Jingle Bell Harbor (A Bell Harbor Novella)

by Tracy Brogan

  Nothing to see here, folks. Keep moving along.

  “So, you’re breaking up with him because he went to Hawaii without you?” I used my teacherly gather the evidence before forming a hypothesis voice, like the one I used with students when they were explaining to me why their homework was late.

  “Yes. Well, no. I mean, I’m breaking up with him for lots of reasons. It’s just that when he went on vacation without me, I realized now was the time.”

  “Uh-huh.” She didn’t owe me anything. Not even this explanation. We were old friends from high school and this was a great night. No sense in spoiling it with emotions.

  “I’m going to tell him as soon as he gets home, Drew.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure what else to say that wouldn’t sound needy and insanely over-possessive, given the circumstances.

  “You sound like you don’t believe me.” She turned toward me and frowned.

  “I believe you. Sure, I believe you. But it sounds like if your grandmother hadn’t fallen and broken her hip, you’d be in Hawaii with him.”

  She pressed her lips together for a minute, those full, soft lips that I still wanted to kiss even if it was just to punish her douchey old boyfriend. Then she took ahold of my hand and squeezed.

  “Yes, I could be in Hawaii with Blake right now, but you know what? I’m pretty damn happy a poltergeist knocked my granny on her ass so I would end up here with you instead.”

  God bless the poltergeist.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded and kissed me, fast and hard. “I like you, Junior Hampton. And I told you I’m not really a one-night-stand kind of girl. I wasn’t kidding.”

  Crisis averted, as far as I could tell. I was starting to feel good again. “I like you, too. I like what just happened here. I’d like to pursue it, but I’m not that excited about dating someone who sees her old boyfriend every single day. I mean, what if that jackass comes back from Hawaii with a brand-new set of coconuts, and suddenly you realize you’re still madly in love with him?”

  “I don’t think I was ever in love with him.” She moved again to snuggle up beside me.

  “Never?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Seems like you’d know.”

  “Seems like I would. So I guess I wasn’t.”

  I finished off my wine and set the glass down on the floor. I was about to need both my hands. “Good. I hate that guy. Anybody else I should know about? Other coworkers, overly friendly neighbors, pen pals, stalkers?”

  She drank her last bit of wine, too, and set her glass next to mine. “Nope. No one that I can think of. How about you? Besides Trina Bartholomew and the other women at the auction, who’s my competition?”

  I stretched my arm up and over to circle around her shoulders in the universal dude maneuver. “Oh, that’s a long list. I’m quite the catch in Bell Harbor, you know. Just assume it includes all the single moms with a kid in my class, the lunchroom lady who gives me extra cookies, a couple of the cashiers at Gibson’s grocery store, the girl who cuts my hair, and . . . I guess that’s it. Unless you count Dody Baker and your grandma. And Fontaine.”

  “That’s a pretty substantial list.”

  “I know. Like I said, I’m a catch.”

  Chapter 6

  “AND THEN HE BROUGHT ME home by midnight so Dody couldn’t go spreading rumors about us all over town,” I said. My sister and I were back at her biggie-sized kitchen table drinking coffee from biggie-sized mugs. Her three kids were in the living room making a fort out of sofa cushions and couldn’t hear us, even if they had been paying attention to me or my story. Which they weren’t. They were ages four, five, and seven, and unless we were talking about them, they weren’t interested.

  “And you were on the floor the whole time?” Erin asked. “Why were you on the floor?”

  “It was a picnic.” Duh.

  “But you were at his condo. You could have just gotten in the bed.” She was frowning and so very perplexed.

  “Why does that matter?” Why did that matter? That so wasn’t the part of the story that mattered.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, I guess. I’m just so old and married I can’t remember the last time Pete and I fooled around in any place other than our orthopedic bed.”

  “Five years ago in July,” Pete said, striding through the kitchen toward the coffeepot. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I wasn’t sure how much he’d heard, but he’d apparently heard enough.

  Erin laughed. “Oh, that’s right. That night after the Bell Harbor Charity Golf Outing. That was a wild time. And the reason why Anna’s name was almost Porsche.”

  I looked over at my niece Anna and made a mental note to not ride in Pete’s car ever again.

  Pete puffed out his chest with pride. “Yep. Hole in one, baby.”

  “Ew,” I said, pressing both fists against my eyes. “I’m going to scrub that visual right out of my brain. If I can.”

  “Call us even then, Kelsey,” my brother-in-law responded. “How the hell am I supposed to play basketball with Drew Hampton now and not think about how soft his hair is?” He said that last part in a girly voice and ruffled his fingers over his own balding scalp.

  I laughed at his comment. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you were listening!”

  “Well, I was. And lucky for you, too, because I heard what you said about your job situation, and if you don’t mind, I might have a suggestion.”

  “A suggestion? Let’s hear it.” I had nothing to lose at this point, and Pete’s ideas were usually pretty good.

  He filled his mug with coffee and joined us at the table. “Well, I look around my house and it seems like every time you come here, you bring us some new piece of something that you’ve found at garage sale or craft show or wherever it is you spend your time. And it’s cool stuff. You’ve got a good eye, so that got me to thinking. What about opening an antique store or a consignment shop? Recycled and repurposed furniture are all the rage in home décor right now.” He took a gulp of coffee.

  Erin frowned. “What do you know about recycled home décor?”

  He shrugged, as if to say what don’t I know about home décor? “When I’m on the treadmill at the gym I like to watch all those home and garden shows.”

  “You do?” It was hard to surprise my sister, but this surprised her.

  His frown was exaggerated and far from menacing. “Yes. They relax me.”

  “Huh. My husband is a man of mystery,” Erin said. “Who knew?”

  “Anyway.” He turned his gaze back to me. “Didn’t you once tell Erin you fantasized about opening your own store?”

  Had I? “Did I?”

  “Oh my gosh, Pete! Do you eavesdrop on us all the time?” Erin asked.

  He shrugged again. “Sorry. That relaxes me, too. Plus when she said fantasy, I was all in. What a disappointment that conversation turned out to be. Anyway, Kels, if you opened a consignment shop, you could add in antiques, or clothes, or even feature local vendors. Sell Michigan honey, or jam, or wine. Whatever you wanted. And better yet, if you opened it here in Bell Harbor, I think the tourists would love it.”

  Erin smacked his shoulder enthusiastically with the back of her hand. “Honey, you’re a genius. Thank goodness you eavesdrop. I love that idea! And the tourists would love it, too. Kelsey, you could move back home! What do you think of that?” She turned to me, smiling expectantly.

  Move back to Bell Harbor? Open a consignment shop. “Um . . . I like it?”

  Who said that? Oh, it was me.

  I did like it, I guess. But liking the idea and actually being able to act on it, or more importantly, earn a living at it, was another thing entirely. And moving? That was a huge step.

  “My cousin Ruby is a real estate agent,” Pete said. “I could ask her to see if there are any decent storefronts for rent. I can’t imagine the overhead would be that high around here.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I said, holding
up my hands. “I’m not ready to dive in so fast. There’s a lot that goes into opening my own store. I’d need a business plan first, then I’d have to see if the bank will approve a loan. I’d have to find a place to live . . .” My voice trailed off as my mind started to swirl with possibilities and obstacles. So much to consider! But the idea was wrapping around me like an octopus and squeezing. I did have a business degree and a ton of experience from Haskell’s. I was a good salesperson. I had mad skillz. Hell, if I could sell Christmas in July, I could certainly make trendy, gently used housewares and Michigan wine all the rage. And I could be my own boss. No more Nick Haskell and his Could you handle this for me, honey? That’s a good girl. My heart rate sped up with building optimism.

  “I could help you with your marketing,” Erin said. “I could help you with lots of it. I love this idea. Would you ever consider moving back here?”

  I looked at my sister. “I might,” I practically whispered, as if I didn’t want to let the Universe know what I might be contemplating. It was all just too big. Too bold. But there would be some real perks to moving back here. Less traffic, lower cost of living, proximity to the beach. I had missed the beach. And I’d missed being closer to my family, too. Erin’s kids were growing like weeds, and before I knew it they’d be obnoxious teenagers who wouldn’t want anything to do with me. My parents would be back from their world tour eventually. And let’s face it, Grandma wasn’t getting any younger, either.

  Then there was Drew. Not that I’d move here just for him . . . although the sex had been great.

  Erin grabbed my wrist and squeezed. “Oh, I would love for you to move back here. That would be amazing.” She hopped up and grabbed her laptop from the kitchen counter. “Pete, go get your computer. Kelsey and I have some research to do. You heard her. She needs a business plan! And a place to live.”

  Suddenly my sister was on a mission.

  “Hey!” I said. “Slow down. I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself in planning my future.”

  “Don’t you love the idea, though? All of it?”

  “I think it’s all very fascinating, but I still have a job with Haskell’s and I haven’t even talked to Blake yet. I think I should sort out a few things in my personal life before I go renting a storefront and buying the house next door.” As if I could ever afford the house next door.

  But Erin’s eyes glistened with joy. “Oh, my gosh. The house right next door? That would be amazing!”

  “You could move in with me,” Grandma said as we played Scrabble that evening at her beat-up kitchen table. “Although you might cramp my style, sweet cheeks. I like to do a bit of entertaining, you know. With the gentlemen.” She waggled her penciled-on eyebrows as if her meaning was not blatantly clear. And slightly revolting. No wonder her hips were so fragile.

  “This is all very much a maybe kind of thing, Grandma. I haven’t made any decisions. No worries on me ruining your love life. I’m just considering all my options.”

  “Well, I like the idea. And I wonder if that Hampton boy will like the idea, too?” She waggled again. “Have you told him?”

  “It’s been about two hours since the idea even came up, Grandma. I’ve hardly had time. He’s at a hockey game in Detroit with his brother tonight, and besides, none of this has to do with him. I told you, we’re just friends.”

  “Friends don’t give each other whisker burn.”

  I put a hand to my face. A dead giveaway. “I don’t have whisker burn. Leave me alone.”

  If I admitted anything more to Grandma, she’d tell Dody Baker, and then the whole town would know about Drew and me faster than you could say frisky business on the living room floor. I wasn’t ready for that. And I needed the world to understand that I was breaking up with Blake because of Blake. Not because of any other man.

  My heart skipped a beat when my phone chimed an hour later. I hoped it was Drew calling. Maybe to invite me over for a late-night picnic? But no such luck. It wasn’t Drew.

  It was Blake.

  My heart skipped another beat for a completely different reason. Other than that ambiguous e-mail he’d sent, it was the first time he’d tried to contact me in over a week. Our last conversation had occurred, loudly, at the airport when I got the call about Grandma and he said he’d see me when he got back from Hawaii.

  I stared at the phone screen for a long ten seconds, considering letting it go to voice mail. But I hit the button and answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe! How’s frozen Michigan? Bet you’re wishing you were here in Maui.” His voice was full of thoughtless enthusiasm.

  “Sort of,” I answered. I wouldn’t mind being in Maui. But with Blake? Not so much.

  “Yeah, hey, I’m sorry about that. What a clusterfuck, huh? How’s your granny?”

  “She’s okay.”

  “Awesome. Good for her. Hey, listen, I know you talked to my dad last night and I just wanted to follow up with you on that.”

  “Yeah?” That’s why he was finally calling?

  “Yeah. I know it’s kind of an imposition when you’ve got family stuff going on, so I wanted to let you know I’ll be coming home to take the lead on that project.”

  “Really?” My tone was dry. I’m sure this was his version of an olive branch, to come home to handle work for his own father’s company—so I wouldn’t have to.

  “Yep, I’m working on changing my flight so I can get home a few days sooner, but babe, I was really hoping you could get the ball rolling on a couple of things before I make it back.” He had on his corporate hat and he was asking me for help. This was the Blake I knew and . . . didn’t love.

  I couldn’t say I was surprised. Part of me wanted to tell him to go jump in an active volcano. He was in Hawaii, after all. How hard could it be to find one? Another part of me wanted to tell him we were finished and I didn’t want to see him anymore. All of that was very, very true, but common sense prevailed. Yay for me. It was time to put on my own business-minded hat and realize there was no sense in burning unnecessary bridges. Tackling this last project could keep me in good standing with the Haskell family before I dropped the bomb about breaking up with Blake. And quitting. As much as I wanted to say no, it was probably in my best interest long-term to say yes. Plus, in spite of his chronic cluelessness about my feelings, ending my relationship with Blake really deserved a face-to-face conversation.

  “Ball rolling on what kinds of things?” I heard myself asking.

  I heard his short sigh of relief. “I knew I could count on you, babe. There’s a list of vendors who need contacting, along with a list of the stuff that the movie studio needs. It’s really not very complicated. The studio has said that shipping costs are not an issue and all the stuff needs to be sent to the same address, so that shouldn’t be too big of a deal, either. Honey, if you could just make a few calls and see if the vendors have what we need, and see if they could ship it, that would be fantastic. It would mean the world to me.”

  An inexplicable wave of guilt passed over me. I should tell him about Drew. “Blake, there are some things we need to talk about. Big things.”

  “I know. I know. I totally agree. But let’s not get into that now because I need to get on the phone with the travel agent next and see about changing flights. So what do you say? Will you help a guy out?”

  So much for coming clean. At least I’d tried. Sort of. “I suppose I could make some calls.”

  “Fantastic. I knew you’d see it my way. You’re the best, babe. Just the best. I’ll e-mail you the list that I got from the studio. If you can get started on that right away, and copy me on all the communications so I can monitor things from here, we’ll be golden.”

  “When do you think you’ll be back in Michigan?” So that I can get some closure and we can move on with our lives.

  “Hard to say what with bad weather and such, but like I said, I’m calling the travel agent next. Couple days, maybe?”

  “Okay.”

>   “Hey, babe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “At least this way we’ll get to spend Christmas together, right?”

  So not happening. “Keep me posted on your flight times, okay?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll talk to you soon. And I’ll e-mail the list right now.”

  At least he was reliable when it came to work. Within seconds, I had the e-mail from him documenting everything that Galaxy Studios needed for their live production of Miracle on 34th Street. I looked it over. Pretty basic stuff, really, except that it was a large order. Fifty garlands, a dozen trees, thirty-six hundred ornaments, and a life-sized nativity along with other assorted items. But the vendor list Blake sent was incomplete. I knew for a fact that the best place to get life-sized nativity sets was from Fisk Manufacturing, and they weren’t on the list. Neither was any of the contact information, and I’d certainly need that. I was going to have to go to my office to take care of this. That meant a drive back to Chesterton and a few days at Haskell’s Holiday Haven headquarters. I should have said no.

  Drew

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” my brother asked as I tapped my fingers on the console between the seats of his SUV.

  “What? Nothing? Why?” I tried to play it off as standard-issue restlessness, but the truth was I wanted to get someplace private and call Kelsey. I hadn’t gotten in touch with her before Ethan and I left for the hockey game, and now it was getting late. Not sure how the kids these days handled that first contact after full contact, but it seemed to me that it should not be a text.

  Hey Kelsey! THX 4 the gr8 sex.

  No, definitely not that. But no contact was even worse. I knew the rules. If you wanted to see a woman again, you had to call within twenty-four hours. Otherwise you were relegated to the That Guy column.