Christmas on the Coast

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “Can Sarge ride?” Davey called out.

  “No, buddy, it’s not safe,” Paul said. “He can watch.” Standing in front of the cottage, beside Georgiana, Paul watched Davey and Ferguson laughing together, Ferguson walking beside the vehicle, Davey grinning widely from the driver’s seat. Their voices drifted back on the bay’s cool breeze, the tik-tik-tik of the little vehicle’s motor punctuating their words.

  Georgiana looked up and down the cottage-lined street. “It’s a pretty spot,” she admitted. “Wendy would have loved it here.”

  “Yes, she would have.” It was partly true. In the last year of Wendy’s life, she’d stopped aspiring after the wealthy lifestyle adhered to by her parents and friends. She’d figured out that money couldn’t buy the important things, like family and love and most of all, health.

  That Wendy, the wiser one who’d seen the bigger picture, would have loved it here. Leave it at that.

  “How did you get to know that Amber woman?” Georgiana asked.

  He definitely didn’t want to describe that episode in detail. “Davey wandered over there, and she was kind to him,” he said. Which was true, although not the whole story.

  “I think she wants something from you.”

  “Like what?” Paul couldn’t fathom what a woman like Amber would need from a washed-up cop like him.

  “Some women are always on the prowl,” she said darkly. “She’s probably lonely and looking for companionship, maybe more.”

  “Like my huge bank account?” Paul said lightly. It was a sore point with his in-laws, his humble lifestyle and lack of ambition to earn a big salary. It had been a big sore point with Wendy, once the initial infatuation had worn off.

  “Maybe she thinks you have more than you do.”

  “I doubt she needs money, Georgiana. And I doubt she wants anything from me.” Some part of him wondered what Georgiana had seen to make her think Amber was interested in him, but most likely it was just her suspicious mind.

  His own surprise attraction to Amber was nothing more than a physical reminder that he hadn’t gone out on a real date since Wendy’s death. He’d had lunch with a couple of women who friends had set him up with, but nothing had come of that because he just wasn’t ready. One night last spring, he’d gotten talked into a night of drinking with a few teachers from the school; loneliness had pushed him into a hookup with one of them, but they’d both agreed afterward that it had been a mistake and they were better off as friends.

  It had seemed then, though, like he was waking up a little, getting ready to date. Over the summer, he’d started noticing pretty women more often and had considered asking out the mother of one of Davey’s friends.

  And then the awful incident and its aftermath had happened and he’d died inside again.

  “I know you’re going to find someone else sometime,” Georgiana said, reading his mind. “But I hope, for Davey’s sake, it’ll be someone more like Wendy. Someone appropriate.”

  I can make my own decisions! But he knew what Davey represented to them: their grandson was all that remained of their beloved daughter. He put an arm around Georgiana’s shoulders. “I’m a long way from that,” he said, “but you can be sure I’ll put Davey first if it ever happens.”

  A vision flashed into his mind: Amber encouraging Davey to dig holes wherever he wanted, then gently guiding him to go with Paul and his grandparents. She’d been great with him, today and the other night, as well.

  Sarge let out a woof and took a few steps toward the street, and Paul smiled to see a woman walking a big, fluffy poodle mix. Come to think of it, the woman looked something like Amber, and Paul wondered if this was the sister married to Trey, the cop.

  The dog spotted Sarge and lunged playfully in their direction, pulling the woman a few feet before she spoke sharply to him and regained control. “Sorry,” she said. “Ziggy is friendly, but he’s a big goof.”

  “All dogs are.” Paul moved forward to let Sarge greet Ziggy. “What kind of dog? He looks bigger than a standard poodle.”

  “Goldendoodle,” she said. “I’m Erica, and I think you met my husband, Trey, earlier this week. I’d stay and talk, but we’re just taking a quick spin and then I need to get back to my son.” She gave Georgiana a friendly wave and then continued down the street.

  Paul wished he could just hang out in the yard without the complication of Davey’s grandparents, especially Georgiana. But when he dutifully turned back to her and realized she looked teary-eyed, he felt ashamed. “Are you okay, Georgiana? What’s wrong?”

  “I just hate the thought that you’ll replace Wendy, and Davey will get other grandparents, and we’ll lose him, too.” The words seemed wrenched out of Georgiana, who was normally more rigid than sentimental. “You sold your beautiful house, and I don’t even know where you’re going to end up after your time here.”

  “Hey.” He pulled his mother-in-law into a hug, and surprisingly, she let him. He felt her shake with a sob. “Don’t you worry about that. I’m not going to replace Wendy, ever. She’ll always be Davey’s mom, and you’ll always be his grandparents.”

  “You say that now, but things change.” She looked up at him, her mascara making black smudges beneath her eyes.

  “That can’t change,” he said.

  And his own determination to choose the right woman, when he started to date again, grew stronger. Georgiana was right about one thing: Amber Rowe wasn’t the right person, although for different reasons than Georgiana had expressed.

  Not only was she colorful and bold, not his type at all, but she was a cancer survivor. That meant she had a good chance of recurrence.

  He couldn’t put Davey through that kind of loss again. Better to rein in his attraction now and avoid the whole situation.

  That meant he needed to stay far, far away from her.

  * * *

  SATURDAY AFTERNOON, MARY waited anxiously in Goody’s ice cream and sandwich shop. She needed to get her new program up and running, fast.

  Imogene hadn’t shown up again for the talk she’d threatened, and Mary hoped she wouldn’t, but life didn’t work like that. You had to prepare for the worst.

  Imogene would come back, and she had enough on Mary to get her way. And her way was taking a big chunk of Mary’s money, if the past was any indication.

  Before that happened, Mary absolutely had to get this new program for victims of violent crimes underway. And as she’d thought about volunteer work for Paul, the latest resident of the Healing Heroes cottage, her ideas had crystalized. It would be perfect for him, given his background and because he needed something flexible so he could manage care of his son. He didn’t know the ropes or the town, but Amber would help with that.

  Amber walked in first, and Mary waved. “I already ordered milkshakes,” she said when Amber approached the table. “Presumptuous of me, I know, but everyone loves Goody’s milkshakes. We can get a late lunch, too, if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m not going to turn down a milkshake,” Amber said, hugging her and then picking up one of the cups. “Mmm, chocolate. How are you? You look great.”

  “So do you,” Mary said, although that wasn’t strictly true. Amber did look much healthier than when she’d arrived in Pleasant Shores almost two years ago, but she had dark circles under her eyes now, and somehow lacked the spring she usually had in her step. “What’s the latest on your international travels?”

  “Postponed,” Amber said, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Medical stuff. Nothing serious, I hope, but I have to stick around.”

  “I’m sorry about the travel,” Mary said, and pressed her lips closed so she wouldn’t express her real concern. Cancer had a way of sneaking back in. Amber had already suffered so much.

  Mary shot up a quick prayer: let the problem be minor and easily solved. Keep the cancer away.

  “Life can stin
k,” Amber said, shrugging. “Paul! Over here!”

  The handsome former cop waved and strode across the little café. He smiled, but it looked forced.

  Mary hoped her idea would help these two young people regain their enthusiasm and energy. “Sit down and have a milkshake,” she said to Paul, passing one over to him.

  “Thank you!” He sucked some up through the straw and smiled. “Fantastic stuff. I’d heard stories, but this is better than I imagined.”

  “Good. Now, I know you’re both busy, so let’s get right to it. Amber,” Mary said, patting the younger woman’s arm, “you’ve been doing a terrific job running the Healing Heroes cottage since Ria turned it over to you.”

  “Thanks. It’s been easy.”

  “Good, because what I’m about to suggest isn’t going to be easy at all. Paul,” she said, turning to him, “you need a volunteer gig. So, I’d like for you both to work together on an extension for the cottage.”

  “What do you mean?” Paul asked.

  “I mean, another similar cottage on the same street.”

  “To do what?” Amber stirred her milkshake with the straw. “Make Healing Heroes bigger?”

  “I want to start a new program,” Mary said, “for victims of violent crime.”

  Paul coughed and sucked in big gulps of milkshake. It made Mary realize, abruptly, that the topic might cause him pain, given his background.

  “You mean a place for them to stay?” Amber asked. “A rehab, like for the Healing Heroes?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Paul could do that,” Amber said, “but why me?”

  “Because you’re a great organizer and you know the town. You can talk people into anything. I’ve seen you raise funds for cancer research.” Indeed, Amber had talked Mary into making a sizable donation.

  “If what’s involved is buying a property and raising funds, I’m not sure I could be of much assistance.” Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “Not much experience with either thing.”

  Mary studied him. “You’re quite familiar with crime victims, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked sharply.

  Embarrassment washed over Mary. As the benefactor of the program, she had access to all the files, so she did know some of Paul’s background. But she didn’t want him to feel his privacy had been invaded. “I know you’re a former police officer, of course. So you’d be able to make sure the place had all the safety features needed, help us make contact with police departments, that kind of thing.”

  Goody walked over to their table, wiping her hands and looking out the window. Her habitually dour expression was darker than usual. “That dog is a menace,” she said.

  “What dog?” They all looked out in time to see Erica walking by with Hunter in a baby backpack, her giant goldendoodle trotting along beside her.

  Amber tapped on the glass and waved to Erica, then tilted her head and studied Goody. “You’re calling Ziggy a menace? He’s just kind of silly. He wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

  “Maybe not a flea, but a beautiful poodle in heat is another story.” Goody glared at the dog as it continued on toward the bay, heeling perfectly beside Erica.

  “Ziggy’s improved from his puppy days,” Mary said, trying to be diplomatic, “but he’s definitely got a lot of energy.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Goody snorted, turned away and headed back to the counter where a couple of new customers had gathered.

  “What victims would want to come to a place like Pleasant Shores?” Amber asked. “I mean, it’s a great town, but don’t most people have their homes and neighborhoods and support systems, and wouldn’t they feel bad without them?”

  “For some,” Paul said slowly, “it’s a reminder of pain, staying at home.”

  “Exactly,” Mary said, remembering. Until she’d come to Pleasant Shores, she’d moved so many times she’d lost count. “So what do you think?”

  Amber blew out a breath. “I gotta say I’m not enthusiastic,” she said. “I’m hoping to travel and write, and it sounds like this project will take a lot of time and energy.”

  Hmm, she’d have to figure out how to get through to Amber. “Paul?”

  He frowned. “Can you tell me more about what you have in mind? Do you need me to babysit victims on-site? Is there a way to work it around Davey?”

  “Of course, we can manage around Davey. The hours would be flexible. For now, I just want you to help choose the right property in terms of safety and layout.” Come on, come on, she silently pleaded with the pair. This had to get going before Imogene kicked her money campaign into full gear.

  Paul lifted his hands, palms up. “I don’t see that I’ve got a lot of choice,” he said. “The Healing Heroes program requires a volunteer gig, and if this is it, I’ll take it and be glad to do it.”

  “I’m sure there are other possibilities,” Amber said. “Trey worked at the school. You could do that.”

  “No.” Paul held up his hand like a stop sign. “No way. I’m not good with a school, with kids.”

  Interesting, since that had been his job before, a school police officer. But of course, he’d had that awful experience.

  It was time to put pressure on Amber. There was no room for her to hesitate and waffle, no time. “I’m really motivated to get this project started now,” Mary said. “It can do some real good for people in need. Change lives. I know that’s important to you.”

  “It is, but—”

  A commotion outside the window drew their attention. Why was Kirk James knocking on the glass?

  And then he held up a squirming white puppy. He was pointing at it and grinning and beckoning to her.

  “I can’t believe...” Anger coursed through Mary’s body. “Look, I have to go. Just think about it, okay? Talk to each other, and I’ll be in touch in a few days for your decision.”

  Right after she’d strangled Kirk James.

  She marched outside. Amber and Paul trailed behind her, but she didn’t have the energy to worry about them.

  In front of the café, Mary faced Kirk down, hands on hips. “I told you, I don’t want a puppy!”

  Kirk struggled with the squirming creature, no bigger than a guinea pig, white, with a black button nose and eyes that were still baby-dog blue. He winced as it nipped him. “Ouch! Little brat. Those teeth are like needles!”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” Mary said. “Here. Wrap my scarf around him so he can’t bite you or get away.” Kirk wasn’t even a dog person; he knew nothing about taking care of a puppy. “You didn’t buy it, did you?”

  “I just borrowed it for now, but I can buy it for you in a heartbeat.” He tried to hand the dog to her.

  She took two big backward steps, hands raised in front of her like stop signs. “No. No way. I’m not touching him. Take him back to his mama.”

  “Puppy!” came a child’s ecstatic voice, and then Davey ran toward them, closely pursued by his grandparents.

  “You show the child the puppy, and then take it back where it came from,” Mary said. “I’m not ready.” Her voice choked a little on the last words.

  Somewhere inside, she recognized that Kirk was trying to do a good thing. It was just that he was relentless and controlling, and Mary didn’t need another pushy person in her life right now.

  She didn’t need to break her heart with another dog. Not until she’d assuaged her guilt and gotten Imogene soothed and sent away.

  It seemed like that could take a long, long time.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AMBER REACHED OUT and squeezed Mary’s shoulder. Mary was normally so poised, but right now, she seemed ready to fall apart. “You should take all the time you need before getting another dog. You’re the only one who can know when it’s time.” Mary had been deeply attached to her little dog, Baby. Kirk probably thought he was g
oing to get in her good graces by giving her a puppy, but if she wasn’t ready, it wouldn’t work.

  “What are you doing here?” Georgiana asked, frowning at Amber.

  Amber lifted an eyebrow. “I do live in Pleasant Shores.”

  “No, I mean, with Paul.” Georgiana’s eyes skimmed over Amber’s ripped jeans and Cancer Sucks T-shirt.

  What a rude woman. Wealth obviously didn’t buy manners. Amber hadn’t even agreed to work with Paul, but just to spite them...without answering their question, she turned to Paul and plucked at his sleeve. “You know, I think I just made a decision. I’d be glad to work on the new project with you.”

  Georgiana’s brows drew together and she looked at Paul, clearly trying to formulate her next impolite question.

  Amber turned to Mary. “It’s a little chaotic here,” she said. “Wonder if the Gusty Gull is open yet?”

  “I certainly hope so.” Mary took Amber’s arm, and the two of them headed down the street.

  Pleasant Shores’ downtown—if it could be called that—consisted of a few shops and cafés along one side of Beach Street. Across the street was a bike path that ran for half a mile along the shoreline, dotted with green benches facing the water. Now, in November, the path was empty, and the few people out hurried toward their destinations. Beyond the bike path, docks jutted out into the bay and a few fishing boats were visible near the shore.

  The Gusty Gull was the only bar that remained open throughout the entire off-season, and its owners took their mission seriously: they were not only open, but fairly busy. “Thank heavens,” Amber said as they made their way to a table in the back. “Davey’s grandparents hate me and I have no idea why.”

  Mary waved at a few people and then took the chair across from Amber. “I know they’re around my age, but please tell me I’m not that kind of old person.”

  “You’re not, believe me. I admire you.”

  “Why, thank you, dear. Just for that, I’ll buy the first round.” They ordered fruity drinks and turned down food for the moment but kept their menus, since the fried fare smelled so good.