when I saw my best friend George jump off of it and break his leg after hitting the lake floor. We had to swim out and rescue him because he went under. And we caught all sorts of hell from our folks, I can tell you that much. Your great grandma Etta banned me from going down to The Gallows the rest of the summer.”

He pulled out his pipe from his shirt pocket, sticking it in his mouth the way he used to when I was younger and he’d tell me these kinds of stories. Except then, he usually smoked it. He didn’t anymore, one of the few things he listened to his doctor about. But Warren still liked his old routines and rituals. Even when he’d given them up.

“So did you listen to Great Grandma Etta?” I asked.

His eyes sparkled in the porch light. I could tell that for him, none of this seemed all that long ago.

It was funny the way that memory worked sometimes.

“You see, the rest of the boys got the same sort of talking to by their mothers, but they’d still sneak over there most afternoons. There wasn’t much else to do in a town this size. I was the only one who listened to my mother. And you know what I got for being a good son?”

“What?” I asked.

“Being called a sissy and a mama’s boy.”

Warren grinned.

“Now, I’m afraid being the hot-tempered bastard I’ve always been, I took some of the things they said about me very personal. But I still listened to my mother and stayed away from the lake.

But then, one day, I was out for a walk in the woods by myself. Just me. And I was thinking about things the way those woods have a way of making you think about things. And suddenly, a thought struck me. I realized that I wasn’t staying away from The Gallows because I wanted to avoid a licking from my mother. No, no, no. I was doing it because I was lily-white scared out my mind of The Gallows and breaking my own legs on that lake bed.”

He pulled the pipe away from his mouth out of habit, waiting for a phantom stream of smoke to escape, and then he rested it on the side of his mouth again.

“Well, what’d you do after that?” I said.

“The next day, I told my mother I was going into town, but I went to the lake instead,” he said. “And you know what I did then? I cut up to the front of the line, got on that damn tire swing and swung as far as I could. Then, at the top of my lungs I yelled one big ‘Geronimo!’ like it was the last word I’d ever say on this sweet earth. And I threw myself into that lake.”

He shook his head.

“You see, I was scared the whole time. Shaking like a newborn calf.”

“You could’ve broken both your legs,” I said.

“Sure. I could have,” he said. “But I didn’t. And even if I had, better be hurt than go through life knowing you didn’t do it because it got the better of you.”

“Did Great Grandma Etta find out?” I asked.

He smiled.

“She wasn’t an easy woman to fool,” he said. “She grounded me for the rest of the summer when she found out I’d gone and done exactly what she told me not to.”

“I bet she was mad as hell,” I said.

He nodded.

“Maybe the angriest I ever saw her,” he said. “But you know what? I didn’t really care. Because I wasn’t afraid of that tire swing anymore.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling irritated.

I knew Warren was just trying to help, but I now realized what he was trying to say with his story, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it.  

“Is that what you think? That I’m being—”

“I think you know what’s best for you,” he said. “And you don’t have to explain it to anybody. I told you that story to give you something to think about, in case you needed something to think about. But maybe it has absolutely no relevance to this situation at all.”

Warren knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. He knew it was beginning to irritate me, and he extinguished the match before anything caught fire.

“Don’t worry, Cinny Bee,” he said, calling me a nickname he had for me when I was a kid. “Everything’s going to be okay because your grandpa loves you.”

He stood up and kissed me on top of the head.

“Now, it’s time for an old man to get his beauty sleep,” he said, collecting the plastic bag of broken glass that he’d swept up.

“Sounds like a good idea,” I said.

I got to my feet and hobbled inside. Then I kissed him goodnight and finished doing a load of dishes before going upstairs to my room. I climbed in bed and found myself staring up at the ceiling.

I was suddenly wide awake.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and found myself writing out the words
I miss you
.

I hit send.

But he never responded.

It was a long, sleepless night.

Chapter 15

The first thing I did when I woke up the next morning after a bad night of sleep was run over to Kara’s house.

Chrissy was opening the shop that morning, giving me some time to do as I pleased. It was nice having free time like this. Back in the day when the entire business was resting on my shoulders, I about ran myself into the ground trying to keep up with everything. Doing laundry was a luxury back then. But these days with Chrissy and Carson’s help, I could even make time to work out.

I really should have stayed off my foot, given the cut I’d sustained from being a fool the night before. But something about Warren’s treatment had already made it feel a lot better. And as much as I had wanted to milk it and use it as an excuse to stay in bed all day, it hadn’t really been that bad of a cut to begin with.

And I could have really used a run.

I applied a couple of fresh Band-Aids, a blister pad, and then I pulled on my running shoes.

The sky was a steamy white when I stepped outside my door, dressed in a Racerback tank and spandex running capris. It was early, but already, it felt like it was going to be another scorcher of a day.

I warmed up and ran across the sidewalk until it emptied out into rough-edged asphalt. Despite it already being warm, the air felt fresh. The trees cast long shadows and created pockets of cooler air that almost had the same effect as running through sprinklers.

I’d been running consistently for four months now. I’d never been the athletic type, but I was beginning to believe that I could be if I kept this up. Sometimes, Daniel and I ran together during our lunch breaks.

I picked up the pace, feeling my calves burn and plead for mercy.

I didn’t want to think about him. I didn’t want those thoughts to ruin my run.

By the time I arrived at Kara’s house, I was sucking in wind like it was going out of style. Each time I’d think about Daniel, I forced myself to sprint. Which meant I sprinted for a full two miles across town to Kara’s doorstep. That, on top of the very healthy dinner of wine and ice cream I’d had the night before, gave me a side ache the size of Canada.

I stopped outside her home, trying to catch my breath for a few minutes before knocking on the door.

John’s car was parked next to hers in the driveway, and I wondered if I should come back.

But then I saw her peeking out the front window, staring at the sweaty, hyperventilating woman keeled over on her front lawn, and I knew that I couldn’t leave. Not after making this kind of spectacle.

I waved at her and then gave her a thumbs-up, like everything was A-Okay. She left the window, and a moment later, she was standing in an open doorway.

“Are you going to upchuck all over my front yard, or are you gonna come in?”

I winced as I straightened up from my leaning, close-to-barfing stance.

“I’ll come in,” I said.

She left the door open, and I staggered inside, still trying to catch my breath. The meaty aroma of bacon and eggs, which would have smelled amazing at any other time, made my stomach turn as it wafted through the living room.

I closed the door behind me and entered the dark, shuttered room. It felt like it could have been the resident of a full-time recluse, even though Kara could have only been here since yesterday afternoon after the fire. Or maybe it was just the pilled purple bathrobe she was wearing that gave that impression.

She was lying listlessly on a recliner in front of the TV.

I glanced around the dark room. I’d seen a lot of this tastefully decorated living room lately in my efforts to cheer her up over her troubles with John.

That seemed like small potatoes now after the turmoil her life had just been thrown into.

She had the TV tuned to the local morning news. The weather man, who looked no older than 12, was dancing around the screen trying to explain why he’d been wrong about the heat wave breaking.

“How’re you doing?” I asked.

She didn’t look over at me, her eyes stuck to the screen.

It was a stupid question, but any question I’d ask her at a moment like this would’ve sounded stupid.

Asking was really the important thing. 

“I’m trying to think of a reason to get out of this bathrobe, but one hasn’t come to me.”

Poor Kara. This was really hitting her hard, and I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if I lost the pie shop.

“Have they said what caused the fire?” I asked.

“I’ve had my phone off,” she said, changing the channel to the national news. “I’m too scared to find out. I mean, what if it was me, Cin? Maybe I left the coffee pot on or a glue gun plugged in.”

I sat down on one of the armrests of the love seat.

“You don’t know that yet,” I said.

“Or what’s worse is if Joann did something that caused it,” she said, biting down on her lip. “I’m afraid of what I might do to her if…”

She let out a bedraggled, exhausted sigh.

She’d probably spent the night going through every possible scenario.

“How bad is it, Kara?” I asked. “I mean, what was your insurance like?”

She probably didn’t want to talk about any of that right now. But I wanted to know what her situation was, if there was anything I could do to help.

“I was covered,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean anything yet. They said they have to investigate the fire and find out what caused it. Then, who knows when the check will come through. I’ll be lucky if I’m selling ornaments this Christmas season.”

She paused, lost in thought.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” I said, getting tired of saying things that didn’t help any. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can help with, Kara?”

John suddenly came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of steaming scrambled eggs and bacon along with a glass of orange juice.

He stopped awkwardly in the middle of the room when he saw me sitting there.

“Oh, hi Cinnamon,” he said, forcing a nervous grin.

“Hey, John,” I said.

I looked like a hot mess, but he was dressed in a bathrobe, so I guess it made us even.

He handed the plate to her along with a fork and then went back into the kitchen. She pushed the food around the plate before setting it down on the coffee table uneaten.

“Listen, Cin,” she said, staring back at the TV. “I’m glad you came by. There is something… something I wanted to ask you.” 

“Of course,” I said. “That’s why I’m here. Anything. Just name it.”

She rubbed her face.

“Well, you say that now…” she trailed off.

She looked up at me. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, and her nose was raw and red-looking.

“It’s this stupid play. I just don’t think I have it in me to be Mrs. Claus anymore after what’s happened,” she finally said.

She glanced over at me and then looked away shamefully.

And I suddenly understood with crystal-clear clarity what she was asking.

And once I did, I knew I was going to regret her shop burning down more than she did.

She had to be joking.

“But you see,
somebody
has to be Mrs. Claus, Cin,” she said. “She’s a key part of the play. A key part of the whole day in general. And not just anybody can play her.”

“I—”

“This is Christmas River, after all,” she said. “And we have our traditions. If nothing else.”

Her eyes filled up with water and started to redden.

And then I knew for sure that there was no way out.

There was no way I could leave Kara hanging like that.

Sometimes, being there for a person wasn’t always easy. Especially when it meant wearing red velvet and hose in the dead of summer.

Still, there had to be a better answer, right?

“Well, don’t they have an understudy or something?” I asked. “I mean, just about anybody else in the play would be a better Mrs. Claus than me.”