In the old days, she would’ve been able to talk to anyone, whether at an office party or on vacation, but these days words didn’t seem to come as easily to her.
“So, I haven’t been here before. Can you tell me anything about the whales around here? I read that sometimes they run boat tours to go out and see the orcas.”
Molly shook her head. “Not this time of year. It’s too late in the season for them. Where ya heading?”
“Eastsound. The mechanic working on my car said it was an easy day trip to go there, on Orcas Island.”
Molly’s eyes crinkled with humor. “Let me guess. Is your mechanic Jimmy down at Heavy Metal Auto Repair? He’s a sucker for Eastsound. It’s one of my favorite places, too. There are some great shops there, and a Mexican restaurant that’s fabulous. Oh, and I recommend the bagel joint, too.” She shook a knitting needle at Claire for emphasis. “Just as good as anything you’d get on the mainland, and so fresh!” She leaned forward, her eyes lighting up. “And if you like ice cream, there’s a shop right by the dock that makes its own huckleberry ice cream. It’s to die for.”
“Okay, I’ll check them out,” Claire said. “Sounds like you go there a lot.”
“Oh, I’m an artist and a jeweler,” Molly replied, finishing off a row of knitting with a flourish. “On Saturday,s there’s a farmer’s market at Eastsound, and since I won’t be able to be there this week my business partner is going to run the booth for me. I’m just delivering all my new creations today.”
Claire looked surprised. “That’s quite a trip,” she said, but Molly shrugged. “It’s good money, and I get to sit here and finish up my knitting.” She smiled. “And I get to meet nice people like you.”
The two women chatted on and off during the rest of the voyage, and Claire learned her new friend had lived in Brightwater Bay nearly her whole life, except for a brief stint away at college. When the ferry slowed and pulled into a small dock at Lopez Island, Molly explained how the crew secured the ship so it was stable, and how they got the cars smoothly off the ferry and up the ramp. As they pulled away, the ferry heading for Orcas Island, a young woman with flowing brown hair flipped open a violin case on a table near the door to the outer deck. She started to play a lively Irish tune on her fiddle, her face etched with concentration as her fingers danced over the strings of her instrument and cheery music floated over the room. The man with the binoculars turned and dug into the pocket of his coat, finally walking over and dropping a couple of dollar bills into the open case.
As the announcement came over the loudspeaker that they were approaching Orcas Island, Molly caught Claire’s eye. “I’m going to be driving into Eastsound. Want a lift?” she asked, and Claire eagerly accepted. Molly had already confirmed that the little shuttle bus was running that day, but Claire was grateful have more time to talk to her new friend. She’d proven to be an interesting, merry companion for the long ferry ride, and they’d discussed everything from the local towns to which restaurants had the best chowder. Molly had chatted more than she’d listened, and that suited Claire just fine.
Sitting in Molly’s car, waiting for the workers to give them the signal that they’d docked safely and that they could proceed single file off the ferry and onto the ramp, Claire smiled. As the car ahead of them moved forward they followed, and she saw the man wearing the Santa hat waving the cars off the boat, making sure they were going where they should. As they drove by he glanced at Claire, then gave her another wide grin as he briefly touched his hand to his forehead in a mock salute as she went by.
Claire instantly looked forward, as if she hadn’t seen him, her face flushed. She couldn’t miss the cocky smile he gave as they pulled up the ramp, leaving the ferry behind them. Pressing her lips together, she snapped her eye forward, trying to ignore him.
The last thing she needed in her life was some flirtatious ferry worker.
Even if he did have a devastating smile.
Chapter 4
It didn’t take long to drive from the bustling ferry dock, through the woods, to the outskirts of Eastsound. Molly had told Claire the little town would be packed with tourists in the summertime but that there wouldn’t be nearly as many people this close to Christmas, and she was right. Some of the shops were closed for the season, with signs on the doors and pulled-down window shades, but when Claire dropped her off with a cheerful wave and goodbye, Claire looked around the quiet street with a sense of deep satisfaction.
There was something about the place. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe it was that whenever someone walked by her, they looked her in the eyes, smiled, and said good morning. Maybe it was the fresh air or the clean sunshine, or maybe it was all the handmade items that were on display and for sale. She could tell there must be a thriving artist community, because store after store had handblown glass ornaments, paintings, jewelry or handknit sweaters. She even found a craftsman in a little building off the main street, who was making hand stamped dog collar tags. She was happy to buy one for Roscoe, and smiled as she tucked it in her bag. Roscoe’s name was the only name on her mental list to shop for Christmas gifts, and she knew he wouldn’t mind the custom-made dog tag.
After a couple hours of shopping, Claire decided to take a break and popped into a little café with a hand-chalked sign outside that boasted “fabulous Mexican food”. It turned out the sign didn’t lie. The food was fresh and varied, and the waitress friendly and chatty as she brought plate after plate of delicious enchiladas and side dishes. The restaurant was deserted enough that Claire got a table right by the window overlooking the harbor itself. Molly had told her that they didn’t allow most boats to be docked at Eastsound during the winter, but she watched a small Zodiac zipping across the water and later, an older man maneuvering in a tiny rowboat.
She thanked the waitress as she picked up the bill and headed to the register to pay. It had been a perfect day to sit alone and watch the winter harbor from the comfort of a warm restaurant, so she was startled when she heard a loud disruption behind her.
“What you mean I have to wait fifteen minutes for fresh tortillas?” she heard. Swiveling her head around, she could see a man in his early thirties with curly red hair, angrily yelling at the flustered waitress. “You’d think a Mexican restaurant would actually have food ready! This is ridiculous,” he blustered, waving his hands in the air. “What sort of discount do I get for having to sit here all day? And when’s that dumb cow of a bartender going to bring me another beer?”
She could see two determined-looking cooks from the back room stepping out through the kitchen door. Knowing that the flustered waitress was getting help and didn’t need her assistance, Claire slipped out the front door and onto the front sidewalk.
Maybe it was because she hadn’t had a job for the past year, or maybe it was because she’d been by herself so much, but she definitely wasn’t used to people being aggressive with each other anymore. A year away from traffic jams and conflict had been an attempt to heal her heart, and she’d gotten quieter as a result. Sometimes she missed the old Claire, who used to laugh all the time. The previous Claire had loved her job as an accountant and craved new adventures, and not because she was running away from home. She’d loved going out with her friends, trying new restaurants and concerts, and sticking her neck out for people who needed help. Maybe someday she’d find that old Claire again.
***
Back on board the ferry, she was happy to spy Molly, seated once again at a spacious booth by the ferry window. She was already pulling her knitting project out of her large bag, and laughed when she looked up and saw Claire.
“Well, imagine seeing you here, again! I guess you didn’t have any trouble finding the shuttle bus, then?”
Claire shook her head as she sat down and stretched out her legs. “No problem at all. It was at the stop in Eastsound, right when you said it would be. The nice driver kept chatting the whole way to the dock.” She gave a small laugh. “I now know all about every sin
gle pottery artist on the island, and why the driver’s the best one ever.”
Molly chuckled and pushed a small plastic container of cookies toward Claire. “Sounds like you could use a treat after all that. Try these. My aunt made them for her bakery at the Brightwater Resort and I think they’re amazing.”
The cookies smelled of baked butter and large chunks of chocolate, and the moment Claire bit down into the decadent creation she knew Molly’s aunt was a culinary genius.
“Wow,” she commented around a mouthful of luscious crumbs. “This…is amazing! Do you think she’d give me the recipe?” she asked, but Molly just looked pleased and shook her head.
“Not a chance. She’s been working at the bakery for almost thirty years and in the whole time she’s been there I don’t think she’s ever given out a single recipe. Sometimes I think that she loves them more than her own family. You know, she wouldn’t even give me the recipe for her marionberry cheesecake, and I’m her only niece.”
They spent nearly an hour sitting and chatting together, enjoying each other’s company and watching the stunning natural beauty scrolling by their window. Claire could feel herself relax into the seat as she laughed at one of Molly’s wisecracks about the lack of good men in Brightwater Bay. It had been a while since she’d laughed like that, and it felt good all the way down to her toes. Even though Molly was a few years younger than Claire, they had a lot of things in common. They seem to like the same romantic comedies and classic movies, and had a weakness for cute dogs and over-the-top Christmas decorations. Claire was just starting to tell Molly about her personal life when she heard a familiar voice behind her left shoulder.
“Well, hellooooo, ladies!”
The red-haired man she’d seen in the Mexican restaurant at Eastsound was walking up to their booth. Wearing a heavy plaid jacket and sporting an ear-to-ear grin, his eyes were locked on the two women.
“Well, if I’d known there had been such luscious babes on this boat I would’ve started riding it much earlier,” he said with a leer. “How y’all doing today?”
Molly was having none of it. She glared at the man and spit out, “Go away, Orrin. We’re not interested.” She took a long hard look at the man swaying on his feet next to them. “Hey, you’re drunk.”
He shrugged, his face twisted in a mock smile. “So, what if I am? Doesn’t make me any less of a man. I’ve been out of circulation for a long time and it’s about time I started meeting some of the female population again.” He looked closer at Molly. “Hey, I know you, don’t I?”
“Drop dead, Orrin,” Molly said, disgust in her voice. Claire could see Molly’s anger rising. Her face was flushed with emotion, her voice rising in volume and pitch, and Claire wondered if she was about ready to spring out of her seat. “We know all about you and what you’ve done at Brightwater Bay. I’m amazed you’re even showing your face around here, after what you did to Mrs. Freeman. Just because you’re out of jail now doesn’t mean we have to forgive you. You deserved everything you got.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?” Orrin growled, his face tense with anger.
Just then, there was a gruff, masculine voice from behind Claire, accompanied by the sound of stomping boots moving toward them.
“Move along, Orrin, or I’m gonna move you myself.”
Claire craned her head around. There was a man standing behind her, with a very familiar Santa hat still on his head. He glanced at Claire, then turned back toward the red-haired man.
“Don’t make me put my fist in your eye again, Orrin,” he said. “Won’t be the first time and I’d be happy to do it. Now go find somewhere else to sit. We’ll be at Brightwater Bay in half an hour and even you can control yourself for that long.” There was a pause while Orrin was considering, and Scott added, “Go sit down before I call upstairs for backup.”
There was a tense moment when the two men glared at each other, and Claire wasn’t certain if she should scoot back in her seat to try to get away from the fistfight that was brewing. Finally, Orrin gave a sound of disgust and stalked off, every line of his tall frame showing his frustration and anger.
Molly gave a short bark of laughter. “Good riddance!” She said. “Have a seat, Scott. Your timing couldn’t have been better.”
Scott glanced at Claire, and Molly added, “Oh, I’m sorry. Molly, this is Scott Bedford. We went to high school together years ago and he’s been working here in the ferry system for… I don’t know. A long time now, isn’t it?” she asked turning to Scott.
“About ten years,” Scott said, his eyes flicking over to look at Claire.
Molly completed the introductions. “And Scott, this is Claire Mayfield. She’s just passing through.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Claire,” Scott said, his eyes never leaving her face. There was a moment of uneasy silence between them as Claire tried to think of how to respond. His open scrutiny was making her nervous.
“Nice hat,” she commented, then instantly felt like an idiot.
What a stupid thing to say, she thought, but Scott smiled at her.
“Just trying to add my bit of holiday cheer. Usually, people traveling on the ferries this time of year are either taking stuff back and forth between the islands and the mainland, or traveling for Christmas. It never hurts to have a bit of extra Christmas spirit on hand.”
Claire sighed. “I guess so. I’d almost forgotten it was going to be Christmas, actually. The way things are going, I’m not even sure I’ll be home before Christmas Day.”
Molly kept knitting as Scott and Claire chatted a bit, her eyes watching them talk and a sly smile playing around her mouth. She could see the shyness on Claire’s face, almost defensive as if she’d been hurt before, but she also knew Scott well enough to understand the gleam in his green eyes. Claire was pretty and intelligent, and Molly knew both of these things would appeal to Scott Bedford.
“Well, I guess I’d better get back to work,” Scott said, a note of regret in his voice. “If I don’t see you again, Claire, I hope you have a great trip. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, okay?”
Her eyes followed him as he walked away. It had been a long since a nice guy showed any interest in her, and even if his eyes had lingered too long on her face, it felt good.
“Well, well, well…” Molly began, in a sing-song voice. “I’ve known that boy for years and I can definitely tell when someone’s caught his attention. You, my dear—” she said, pointing at Claire for emphasis, “—definitely have his attention.”
“He seems nice,” Claire said vaguely, and Molly laughed outright.
“Yeah, if you go for the hardworking, well-educated, good-looking type of guy who steps in to help out two women who have a creep hitting on them. Nice.”
“So, what do you know about him?” Claire asked, and Molly had the good grace not to tease her anymore.
“Football scholarship for college, has two brothers who are pretty easy on the eye. Came back to town after he got his degree and when his Dad died. He’s been working on the ferries ever since. I know he’s been trying to get all his certifications to become a Master someday.”
Claire’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What’s a Master?” she asked, and Molly quickly explained.
“It’s a level of experience with boats, especially ferries. Once he gets it he could be captain and be in charge of one of the big ferries in the area. It takes years to get all the hours logged and certifications completed to be a Master, so it’s kind of a big deal. He usually spends a lot of his time up on the bridge of the ferry, but they must’ve needed some extra help with the cars and passengers today, so he’s working the car bay.” She smiled brightly. “Pretty sure he’s single. You interested?”
Claire tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible. “I’m…” she paused, trying to think of what to say.
What was she?
“I’m a widow,” she finally blurted out the truth. “My husband passed away the s
ummer before last.”
It was rare that she told people about her personal life. Sometimes sympathy just made things harder, and a lot of times it made people uncomfortable. She didn’t want that from Molly, but her friend had an openness about her that made it seem easy to share things with her.
“I’m so sorry,” Molly said, her eyes sad. “That must be rough.”
Claire shrugged. “I’m still here. I’m just trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, I guess,” she said with a humorless laugh. “We got married right out of college, and I quit my job when he died. I was part of a couple for so long that I’m still trying to figure out what it’s like to be just me, on my own.” She looked out the window. “Maybe that’s why I’m here, in the San Juans. I just need to find out who I am, really.”
Molly nodded and picked up her knitting. “This is a great place for that. There’s a lot of good people here, Claire, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Besides,” she added, brightening up, “—you’ve already got me for a friend, so what more could you need?”
Claire couldn’t help but laugh. “True.” She thought for a moment, more than ready to change the subject. “So, you said something about Orrin doing something terrible to Mrs. Freeman. What did he do?”
Molly’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Orrin always was known as being a bully, and that didn’t stop when he got out of school. Rumor has it that Mrs. Freeman owned some really beautiful jewelry that her mother left her. It was expensive, too. My mom said she’d seen Mrs. Freeman wear it to parties in the past, and it certainly didn’t look like it was fake.”
“So he went to jail for stealing her jewelry?”
Molly shook her head. “No, actually he went to jail for selling drugs, but Mrs. Freeman always said that Orrin was the one who had taken her jewels.” She shrugged, almost apologetically. “Actually, it’s hard to tell sometimes with Mrs. Freeman. Ever since her son died she’s been kind of…confused. Sometimes things she says just don’t make sense and so people kind of ignore her.” Claire’s mind flashed back to the conversation she’d overheard between Lucy and Darryl at the diner, when she’d first come to town.
Three Carols of Cozy Christmas Murder Page 3
