“Wow, your husband is amazing, Missy,” Carla remarked.
“Well, I certainly like to think so,” the proud wife grinned. “But more importantly, I’m so glad that everyone is safe now.”
“I wish I had followed my gut earlier though,” Kel admitted.
“What do you mean?” Echo asked.
“When we went to dinner at the club with Robert, I noticed that he had a nasty gash on his hand. When I asked him about it, he got rather defensive and made up a lame story to explain it away. I had a bad feeling after that, but passed it off because I thought…”
“You thought what?” Carla prompted.
The artist actually blushed, but was brave enough to answer. “I thought that I was just being paranoid because I was jealous that Robert and Echo seemed to be getting along so well,” he shrugged.
“Turns out, I wasn’t paranoid at all. The cut on his hand was from when he smashed the mirror at Echo’s house. The blood on the shard matched his.”
“Well, I’m embarrassed because the reason that I was talking to Robert more than I was talking to you was that I wondered if you were the stalker,” Echo confessed, her blush matching his.
“Me?” Kel was astonished. “I’m a creature of light and love,” he protested.
“It was actually my idea that you were the stalker,” Carla admitted, her cheeks as red as the others.
“Wow, I guess I’m the only rational one around here,” Missy teased.
“Oh, I don’t know, it seems that we’re all getting more rational by the day,” Kel observed, glad for the comic relief.
“I noticed that you two ladies are actually able to sit in the same room without exchanging barbs…how did that come about?” he asked, looking from Echo to Carla and back again.
“Misery loves company?” Carla joked, nudging Echo, then sobering.
“Look, I need to apologize to all of you. I’ve been…a wretched human being, taking out my anger and grief on the very people who were trying to accept and help me. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. This whole stalker thing really served to put things in perspective for me. I have no idea how much time I’m going to have on this crazy planet, and I’d prefer to spend it living and laughing, not in an alcoholic haze.”
“To be fair, I took everything that you dished out and flung it back at you,” Echo pointed out.
“I don’t blame you,” Carla replied quietly. “But it’s only been the last couple of days that I’ve figured out what an amazing person you are when I’m not being nasty to you and pushing you away.”
“Me too,” Echo reached over and squeezed the decorator’s hand.
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Missy exclaimed, cracking them all up and releasing the emotional tension in the room.
“Must be the cupcakes,” Kel added, taking a huge bite out of his Peppermint Dream.
Chapter 18
Spencer Bengal sat on the front porch of a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with Janssen at his side, appreciatively guzzling the ice cold six pack of microbrew that he had brought as a token for a job well done.
“So, was it tough to take him down?” the Marine asked, staring straight ahead.
“Nah. He was crazy, but he was soft. No skills beyond how to torture helpless women,” Janssen replied. “No challenge.”
“How much work did you do?”
“None. Got your text before I got started.”
“You mad about that?”
“Nah. I don’t have the heart for it anymore, to tell you the truth. These stateside guys…they got no defense against somebody like me, it ain’t even sporting. They’re gonna get caught, they’re gonna go to jail – there’s no place here for my skills, and I’m perfectly okay with that. Only did it because I had to before anyhow.”
“I hear you,” Spencer nodded. “But, thanks man. You made life a lot easier this time.”
“Ain’t nothin,” a corner of Janssen’s mouth almost quirked up into a smile. “How you managing in the civilian world?”
“I’m good. I’m with good people, comfortable.”
“Comfortable is dangerous,” Janssen remarked with a grimace.
“There…yeah. Here…hopefully not. I get by. Life is good, so I’ll keep laying low and living the dream for a while,” he smiled faintly.
“You know where to find me if somethin’ goes down, brother.”
“That I do. Stay safe, Janssen.”
“You too, Bengal.”
The Marine hiked the couple of odd miles that it took to get back to the road and reflected upon how lucky he was to have found a way to cope with “real life” again. He could just as easily have ended up like Janssen, always running beneath the radar of normal folks, doing his absolute best to not be found by his government and normal people. Janssen lived off the grid for a reason. There were only a handful of people in the world who knew what he knew, and could do the things that he’d done. He wanted out, and if being inaccessible meant hiding from the world as the rest of humanity knew it…so be it.
By contrast, Spencer lived his life out in the open, breathing the same air as the rest of humanity, and trying to appear as normal as everyone else. He had a tender heart that he guarded closely, and a love for people that overrode his inclination toward self-preservation. He was a guardian, a protector, and a guy that folks were glad to have on their side. He was also painfully guarded and often lonely, but it was a price that he paid willingly.
The Marine had seen things that no young man should have to see, and done things that that no one should ever have to do, and he was done, but his experiences had deeply ingrained within him the desire to do that which was honest and right and just, no matter what the personal cost.
Chapter 19
Missy sat in her living room with a glass of wine, gazing at the sparkling lights and antique ornaments on her Christmas tree. The feeling that she had inside was the same sense of peace and contentment that she’d had every December, for as long as she could remember. Everyone she loved was safe and warm, and all was well in her little corner of the world. Chas settled beside her on the sofa and she snuggled under his arm.
“We’re so lucky,” she murmured, lifting her face for a kiss.
“Mmhmm…” her husband nodded, lost in his own grip of nostalgia and appreciation.
“I can’t wait until Christmas morning,” she grinned, thinking of the special brunch that she had planned and gift opening around the tree with Echo, Carla, Kel, Maggie and Spencer.
“You’re just like a little girl,” Chas teased.
“Kind of. But it’s not about the presents, it’s about being together. We’ve built a family of friends, and that’s what this holidays are all about…loving one another.
“And food,” he deadpanned.
“Well, of course, food. I am from the south you know,” Missy chuckled.
“We should do a video call with Ben and Cheryl and Grayson and Sarah,” he suggested.
“That’s a great idea! That way everyone can be together…sort of,” she smiled ruefully, knowing that she’d miss the members of the “family” who weren’t able to be there.
“You’re a special lady, you know that?” the handsome detective said, gazing at his beautiful wife.
“Why are you buttering me up? Did you break one of my ornaments, Chas Beckett?” she playfully accused, poking him in the arm.
“Ow, no, but if I did, you’d have to forgive me just like you forgave Bitsy,” he looked sternly at the tiny little Malti Poo who was sound asleep, but twitched an ear in his direction when her name was mentioned. Toffee, Missy’s faithful Golden Retriever, was curled around the little dog, and thumped her tail against the floor when she saw them gazing in her direction.
“I suppose so,” Missy laughed, leaning her head back against his solid chest with a contented sigh. “The world can be a scary place sometimes. I’m glad I have you and our friends as an oasis in the storm.”
“Speaking of storms…�
�� Chas said, looking toward the window, where outside, the palm trees were bending in the face of the wind, and rain poured from the sky.
“It’s not supposed to get bad, is it?”
“There’s a possibility,” her husband admitted. “I think I’m going to round up Spencer and have him help me put the storm shutters in place here and at the cupcake shop, just in case,” he said, already texting the Marine.
“Be careful, sweetie,” Missy replied, kissing him before he left.
“Always.”
**
Echo listened to the wind whipping outside her window and wondered if the weather was going to get any worse. She’d been watching the local newscast, and had gotten mixed information. Everyone said that it was best to be prepared, but there was also an optimism that the storm would brush past, leaving them unscathed.
She had prepared a cup of her favorite tea and settled in on the couch. Her TV was on, but she found her gaze drawn to the Christmas tree, where colored lights twinkled merrily and brilliant glass ornaments reflected the light, reminding her of happy days and simpler times. This time of year always filled her with nostalgia, and gave her a warm glow inside.
Echo’s tranquil moment of nostalgia was shattered by a rough pounding on her door. Wondering who on earth would be outside in this weather, she hurried over and opened it, the rain coming inside and soaking her entry way.
“Steve!” she exclaimed when she saw her neighbor dripping on the porch. “What in the world are you doing outside?”
“It’s coming, girlie. We gotta get your hurricane panels up now,” he said, wide-eyed.
“Oh my. Okay, I’ll get my raincoat and boots and be out there in a minute. The panels are in the storage shed,” Echo replied, heading to the coat closet.
Steve disappeared, taking off at a jog for the back yard. By the time Echo got out into the wind and rain that was so powerful she felt that at any moment, she’d be lifted off of her feet and blown away, her neighbor already had the panels on the back side of the house secured, and was heading for the front. The two of them worked side by side and got the job done as the wind and rain grew steadily stronger.
“Do you want to come in for tea and soup?” she yelled to be heard above the storm when they finished.
“Can’t. Thanks though,” Steve waved and ran toward his house.
Inside the warmth and safety of her snug little cottage, she felt a pang of guilt as she shed her raincoat, boots, and sodden clothing. She had thought so little of her neighbor, but when it really counted, he had come through to help her out. She resolved to be nicer to him from now on and even made plans to create a basket of holiday goodies for him.
Warm and dry at last, Echo put her pajamas on, turned the TV channel and laughed aloud when she saw the scene from one of her favorite Christmas movies, where a crabby creature’s heart grows ten times in size, because of the joy of the season and the love among friends.
Living in Florida had taken some getting used to, but Echo was surrounded by a family of friends and couldn’t ask for anything more. Her heart was full and she was at peace.
**
Carla Mayhew danced through her living room, singing Jingle Bell Rock at the top of her lungs as she made trip after trip from the kitchen to her wet bar and back. On this trip, she grabbed a nearly full bottle of vodka from the bar, dancing and singing her way back to the kitchen, where she promptly uncapped it and unceremoniously poured every drop of it down the sink. She was gathering quite the collection of empties in this manner, and became more and more giddy with every drop that was poured.
Her Christmas CD blared throughout the space, and the decorator’s face glowed with joy. She had finally made and stuck with the decision to be free from the clutches of alcohol, and dumping it in her kitchen sink made her feel her freedom that much more keenly. Her tree was aglow with lights and there was a plate of freshly baked cookies on her coffee table, which she intended to munch on while watching Christmas movies after her bar purge was finished.
The storm wailed and howled outside, but she’d had her handyman come install her hurricane panels earlier in the day, just in case, so she was safe and sound in her lovely home that was more elaborately decorated than Santa’s house at the North Pole. The last bottle had been emptied and the lot of them loaded into plastic bags to put in the recycling, when a Christmas carol that had always touched her heart came through her speakers.
She froze in place, hearing the timeless notes of Silent Night, tears running freely down her cheeks as she smiled faintly with gratitude. She was alive, she was healthy, she had friends…and she had finally recovered the person who had long been buried with her late husband and son…herself. This Christmas, Carla Mayhew had much to be thankful for.
**
“Well, that does it,” Chas said with satisfaction, shaking droplets of water from his thick black hair. “We’re as well-protected as we’re going to get. Thanks, Spence, I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“No problem, sir,” the Marine replied, heading for the door.
“And just where do you think that you’re going, young man?” Missy demanded, hands on hips, stopping him in his tracks.
“Back to my apartment?” he said tentatively, not knowing if something more was needed from him.
“Oh no you’re not. I have cookies and cupcakes and a massive cheeseball that Maggie made, along with cocoa and beer and wine in the Wedgewood Parlor. If you’re thinking that you’re going back to that little apartment that might get flooded in the storm, you’ve got another think coming. You, me, Chas and Maggie are going to ride this storm out together with movies and food,” she told him, in a tone that had no room for argument.
The Marine grinned. “Well, if you insist,” he nodded. “But I’ll need to go get Moose…”
“Your beloved cat is already snuggled up with Toffee and Bitsy in the parlor. They found a spot by the fireplace.”
“Well, looks like it’s settled then,” Chas smiled and headed for the parlor after hanging up his wet gear.
“Apparently so,” Spencer laughed, then turned serious. “Mrs. Beckett?” he stopped Missy from following Chas out.
“Yes, Spence, what is it?”
He took a deep breath. “I’m not good at stuff like this,” he sighed. “I know that it took a lot of trust and blind faith for you and your family to accept me and take me in like you have. You remind me a lot of my mom…and well, I just wanted to say…thank you. You’ll never know how much being here means to me,” he said, swallowing hard and dropping his gaze to the floor.
Missy’s heart went out to the amazing young man in front of her, and, true to form, she had to go over and give him a hug. He let her, and let the warmth of her hug seep into his soul.
“You’re family, darlin. Don’t ever forget that,” she said, her eyes moist. “Now, I’ve got a cupcake with your name on it,” she hooked her arm in his and led him to the parlor.
Copyright 2015 Summer Prescott Books
All Rights Reserved.
A letter from the Author
To each and every one of my Amazing readers: I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think by leaving a review!
I’ll be releasing another installment in two weeks so to stay in the loop (and to get free books and other fancy stuff) Join my Book club.
Stay Curious,
Summer Prescott
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
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Summer Prescott, Sugar Cookies and Murder
Sugar Cookies and Murder Page 6
