A Humbug Holiday

by London Lovett

  Evan looked up from his conversation but then turned and kept pacing. Anyone, and most especially someone who knew Tim, could see that he was distraught about something. He finally got the courage to follow behind Evan. He reached up with a shaky hand and tapped Evan on the shoulder.

  Evan spun around with a deep, angry scowl, a perfectly Scrooge expression, but Tim held his ground and straightened his posture to speak. "I need to leave. My son hurt his ankle in soccer practice."

  Evan said something quickly into his phone and hung up. "But we're not finished at the office yet, and I need you to answer calls and questions while I'm on stage."

  Tim shrank down some under Evan's glower, which was made that much scarier by the makeup and fake mutton chops. "Helen says it might be broken, and Timmy is asking for his dad."

  I pretended to be reading something on my phone, but my ear was trained on the conversation. It was hard to believe anyone was as awful as Evan Weezer. He huffed and puffed and muttered something under his breath.

  "You'll have to work late tomorrow to make up for it," Evan growled.

  Tim nodded appreciatively, although his boss hardly deserved any kind of thanks. "I'll work late tomorrow, but I really must be off right now. Timmy is waiting for me."

  Evan waved him away as if he couldn't stand the sight of him. Tim hurried away on long thin legs, his shoulders a little more erect and more color in his face. It made me wonder if Evan had said no would Tim just have accepted the decision? It certainly didn't seem like a job worth saving. There had to be better people to work for than Evan Weezer Scrooge.

  Aside from the damaged set panel, the stage was ready for the rehearsal to start. Scottie came down the steps to stand in front of the stage. She was holding a mega phone. "Let's take places for scene one," she bellowed into the speaker.

  I walked up next to her. "I'll be on my way. I don't want to spoil the play for tonight. Thanks for letting me hang out."

  "I'm sorry about the chaos. We'll have to repair and paint that set. We're out of cardboard." She bit her lip in distress.

  "Is there something wrong?" I asked.

  She sighed and it was accidentally broadcast through the mega phone. She switched it off. "No, nothing's wrong. I'm just being silly and superstitious, but after the tent fiasco and now the set collapse, I can't help worrying that they were bad omens and that this play is headed for disaster."

  "Nonsense. I'm sure that's just opening day jitters. The stage and actors look terrific. It'll be fine. I'll see you later. And break a leg," I said as I walked away.

  "That's only for the cast members," she said in a fretful voice.

  I stopped. "Sorry. Then scratch that. Good wishes for a big success." I hurried out of the tent with cheeks flaming pink about my misstep.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket as I stepped into the fresh air. The guards were still standing out front, only they'd grown bored and had shirked their duty to have a snowball fight.

  I ducked out of the way of a flying sphere of snow and pulled out my phone. It was a text from Raine.

  "How about getting that mincemeat pie?"

  "Absolutely yes. I need the break."

  Chapter 11

  "The best part of this pie is the flaky crust," I said as I folded the last half of my mincemeat pie into a napkin.

  "Is that all you're eating?" Raine asked.

  "Yes, as predicted, fruit and meat mixed together is not really my thing. Besides, Emily baked a feast last night, and I have little control when it comes to Emily's cooking. And I've got a da—" I paused and peered over at Raine.

  Her eyes were round and sparkly. "Yes, go on. You were saying something about a date?" she prodded.

  "No, I was going to say day, I've got—a day of stuff to do." I waved my arm around. "Journalistic stuff for the day."

  She lifted her nose. "Fine, don't tell your best friend about your date." She pulled her knitted shawl higher on her shoulders.

  "All right. I'm going to the play tonight with a friend. It might be a date. I'm not sure. It seems like it."

  Raine stopped and turned to me in the middle of a rather bustling sidewalk. She crossed her arms. "Detective Brady Jackson asked you to the play and you didn't tell me?"

  "And this is why. You're treating the causal, impromptu outing as if he'd gotten down on a knee and proposed to me. It's no big deal."

  Raine's eyes rounded again as her attention was pulled away by something behind me.

  "He's walking this way, isn't he?" I asked.

  "Yup. And, might I add, he looks spectacular in a gunmetal gray sweater."

  I reached up to wipe my mouth. "Do I have any food on my face?" I asked quickly.

  "Too late to do anything about it now," Raine said and flashed a brilliant, white smile. "Detective Jackson," she said with a little tune, "I see you're out and about, keeping the festival safe and trouble free."

  I wiped my mouth once more and turned to look at him. His amber gaze drew me in like a magnet. Then he pulled it away to respond to Raine. "Actually, just like everyone else, I'm out here to eat."

  "You should try the mincemeat pie," Raine suggested. "They're delicious."

  Jackson's lip turned up slightly. "Not sure if the meat and fruit combo works for me."

  Raine secretly jabbed me as if that coincidence meant we were destined to be together forever.

  As Raine continued her conversation with Jackson, my eyes drifted around to find the source of a familiar laugh. It was my Mom's laugh, the flirty one. I froze with terror. It seemed the entire family was going to meet Detective Jackson in one impromptu sidewalk chat.

  Everyone's curious gazes fell immediately on the tall, dashing detective standing next to me. "Looks like you're about to meet the entire Taylor trio," I muttered from the side of my mouth.

  "I thought that might be your mom. You look like her," he muttered back.

  "Fancy meeting all of you here," Lana said cheerily. She dropped right into gracious introduction mode. Her hand went out. "I know we've met before, less formally. I'm Lana, Sunni's sister." I noticed she left off the adjective older in her greeting. Before I could utter even a single word, Lana burst right into the other introductions. "This is Maggie, our mom and our youngest sister, Emily." This time she used the qualifier.

  "Brady Jackson. Nice to meet all of you," Jackson said. "I was just telling Sunni how much she looked like her mother."

  That comment earned a girlish giggle from my mom. It was a new laugh that I'd never heard before. (Apparently one she saved for extraordinarily handsome detectives.) I half expected her to coyly pull at a strand of hair as she smiled up at him. "That's so nice to hear. Sunni and I have a lot of similarities."

  I tried to figure out what those similarities were other than the shape of our eyes and skin tone, but my attention was instantly diverted when Jackson turned to Emily to ask her a question. I immediately felt the twinge of envy I always felt when a man turned his attention to my beautiful blonde sister. It was a stupid reaction, but I couldn't stop it.

  "You sell organic eggs out at your farm, right?" he asked. "What hours are you open? I've been meaning to buy some."

  "Great," Emily said. Unlike my mom, she hadn't added any giggle or flirty blink to her response. She didn't need to. "I think I have a business card. It has the hours listed on the back." Emily dug through her purse for the card. Mom used the lull in conversation to jump into Mom mode.

  "So, Detective Jackson, how do you two know each other? My daughter hasn't been in some kind of trouble with the law, has she?" She chuckled at the end of the absurd question.

  "Yes, Mom. We met when he foiled my armed bank robbery."

  "She was quite the wily little culprit," Jackson continued. "Actually, Sunni's helped out on a few murder cases. Her investigative skills are impressive."

  Lana knew darn well I'd been working on murder cases, but she put on a show of shock and surprise. "Wow, Sunni, that's amazing."

  Emily and I exchanged bri
ef eye rolls.

  "Well, dear, don't do anything dangerous. You let the detective handle the scary stuff," Mom said.

  "Darn." I peered up at Jackson, who was holding back a grin. "I guess that means no more sending me in first when we're about to take down the bad guy."

  Mom made a tsk-tsk sound. "I guess I've been properly chastised for being a worry wart. Just wait until you have children of your own." She looked pointedly between Jackson and me. I wondered if a hole could just open up in the icy sidewalk and suck me away.

  "Let's get some lunch," Emily said abruptly as she handed him her card. She winked at me and moved to whisk her two lunch mates away.

  Mom leaned in to whisper something to me on her way past. "And they'd be beautiful grandchildren at that."

  We waited for them to be well on their way, waving again at Lana and Mom as they turned into a kiosk selling knitted hats and scarves.

  "Well, that was unexpected," I chirped, not knowing what else to say.

  Jackson absently put his hand against the back of my coat. "It was nice seeing them. I'll see you tonight."

  "Yes. I'll be ready. It should be a good play. I got a special peek at the costumes and makeup at dress rehearsal. They were impressive."

  "Sounds good. See you later, Raine. And don't conjure up too many spirits this season. I've got enough live troublemakers to keep me busy through next year."

  Raine laughed. "Not making any promises on that front."

  We watched him walk away.

  "Lucky girl," Raine muttered.

  "Not feeling that lucky." We pulled our coat collars up. The temperature was dropping and every word came out with a burst of white condensation. "I was hoping to prep my mom before meeting Jax for the first time. But at least that bandage has been yanked free. Hopefully, during the second meeting, she won't bring up something humiliating about my childhood, like how I always wore so much dirt I left a ring around the bathtub or some sweet little nugget like that."

  Raine laughed as she linked her arm around mine. "I'm going to make sure I'm there for the second meeting. I think it will be well worth the wait."

  Chapter 12

  I leaned into the bathroom mirror to add another layer of mascara. Newman and Redford had plopped down in the hallway while I finished getting ready. The frigid air outside really narrowed down my wardrobe choices, which may or may not have been a good thing. It shortened my decision time but left me with few things that could be considered date attire. Or was I jumping ahead on calling it a date? Jackson had never used the word. Another bleak thought struck me. How many other women had he asked first? I laughed that notion off. After all, how many women would have said no when he asked?

  I stepped back and blew a raspberry at my reflection. "Silly woman." The years tossed away on my first steady boyfriend had left me with little confidence when it came to dating. And wasn't it just like me to dive back into the whole thing with Brady Jackson. It was like learning how to train sharks and hopping right into the great white shark tank to get started.

  I smoothed my hands down the forest green knit dress. I'd pulled on shiny black boots and even added a white cashmere scarf to top off the scooped collar of the dress. The look felt somewhat festive. I was still glancing at the mirror as I stepped out of the bathroom and tripped over Newman. My boots left a nice dent in the wooden floor as I hopped and stumbled a few steps before catching myself just as I entered the kitchen.

  "Always a delight to see you moving gracefully about the house," Edward drawled from his perch over the kitchen hearth. He glanced down at my boots and then looked pointedly at his own feet. "Just making sure I'm still wearing mine. Yours look strikingly similar. Perhaps my fashion sense is wearing off on you. Although, those pointy heels would hardly be practical in a stirrup. No need for riding spurs, I suppose."

  "Well, then it's lucky I'm not riding any horses tonight. And as to your fashion sense—" I looked at his blue waistcoat, breeches and tall boots. "Actually, I've got no snide comment. I love to see men dressed in nineteenth century garb. As long as I don't have to wear hoops and corsets."

  I decided to fill the wait time with the mindless task of unloading the dishwasher. "These boots are just for show." I wiggled my toes and discovered there was little room. "I'm certain my feet will make me rethink my choice by the end of the night."

  Edward floated over to the kitchen counter and peered down at me from his new perch. "What do you mean they're for show? Who are you showing them to?"

  "If you must know—"

  "Of course I must, why would I have asked you otherwise?"

  I pulled several cups out of the rack. "No, that's just a phrase we use. Never mind. I'm going to a play with a friend. That's all. So when he gets here, you'll need to disappear."

  He drifted down and stood directly next to the dishwasher, crossing his arms and ankles as he hovered just inches over the floor watching me like a great black crow. I continued my task unabated.

  "Since you're avoiding eye contact, I can only assume this friend you speak of is the man with the wild hair and wolfish eyes."

  "He doesn't have wild hair and wolfish eyes." A knife slipped from my fingers and clanged on the floor. I picked it up and dropped it back into the utensil rack for another wash.

  "Yes, he does," Edward said emphatically. I'd learned it was never easy winning any kind of debate with a stubborn, arrogant ghost. Mostly because he could just disappear at will.

  I dropped a spoon. "Argh, I'm going to fill this dishwasher back up before I get it emptied. And so what if he does have wild hair and wolfish eyes? Maybe that's exactly what I'm looking for in a man. Oops." I peered up at his face.

  His image sharpened and he looked intrigued. "Ah ha, so he is courting you. Going to a play with a friend indeed."

  The dogs barked and ran toward the front door.

  "He's here, so move along." I waved him away with a flutter of my fingers. "And don't say anything. Twice, Jackson has heard you."

  "That's impossible. It was just his imagination."

  "Even the British accent?"

  "I told you I don't have an accent. You have an accent."

  "Not going to get into that silly argument again." I shoved the dishwasher rack into place and closed it. I smoothed my dress and pinched my cheeks. "Go a-way. Now." I headed out of the kitchen.

  Newman and Redford sat with tails wagging waiting to greet their visitor. My usual flock of butterflies did their impromptu dance around my belly as I approached the entry. I was hoping to get out the door quickly to avoid any unwanted disturbances from a certain tenant, but Jackson seemed to have different plans.

  "I'll just get my coat," I told him as I opened the door. He was wearing a winter coat over a dark blue sweater. It seemed he'd run a brush through his wild hair.

  He stepped into the entry and patted both dogs. "I was hoping to see the progress you've made." It dawned on him then that I was trying to hurry out the door. "Or I can stay on the porch and wait for you."

  "No, don't be silly. I was just rushing so we can get good seats."

  "Already took care of that. Sometimes the job comes with perks. We're right up front."

  "Oh my, the VIP section. Hope I dressed right." He grabbed my hand as I turned to fetch my coat.

  I spun back to him.

  He made a long, slow point of looking at my boots. "You look great, and I'm a big fan of those boots."

  I turned my foot side to side as if showing off my ankle. "Do you like them? I confess, I bought them on a whim. I hardly ever wear them because they're so impractical. Unless, of course, I'm planning to ride a horse. Although, I've been told these heels would not be practical in stirrups."

  "Wouldn't need any spurs, that's for sure."

  I paused for a second and had to contain a laugh. He sounded just like Edward. "Do you ride?" I motioned for him to follow me to the dining room, a room that was finally starting to look inhabitable.

  "Basically grew up on my grandfathe
r's farm. He had lots of horses. Some well-trained, some not so well-trained. Of course, that never stopped me from climbing on their backs." He reached up and rubbed the back of his head. "I've got a nice scar on my skull to prove just how stupid I was."

  We stepped into the dining room. I made my way around the tools and supplies to the work lamp Henry had set up for working late. I flicked it on. It was a harsh, yellowish light, yet Jackson managed to look as if he'd just stepped out of a men's fashion catalog.

  "The wainscoting and crown moulding will be painted white. I haven't yet decided on a color for the walls."

  Jackson looked around at the room. Ursula and Henry had done a great job smoothing the walls and the ceilings after everything had been patched. "The Rices are kind of irritating, but they do good work," he said. "It's going to be really nice, Sunni."

  "Thank you. It's a lot of work and money, but I think it'll be worth it in the end." I turned off the light. We stood for the briefest moment, just a pair of shadows in a dark room. I could still feel him looking at me though, and it made my cheeks warm.

  I led him out of the room. "It's nice that you spent so much time with your grandfather," I said as he followed me to the kitchen.

  "Didn't have much choice. Both my parents worked, and I tended to get into trouble when I wasn't supervised. So every summer, they shipped me off to work and play on my grandpa's farm. I had fun and also managed to get in trouble there too. As evidenced by the scar on the back of my head."

  We reached the kitchen. I took a quick peek around but saw no sign of Edward. Maybe, for once, he'd actually heeded my request to disappear. Though I was certain he was lingering within earshot of our conversation.

  "I'll just grab my coat, and we can be off." As I left the room, Jackson's phone rang.

  His deep voice floated through the kitchen as he answered it. "Hey, Trina, can I call you back?"