“Does she have family? I heard her say she’s a single mother.”
“Of two adult daughters who left home before she moved here. When did you meet Lewis?” Rosie clicked out of Facebook and back to the sales screen.
“Yesterday. He mentioned a Christmas Eve party.”
“Yes. I told you all about…oh. I didn’t. Did I?”
“Was it my blank expression that gave it away?” Charlotte grinned. “Are you going to it?”
“Always. And so should you.”
“Just as well I went shopping this morning and stocked up. What should I bring?”
The morning was so busy that Rosie didn’t stop smiling. Charlotte’s legs ached with every step and she blamed the steep steps to the waterfall for that. But the atmosphere of joyful buying and cheery customers was enough to make her forget her tiredness.
People dropped in gifts for Rosie. By lunchtime she had a shopping bag full of them behind the counter.
“I’m thinking of running this home. That way I won’t have too much to carry tonight if more come.” Rosie put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, listen to me, almost expecting gifts!”
The first chance she got, she hurried out. Charlotte longed to sink onto her stool for a short break, but the shelves weren’t going to tidy or restock themselves, so she sipped some water and got back to work.
She carried an armful of books from the storeroom to replace recently sold titles. Halfway into the shop, the hair stood up on the back of her neck and she looked around. Nobody was there.
“Rosie?”
No answer. And she’d have heard the buzzer. Something made her look out of the window. The blue ute was parked across the street. A man leaned back on the bonnet, his legs and arms crossed as he stared straight at her. The man from the lookout.
Charlotte couldn’t move. Or breathe. He had seen her yesterday and more than that, he knew her. The books grew heavy in her arms. She was going to drop them unless she put them down.
Move, legs.
She forced herself to the counter, the books spilling onto it as her arms gave way. After righting the pile, she looked outside.
He wasn’t at the ute.
Was he coming in here?
The phone was in her hand in an instant but then the familiar sound of the ute’s motor made her pause. It U-turned slowly, the passenger window wound right down. As he passed, the man gave her the finger.
Charming.
Bit by bit, Charlotte’s heartbeat returned to normal and her legs co-operated. Anger kicked the fear to the kerb. He could stare into the shop with a mask, or directly at her without one, but now she knew his face, he was in her sights.
Her bold thoughts settled to more moderate and sensible ones by the time Rosie returned. She needed to talk to Trev, but away from Rosie. Whatever that young man, and Sid, and a few of the others in town had going on required careful consideration, not rushing in and taking risks with nothing but hunches and a few photos that didn’t match up.
“You look deep in thought, darling. Were you rushed off your feet?”
“Busy for almost the whole time. Oh, is that an iced chocolate for me?” Charlotte almost clapped her hands as Rosie placed the cup holder on the counter.
“It is. The caffeine will help.”
“Yummy, thank you.” After a long sip through the straw, Charlotte sighed. “I needed this so much.”
“You deserve it. And you’ve even restocked and tidied. Nobody should ever complain about how this little shop looks.”
“Speaking of people who complain…” Charlotte finally sat on her stool and stretched her legs. “Glenys.”
“Was she in again?”
“No. But yesterday when I was at the top of the falls, I noticed her at the lookout. She had flowers.”
Rosie nodded. “Of course. It would be to remember her poor husband. Must be around fifteen years ago he slipped off that very place.”
“I assumed as much. What a dreadful thing. She had someone with her.”
“One of the ladies?” Rosie said.
“A young man. Dark, longish hair. Twenties.”
“Hm. Doesn’t sound familiar. Perhaps her nephew. Her brother used to live in town and was a bit of a hell-raiser. Ended up in prison and his family moved. Never been back. But there was a son.”
Oh, Glenys. Are you harbouring a criminal?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Whatever Glenys might be up to, Charlotte had no more time to worry about it, or the rather rude young driver of the blue ute. The remainder of the day flew by and before she knew it, Rosie was waving the final customer goodbye and closing the front door.
“Already?”
“You, my darling, are a natural retailer. What you’ve done this past week or two is nothing short of amazing and I am proud of you!” Rosie reached her hand out and when Charlotte took it, pulled her down to kiss her cheek. “Very proud.”
Charlotte couldn’t stop smiling as a lovely warmth filled her heart. She’d rarely been praised in her life and no longer expected it, so these words from the lady she respected so much meant the world.
Rosie pulled the metal cash box out from beneath the counter. “Are you happy for me to donate all the notes to Darcy’s family?”
“I can think of no better recipient. How will we get it to them, and the books? Shall I drive up tonight?”
“No need. I spoke to Abbie earlier and they are bringing Lachie down for the Christmas Eve party. One of the local grandfathers always dresses as Santa and I’m going to get him to make sure the money is put directly into Darcy’s hands. Not that anyone other than you and I know what will be inside a gift-wrapped box with his name on.”
“So, shall I wrap?”
“Yes please. I saved that little box back there and will go get the rest of the money.” Rosie disappeared to the back. Charlotte put all the books for Lachie into a bigger box, then selected plain brown wrapping paper. This was her favourite, because then she could add some colourful ribbons and a bow and know it was fully recyclable.
“What time is this party?” Charlotte called as she finished wrapping.
“In an hour. Gives people a chance to get home from work and freshen up. I might go and do that myself, if you’re fine to close the registers?” Rosie returned to the counter with the remaining wad of cash. “I’m so happy. Do you know, the generous people of this town helped us raise almost five hundred dollars? I just put the last twenty in to round it up.”
“Oh, Rosie that’s wonderful! That much money might give the Forests a little bit of breathing space.”
“All thanks to your ideas.” Rosie collected her handbag and another full bag of gifts. “My goodness, I’m keeping fit just by lugging this around, but aren’t I spoilt?”
Yes, she was, and rightly so. Charlotte let Rosie out through the front door and locked it behind her, turning the open sign to closed. She was loved, respected, and admired in Kingfisher Falls.
Which made it all the stranger that people like the book club ladies were suddenly turning their backs. Charlotte hurried up. She wasn’t going to dwell on the idiosyncrasies of the few. Not when there was a Christmas party to attend.
A shower later, Charlotte stared at her open wardrobe. The only parties she’d attended in her life were workplace ones. This one was an outdoor, casual event, but she didn’t want to wear shorts and T-shirt. She held a dress in front of herself. Better to keep for dinner tomorrow. There was a tropical looking blouse she’d picked up somewhere, so she teamed it with a skirt and put sandals on her bare feet.
When she’d shopped before work this morning, she’d agonised over what to take tonight. Lewis had said everyone took a plate, and Rosie wasn’t even worried about her taking anything, but she was going to. She’d settled on a pile of cute gingerbread cookies, all in different shapes. Admittedly, they were from the bakery department of the supermarket, but baked in-house. One day she’d learn to do all of this herself.
With an apolog
etic glance at the gingerbread house kit pushed to the back of the counter, Charlotte covered the box of cookies with foil and threw her handbag over her shoulder.
Nerves almost got the better of her. She stared at the door, box in her hand, and bit her lip a bit harder than expected. This was her new home. Kingfisher Falls. And most of the people were amazing, she knew this from meeting so many customers. Plus, Esther and Doug, Lewis, and the lovely people at both restaurants.
Stop overthinking, Charlie.
But what if Sid was there? And the book club ladies? Or Veronica and the councillors and even worse, the blue ute boys, as she’d begun to think of them.
Charlotte walked out onto the balcony and looked down the street. Cars were pulling up along the kerbs on both sides, families wandered toward the plaza, and as the light slowly faded, the beautiful Christmas lights began to dance. Music drifted over.
Her little tree sparkled in the last of the sunlight.
“Tell me what to do.” She whispered. “Go, or stay here and hide?”
Even as she spoke, she grinned. “Guess I’ll be partying, huh?”
Down on the street, she almost changed her mind seeing Sid and Marguerite, arm in arm as they strolled ahead. It was a first to see him in anything other than a police uniform or his more standard attire of tracksuit pants and singlet. Tonight, he wore a bright Hawaiian shirt and shorts. His legs were even hairier than his shoulders.
“Bother.” She glanced at her own top, but at least hers didn’t have giant pineapples all over it.
The plaza was alive with movement and sound. Past the fountain, trestle tables lined up to form a long, narrow table filled with all manner of goodies. A giant seafood platter took pride of place on one table. Further along was a huge Christmas cake. In between was everything from salads, to cheese platters, and lots of turkey and ham.
Charlotte found an empty corner and sliding her box onto the table, took the foil off.
“Store bought! We make our own delicacies.” Octavia’s voice carried from three tables away.
Marguerite was with her, looking at Charlotte like something a cat dragged in. Although if it was Mayhem, he was more likely to take down Marguerite and spit her out. Charlotte giggled.
Octavia pursed her lips and Marguerite patted her arm. “I’m sure she’s been drinking, love. Who’d laugh at being told they don’t fit in and never will?”
“I think you are right.” Octavia picked up a skewer of some kind and it promptly spilled sauce all over her white dress. “Oh my God!”
Before she burst into laughter, Charlotte turned away. She should have offered a napkin but wasn’t in the mood. Darcy, Abbie, and Lachie stood back from the tables, their aloneness obvious. Lachie was wide-eyed at the laden tables, and then he spoke to his dad and a moment later, headed for the fountain.
“Hello!” Charlotte waved as she approached. Darcy and Abbie held hands. “Thank goodness you are here. I’m a bit nervous about all of this.”
“You are?” Abbie’s face was drawn. “But you live here.”
“I’m the newbie. And I’m shy by nature.”
“No need, Charlie.” Darcy grinned the way he did the first time they met. “Lots of friendly folk around.”
“Not all friendly.” Abbie’s voice was quiet. Darcy nudged her gently with his shoulder. “Would you like something to eat?”
“We didn’t bring anything.”
“Hah!” Charlotte said. “Then you’re perfect for the yummy gingerbreads that I’ve just been told off about. Store bought at the last minute.”
Something like a smile flickered on Abbie’s face. “I’m still getting used to small towns. In the city we’d never do anything like this.”
“Then go and enjoy.”
“Babe, I might find something.” Abbie kissed Darcy’s cheek and wandered to the closest table.
“I really am happy you are here.” Charlotte turned to Darcy. “You may not know, but the bookshop had a giving box this year, and lots of people donated books with different age groups, genres, interests and the like.”
His smile disappeared.
Oh, Darcy. Don’t expect the worst.
“Do you know how many people asked if they could give a book to Lachie? And before you go all proud and protective on me, you need to know why. Okay?”
Lips pressed together, Darcy nodded.
“Cool. That kid of yours makes people happy. His manners and willingness to help out is not unnoticed. And the fact he calls Abbie ‘Mrs Forest’ is kinda cute. You need to admit that.” Charlotte grinned at Darcy and at last, his face softened into a sort-of-smile.
“So,” she continued. “There’s a box of books for him for Christmas. All appropriate, and all very well wrapped I might add.”
“Your work?”
“Darcy, I can only imagine how much you’ve had to contend with. You and your family are amazing people. Please don’t reject a little bit of help at this time of year, when so many people want to feel good about giving.”
Lachie ran over and grabbed his father’s leg. “Dad, daddy. Santa’s gonna be here!”
“Is that right?” Darcy said. “Have you said hello to Charlotte?”
“Hello, Charlotte. Is your tree quite well?”
Charlotte almost collapsed in laughter at the adult tone coming from a child’s mouth, but she kept her face serious. “The tree is very well. It thanks you for asking.”
The look he gave her almost broke her resolve.
“Trees do not speak. Perhaps we should check this tree in case it has become an alien.”
“Oh. You like aliens?”
“He loves aliens.” Abbie returned with a small plate of food. “The scarier, the better.”
“Santa is an alien!” Lachie announced, over his shoulder as he ran back toward the fountain.
“This is true.” Charlotte observed.
“Sorry about yesterday.” Darcy looked at the ground. “Got some bad news and it felt like the final straw.”
Abbie leaned her head on his shoulder and his arm went around her. A little twinge of wistfulness touched Charlotte. Time to move along. “My advice is get a big plate of Christmas fare before Sid and the book club ladies consume the lot. That’s where I’m off to now.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
She didn’t get as far as the tables. Rosie wheeled toward her, waving in an urgent fashion that had Charlotte weaving through people to reach her near the fountain.
“There’s been another…” Rosie lowered her voice, glancing around. “Another break-in. Another tree gone. My neighbour. Arrived home from work ready to begin preparing for tomorrow’s lunch with their relatives and the back door was wide open.”
Rosie stopped to draw breath and Charlotte squeezed her arm, squatting at her side to keep the conversation private. A few people glanced their way. “And the tree was gone?”
“Yes. Tree, and this time something else was taken. They’re expecting their first grandchild and had a highchair set up ready to give them.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. So specific.” Rosie gazed at the Forests, who were sitting on a bench a little distance away with plates.
“Rosie! They didn’t do it.”
“I know. But someone wants to make it look that way.”
Surely nobody would accuse the family of stealing a highchair. What was next? Charlotte got to her feet as Glenys appeared through the partygoers, looking around until she saw Octavia and Marguerite. In a moment they were huddling around Glenys’ phone.
“What’s she showing them?” Rosie was at a disadvantage from her position. “Is it on a phone?”
“Yes. And they’re getting all riled up. Rosie, we might need to—”
Rosie was already on her way to the Forests to get there before the book club ladies. They, led by Octavia, ploughed through anyone who was in their way without so much as an ‘excuse me’. This couldn’t end well. Charlotte chased after Rosie.
At the
bench, Darcy was on his feet, in front of Abbie and Lachie as though protecting them. Abbie clutched Lachie to her, hands over his ears as Octavia bellowed at them.
“—of all the sneaky, underhand and cruel things to do!”
“Stop it!” Rosie got there just before Charlotte. “Octavia, lower your voice before you frighten the child.”
“The child? Who cares about the baby who now won’t have a highchair!” Octavia’s face was bright red and her hands in fists against her hips. “What do you have to say for yourself, Darcy Forest? What excuse do you have?”
The music stopped. People turned to watch. Some moved closer. For an instant, the only sound was the gurgling of the fountain.
Darcy took a step forward. “I have no idea what you are yelling about, Mrs Morris. None.”
“Liar.” That was Marguerite.
Where was Sid? Charlotte couldn’t see him amongst the crowd.
“Ladies, please. This is a Christmas party. Not the Spanish Inquisition.” Rosie spun her chair, so she was at Darcy’s side, facing the three women. “What is the problem?”
“None of your business, Rosie Sibbritt.” Marguerite snarled.
Rosie blinked a few times, but her voice was steady and calm. “You’ve made this everyone’s business. I think you owe us all an explanation.”
Onlookers formed a circle around the bench, obviously agreeing.
Glenys tapped on her phone and then showed an image to Darcy. “This.” Then swiped. “And this.” She held the phone higher and showed it to the crowd.
The photos were in a pine forest clearing. The first was of a pile of broken artificial trees. The second was a wider shot and included a tipped over highchair with a bow around it.
People strained to see. “Where is it?” and “Is that a highchair?” rustling through the crowd like leaves in the wind.
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