The Christmas Rental
Savannah Hendricks
Grand Bayou Press
First published by Grand Bayou Press 2021
Copyright © 2021 by Savannah Hendricks
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Savannah Hendricks asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Savannah Hendricks has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021907933
ISBN Paperback 978-1-7344553-2-8 ** EBOOK B092RFL1RD
Editor: Krista Dapkey - www.kdproofreading.com
Cover design and layout, & chapter header design and layout: Savannah Hendricks
For Dick & Jeanette, Ted & Sandy, John & Mary Ann, Bill & Linda, Steve & Sharon, Sandy, cousins John, Kim, Karen, Diane, Mary, Paul, Candace, Patty, and Donna Bertrand.
And for the angels: Sharon, Arlene, Linda, and Don
Foreword
Fishing at Uncle Don & Aunt Arlene's home (1988)
My richest childhood memories are of the times I spent in the Midwest. And when the idea of The Christmas Rental came to me, I couldn’t think of a better place than Minnesota to set the story. I’ve lost count of how many vacations I spent on the lakes and the wide-open backyards' of my relatives. It’s also why I ask people if they want a “pop” versus a “soda,” and when I say “bag,” it sounds like “beg.”
My parents both grew up in the Midwest, spread across Minnesota and into Wisconsin and South Dakota. So spending time in a tiny fishing boat, hanging from a tree swing, swimming in the lakes, watching horseshoes flying into sand traps, and hearing the laughter floating over the tops of refilled coffee mugs is only a sample of my beautiful memories.
As you cozy up with this story, I hope it brings you the same sense of warmth, caring, and love I’ve been blessed to have in my life, represented by some of the most wonderful things that make the Midwest such a gem – the people.
Driving the John Deere on Uncle Dick's farm (1990)
Contents
Welcome to Oakvale
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Epilogue
Thank you readers...
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also By Savannah
Welcome to Oakvale
CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Lorelei Parker - Doctor
Tyler McCain - Real Estate Agent/ bowling alley
Mary Ann Parker - Lorelei’s daughter
Cider - Tyler’s dog
Richard McCain - Tyler’s dad
Arlene McCain - Tyler’s mom
Joanne Parker - Lorelei’s mom
John Parker - Lorelei’s dad
Sharon Miller - owns the café
Sandy & Ted - own Once Upon a Book
Garrison - Sandy & Ted’s dog
Diane & Kim - own Thrifty Finds
Don - owns the convenience store
Candace & Chris North - Lorelei’s aunt and uncle
Jodi - receptionist/assistant at the doctor’s office
Uncle Steve - owns Oakvale Pizza Pie
Chapter 1
Tyler McCain leaned against the window and scoped out the town as he flipped the pen around his fingers. A week ago, when he’d spoken with Lorelei Parker on the phone, she’d sounded like a punctual person. As an emergency room doctor, he assumed she had to be.
After a final glance outside for approaching cars, he turned to the pile of hardcover novels on the corner of his desk. The stack had grown so high if he closed one eye, it reminded him of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. With the holiday hustle and bustle, he’d fallen behind on his to-be-read list.
“Might as well read another chapter while we wait,” Tyler stated to his rescue dog, Cider. The mutt continued to snore away on her plush dog bed next to the desk.
Thinking of his pending appointment, he clicked the schedule open on the monitor. Dr. Lorelei Parker was the only name on the calendar for the entire month of December. He spun around in his desk chair but went too far and corrected himself before he could be mistaken for a kindergartner goofing off.
Tyler picked up his cell phone and checked the screen for missed calls, but he knew in the silence of the McCain Rental and Real Estate office he couldn’t have missed the ringer if he’d tried. He glanced over at the bowling lanes and chuckled. To this day, he couldn’t get over the fact that his office was inside the historic Oakvale bowling alley. With the town’s tree lighting tonight, he’d be hard-pressed to find any residents stopping in for a quick game.
Upon entering the building, to the right, was the bowling alley. And Tyler never tired of seeing out-of-towners express looks of confusion when they stepped inside. The real estate office sat off to the left of the lanes in a makeshift space. Over twenty years ago, his parents had remodeled the snack area by removing the tables and bench seating and converted it into an office. After high school, Tyler worked side by side with his dad, Richard, and mom, Arlene, learning the real estate business.
This morning, he’d spend time decorating the office and bowling alley for Christmas. He started by stringing colored lights around the front windows, before hanging ornaments on the two freshly cut trees he’d hauled back from Paul’s Christmas Tree Farm. After securing the wreaths by ribbons to the center of each window, Tyler moved on, weaving garland around the bowling ball and shoe rental racks. The sounds of Loretta Lynn’s Christmas album filtered through the speakers. Just as he was about to start singing along off-key, a blast of thirty-degree weather shot through the
front door.
“Tyler, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out showing Dr. and Mrs. Norths’ home?” Richard McCain entered the office, balancing a cardboard box in his arms.
Tyler was his dad's mirror image, tall with brown hair so dark it could be confused as black. Gray hair didn’t run in the family until much later than most, and when people saw them from the back, they joked they were brothers. They even sounded similar on the phone, causing callers to ask if they were speaking to Tyler or Richard.
“She hasn’t shown up yet. And I need to head over and help with tree lighting prep soon. Hopefully, she doesn’t take too much longer to get here.” Tyler took the box from his dad and set it on the neighboring empty desk. “What’s this for?”
“This Christmas, I’m hiding my decorations for the annual twig reindeer decorating contest from your mom. I think it’s how she’s one-upping me every year. She sneaks a peek and figures out something better for her reindeer.” Richard removed the black gloves from his hands and shoved them into his jacket pocket.
“I think I’m going to win this year.” Tyler patted his dad on the back. “Are you sure you want to leave that box here?”
“No peeking, you might be a spy for your mom.”
“Good one. I very well could be.” He gazed sideways at his dad, playing along.
“We both know—heck, the whole town knows—your mom is the only one to beat.”
Cider stood from her dog bed and greeted Richard. The dog’s chest was pure-white fur, which only spread to her paws and the tip of her tail, while amber covered the rest of her. She had one good eye (the right) and appeared to be a Brittany mixed with a Saint Bernard. Cider went everywhere with Tyler, from work to any of the shops in town.
As Richard bent down and scratched around Cider’s ears, the tag on her crimson collar clinked.
“How’s my grand-pup doing today?” Richard asked as though Cider would answer.
“Maybe the Norths’ niece will participate in our reindeer contest.” Tyler gazed out the window once more. “I told you she’s their occupant, right?”
“I’m not sure if I heard it from you, Sandy, or maybe Don. Then again, it could’ve been the Norths before they left. I do know they have been trying to get her out here for some time now.” Richard gave one last scratch to Cider’s ears and stood up. “She could give Mom a run for that gift certificate prize if she wins the contest.”
“She needs to show up first.” Tyler rubbed his chin. “Maybe she’s stuck in traffic.”
“It would be the first traffic jam Oakvale, Minnesota has ever seen.” Richard chuckled and lifted the box off the desk.
“Not here, of course, maybe leaving the city or getting through Booth.” Tyler watched as his dad set the box in the corner of the storage closet next to a stack of printer paper and cleaning supplies. He turned his desk chair and faced the window. There was not a time Tyler could remember when he tired of the view from his office or anywhere in Oakvale. Across the street stood Once Upon a Book, the always busy bookstore. On his side of the road, next door, was Oakvale Pizza Pie, followed by the doctor’s office and Don’s Conveniences along with the pharmacy. Directly in the center of downtown, a Frasier fir grew in the middle of the traffic circle.
Tyler caught his dad glancing around the office with his mouth turned up into a delighted smile. “The decorations look good.” He went to his son. “It’s a true blessing to have you running the family business”—Richard patted Tyler on the shoulder and squeezed it—“and we wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I know, Dad. You don’t need to mention it every time you stop by. It’s been years now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being proud of my son carrying on the family name.” Richard gazed around. “Twenty-some years of hard work, we had our ups and downs, but it’s still standing. I can’t wait to see our grandkids and great-grandkids running this place someday.” A twinkle appeared in his eye when he smiled. “Well, son, I’m heading home. Your mom should be pulling her peppermint chip cookies from the oven any minute.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’d save you some, but …”
“Mom will be lucky if she gets them to cool before they’re all gone,” Tyler remarked.
Richard opened the door, initiating the return of frosty air through the office. Tyler rubbed his shoulders and shivered.
He sighed and tried not to stare at Once Upon a Book for too long, but his vision always found its way across the street, and he’d become lost in thought while gazing off at it. The For Sale sign rested in the corner of the window nearest the door. When his parents weren’t pushing for him to meet someone special and start a family of his own, they were ecstatic to discuss the family business at length. Smiles warmed their faces every time they spoke of their pride in him running it. Not to mention how delighted they were that their dream would continue through Tyler as he handed it down to the next generation. Yet all he wanted sat right across the street. He reminded himself that either way, he would have to give up one dream for another since money wasn’t nearly as abundant as the snowflakes outside.
The real estate market in Oakvale had been in a lull the last few months without any new houses being built and having a limited turnover of properties. The only rental in town was Dr. and Mrs. Norths’ house for December. The lack of immediate prospects didn’t concern his parents; the business always bounced back somehow. The low turnover rate of residents was thanks to the wonderful town and the slower-paced lifestyle.
Outside, the historic curved-metal bowling alley sign still pointed at the front of the building and remained the largest sign in town. The much smaller (but still decent sized) McCain Rental and Real Estate sign hung under the building’s façade. Anyone looking for the real estate office was always directed to the bowling alley sign, which undoubtedly could be seen from space.
Back when his parents purchased the abandoned bowling alley, long after the iron ore mining slowed, the town of Oakvale was on the rise of residents and needed someone to sell the vacant properties. The original bowling alley owners hightailed it out of town faster than a toboggan on a ninety-degree, snow-covered hill when their first grandbaby was born. While Tyler earned an adequate income running both of the businesses, the bowling alley provided the lion’s share last year.
He’d worked in the building since the age of ten. His first job had been spraying the insides of the shoes, checking them out to bowlers, and putting the balls back on the racks at closing time. He’d never forget the local bowling club’s weekly get-togethers. Or how packed the place had gotten for birthday parties.
Tyler sighed at the memories as he removed his worn-from-childhood, hand-crafted bookmark from his novel. He opened the hardcover far enough to feel the spine crack. Sure, he’d been scolded a thousand times about doing such a thing to a book, but he couldn’t help it. To him, nothing was worse than a book that looked like no one had ever read it. Leaning back in the desk chair, his mind became lost in the story.
After a chapter, thirsty for warmth, he picked up his mug and sauntered over to the beverage bar. His dad had managed to salvage the vintage soda shop countertop from Don’s Conveniences when the pharmacy area was remodeled. The beverage bar hosted two coffee makers and a hot water dispenser with teas, chocolate, and cider selection. Mismatched mugs for every season from Valentine’s Day to New Year’s hung from hooks on the wall behind it. A refrigerator sat at the end of the bar, cases of cold beverages lined up inside. At the other end of the counter, an antique register hogged up a bit of space. Of course, it was never used, but it belonged. Residents would hand Tyler cash or checks for games and drinks. The line of bowling balls and shoes were self-serve, which meant Tyler often found himself with little to do. He thought about changing the rules up, but residents were used to it and didn’t mind. A sign near the beverage station noted the rules:
Find your shoes and ball size.
Have fun, be respectful.
Return the balls to t
he rack and your shoes to the return box.
To be honest, the bowling alley could run itself with an honor-system drop box. All Tyler had to do was spray down the shoes and put them back on the rack according to size. And he thought of that every day when he shoved the key into the lock to start his morning at his family’s building instead of opening the bookstore’s door across the street. A part of him wondered if his parents were more attached to the history behind the building and their time here than the actual business.
Holding the mug with both hands, he sipped the warm cider. Tyler returned to his desk and pulled out a piece of paper. While he waited, he might as well write some ideas down for the twig reindeer contest. After a few minutes, when nothing came to mind, Tyler’s eyes glanced over at the closet toward his dad’s box. His mom was the feared competitor to beat, which meant looking at what he had in there couldn’t be cheating, only making sure at least one of them would have the upper hand.
When Tyler stood up, he checked to make sure no one was coming and walked softly across the floor to the closet. He peeked over his shoulder, squatted to his knees, and opened the cardboard lid.
Chapter 2
The drive going north on I-35 was beautiful. Evergreens and bare maples lined the road with pockets of perfectly white snow glistening between them. Lorelei Parker tucked a strand of her strawberry blonde bob behind her ear as the radio went to static. Reaching forward, she pushed the scan button until another station came through clearly. As she stretched her back slightly, the welcome sign came into view.
Oakvale Welcomes You! Slow down, and enjoy your time!
“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Lorelei said to her adopted six-month-old daughter in the back seat as she gazed ahead, taking a deep breath. “If only your Gramps and Grams could understand.”
The Christmas Rental Page 1
