by Cat Clayton
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Look, I said it’s fine. We’re good. Okay?”
He smiled.
Gertie clapped her hands. “All right, enough gabbing, I’m ready for cookies.”
THE ANNUAL CHRISTMAS Cookie Crawl never failed in the entertainment category. Whether it rained, snowed, or we were in t-shirts and waving hand fans, all had a good time. One needed to prepare for any weather event during a Texas winter. This evening, it was a crisp thirty-eight degrees, breezy, and clear. The festivities were in full swing by the time we’d reached the square. Music, lights, food vendors, and cookies galore!
Our party of six, plus two pups, hit Ms. Stella’s shop first. I motioned for everyone to go inside before Jackson and me. He gave me a curious look. I smiled and pointed up at the mistletoe hanging above the doorway, stood on my tippy-toes, and stole a quick kiss.
“Welcome, my friends!” I heard Ms. Stella’s voice chime. “Have you come for the Cookie Crawl?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, pulling Jackson by the hand to the counter.
“Oh, what fun!” she said, glancing over my shoulder.
“This is Jackson. You may know him from the police department.” I slipped my arm through his. “And do you know my father, Randall Lamarr?”
Pop’s shocked expression and the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other sparked my curiosity.
“Why yes, Steely. Randall and I have met several times for coffee.” Ms. Stella sashayed from the other side of the counter and greeted everyone. When she came to Pop, she beamed, and with the elegance of royalty she shook his hand. “It’s so nice to see everyone.”
“Coffee? Several times?” I whispered to Pop, nudging him. “You’re sneaky.”
Without replying, he blushed.
Prince came traipsing out from the back somewhere. He playfully trotted from shoe to shoe, sniffing and wagging his fluffy tail. He yipped a happy bark.
“Prince says hello,” Ms. Stella said.
Daniel bent down and gave the pup a good scratch behind his ears.
Pop’s face blushed. “Steely, didn’t you know Stella lives directly behind us? And she’s teaching Stoney to crochet.”
“Oh sorry, yes the crochet lessons, must’ve slipped my mind. Stoney told me,” I replied.
“Stoney is a natural at the craft. We’ll have the baby blanket done in no time,” Ms. Stella said, her voice melodic, resembling the chiming sounds of a harp. “Isn’t that right, Stoney?”
Stoney who’d been standing at the jewelry counter held a copy of the Buckleville Banner in front of her. Her tear-filled eyes said it all. Pop had been vigilant about keeping the paper out of the house while the paper reported on anything to do with Stoney and the gifts.
Stella rushed over to her. “Oh, darling. I meant to throw that trash in the garbage. Nobody reads the silly thing, anyway. Now, you come back over here with us.” She slid the paper from Stoney’s fingers and guided her back to our group. As she tossed the newspaper in the wastebasket, I glimpsed the front page.
Alleged Suspicious Secret Santa Gifts Cause for Alarm?
I prodded Pop’s elbow, nodding to the paper. He shook his head and shoved it deep down inside the container, out of sight. Smiling, he changed the subject.
“So, how did the first lesson go the other night, ladies?” Pop’s face absolutely glowed as his eyes lingered on Stella. She was a dark-haired beauty, full of grace and charisma.
“Well, teaching Stoney is my pleasure,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve made a plate of Irish Butter Shortbreads. It’s one of my specialties.” She showed us to a square table covered in a white linen tablecloth. A platter filled with rectangular shortbread cookies sat in the center. Everyone enjoyed her delicious cookies.
The way Pop and she were looking at each other, I’d say there was a definite connection between them.
“Well, we should move on, y’all,” I said, motioning for my group to follow. “Thank you, Ms. Stella!”
“It was lovely to see all of you!” She waved us out the door.
We hit Orsack’s, No Place Like OM, Baker’s Bliss, Buckleville Hardware, and Bee’s Boutique—one of Daniel’s and my favorite clothing shops—before we met our cookie quotas. I think I gained five pounds. As we approached the courthouse to grab a cup of hot apple cider from the Buckleville Belles table, a group of about twenty burly, round, white-bearded men in red sweatshirts and Santa hats made their way out of the courthouse doors. They headed toward the cider line.
“What is it? A Santa convention?” Gertie asked one as they neared us.
“Mother!” Pop said, scolding her.
The closest jolly man, Santa One, laughed, clutching his belly. His frizzy, long beard and mustache appeared to be authentic. “She’s somewhat right. We’re all attending the Red Suit Academy of South Texas.”
There’s a school for Santas? I almost couldn’t believe my ears.
“Like a school for Santas?” Daniel asked, taking the words straight out of my head.
“In Texas?” I asked, recalling Dickie’s mention of a Santa in his bar, and the one we had observed talking to Earl Wood.
“For real?” Jackson asked.
I nudged his elbow, whispering, “The Santa at Dickies I mentioned earlier, he must be one.”
Our questions caused boisterous rumbles of laughter from the other Santas in line. I glanced, taking notice of the different lengths of beards, various sizes of bellies, and merry faces, hunting for a short, squatty one.
“For real, my good man,” Santa One said. “We’ve toured several small-town Christmases in the area, and Buckleville made our list. I have to say, we’re quite impressed with the local festivities here.”
Cuff popped his head out of my bag. Which one is the real deal, Chiquita?
None, little buddy. They’re all Santas-in-training.
Hmm. Could have fooled me. He burrowed back down in my bag.
“Welcome to Buckleville, Santas!” a grating voice belted out behind me.
Vivienne Peacock, on the courthouse lawn, with the cider.
Before I knew it, she’d flocked over, weaseled her way in between us and the Santas, and aimed her backside in our direction.
“I’m Vivienne Peacock, and I’m running in the next city council election for City Manager! It is my pleasure to meet all of you! We’re running low on cider, so why don’t you merry gentlemen follow me to the front of the line.”
“I bet you are—”
“Steely Sue,” Pop warned.
I pinched my lips together to keep the rest of my outburst from escaping.
“But what about these folks?” Santa One asked.
“Yes, we can wait in line,” Santa Two and Six called out.
Like a Tasmanian devil, Vivienne spun around, squinting. “No one here minds if we allow our visiting Kris Kringles to skip in line, now do we?”
Pop rested his hand on my arm and gave me a pat.
“It would be our pleasure.” I managed a smile and pretended to zip my lips shut, but before I could hide the invisible key, Pop snatched it and put it in his pocket.
He grinned. “Santas, you all go right ahead. And, welcome to Buckleville.”
The red suits took turns offering us thanks as they passed the rest of us in line.
The third Santa from the end—a short, squatty one—dragged his feet past us, turned, smirked, and tossed us a deuce. Ah, there you are, I thought.
“Did you see that?” I leaned over and asked Jackson.
“I saw him. Odd.”
I noticed the guy’s beard strap sticking out from his Santa hat. Most of the other beards looked real, but not this one.
“Well, with his seedy behavior and hanging around bars, he’ll be voted least likely to succeed in their Santa school yearbook.”
Pop, head of our group in line, was two people back from the table when the Belles announced they’d run out of hot apple cider. I eyed Vivienne with suspicion. She flashed me
back a prize-winning grin. She couldn’t have planned running out better, even if she’d tried.
We gathered on the courthouse lawn, sipping hot chocolate. April from Baker’s Bliss brought over an entire Thermos full and cups for all when I texted an order. She’d run out of cookies early on and was looking for something to do. It was great to have her join us.
“Thank you so much, April!” I said, raising my steaming cup in her direction.
“Yes, it’s so good,” Stoney said.
“I’m glad you texted, Steely. I was about to close shop and head home early. But, I’d much rather join y’all for the festivities!” April said. Being from Florida, she’d bundled up head to toe.
Shivering, I snuggled up to Jackson, and he wrapped an arm over my shoulder.
“You cold?” The sound of his voice warmed my heart. My external body, not so much.
I nodded, my teeth chattering.
“If you’re ready, I can walk you back to the shop,” he offered.
“Sure, in a few—”
A strange crying wail came from Stoney as she dropped her cup of hot cocoa. It splattered, hitting me and Jackson standing beside her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
Her haunted eyes fixated on something across the street, like she’d seen a ghost.
“Stoney? What is it?” Pop sidled up next to her. “Is it the baby?”
She shook her head furiously and pointed. “There! It’s him!” Her entire body trembled.
“Where? Who?” Pop’s voice bordered on panic.
A cluster of people stood in front of Dickie’s Bar, maybe ten, mostly men.
Stoney wrapped her arms around her belly and backed away from us. “Don’t let him get me. Please, don’t let him take me.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Who? Dammit, Stoney! Tell me!” Pop said.
“In the black leather jacket. There,” she said, pointing again. “He’s gonna get me.”
Jackson jumped into cop-mode. “Mr. Lamarr, stay with your daughters. I’ll go.” He handed me Taffy’s leash and sprinted across the street while we all watched.
Stoney shivered in Pop’s arms. I stood next to them. Everyone else stood quietly by, waiting. The large group of people in front of Dickie’s bar swelled, and by the time Jackson reached them, the man in the black jacket had vanished.
Jackson sifted through the people, asking questions, and disappeared into the bar. Five minutes later, he returned, shaking his head.
“I found no one wearing a black leather jacket,” Jackson said.
“I never saw him at all,” I said.
Stoney sniffed. “I’m not making it up.”
“Oh, Stoney, I didn’t mean he wasn’t there,” I said, pulling her into an embrace.
“I thought... he looked... I thought it was...” she said, burying her head into my shoulder. “Maybe I imagined it. The newspaper implied the gifts might be some kind of silly prank.”
Pop rubbed her back. “Sweetheart, they’re probably trying to diffuse the situation so the residents don’t panic, is all.”
Our fun evening had come to a quick halt. Daniel offered to walk April home. Stoney and Gertie sat quietly on a bench a few feet away. Gertie had her arm around Stoney’s shoulder, and she rocked her back and forth.
“She said she thought it was the guy who held her captive,” Pop said, his expression troubled.
“Do you mean the one she had a relationship with?” Jackson asked.
Pop nodded.
“But she seemed so terrified. I thought she struggled with leaving him,” I said.
“Yes, but since she’s been home, she’s been through six months of therapy, and now she understands her relationship with the guy was unhealthy, and he was, and is, a dangerous person,” Pop said, stabbing a hand through his hair. “I believe the baby gifts and the peeping Tom have triggered this.”
Chiquita, I need to pee.
I reached in and gently removed Cuff from my bag and set him on the ground. He stretched, whining, and trotted over to the nearest tree. I dropped Taffy’s leash, and she followed him. I watched in case I needed a doggy disposal bag for either.
“Mr. Lamarr, what can I do?” Jackson asked.
“Help me catch whoever’s doing this,” Pop said, his voice trembling.
My father was a strong man, made of steel, and in my eyes, could do anything. But he also had a heart of gold and a huge soft spot for me and Stoney, his two and only weaknesses. A threat against either of us was his breaking point. I didn’t want to see this happen.
“He’ll help you catch the guy. Won’t you?” I pleaded to Jackson with my eyes. Say you will, please?
“You have my word. I will assist in any way I can.” Jackson patted him on the shoulder. “The department has a unit posted outside your house tonight. Call if you need anything.”
“Thanks, son. I also put up security cameras this afternoon, front, back, and both sides. Mr. Peters had them at the store. I will take Stoney home so she can warm up. We’ll talk soon, Steely.” Pop kissed my cheek and headed over to Stoney and Gertie.
I clicked my tongue for Cuff and Taffy. They moseyed over to us.
I think I can walk home, Chiquita. I want to spend time with my lady.
I clipped Cuff’s leash to his collar and picked up Taffy’s lead. The Cookie Crawl merriments had ended, and one by one, shops were closing and locking their doors. Jackson and I strolled toward my apartment, both of our minds occupied with what seemed to be an increasing and terrifying problem with Stoney.
Chapter 9
Jackson and I were up before the sun, training for the Reindeer Stampede. Well, at least one of us was. Jackson ran another lap around the city park, while I perched on a bench, puffing on my inhaler and trying like heck not to pass out.
We’d left the pups at my apartment, and we headed to Baker’s Bliss for coffee, orange juice, and homemade cinnamon rolls. The sun finally peaked over the oak trees as we entered the café. The sweet and spicy scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, cookies, coffee, and pies wafting about the place caused my mouth to water and my stomach to grumble. We ordered and chose a table for two near the window. Closing my eyes, I sat enjoying the sun’s warmth on my skin. I about froze my nose off in the park. I opened my eyes to find Jackson looking at me with an amused expression.
“What?” I blushed.
“You’re beautiful.” Wisps of steam rose from the mug in his hands.
People rarely used the word beautiful to describe me. Usually, it was cute, adorable, sometimes pretty, but never beautiful. Until I met Jackson.
“Thank you, but you’re making me blush,” I said, hearing the squeak of the half-door leading back behind the counter. April carried out our cinnamon rolls and my orange juice. She set them down on the table.
“Still not able to drink coffee?” she asked with a sincere expression.
I shook my head.
“I feel awful! I’m the one who sold Lizzie Madden the coffee she poisoned for Petunia and you,” she said.
“Don’t be silly, April. You didn’t know what Lizzie had planned for either of us.”
“How’s Stoney this morning?” April asked.
Last night seemed like a dream, so much so, I’d almost forgotten it’d happened. “I haven’t checked on her yet. I’ll call over to the house at about 8:00 AM. She’s a late sleeper.”
“Folks in here were talking about it earlier. I guess enough people heard her upset, and you know how people like to talk about things that aren’t their business. And because the paper wrote an article yesterday, everyone knows all about the Secret Santa gifts she’s been getting. Gosh, I feel terrible for her,” she said with a sad expression.
“Yes, I know all too well about town talk. It’s awful what Stoney’s going through. Thank you, April. We appreciate your concern,” I said.
“You two let me know if you need anything else.” She bustled off, clearing away tables on her way to the back.
Jac
kson stuffed the cinnamon roll into his mouth, tearing off half.
“Speaking of Stoney, did you hear anything from Pop this morning?” I snagged a small bite from my roll using a fork. The warm yumminess melted on my tongue.
He shook his head, finishing his humongous bite. “No, why?”
“Well, I half expected a phone call already about a Secret Santa gift. Maybe it’s over. Maybe the guy saw the police car, cameras, and he knows y’all are onto him.”
“I don’t know. It’s possible,” he said and shoved the other half of the cinnamon roll into his mouth.
“Did you even taste it?” I asked, cutting my next piece. “I bet now you’ll want some of mine.”
He reached over, grabbed mine, and took a man-sized bite.
“Hey!”
Jackson’s phone chimed, signaling a text. He read it, brows narrowing.
“What’s wrong?”
“I guess you spoke too soon.” He flipped his phone around, showing me three images from Pop.
The first picture showed a navy-blue diaper bag. The second photo was of five teething rings. The third portrayed the typed card message.
On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, five teething rings, four baby hats, three baby rattles, two tiny mittens, and a teddy bear in an oak tree. Love, your Secret Santa
“Looks like I better get showered and head over there,” I said, hoping Pop remained calm.
We booked it back to my apartment. Jackson had brought over his uniform and work things before our run. Today, he worked the day-shift. Before I jumped in the shower, I sent Pop a quick text that I’d be over to check on them afterward.
I squirted mousse into my palms and spread it through my hair as Jackson emerged from the steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. His muscular torso, the six-pack abs, and broad tattooed-shoulders were perfection.
“I wish we had nothing happening today, and both had the day off,” I said, admiring the view.
He grinned, exposing his dimply cheeks. “Me too. But I need to get over to your father’s house and calm him down before he does something he can’t take back.”
