A Little Mistletoe and Magic: Ho Ho Howls Romance Holiday Edition

by Marianne Morea

  “Listen harder.”

  Jenny slid her arm from Tess’s grip, and the moment she broke contact, the air chilled again.

  You fit the town as much as it fits you.

  Tess’s words were most likely hyperbole, but the idea of being a mystical addition to an already mystical town was too much right now, and Jen dismissed the idea as crazy. Supercharged intuition notwithstanding.

  “My life is complicated enough, Tess. Between the shop and the inn, I don’t have time for anything harder.”

  Tess didn’t reply, but Jen saw she wasn’t going to press the issue. Instead, her friend glanced at the shop’s window and then at the inn before nodding to herself.

  “Speaking of the shop and the inn, what were you planning while you’re away visiting your friends?”

  Jenny blinked at the sudden shift in conversation. “Uhm, Jack can still be work on the inn while I’m gone, but I suppose I’ll have to close the shop.”

  “Professor Mitchell, you really are an academic noob. Closing your shop, four days after your grand opening, on the biggest holiday shopping weekend of the season is a huge no-no.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Stay home?”

  “Exactly.”

  By now the sun crested over the top of Main Street, and her body relaxed in the late morning warmth. Not the strange warmth she felt when Tess waxed philosophical, but just as nice.

  “Amelia will be furious, but when you put it that way, how can I leave?”

  “You can’t, so here’s the plan. You and Jack will have dinner with me and Sam. You’re going to hire my cousin, Loretta, to help in the shop. That way, you can stop staring at the inn, and actually be at the inn, giving Jack a hand with whatever.” Tess winked. “Maybe he can give you a hand with whatever, too.”

  Jenny threw a handful of red and green confetti at her from one of the displays. “You thought this out before you crept on me this morning, didn’t you?”

  “So what if I did? You’re the one who put the matchmaker idea in my head, and when Sam told me Jack took over for him here in town—” she shrugged. “Voilá!”

  “You like that word. Voilá.” Jenny grinned, turning to tug her friend inside the shop. “I guess that means I owe you a sugar plum fairy.”

  “Ooh, I totally forgot about that.” Tess looked around the completed shop. “Jen, this place is amazing. It’s everything Christmas should be in one glorious place.” She inhaled. “It even smells like Christmas!”

  Jenny bent behind the counter for a gift box marked with Tess’s name, and put it next to the register. “That’s my apple scented candles, and sugar cookie aromatherapy waterfall.”

  “Aromatherapy waterfall.” She inhaled. “Perfect. I can’t wait to see what you do for the Christmas Street Fair. You’re hiring Loretta just in time. From Halloween straight through New Year’s, this town doesn’t stop.”

  “I thought you were joking about Loretta, but I could use help getting the rest of my Christmas displays ready. I have so much holiday merchandise.” Jenny put her hands on her hips, and looked around the shop, nodding. “How soon can I meet Loretta? If she’s anything like you, she’ll just pop up, right?”

  Tess took the fairy box from the counter, and peeked inside with a grin. “Loretta is fresh out of high school, and she needs a job. You’ll love her, and I think she’ll do well.” She closed the box’s lid. “How about I send her over in an hour or so?”

  Jenny pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. “I’d better call Amelia and get it over with. She can be a little pushy and dramatic, so you might want to plug your ears.”

  “Pish. Tell her to come for the Street Fair, or she could come for the Christmas Eve candle ceremony at the tree lighting in town square. It’s magical. Even the worst Scrooge isn’t immune.”

  “The Christmas Fair, I think. Amelia is all about retail therapy. If she’s busy shopping, that’s less time for her to nag.”

  Chapter Six

  “Jack! I brought dinner!” Jenny put the bag on the accent table next to the front door, and shrugged out of her coat. “I hope you’re in the mood for butternut squash soup and crusty bread.”

  The house was quiet. The telltale tang of fresh paint tickled her nose as she walked through the large foyer toward the kitchen. It had been a week since Jack moved in, but he’d already fallen into a regular work routine and didn’t seem to mind her hanging around.

  “Jack?” She walked through the kitchen door, but the room was dark except for the glow from the digital clock on the microwave.

  Placing the paper bag with their dinner on the kitchen table, she walked toward the back door to peer into the shadows for any sign of the man.

  “Guess not,” she mumbled into the draft by the door before turning to unpack the containers of homemade soup and sourdough baguettes from the Main Street Brasserie.

  The bread was still warm, and its yeasty scent made her mouth water. The last things she took from the bag were two chocolate croissants for dessert. Holding the wax paper-wrapped treats to her nose, she smiled. They smelled like heaven.

  Humming, she took a tray from under the butcherblock. “A warm feast for a cold fall night. Jackie boy, you have no idea what you’re missing.”

  Jenny wrapped Jackson’s share, putting everything back in the bag before leaving it on top of the stove with a note. She then put hers on the tray, adding an open bottle of merlot and a mismatched wine glass for a finishing touch.

  “Note to self. Buy classier dishware for inn guests.” Still humming, she carried the tray toward the large parlor off the main foyer, but stopped just inside its arched doorway.

  Jack had scaffolding up, and there were drop cloths spread across the furniture. The fresh paint she smelled was from sample colors he’d striped on the walls.

  She stood for a moment, taking in the work in progress. “Okay then.” Turning on her heel, she headed for the library across the front hall, only to find he’d done the same in there.

  “Damn, he’s good.”

  It had barely been a week since Jack began working through her list of repairs, yet he’d already made headway across the first floor. She wanted an arched doorway leading into the large, sitting room parlor, and he managed that in two days.

  All the crown molding and baseboards on the main floor had been patched and sanded. In some places, Jack completely replaced the old with new. The second floor was untouched as of yet, as were the masonry fireplaces in all the rooms, but if he continued at this speed, she could be open in time for New Year’s.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” she mumbled at the thought. Not that she’d move up her plans. Getting the infrastructure up to snuff was only half the job. Decorating the place was the other. At least that part didn’t come with plaster dust and paint fumes.

  A meow caught her attention, and she saw Kitto wander in from the kitchen. “Hey, pretty kitty. Where have you been all week, Kitto?”

  She sat her tray on a newel cap to the upstairs bannister, balancing it on the flat, squared surface.

  “Hungry? I don’t have any turkey, but there might be leftover chicken in the fridge.” She laughed. “That’s if Jack didn’t eat it all for lunch. I swear, between his appetite and how fast he moves, I think the man is an X-Men mutant in disguise.”

  Heading for the refrigerator, Jenny grabbed a chicken leg from a covered plate, and then hurried back to the hall. “We’re in luck. Wolverine left some chicken for the rest of us.”

  Jen put the chicken leg on her tray. “C’mon, Kitto. We can have a picnic on my bed. Maybe watch a movie.”

  She climbed the stairs holding the tray steady, trying not to let the wine bottle roll off the edge. The last thing she needed was hardwood covered in wine and shattered glass.

  Her room faced the back garden and courtyard. It was an odd-shaped guestroom, but it had a small balcony off a narrow set of French doors to make up for its clunky layout. She loved the quirky feel to the room, even if she had to st
uff towels underneath the door to block the draft.

  She slid the tray onto her bed, and climbed up to sit crisscross at the center of the mattress. “Come on, Kitto. Upsy daisy.” She patted the bed, and the cat jumped up.

  He wasn’t interested in the chicken she cleaned for him, but went full court press kneading the bedspread before settling down sphynx style.

  She clicked on the television, channel surfing for something old and familiar. “Hey, now. Barefoot in the Park.” Jen pushed the dish with the chicken closer to the cat.

  “Still no?” she asked, but the sleek animal was too busy purring. “For you to turn down chicken, that tells me you’re no stray. That, and the fact you’ve got a little belly going on. I see it swaying when you walk.” She chuckled to herself.

  “You belong to someone, Kitto, and whoever they are, they take good care you.” Jenny scratched his head. “Still, you can crash here anytime. What’s one more handsome face around the place?”

  The cat sat up at that, moving closer, but not too close. Sitting back against her headboard, Jenny pulled her dinner tray closer. She peeled the lid off her soup, and spooned up her first taste. Smooth and creamy.

  “Oh my God, this is SO good.” She spooned up another mouthful. “Holy crow, would you look at how young Robert Redford is in this movie? He’s so good-looking. Still, I prefer dark hair on men.”

  Jenny ate quietly, watching the movie. She finished every drop, even scraping the inside of the container with the last bite of crusty bread. The heavy soup was filling, and before long her eyes drooped.

  Yawning, she piled everything onto the tray and pushed it to the other side of her queen-sized bed. She dimmed the light on her night table, and then hunkered down with her pillow and a blanket to finish the movie.

  The blue light from the television flickered, making her even more sleepy. She drifted in and out, her last thoughts about Jack and his whereabouts.

  She woke with a start, only she wasn’t actually awake. Jenny knew she was dreaming because it felt the same as last time. She wasn’t in her bed. She was in the woods again, only this time there wasn’t one thing familiar. No sound of the falls in the distance.

  She sat alone on a pile of pine needles beneath a bare oak. They formed a narrow oval at the base of the tree, and when she put her hand down, the pile sank beneath her palm. Not squishy or wet. Just comfortable and soft. Like a deer bed.

  Looking around, she didn’t have to squint. The trees were devoid of leaves, and the sky was clear and bright with a full moon. She got to her feet, and brushed the needles from her nightgown.

  “Okay, universe. What is it you want me to see this time?”

  The same black cougar padded from the shadows beyond the surrounding trees. It walked toward her with predatory grace, its green eyes focused on her alone.

  Jenny scrambled backwards, falling onto her butt in the leaves. The big cat chuffed as it advanced, its body muscular and sleek in the moonlight. She watched it approach, her fingers hunting in the dead leaves for something to use for defense.

  “It’s just a dream, girl. Last time you fell out of bed, remember?” she mumbled as her hand wrapped around a thin branch.

  The cougar’s head jerked up, and its green eyes flashed in the refracted moonlight. The cat’s lips pulled back over its fangs and its nostrils flared.

  The animal’s posture was curious and probing before, but now every sense screamed the big cat’s sudden reflexes weren’t concentrated on her or her little stick. Something else lurked.

  The cat’s hackles were up, and so were hers at the back of her neck. She wanted to turn her head and see what approached from behind, but she was frozen in place.

  Without warning, the cat leapt in the air, sailing over her, and she scrambled out of the way with a—

  Thud.

  Jenny woke up on the floor with a wince. Again.

  “Ow, Jesus!” She sat up, grimacing. “What is up with these crazy dreams?”

  Grabbing her comforter, she used it like a rope to help get to her feet. Kitto was gone, his chicken leg still untouched. She sat on the side of the bed and exhaled.

  “Gotta be the paint fumes,” she mumbled, raking a hand through her hair.

  Her mouth was like sandpaper, so she shoved everything onto the tray and carried it downstairs. The light was on in the kitchen, and she walked in to see Jack sitting at the table with his dinner.

  “Hey,” he said, looking up from his phone. “Wow, you look awful. What happened?”

  Jenny grumbled. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Did you fall out of bed?”

  She stopped with the tray in front of the sink and shot him a look.

  “You did! I can tell from your death stare and the giant thud that rattled the kitchen light.” He grinned, and she threw a crumpled napkin at him.

  He laughed, deflecting the soft missile. “You know, I could build you a set of bed rails. All you have to do is ask.”

  “Shut up, Jack. You have no idea how weird my dreams have been since moving here.” The tray contents clattered into the sink.

  “I’m a good listener. Want to tell me about them?”

  She shook her head. “No. Right now I want a hot cup of tea and my chocolate croissant.”

  Jack froze with the last bit of pastry halfway to his mouth.

  “You didn’t.” Jenny looked at him, incredulous.

  He hesitated, unsure if he should eat the rest of the croissant or not. “They were in the bag you left.” Picking up the note, he held it out. “You said, ‘Enjoy.’ You didn’t say anything about the croissants being off limits.”

  “One for me and one for you, dum-dum.” Jenny pulled a chair out from the table and sat with a slump.

  “If it’s any consolation, I stopped to buy you ice cream.” Jack pushed his chair from the table and walked to the freezer for a custard-sized cup of vanilla soft serve with chocolate sprinkles. “I took a guess this was your favorite.”

  He looked so cute standing inside the open freezer. Like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “You guessed right.”

  He put the custard on the table like a peace offering. “I’d let it defrost a bit, or you might break your spoon.”

  “I know a good trick for that.” Jen took the cup to the sink, placing it in a shallow bowl filled room temperature water. “I used to buy old-fashioned vanilla ice cream cups for my girls. You know, the kind that came with a flat wooden spoon. They loved the ones with the strawberry topping.”

  She gripped the edge of the sink, watching the custard cup slowly bob and turn.

  “It’s okay, Jen. You can talk to me about them. About anything.”

  “Even my weird ass scary dreams?”

  He got up and moved to her side by the sink. “Those especially.”

  “You don’t want to know.” She exhaled. “About any of the above.”

  “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t genuinely want to know. I’m not wired like that. When I say something, I mean it.”

  She glanced across her shoulder at him. Jack was so handsome. His face, his eyes, everything told her he was as real as he sounded.

  Turning to rest her back on the edge of the sink, Jenny angled her head at him. “Are you telling me you can interpret dreams?”

  “I can’t, but I know someone who can.”

  “Who? Tess?”

  “No.” A soft grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Tess has her own special talents, though it sounds like you’ve got a pretty powerful set of your own. She told me what you sensed about Esther and Edgar Crane.”

  “Ugh. I told her not to say anything. Edgar will probably run me out of Whisper Falls on a rail just to save face with the town.”

  Jack chuckled. “The town already knows.” He nodded at her stunned look. “Everything.”

  “But Tess—”

  “Tess doesn’t always want to believe the truth, even when it bites her in the butt.” He smirke
d. “Or on a ball gag.”

  Jenny met Jack’s eyes, and they both burst out laughing. “I don’t blame Tess. It’s hard to imagine that sweet, nervous old lady paddling that old curmudgeon. Though I did say Edgar loved whatever Esther gave, with a stress on the word loved.”

  “To each their own,” Jack added.

  “That’s what I said.”

  He reached behind her to take the ice cream cup from the bowl. “I think it’s defrosted enough. Any more and we’ll have to pop it back in the deep freeze.”

  He shook the excess water from the plastic cover and then placed it on the counter between them.

  “Why don’t you talk about your dreams while you eat your ice cream?”

  She shook her head, then opened a drawer for a spoon.

  “Why not? You said they were scary. Scary as in monster scary, or scary as in what ifs?”

  “What ifs?” she asked, carrying her ice cream and spoon to the table.

  They both sat, Jenny at the end of the table and Jack in a chair to her side. “Yes, as in what if I never came here? Or what if I move home?”

  Jenny considered him, before pulling the top off her custard cup. “This is my home now, Jack. There’s nothing left for me back there. I said my dreams were weird and scary,” she continued, “but I didn’t mean scary like that. More weird and uneasy.”

  “Tell me…”

  Chapter Seven

  Jenny didn’t answer Jack’s question. Instead, she swirled her melting ice cream in its cup.

  “C’mon, Jen. How weird could your dreams be? It’s not like you dream about biting off the head of a bat.” He paused. “You don’t, do you?”

  She balked. “Who do you think I am? Ozzy Osbourne?”

  “If you don’t tell me, what am I supposed to think?”

  She licked a dab of melted ice cream from her thumb, and then nodded. “After that bat guess, I feel a little silly, but whatever. Some parts of the dreams go hazy after I wake up, others stay perfectly clear. I know I’m alone in a strange place, and I have nothing but my wits and my hands to protect me.”